Suddenly I'm Raising Rocky

For a long time I have been convinced that I am raising a monkey. Griffin is only really content if he is climbing or hanging on something. I thought that was bad enough, especially at times such as when we were at China Panda one afternoon, and I heard, "Hey, Mom! Look at me!" I turned around to see him doing a handstand with his feet on the drink station. That is not only embarrassing but also rather socially unacceptable unless you are a baboon, of course. But it is something that I have grown accustomed to and at least know how to handle.

Tonight I would happily settle for the monkey business. You see, today at church we convinced Griffin to go to his Primary class, no small feat may I add. When he went in and finally sat quietly, I was thrilled. That didn't last long, however, because later it was reported to me that by the end of opening exercises he had fallen asleep, and when his teacher began to lift him to carry him out, he came to swinging. As I heard it he connected with her face about four times. Luckily my girlfriend is the Primary President, and she pulled him off. I guess that's when he came to his senses and settled down.

Mr. Wicke made him apologize to his teacher, of course, but I think I'm going to have to make her family cookies this week. I am mortified! Sadly, my friend told me that when she asked the teacher if she was okay she said, "Oh that was nothing compared to being bit last year. That drew blood." Maybe she needs more than cookies...

If anyone in Heaven is reading this blog, I pray right now that I will never be called as the Sunbeam teacher. I have no doubt that I have neither the paitence or fortitude. She needs a medal...and the cookies...and a lot of chocolate!

My New Boss

It's interesting the things I am finding out about Griffin now that we are alone together most of the day. First, he is a real talker! I guess Logan was a buffer in this area. Maybe he did a lot of his talking to her, but without her my ears hurt. It is non-stop all day long.

Second, he is a crazy back seat driver. Great! Talkative and bossy. A terrific combination. Take tonight for instance.

Griff: Mom you passed a red light. Mom! You passed a red light! Mom! Mom! You passed a red light.

Me: No I didn't.

Griff: You passed a red light.

Me: Griff, I can turn right on a red light. I just can't go through a red light.

Griff: You went through it.

Me: No, I didn't.

Griff: Hmmm...Go faster, Mom. Faster, Mom!!

Me: I can't.

Griff: It's going to take too long to get home. Go faster!

And on, and on, and on...

This shouldn't drive me as nuts as it does. I'm learning things about myself, too. Like I don't like to be told what to do...even by a four year old. It's a good thing he is a good helper and that he'll kill bugs for me. I suppose it's a tradeoff I'm willing to make.

Testing my "Patients"

Logan is sick. That's right. Two days of school, and she has already contracted a virus of some kind. I knew before she did. She was tossing, turning, and whining in her sleep all night. In my bed. I need a nap.

This morning, before I got the Motrin in her, she cried and cried because her throat was "really hurting."

I finally had to respond, "I know, honey. But you can not cry all day long. Sometimes we get sick, but you are going to get better, I promise." I was very calm and soothing. Imagine new-agey music with subtle ocean sounds behind it--that was me. I rubbed her belly and made comforting shhing sounds and felt like one terrific mother.

That is until she said, "I know you are trying to help, but it's not working."

Amazing! Even when she's under the weather, she still has the ability to take the wind right out of my mommy sails. Mothering is not for the weak.

Hero Watching

After yesterday's post, I thought we needed something a bit more inspiring. This is a poem I wrote a number of years ago now. I was in the middle of struggling with our infertility but was surrounded by amazing moms who also happened to be my amazing friends. On the day they joined us for the legal adoption of our little girl, I gave them a copy as a thank you for standing with and by me and for inspiring me with examples of the kind of mother I wanted to be.

I still like it, and I think it applies to every woman who is doing the hard work of really mothering. My hat's off to you!

for my sister-friends of Irvine
November 3, 2000

She doesn't know she is a hero.
Minute to minute of everyday life--
wiping runny noses
soothing broken hearts.
Putting the toys away
to take them out
and put them back again.
Peanut butter sandwiches
with the crusts cut off,
but he wanted corn dogs...
and apples with no peel.
She's tired today,
patiently explaining obedience--
again.
She doesn't feel like a hero,
more like a referee--
"Was she playing with it first?"
"Let's take turns."
"You can not tie people up without their permission."
She doesn't know she is a hero.
There are no awards
for outstanding service.
There's no spotlight or applause
and a few
with shallow hearts
tell her she is selling herself short
when she could do so much more...
What more is to be done than
creating a world of beauty and wonder
everyday
in a child's eyes?
She doesn't know,
but I watch her in amazement
as she invests all she is
in building a spirit
from the ground up
in partnership with God,
and I am grateful
that I recognize
a hero.

Hey Paula, I Feel Sick

I am sorry to be posting about this again. I'm sure it is not even worth the ink--make that cyberspace--but I've got to get this off my chest. I promise this will be the last time, although I had my fingers crossed as I typed that. (A very difficult thing to do, by the way.)

Okay, my guilty pleasure of the last month or so has been watching "Hey Paula" which was accidental to begin with due to my avoidance issues that I have blogged about before. Anyway, what began as a guilty pleasure soon became a semi-scientific study of odd and narcissistic human behavior that makes me emotionally sick and grateful at the same time.

Here's why: It is sad to see an adult with the emotional maturity of a 15 year old. While she is busy lamenting that people "don't treat her like the gift she is," I pity her, and what I would really like to do is shake her and say, "You are destined to be miserable if you do not get with the program." Then I'd like to whisk her away from Tinseltown and train her how to live like a normal person. She can do her own packing ("Where are my sweatpants?!"), her own cooking ("I'm so hungry! M&M's..nah...I just need something to eat...No that doesn't look good. I'm starving! How dare you offer me that nasty gift basket!"), her own houscleaning (Maid, doggy pooped again! When you get that cleaned up, come here and I'll hug you."), her own decorating ("No painted bird cages in MY bedroom!!")...In short, she can learn to be responsible for her own little self, like normal grown up people do. I think this dose of reality would do a great deal to give her some empathy, some personal responsibility, and some much needed perspective. Who knows? She might end up learning to string complete sentences together. (Okay, that was downright catty! Sorry. But you have to admit that she don't talk too good, does she?)

Did you see when she stood her decorator up, never once met with her, turned the whole project over to someone else, and then turned her nose up (and I mean that literally) at the final product, a place, by the way, where most people would LOVE to live if only they could afford it? It totally came off was rude and spoiled. And this is only one example of many. I'm sorry to say this, but she deserved to trip over her dog. It's called karma. (Now, is that mean or simply an observation? I can't tell.)

Normal life-d people don't act like that as a general rule. They don't keep others waiting for hours. They take responsibility for their own choices. They don't depend on everyone else to cater to them and then throw a fit when their desired wishes aren't met by someone who can't read their mind. (Surprise!) Or if they do, they can't get away with it very long because they don't have enough cash to pay people to put up with their BS. You know, it's true what they say: Celebrities lives are not like ours, and for that I am truly grateful.

Ultimately, my final semi-scientific thesis is this: When life revolves around you, and you are surrounded by people who are not interested in telling you the truth, but rather sponging off of your success, life becomes very small, even when you are living big. Thank you, Lord, for my tiny, little tea party of a world. Frankly, I wouldn't trade places with a big life-d person for anything.

Homecoming

Now it is time for an ode to coming home. The things I have enjoyed the last few days are:

1. Mr. Wicke making Saturday breakfast. Yummy!
2. Tag-team parenting. (It isn't good to be alone; it isn't good.)
3. Sunday dinners with great friends.
4. Monsoons. (Although I'm waiting for a real good one.)
5. Mr. Wicke's face...and to be honest, chest. It IS something wonderful to behold.
6. The Closer episodes I taped.
7. Catching up with friends.
8. Watching Mr. Wicke play with the children.
9. Daddy backup at bedtime.
10. Sleeping in my own bed.

Ooh...that last one sounds good. Goodnight.

Ode to Cowley

I always leave my hometown a bit nostalgic and sad. My roots there are deep and profound, and I am amazed how such a small and insignificant place has formed the blueprint of my character. That little town with its odd and delightful people is etched all over my values, my moral integrity, and soul. I love so many things about my childhood home, and yet, as my adult self, I'm conflicted about it, too. I know I wouldn't choose to live there now. It's too remote for me. I'd miss too many things to which I have grown accustomed. Yet, at the same time, it's one of the things that made growing up there special and unique. How can the longing for adventure and the longing for home both be satisfied? Of course they can not, which I have always known. But I suppose there is always a sadness in flying from the nest.

As an ode to Cowley, here is a list of some of the things I love most about it.

1. Laughter and storytelling are a tradition.
2. As the sun sets, it casts a glorious glow right down main street.
3. The simple goodness of most of its residents.
4. People's character traits are attributed to the family origin, as in "Oh, that's the Lewis in her."
5. Cowleyisms, such as "Dan Baird'n down the hill." (Don't worry. No one outside of Cowley will understand it.)
6. The nicknames of some of its older male residents. Gump, Tookie, Rud...Until recently I thought these were their given names.
7. The town is known for its musical ability.
8. Growing up there has made it impossible for me to be uppity about anything. Playing in open ditches, floating down the canal, dirt roads, and having one TV channel keeps things real.
9. People know you AND your family tree.
10. Being a part of a small town has given me a forever appreciation for the sense of community.

Thank you Cowley.