HEY, NELLIE!!! Warning words you'll hear at our house just before your full name.(While I'm still trying to remember it.) Stop while you're still ahead, rascal.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Makeover
This morning Little K came into my room, looked down at the Caboose who was snuggling next to me, held up a mask and a bandana and said,
"Hey there, baby. It looks to me like you need a makeover!"
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Hurry, Hurry!!!
When I was in High School, I felt hurry, hurry. I was going hard and fast for grades and talents and fun. I looked forward to so much, had goals and dreams and so much happiness. Adrenalin flowed.
College produced some of the same feelings of rush, rush. I was in my adviser's office a lot, and taking classes mostly on the basis of "need to have", though I did take some "want to haves" along the way, and they all seemed to be English related, which helped me graduate in the end.
I graduated from BYU-ID (Rick's College then) after just 1 1/2 year of work with my Associates degree, and got married a few days later.
Then I finished up at USU after another year and a half with my Elementary Ed. teaching degree a month before Nellie L was born.
(By the skin of my teeth. I took 18 credits that summer, and didn't get to graduate in May with my class because the Dean didn't think I could finish. Oh, well. By the time I could walk in the procession, life had moved on.)
Then about every two years the stork came. I would nurse for about a year, and then the stork would come again.
This is the life I chose, and I have been happy.
But the big kids have forced my candle to burn longer at each end. The Littles still need high energy help all the time, even in the night; the middles are very busy; the older ones are emotionally exhausting; and my body has betrayed me.
Note to the reader: I know that this has become a redundant theme of whining. Send me a bill for the therapy.
Anyway. I just want to say that life doesn't get easier. That's not the purpose, anyway. It changes.
So now I'm trying to change my ways. I'm living in a constant fog of headaches, so I can't be the brilliant genius that I've always seen myself as. (I sometimes feel that I can't even hold my end of a conversation.) I'm forced to depend more on the Lord for ideas and help with everything. I might even learn some humility. I'm exhausted in a new way, and have to play triage with the house.
I cannot feel guilty about getting the sleep I need. People need me late at night, and I need to be cheerfully functional at the drop of a hat more than I need a shiny kitchen floor.
The kids need me MORE as they grow, not less, so I have to make sure that the less important things don't crowd out the MOST important. This also shows my need for Him. Maybe I'll learn patience.
Maybe age is more about becoming one with God, and less about getting stuff done. Maybe I should become reconciled to the idea that my worth is not dependent on exterior, surface indicators.
If I can relax, smile and quit hyperventilating about everything, maybe I will be less tense. (And have less migraine action.) Maybe my peace will come as I listen to my Heavenly Father's messages of love and approval, and block my own stupid ideas of failure and not measuring up to unreasonable expectations.
Profound Conclusion:
I think that my "hurry, hurry" phase in life is over. Now I can slow down and bless others with peace, counsel, comfort and wisdom (if I can find any).
College produced some of the same feelings of rush, rush. I was in my adviser's office a lot, and taking classes mostly on the basis of "need to have", though I did take some "want to haves" along the way, and they all seemed to be English related, which helped me graduate in the end.
I graduated from BYU-ID (Rick's College then) after just 1 1/2 year of work with my Associates degree, and got married a few days later.
Then I finished up at USU after another year and a half with my Elementary Ed. teaching degree a month before Nellie L was born.
Then about every two years the stork came. I would nurse for about a year, and then the stork would come again.
This is the life I chose, and I have been happy.
I am still very happy and blessed.
Twenty years ago, this was exactly where I wanted to be, and I have been blessed beyond what I could have imagined.
But...(You had to know it was coming.)
I thought that at this point in my life, I would be able to get it together. I guess I somehow thought that i would have the energy of a twenty-year-old, without the morning sickness and exhaustion of little bitties everywhere. I didn't count on my body aging and deteriorating with all that baby-growing. (But I guess if my body hadn't fallen completely apart, I would still be having babies...)
I thought that I would still be able to have a burst of adrenalin and whip through the house every day. I saw myself getting organized and healthy and slim and productive.
Volunteering and socializing and serving. Juggling 10 items with one hand while doing push-ups with the other.
Things are easier now that my big kids can help, and I luxuriate in the knowledge that I can run to the store alone, or ask someone to switch the laundry.
Note to the reader: I know that this has become a redundant theme of whining. Send me a bill for the therapy.
Anyway. I just want to say that life doesn't get easier. That's not the purpose, anyway. It changes.
So now I'm trying to change my ways. I'm living in a constant fog of headaches, so I can't be the brilliant genius that I've always seen myself as. (I sometimes feel that I can't even hold my end of a conversation.) I'm forced to depend more on the Lord for ideas and help with everything. I might even learn some humility. I'm exhausted in a new way, and have to play triage with the house.
I cannot feel guilty about getting the sleep I need. People need me late at night, and I need to be cheerfully functional at the drop of a hat more than I need a shiny kitchen floor.
The kids need me MORE as they grow, not less, so I have to make sure that the less important things don't crowd out the MOST important. This also shows my need for Him. Maybe I'll learn patience.
Maybe age is more about becoming one with God, and less about getting stuff done. Maybe I should become reconciled to the idea that my worth is not dependent on exterior, surface indicators.
If I can relax, smile and quit hyperventilating about everything, maybe I will be less tense. (And have less migraine action.) Maybe my peace will come as I listen to my Heavenly Father's messages of love and approval, and block my own stupid ideas of failure and not measuring up to unreasonable expectations.
Profound Conclusion:
I think that my "hurry, hurry" phase in life is over. Now I can slow down and bless others with peace, counsel, comfort and wisdom (if I can find any).
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Smackdown!
When you've tried everything else you can think of, smackdown comes just before juvie.
 |
| Small packages contain big personalities |
We have removed all of her privileges and belongings, and she can earn them back with obedience and submission. (Oh, I love the way that sounds--submission. What a great word. SUBMISSION!!!)
This is the document that currently hangs on the refrigerator: (Some incriminating details have been changed to protect some innocent--and some not so much.)
P's Privileges:
Pillow
2 Blankets
Clothes for 1 day
Shoes
Breakfast, lunch, dinner
Safety
Love
Bedtime 7:30
| We have to pretend that this is a representation of her room. She actually shares with 3 sisters, so it is not anything remotely close to this. |
P's To-Do List:
Go to school on time with neighbors
No Tantrums
Homework
Job #1 Dishwasher
Job #2 Bedroom
Job #3 Front yard
No fights
Bedtime 7:30
Obey
Ways to Earn:
Extra Jobs
No Strikes (3 strikes you're out for the day--+1 job.)
Obedience
P's Things To Earn:
Pillow #2
Body Pillow
Bedtime 8:00
Bedtime 8:30
2 jobs (instead of 3)
1 job (instead of 2)
Shower alone
Comb own hair
PJs
Shirts
Pants
Underwear drawer
Shoes
Bike
Helmet
Ride bike to school
Scooter
Trampoline
Friends
TV
Computer
Birthday Party
I'd like to thank my friend Emily back east for the idea, my friend Jana for remembering that Lil' P's birthday is coming up, and for the therapy and advice. Also, thanks to my mother for never doing a smackdown to me. 'Course, I never needed one. I do, however need a padded cell, with a small cot.
One more thought: Lil' P was nonchalant and belligerant about the whole thing until she heard that she would be reduced to only one pillow. That was the breaking point for her. ONLY ONE PILLOW! Oh, the horror!
Who knew?
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Odds and Ends
A few things rattling around in my head:
The Child Whisperer
Read the book, started with a lot of skepticism, but in the end, I liked it. (Can there be a better title for a book? I think not.) I made so many notes in the columns that I'm not really in the mood to write about it any more. Plus my head still hurts. So here's a lick and a promise. (Without the promise.)
The author divides people into four types, and gives traits, body energies and ways to support each type.
Things like this are useful for seeing that others are different, etc. But of course no one is exactly one type. We all have a mixture of all four types to one extent or another. My own personal theory is that the more of a mixture we are, the better we fit into society.
Her approach was to tailor our parenting to the child, but I think that as parents we also need to help the child to function in the world, with all different types, and to know that the world is not tailored to them.
The very best thing about this book was how positive her approach to parenting was. She helped me to see that I could better parent my children if I give them the benefit of the doubt, and assume that their motives are pure. I agreed with her that we could use the child's strengths to help them to obey and learn.
I was also able to see that the one of my children who sometimes struggles the most in our home is also the only one who was predominately a "Type 2". This book was a good choice for me, if only to help me see that.
I guess this was just like anything else, it had some good ideas and things to think about, but to go whole hog into her methods for me would be annoying. It's another good source of ideas for parenting. I asked Nellie L to read it, and we have had some good conversations about it.
I think the author went a bit too far when she claimed that children DO come with a hand book, and THIS is it.
The only One who really knows each of my children is the Lord, and I have to turn to Him for answers, methods and ideas.
_____________________________________________________________
The Piñata
So last Saturday, we woke up to a piñata in our front yard. Oh, Glorious Day! To some, it was nothing short of a miracle. To all, it was "For ME!"
Each child just knew it was for them. (In the honesty of full disclosure, I entertained thoughts along this line, also. Hey, I have friends! If a pair of fuzzy socks can magically appear in the mail from Korea, why not a piñata in my tree?)
Little K upped it a notch by claiming that, not only did it belong to HER, but it probably had a magic lamp inside it. (Anything is possible!)
Turns out, it was for Mr. Cool. He'd asked a girl to prom and she responded with a piñata. If nothing else, it clued us in on his plans. Some of my kids are more vocal than others.
_______________________________________________________
The Princess
This could get confusing, as I have code-named one of the Nellies, "Princess". That was done with great irony and some inside humor. I'm not writing about her today.
Today I am writing about the Caboose, who has decided that she is a Princess. She is, in her own words, "Not SILLY, not FUNNY, NOT CUTE." But she is a princess. A serious one.
(That is, of course, when she's not wearing her "Chuck E. Cheese" swim-suit in the off chance that someone will take her swimming.)
So, a few days ago, after much trial and error, Caboose found THE BEST princess costume. It was a fluffy slip under a fluffy sundress. It was poofy, pink, frilly, and even had full spin capabilities.
Finding such a dress made it important for her to wear the dress for the rest of eternity. Especially at night. Without pajama pants. (Duh.)
This ain't my first rodeo, so I waited until she was asleep to apply said pajama pants.
This was a little confusing at first to her the next day when she finally realized what had happened, leading her to exclaim in exasperation, "When I grow up, I gonna be a Mama!" (Which I guess means that she will have ULTIMATE POWER.)
This declaration let me to ask how many babies, could I be the grandma and hold them, and then, who will be the daddy? This was a new thought for her.
I suggested the neighborhood boys she knew, her preschool buddies, and the big kids' friends. No dice.
"What about your Nursery friends?" I asked. (From church.)
"MO-OM," quite exasperated, " 'Em are BABIES!"
_____________________________________
Final thought of the day:
I was down doing laundry, and suddenly NEEDED to hold my little Caboose. My arms physically ached and it was almost uncontrollable. This wasn't the first time I'd felt this way. Luckily, I've always had access to a baby when I've needed to hold one.
I prefer my own little snuggle-buggles; but really, any little person will do. It's almost like something is missing when I am not holding a baby. It didn't originate with motherhood. I don't remember a time when I didn't have that longing.
I doubt I'll ever shake this way of being. My version of Heaven is a good book, a soft chair and a sleeping baby in my arms.
p.s. I'm NOT wishing for another baby. That train left the station. I'd much rather have constant migraines. I'm just hoping that there will always be a baby to fill my arms.
p.s.s It may seem like I forgot to mention chocolate in my Heaven fantasy. It goes without saying.
The Child Whisperer
Read the book, started with a lot of skepticism, but in the end, I liked it. (Can there be a better title for a book? I think not.) I made so many notes in the columns that I'm not really in the mood to write about it any more. Plus my head still hurts. So here's a lick and a promise. (Without the promise.)
The author divides people into four types, and gives traits, body energies and ways to support each type.
Things like this are useful for seeing that others are different, etc. But of course no one is exactly one type. We all have a mixture of all four types to one extent or another. My own personal theory is that the more of a mixture we are, the better we fit into society.
Her approach was to tailor our parenting to the child, but I think that as parents we also need to help the child to function in the world, with all different types, and to know that the world is not tailored to them.
The very best thing about this book was how positive her approach to parenting was. She helped me to see that I could better parent my children if I give them the benefit of the doubt, and assume that their motives are pure. I agreed with her that we could use the child's strengths to help them to obey and learn.
I was also able to see that the one of my children who sometimes struggles the most in our home is also the only one who was predominately a "Type 2". This book was a good choice for me, if only to help me see that.
I guess this was just like anything else, it had some good ideas and things to think about, but to go whole hog into her methods for me would be annoying. It's another good source of ideas for parenting. I asked Nellie L to read it, and we have had some good conversations about it.
I think the author went a bit too far when she claimed that children DO come with a hand book, and THIS is it.
The only One who really knows each of my children is the Lord, and I have to turn to Him for answers, methods and ideas.
_____________________________________________________________
The Piñata
So last Saturday, we woke up to a piñata in our front yard. Oh, Glorious Day! To some, it was nothing short of a miracle. To all, it was "For ME!"
Each child just knew it was for them. (In the honesty of full disclosure, I entertained thoughts along this line, also. Hey, I have friends! If a pair of fuzzy socks can magically appear in the mail from Korea, why not a piñata in my tree?)
Little K upped it a notch by claiming that, not only did it belong to HER, but it probably had a magic lamp inside it. (Anything is possible!)
Turns out, it was for Mr. Cool. He'd asked a girl to prom and she responded with a piñata. If nothing else, it clued us in on his plans. Some of my kids are more vocal than others.
_______________________________________________________
The Princess
This could get confusing, as I have code-named one of the Nellies, "Princess". That was done with great irony and some inside humor. I'm not writing about her today.
Today I am writing about the Caboose, who has decided that she is a Princess. She is, in her own words, "Not SILLY, not FUNNY, NOT CUTE." But she is a princess. A serious one.
(That is, of course, when she's not wearing her "Chuck E. Cheese" swim-suit in the off chance that someone will take her swimming.)
I've never had a "Princess" before, so I didn't realize how many clothes one could go through in just one day, looking for the perfect Princess Dress, Princess Shoes, Princess Socks and yes, even Princess Pull-Ups.
Finding such a dress made it important for her to wear the dress for the rest of eternity. Especially at night. Without pajama pants. (Duh.)
This ain't my first rodeo, so I waited until she was asleep to apply said pajama pants.
This was a little confusing at first to her the next day when she finally realized what had happened, leading her to exclaim in exasperation, "When I grow up, I gonna be a Mama!" (Which I guess means that she will have ULTIMATE POWER.)
This declaration let me to ask how many babies, could I be the grandma and hold them, and then, who will be the daddy? This was a new thought for her.
I suggested the neighborhood boys she knew, her preschool buddies, and the big kids' friends. No dice.
"What about your Nursery friends?" I asked. (From church.)
"MO-OM," quite exasperated, " 'Em are BABIES!"
_____________________________________
Final thought of the day:
I was down doing laundry, and suddenly NEEDED to hold my little Caboose. My arms physically ached and it was almost uncontrollable. This wasn't the first time I'd felt this way. Luckily, I've always had access to a baby when I've needed to hold one.
I prefer my own little snuggle-buggles; but really, any little person will do. It's almost like something is missing when I am not holding a baby. It didn't originate with motherhood. I don't remember a time when I didn't have that longing.
I doubt I'll ever shake this way of being. My version of Heaven is a good book, a soft chair and a sleeping baby in my arms.
p.s. I'm NOT wishing for another baby. That train left the station. I'd much rather have constant migraines. I'm just hoping that there will always be a baby to fill my arms.
p.s.s It may seem like I forgot to mention chocolate in my Heaven fantasy. It goes without saying.
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