Because ALL Moms are Super
This entry has been a long time in the writing. A lot of different ideas, words, conversations, etc. have been brewing in my mind for a few months. I thought it would be fitting for them all to come together on this day (commercially) set aside to celebrate motherhood.
It all started off with a short tangent during Tuesday Morning Bible Study early on in the new year.
As a side note, I love the ladies that gather together on Tuesday mornings. We are at different stages of life as women, wives, and mothers and yet we all come as Daughters of a King - Who loves us immensely and unconditionally. I love being able to share “war stories” with other mothers of young children. Often, while sharing a story, I am able to laugh at an experience that had originally stressed me out. It is good to learn to laugh and perhaps not take myself so seriously. I also deeply appreciate the wisdom that comes from women whose children are older – who have been there – and are generous with their encouragement and kind in their wisdom. Truly, a blessing.
Anyways, one morning we went on a tangent and someone shared how sometimes she felt inadequate when she read on Facebook how someone she knew had kids bathed, ran a mile, baked bread, washed the clothes, etc., fill in the blanks... and it was only 10 in the morning.
I am rewriting what she said but the gist is the same. And we all are prey to it. The comparison. The how-do-I-measure-up? The I’m-still-in-my-pajamas-at-10-so-there-must-be-something-wrong-with-me. The pressure. More often than not it is self induced.
Nowadays, it is not enough to be Mom or a Stay at Home Mom. (note that I didn’t say “just a Mom”. Really. There is no such thing.)
Perfection is required. Or at least the allusion of perfection. Our hair: coiffed. Our clothes: stylish, clean (as in free from those shoulder mucous swipes or the greasy hand prints at thigh height). Our kids: neat, tidy, and presentable at all times (never mind the runny noses or the dirty knees or the scraggly hair coming out of the bows). We bring our kids to play dates two times a week as well as music groups and gymnastics We do this, all the while keeping our house sparkling and cooking healthy meals for our family. And, if that’s not enough, we might even be a WAHM (Work At Home Mom – which is a misnomer really, because what Mom doesn’t work?) and have some sort of cottage industry going one where we make boutique _____ (insert craft here) and sell it on Etsy or eBay. We wake up at 6 am to work out, thereby keeping our firm form, even after having two or three kids.
Am I exaggerating? Is anyone else laughing at this unattainable idea of perfection that is being foisted on us women? Does anyone else ask Who are we being perfect for? or Why the pretense?
This Mothers Day, I’d like to take a stand against the “SuperMom syndrome” that is so prevalent and pressuring. I ask you to do the same. We need to come together and agree to stop doing this to each other. We need to agree to be real with what life is like and accept ourselves and each other and life without comparison or worry and with love, grace, and humour – even in the face of snot swipes on sleeves or spit up on shoulders or being late (yet again). Let’s agree to stop playing the perfection game.
We have been called by God to be mothers and caretakers of His little ones. It’s a daunting and scary and challenging task. It sometimes – or often – feels undoable. But we have hope. He calls and also equips. He is always with us. He forgives our shortcomings. He is the ultimate Encourager through His Word. We “can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.”
So let us agree to encourage each other in this shared calling and spur one another on with love and kindness and a listening ear. Let us share our joy on the days when we do feel like a “supermom” and the laundry and the baking and the cleaning does get done in record time. Perhaps not by 10, but by the end of day. Let’s share laughter (and learn to laugh) at the days where, when we’ve been up with crying babies half the night, we are still in our PJs at 10 and the house doesn’t get too much attention that day. Those are often the days when Murphy’s law applies and someone unexpectedly shows up. Let’s realize that being a mother or housewife means more than a clean house and some days you just want to spend the whole time playing with your children. Let’s all recognize and be able to openly acknowledge that we don’t have it all together all the time.
Being a mother is busy and dirty and noisy and seemingly goes from one diaper change to the next. It is wiping noses and cleaning up spills and vacuuming up cheerios and fish crackers every day.
Being a mother is smiles and hugs and songs and giggles and love and joy and excitement and amazement. It is a calling. It is a blessing. When you’re a Mom, every day is Mother’s Day, whether Hallmark says so or not.
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
22 February 2011
old words, same meaning
Give us this day our daily bread... I needed a reminder of these words...
We recently finished a sermon series on the Lord's Prayer in our church. Even though I've heard and said those words countless number of times during my life they took on new meaning the past few months.
One particular phrase persists in staying at the forefront of my mind: Give us this day our daily bread.
The word bread is important, my pastor said. Jesus was teaching us to pray for what we needed for life, for living, for this day.
Jesus wasn't teaching us, Give us this day our daily dessert.
Food is a big deal in our house these days as Anneka is learning to eat and appreciate solids. She loves sweet potatoes and beans; peas are definitely not her favourite. Homemade applesauce from Grandma is also a big hit. Cheerios give her a chance to relieve some teething pain by chomping on something hard and also practice that important hand-eye coordination... Her gastronomic adventures are just beginning.
The other day my Dad told us about a conversation he had with a man who had traveled to Costa Rica... he spoke about a man whose house consisted of poles in the ground with bits of tin attached on top like an awning and people who were thankful for one meal a day...
I face Anneka as she sits in her high chair, little mouth open wide for food like a baby bird's. As I try to feed her as cleanly as possible (she is learning how to eat, but I, as first-time mom, am also learning how to feed her) I realise how blessed we are. Meals are not gourmet at our house, but we never have to worry where our next meal will come from. Our house is not as fancy or as done-up or as colour-coordinated as we might like and our furniture might be just on the good side of shabby, but we don't have to worry about the cold and the rain...
It is hard not to be swept up in the rush for that perfect pillow or paint chip... or to think how much better our house will look if we could afford to put new carpet in or if I could just get those fabulous candles... So much importance is put on things and appearances that don't mean anything.
As Anneka finishes her food and smiles up at me with a carrot-coloured grin I know that God not only cares for me and gives me and my loved ones what we need for each and every day, He is also feasting me with dessert...
originally posted in March 2008 here
15 February 2011
ticking away
So I had these great plans (even to the point of making it a Resolution) of applying myself more diligently to my writing and my blog. Work on My Great First Novel has been put on the backburner as I tend to my young children and my hard-working husband. As any parent of young children (and maybe not-so-young children) knows, one usually does not have the energy even to brew a refreshing cup of tea (or pour a nice glass of wine, I'm just saying...) in the evening, let alone do anything that smacks of extra exertion. Perhaps a folding of an article of laundry or two, but any real work takes supreme, mind-over-matter effort.
But I am okay with that. Life right now centres around two little girls who giggle and smile and cry and laugh and bug each other and me and make life anything but boring. Writing can wait; first words or smiles or steps or sentences cannot. Besides, ideas come to me at all hours of the day or night (especially when insomnia comes to call) and those all get jotted down, in the view that someday they
might become a sentence or paragraph of something grander. My intention was to somehow fit it all in. If I couldn't blog every day, I was going to aim for every other day or perhaps twice a week. To get some juices flowing if only a little faster than molasses in winter.
As you can see, since January, that has not happened. We have not, as you might have worried (and I know you were worried), fallen off the planet. It's just that the busy-ness of life in the West Coast Grace household stepped up a notch since M went back to school the first week of January. Since I'm the only one working, that's what I've been doing more of... working. M gets home in the afternoon and that's when I place myself in front of my computer, valiantly fight against the temptation of Facebook and email and all the other blogs I follow, and work. My laundry is suffering. As I type, there are at least three baskets full waiting to be folded and one more in the dryer. I figure it's okay as long as we all have clean clothes. We're down to the one-month-more mark and I will be happy when it's over.
So rest assured, it's not abandoned just postponed. At least until the ides of March, which will hopefully be more beneficial for us than for Caesar. (Hey, it's my 100th post, if I can't get away with a corny literary allusion here, when can I?)
10 January 2011
it's a wonderful life: a list
1. I watched It's a Wonderful Life for the first time in my life this past holiday season. It was wonderful (sorry for that). It struck me as kind of A Christmas Carol in reverse. Whereas Scrooge needs a hard push by the ghosts to get him to see the errors of his ways, George Bailey needs a nudge to see the value of a life lived generously, a life lived out of love for others. It was a wonderful (there it is again!) way to take a break from the wonderful busy-ness and craziness of our holiday season.
2. Big White. We started off our holidays with a quick trip to Big White with some friends. What a great visit. The men skied. The women talked like only good friends can and relaxed while the kids played and entertained each other. When a couple of good, old friends get together, it always feels like a holiday. And when a weekend away feels like a week-long holiday, it's even better.
3. Playing tourist in my own backyard. I love it when out of town guests come and I get to see my neck of the woods through new eyes. Although the new eyes still viewed the Olympic torch as an eyesore. Robson Street, Granville Island, Tsunami Sushi, the Aquarium... Vancouver is a wonderful city, but abnormally cold... Baby E spent the day at Granville Island being bundled up as we trundled along. A couldn't get enough of the whales, otters, Nemo fish, dolphins, sharks, turtles, sea horses, birds.... she was talking about them for weeks afterwards. I see National Geographic in her future...
4. I mentioned family. We had hosts of out of town guests here in BC for Christmas and New Years. It was busy. It was fun. We stayed out way too late. We ate way too much good food. And then we got sick and it wasn't so fun anymore. But then we all got better and went right back at it. We got an extended holiday mode because some family didn't leave until the week after New Years. It took us a week to recover, which is the reason you're reading this now instead of before.
5. I feel like this list needs five items. It cannot be complete without a number five. Here's my wish to you for a wonderful, grace-full 2011!
09 December 2010
when 3 become 4: get me to the church on time
Certainly, for most people, Baby #1 is a big adjustment. The newness. The change. This Other Person to care for. Life becomes very different. But really, after a while, you realise that Baby #1 doesn't really cramp his/her parents' style too much. If you want to go out to a friend's house on a Friday night, just take her along and put her to bed there. Pack and plays are a mother's (and a father's) best friend sometimes. The best invention ever, if you ask me. Even better than sliced bread (because I've mastered the art of slicing my own). For us, getting ready to go out, to church for example, only required an extra 45 minutes in the morning, feeding time included.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
07 November 2010
when 3 become 4: get me to the church on time
Certainly, for most people, Baby #1 is a big adjustment. The newness. The change. This Other Person to care for. Life becomes very different. But really, after a while, you realise that Baby #1 doesn't really cramp his/her parents' style too much. If you want to go out to a friend's house on a Friday night, just take her along and put her to bed there. Pack and plays are a mother's (and a father's) best friend sometimes. The best invention ever, if you ask me. Even better than sliced bread (because I've mastered the art of slicing my own). For us, getting ready to go out, to church for example, only required an extra 45 minutes in the morning, feeding time included.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
31 August 2010
when 3 become 4: in the wee small hours of the morning
A has recently dropped her naps. I was dreading this as some sort of catastrophic event in her short little life - Mt. St. Helen's-sized emotional eruptions due to tiredness at 4 in the afternoon. We have had some of those episodes and short of giving her a nap at that late hour, a nice calm Baby Einstein dvd (just music and animals) is a lifesaver.
Because on the days that I have caved in and given her a nap, not only does she stay up and part-ay in her room until 9:00 at night she gets up at 3:00 IN THE MORNING.
It's exhausting.
To say the least.
One night I heard her crying and I got up. We've been trying out having her sleep without pull-ups, which is a big step in the whole potty training journey. The first week when she whined during the night, it usually meant she had to go or had had a bit of an accident. I went in to check her and perhaps take her to the bathroom and change her pajamas. She usually went right back to sleep after that, which is very good for Mom and Dad who need their sleep as much as anyone does to stay chipper and cheerful.
Not so this night.
You would think a dark, somewhat chilly house at 3 am would discourage a small child from wandering the halls. Not so our undaunted daughter. What does she do if it's dark? She drags the piano stool all the way down the hall in order to turn on the big hall light!
I still wasn't in deep sleep from getting up with her previously. I had left our door open and was awakened by this bright light streaming into our room. What was going on out there?
Me: What are you doing?
A: Turning on the light.
Me: Why?
A: It's dark outside.
Me: It's still night time, of course it's dark out. You're supposed to be in bed!
A: I want to play toys. I can't see them. I need the light on. (sidenote: A can talk very well, in full sentences. She actually said, I can't see them. I need the light on.)
Me (very tired and grumpy to the point of being monosyllabic): No. No light. Bed time. Now.
It took me a little longer to get back to sleep that time. We had a lazy morning that day, perhaps with a little more coffee and a little more Diego than is our wont. That's what's needed when you're working on a few hours of sleep and you feel like it's the wee small hours of the morning when it's the full sunshine of the middle of the day,
Because on the days that I have caved in and given her a nap, not only does she stay up and part-ay in her room until 9:00 at night she gets up at 3:00 IN THE MORNING.
It's exhausting.
To say the least.
One night I heard her crying and I got up. We've been trying out having her sleep without pull-ups, which is a big step in the whole potty training journey. The first week when she whined during the night, it usually meant she had to go or had had a bit of an accident. I went in to check her and perhaps take her to the bathroom and change her pajamas. She usually went right back to sleep after that, which is very good for Mom and Dad who need their sleep as much as anyone does to stay chipper and cheerful.
Not so this night.
You would think a dark, somewhat chilly house at 3 am would discourage a small child from wandering the halls. Not so our undaunted daughter. What does she do if it's dark? She drags the piano stool all the way down the hall in order to turn on the big hall light!
I still wasn't in deep sleep from getting up with her previously. I had left our door open and was awakened by this bright light streaming into our room. What was going on out there?
Me: What are you doing?
A: Turning on the light.
Me: Why?
A: It's dark outside.
Me: It's still night time, of course it's dark out. You're supposed to be in bed!
A: I want to play toys. I can't see them. I need the light on. (sidenote: A can talk very well, in full sentences. She actually said, I can't see them. I need the light on.)
Me (very tired and grumpy to the point of being monosyllabic): No. No light. Bed time. Now.
It took me a little longer to get back to sleep that time. We had a lazy morning that day, perhaps with a little more coffee and a little more Diego than is our wont. That's what's needed when you're working on a few hours of sleep and you feel like it's the wee small hours of the morning when it's the full sunshine of the middle of the day,
07 June 2010
It's about time
It's been four months since little E was born and we moved (all in the same week, I might add) and four months since my last post.
I was visiting a friend's blog and she has this tool that shows how long it's been since the blogs that she follows has been updated. Mine said four months. I hadn't realised it had been that long. Of course, I know my little E is four months old now (and a most adorable four-month-old babe she is) but somehow baby time and normal time didn't seem to be going at the same rate.
The point of this is to announce my return to bloggerworld and a new blog column: when 3 become 4, adventures of a busy life of a family of 4!
I was visiting a friend's blog and she has this tool that shows how long it's been since the blogs that she follows has been updated. Mine said four months. I hadn't realised it had been that long. Of course, I know my little E is four months old now (and a most adorable four-month-old babe she is) but somehow baby time and normal time didn't seem to be going at the same rate.
The point of this is to announce my return to bloggerworld and a new blog column: when 3 become 4, adventures of a busy life of a family of 4!
06 December 2009
a rose by any other name...
Juliet was talking about the simple fact that Romeo was only her enemy because of his last name... if he was a Fitzgerald her Daddy wouldn't have a problem... But would we really have as much love for Romeo had he been named Hubert? "Wherefore art thou Hubert" just doesn't have the same ring.
Shakespeare knew what he was about when he was writing the names for his characters... which just goes to show you how important it is to pick the right name for your child.
I have always had the conviction that the name you give your child sets him/her up for life... A name should have a meaning, whether by naming after a loved one or an important historical figure or just the meaning of the name itself. I was almost a Pamela (inward shudder... and apologies to those bearing that name)... thankfully, Diana was a family name and my parents chose to call me that.
Baby #2 is on the way and M and I find ourselves in the same boat as with Annie - trying to find a suitable name. And as usual, we are finding it very difficult. I took a book out of the library entitled 10,000 Baby Names. We didn't find any we liked. You would think this would be an easy task, given that we both agree that we like more traditional names and veer away from the trendy, popular names. It's not as if I'm at Anastasia and he's at Jane, so one would think the gap between us is very narrow. It seems a veritable chasm.
And since I became a Medical Transcriptionist, a whole host of names have just dropped from being options. Certain medical terms that I hear daily sound the same as personal names. Colin makes me think of colon. Brady makes me think of bradycardia (slow heartbeat). Melena is black, tarry stool. Ainsley just sounds too close to anus. I apologise if you or any loved ones have the names above or ones similar in sound or spelling. This is just me. I'm sure each specialty, from engineering to literature has its own words or names that become taboo. For instance, those knowing their Bible stories well (and even those who don't) would not willingly sentence their dear daughter to life with the name Delilah, no matter how beautifully it might roll off the tongue. I would never name my daughter Morgan ever since I took a literature course on the King Arthur stories; three months of hearing how maligned Morgan of the Fairies is as a literary character will turn you off of that name, no matter much how much you might have liked it before. And I did. It was at the top of my list for girls names before then, but now it's just ruined for me.
So, what's in a name? Plenty, if you're an over-analyzer like me. I happen to agree with another literary character who said something to the effect that if a rose was named something dreadful like a skunk cabbage, it wouldn't smell as sweet...
Shakespeare knew what he was about when he was writing the names for his characters... which just goes to show you how important it is to pick the right name for your child.
I have always had the conviction that the name you give your child sets him/her up for life... A name should have a meaning, whether by naming after a loved one or an important historical figure or just the meaning of the name itself. I was almost a Pamela (inward shudder... and apologies to those bearing that name)... thankfully, Diana was a family name and my parents chose to call me that.
Baby #2 is on the way and M and I find ourselves in the same boat as with Annie - trying to find a suitable name. And as usual, we are finding it very difficult. I took a book out of the library entitled 10,000 Baby Names. We didn't find any we liked. You would think this would be an easy task, given that we both agree that we like more traditional names and veer away from the trendy, popular names. It's not as if I'm at Anastasia and he's at Jane, so one would think the gap between us is very narrow. It seems a veritable chasm.
And since I became a Medical Transcriptionist, a whole host of names have just dropped from being options. Certain medical terms that I hear daily sound the same as personal names. Colin makes me think of colon. Brady makes me think of bradycardia (slow heartbeat). Melena is black, tarry stool. Ainsley just sounds too close to anus. I apologise if you or any loved ones have the names above or ones similar in sound or spelling. This is just me. I'm sure each specialty, from engineering to literature has its own words or names that become taboo. For instance, those knowing their Bible stories well (and even those who don't) would not willingly sentence their dear daughter to life with the name Delilah, no matter how beautifully it might roll off the tongue. I would never name my daughter Morgan ever since I took a literature course on the King Arthur stories; three months of hearing how maligned Morgan of the Fairies is as a literary character will turn you off of that name, no matter much how much you might have liked it before. And I did. It was at the top of my list for girls names before then, but now it's just ruined for me.
So, what's in a name? Plenty, if you're an over-analyzer like me. I happen to agree with another literary character who said something to the effect that if a rose was named something dreadful like a skunk cabbage, it wouldn't smell as sweet...
14 October 2009
a mother's love
Ask any mother (or father) and they will tell you there's nothing they wouldn't do for their children.
I didn't realize the full force of this in myself until recently.
The other morning, as I was checking on my daughter and giving her a cup of milk to have in bed, I noticed a big, black, creepy spider crawling on her bed, coming so close as to even crawl on her face. It continued on down the front of the bed to the floor, but not before my heart went from a just-getting-up sleepy beat to a full-fledged fight-or-flight, I-just-had-12-cups-of-espresso-in-a-row type of beat.
I have never liked spiders. In fact, the term arachnophobia pales in comparison to what I feel around them and towards them.
So I ran from the room.
But before you judge, I ran from the room to grab fistfuls of Kleenex. And then I came back.
The creature was still there, black, thick, long, legs scurrying down to the ground. I made a desperate lunge, but didn't quite get it and almost lobbed the thing on A's face. A, to her credit, did not freak out but I think she was concerned why her parental figure was having fits of paroxysmal gasping over seemingly nothing.
The second attempt worked. I ran with my thick wad clenched and crunched up in my hand (I hope you don't need the explanation that I needed a thick wad so as to not feel the spider in my hand after I had caught it), ran to the bathroom, and flushed it triumphantly down the total.
I then ran back to bed and tried to calm my clamouring heart and gasping breath. I did what any wife would do after a catastrophe and called my husband who, to his credit, did not laugh. At least not to my face.
A small event you might think. A personal overcoming of epic proportions, I tell you. Something that would have never happened if I hadn't care about A more than my own fear.
A mother's love.
I didn't realize the full force of this in myself until recently.
The other morning, as I was checking on my daughter and giving her a cup of milk to have in bed, I noticed a big, black, creepy spider crawling on her bed, coming so close as to even crawl on her face. It continued on down the front of the bed to the floor, but not before my heart went from a just-getting-up sleepy beat to a full-fledged fight-or-flight, I-just-had-12-cups-of-espresso-in-a-row type of beat.
I have never liked spiders. In fact, the term arachnophobia pales in comparison to what I feel around them and towards them.
So I ran from the room.
But before you judge, I ran from the room to grab fistfuls of Kleenex. And then I came back.
The creature was still there, black, thick, long, legs scurrying down to the ground. I made a desperate lunge, but didn't quite get it and almost lobbed the thing on A's face. A, to her credit, did not freak out but I think she was concerned why her parental figure was having fits of paroxysmal gasping over seemingly nothing.
The second attempt worked. I ran with my thick wad clenched and crunched up in my hand (I hope you don't need the explanation that I needed a thick wad so as to not feel the spider in my hand after I had caught it), ran to the bathroom, and flushed it triumphantly down the total.
I then ran back to bed and tried to calm my clamouring heart and gasping breath. I did what any wife would do after a catastrophe and called my husband who, to his credit, did not laugh. At least not to my face.
A small event you might think. A personal overcoming of epic proportions, I tell you. Something that would have never happened if I hadn't care about A more than my own fear.
A mother's love.
16 August 2009
ch-ch-ch-changes
There have been a number of big changes in our west coast grace life these past few weeks. It seems life was sort of "on hold" until after we returned home from our vacation in Peachland and then it started pouring down us....literally - in the form of rain which was a nice change after the heat and humidity of the previous few weeks.
The biggest change of all was moving Annie into a big bed. M and I had been talking about it but were not in any big hurry. However, the day we got back from holidays, she took it upon herself to climb in and out of her crib not once, but five or six times. It was quite a feat let me tell you. She would grasp the railing and haul her little legs up and then literally fall in or out of the crib, whichever way she was planning to go. To prevent any injuries we decided, with much trepidation on my part after hearing numerous horror stories, of putting her in a "big girl" bed. It went surprisingly smoothly, with only a few days of her getting out of bed and playing with toys or trying to look through the window when she was supposed to be in bed sleeping. It was a bittersweet moment, seeing her so small lying on the big mattress, knowing she was my baby and realising she was growing up. She's only two and already I think she's getting way too big.
Another big change comes with me starting my new job. It's been going very good. In fact, it's only been about 3 weeks and I'm already through my training and onto being a full-fledged medical transcriptionist! After all the years of hard work, it is so good to have reached this goal. It's quite exciting to be actually working in the field I've studied for so long and I'm surprised that it's not as big of a change as I feared it was going to be, especially since I have a babysitter coming in once a week to take care of Annie. But she loves her Auntie P! I also think it's time to bring back the medical word of the day as well.
My body is also changing, making room for this baby. I think my stomach is smaller this time comparable with Annie, and I wonder where this baby actually is hiding. I guess it will pop out soon enough and I am enjoying the fact that I'm almost halfway (almost 20 weeks) and I'm not even wearing maternity clothes yet.
So... changes... looking back on them, especially the move from crib (read baby) to bed (read toddler/big girl), is not as traumatic as the first night when I peeked in on her and I wondered where my baby girl went. And I know in a few years I'll peek in on her and wonder where my tripping toddler went, and so on... It seems that more changes happen more often lately and I wonder if I'll ever get used to it... and I wonder if when she's 20, I'll look at Annie and remember the first night she changed from my baby to my big girl in the blink of an eye....
The biggest change of all was moving Annie into a big bed. M and I had been talking about it but were not in any big hurry. However, the day we got back from holidays, she took it upon herself to climb in and out of her crib not once, but five or six times. It was quite a feat let me tell you. She would grasp the railing and haul her little legs up and then literally fall in or out of the crib, whichever way she was planning to go. To prevent any injuries we decided, with much trepidation on my part after hearing numerous horror stories, of putting her in a "big girl" bed. It went surprisingly smoothly, with only a few days of her getting out of bed and playing with toys or trying to look through the window when she was supposed to be in bed sleeping. It was a bittersweet moment, seeing her so small lying on the big mattress, knowing she was my baby and realising she was growing up. She's only two and already I think she's getting way too big.
Another big change comes with me starting my new job. It's been going very good. In fact, it's only been about 3 weeks and I'm already through my training and onto being a full-fledged medical transcriptionist! After all the years of hard work, it is so good to have reached this goal. It's quite exciting to be actually working in the field I've studied for so long and I'm surprised that it's not as big of a change as I feared it was going to be, especially since I have a babysitter coming in once a week to take care of Annie. But she loves her Auntie P! I also think it's time to bring back the medical word of the day as well.
My body is also changing, making room for this baby. I think my stomach is smaller this time comparable with Annie, and I wonder where this baby actually is hiding. I guess it will pop out soon enough and I am enjoying the fact that I'm almost halfway (almost 20 weeks) and I'm not even wearing maternity clothes yet.
So... changes... looking back on them, especially the move from crib (read baby) to bed (read toddler/big girl), is not as traumatic as the first night when I peeked in on her and I wondered where my baby girl went. And I know in a few years I'll peek in on her and wonder where my tripping toddler went, and so on... It seems that more changes happen more often lately and I wonder if I'll ever get used to it... and I wonder if when she's 20, I'll look at Annie and remember the first night she changed from my baby to my big girl in the blink of an eye....
22 January 2009
odds and ends
I thought it was about time for an update.
So many good things have been going since the Christmas holidays that I haven't had the time to write or even think about what to write. So here is an update about what has been happening in the VW household, according to me. Because I'm sure if you asked M about it, he would have an entirely different opinion... he says, she says...
1) I had a great Christmas with my family. M had a great Christmas with his family in Lethbridge. Due to the freakish snowy weather in BC, flights were canceled, delayed, etc. Not to mention the roads and highways going to the Vancouver Airport were closed or hazardous. A look back here will serve as a reminder to how we West Coasters respond to driving on snowy roads. There is a reason this blog is named after the rain we get here, not snow...
So yes, I was in Abbotsford and M was in Lethbridge on Christmas. However, I do want to express my heartfelt (and almost desperate?) thanks to WestJet for their superb customer service in helping me change my flight. I shuddered at the thought of being stranded in YVR with Annie for any number of hours or, even worse than that, on a plane! like all those Air Canada people... thank you, thank you, thank you...
But I had a great day and the next morning I flew to the beautiful city of Calgary and then onto Lethbridge to spend a week with my out-laws, I mean in-laws. We had a good time with 15 adults crammed into one house. IT WAS COLD. IT WAS WINDY. IT WAS SNOWY. Needless to say we didn't venture out too much. Needless to say it reminded M and me of living up North. Needless to say we expressed our happiness at not having to go home to that kind of weather... I love the Valley. A good time was had by all... R&Cs to enjoy in the evening, lots of Settler games to play, crocheting to learn (yes, you did read that correctly) and best of all, family members to hang out with and spend time with and enjoy, not knowing when the next time we would all see each other...
Moving on...
2) I am now officially done the course part of my program and an knee-deep or wrist-deep in a practicum that I am thoroughly enjoying. I thought I would find the transition from course to work very difficult. To be honest, I was getting so stressed out from my course that I feared I wouldn't even enjoy the work anymore. Not exactly the best outlook after working three long years to finally reach this goal. But it is great! My supervisor is a wonderful lady who has nothing but good and encouraging things to say about my work! What a relief! And I love the job! All the new words get a bit tedious after a few hours and then I either take a break or usually it's late enough I just go straight to bed... but I'm excited to be almost done...
3) This past week has been gorgeous in the Fraser Valley. I know Vancouver has been shrouded in fog but where we live the sun has been shining gloriously. Which is another reason I haven't been blogging. When it's raining like it so often does here, there's no excuse. But Annie and I have been out walking almost every day this week. I almost think the calendar is lying to me saying it is only January 22. I can't say enough about it...
4) Singing with Pierce Brosnan. Now, I know the story line is a little on the sketchy side, but when you have been a fan of ABBA for decades like I have (thanks to the influence of an older sister) you cannot but like Momma Mia the movie. I watched it with my sisters last weekend. We did the sing-a-long afterwards... I loved it so much I want to organize a group viewing and sing-a-long. I fear that I will receive the same enthusiastic reponse as I did when I suggested a Sound of Music sing-a-long for a piano fundraiser for our church up North...
5) I did not mean for this to turn into a numbered list. I couldn't sleep last night because my mind was churning along at a million kilometres a minute. I could have produced enough electricity to power my street with all the synapses and processes going in there. So I did something constructive: thought about what I would blog about.
6) I've been checking out my friend Thelma's blog a lot lately. Clearly it is very cold there because she has been blogging a lot lately. This post, about artistry and domesticity not necessarily canceling eachother out reflects many thoughts that I have had about the exact same issue. As she puts it,
You have to understand that most liberal arts majors spend many hours imagining their lives as anything but 'domestic'... and by domestic I simply mean the daily chores of life which are unavoidable unless you wish to live in squalor. While we study all sorts of juicy stuff in university, moving steadily towards some vague, unspecified future, we know only one thing : our lives will not be ordinary.
We will travel. We will spend months in a tiny apartment overlooking the Seine, stabbing away at a cheap typewriter because we haven't sold a story in months and can't afford the electricity. We may marry (though it's unlikely) and if we do, he will be some misunderstood artist who insists on wearing a ragged black cape for inspiration while standing out on the balcony of some Swiss chalet, barefoot and freezing. We'll latch on to strangers as Muses, seek inspiration in the most unlikely places, so that when we win some obscure Canadian prize for our first short collection of poetry, we can offer some witty, esoteric anecdote to the literary student who interviews us. We will dress oddly, in a randomly thrown together yet artistically fashionable way, and try to have some trademark feature (massive white handkerchief, strange headpiece, messy hair pulled back into a bun, etc) so as to maintain our sense of mystery. And through all this, we will do whatever it was we studied so hard for in university. (Di has probably spit her coffee out twice while reading this, because she knows exactly what I mean.)
You're beginning to see how in all of this, things like doing dishes, folding laundry and preparing meals don't play a role. We'd be much too busy eating the petals of lilies so that in the poem we were writing we wouldn't be limited to touch, sight and smell in our descriptors.
Adjusting to reality in terms of being a successful writer/poet while living a regular life actually took a bit. I had it in my mind that no one living a simple life of hard work and ordinary chores (sans travel, eclectic husband and 'starving artist' experience) would even be considered for publication. Some editor would look at me in my jeans and tee-shirt (sans unique hankie, headpiece or wild hair) and grunt, "Nope. Boring life. Go away."
After four and half years of marriage and a having a child, sometimes the level of domesticity I have achieved shocks me. But it is an accomplishment and a blessing. And when I'm holding Annie in my arms and take in the scent of her sweet-smelling little head or take out a loaf of homemade bread from the oven I realise I revel in my domesticity as much as I ever did my artistry.
So.Odds and ends. Travel. Work. Holidays. Home life. Writing. Typing. Family. Friends. All part of living in West Coast Grace.
So many good things have been going since the Christmas holidays that I haven't had the time to write or even think about what to write. So here is an update about what has been happening in the VW household, according to me. Because I'm sure if you asked M about it, he would have an entirely different opinion... he says, she says...
1) I had a great Christmas with my family. M had a great Christmas with his family in Lethbridge. Due to the freakish snowy weather in BC, flights were canceled, delayed, etc. Not to mention the roads and highways going to the Vancouver Airport were closed or hazardous. A look back here will serve as a reminder to how we West Coasters respond to driving on snowy roads. There is a reason this blog is named after the rain we get here, not snow...
So yes, I was in Abbotsford and M was in Lethbridge on Christmas. However, I do want to express my heartfelt (and almost desperate?) thanks to WestJet for their superb customer service in helping me change my flight. I shuddered at the thought of being stranded in YVR with Annie for any number of hours or, even worse than that, on a plane! like all those Air Canada people... thank you, thank you, thank you...
But I had a great day and the next morning I flew to the beautiful city of Calgary and then onto Lethbridge to spend a week with my out-laws, I mean in-laws. We had a good time with 15 adults crammed into one house. IT WAS COLD. IT WAS WINDY. IT WAS SNOWY. Needless to say we didn't venture out too much. Needless to say it reminded M and me of living up North. Needless to say we expressed our happiness at not having to go home to that kind of weather... I love the Valley. A good time was had by all... R&Cs to enjoy in the evening, lots of Settler games to play, crocheting to learn (yes, you did read that correctly) and best of all, family members to hang out with and spend time with and enjoy, not knowing when the next time we would all see each other...
Moving on...
2) I am now officially done the course part of my program and an knee-deep or wrist-deep in a practicum that I am thoroughly enjoying. I thought I would find the transition from course to work very difficult. To be honest, I was getting so stressed out from my course that I feared I wouldn't even enjoy the work anymore. Not exactly the best outlook after working three long years to finally reach this goal. But it is great! My supervisor is a wonderful lady who has nothing but good and encouraging things to say about my work! What a relief! And I love the job! All the new words get a bit tedious after a few hours and then I either take a break or usually it's late enough I just go straight to bed... but I'm excited to be almost done...
3) This past week has been gorgeous in the Fraser Valley. I know Vancouver has been shrouded in fog but where we live the sun has been shining gloriously. Which is another reason I haven't been blogging. When it's raining like it so often does here, there's no excuse. But Annie and I have been out walking almost every day this week. I almost think the calendar is lying to me saying it is only January 22. I can't say enough about it...
4) Singing with Pierce Brosnan. Now, I know the story line is a little on the sketchy side, but when you have been a fan of ABBA for decades like I have (thanks to the influence of an older sister) you cannot but like Momma Mia the movie. I watched it with my sisters last weekend. We did the sing-a-long afterwards... I loved it so much I want to organize a group viewing and sing-a-long. I fear that I will receive the same enthusiastic reponse as I did when I suggested a Sound of Music sing-a-long for a piano fundraiser for our church up North...
5) I did not mean for this to turn into a numbered list. I couldn't sleep last night because my mind was churning along at a million kilometres a minute. I could have produced enough electricity to power my street with all the synapses and processes going in there. So I did something constructive: thought about what I would blog about.
6) I've been checking out my friend Thelma's blog a lot lately. Clearly it is very cold there because she has been blogging a lot lately. This post, about artistry and domesticity not necessarily canceling eachother out reflects many thoughts that I have had about the exact same issue. As she puts it,
You have to understand that most liberal arts majors spend many hours imagining their lives as anything but 'domestic'... and by domestic I simply mean the daily chores of life which are unavoidable unless you wish to live in squalor. While we study all sorts of juicy stuff in university, moving steadily towards some vague, unspecified future, we know only one thing : our lives will not be ordinary.
We will travel. We will spend months in a tiny apartment overlooking the Seine, stabbing away at a cheap typewriter because we haven't sold a story in months and can't afford the electricity. We may marry (though it's unlikely) and if we do, he will be some misunderstood artist who insists on wearing a ragged black cape for inspiration while standing out on the balcony of some Swiss chalet, barefoot and freezing. We'll latch on to strangers as Muses, seek inspiration in the most unlikely places, so that when we win some obscure Canadian prize for our first short collection of poetry, we can offer some witty, esoteric anecdote to the literary student who interviews us. We will dress oddly, in a randomly thrown together yet artistically fashionable way, and try to have some trademark feature (massive white handkerchief, strange headpiece, messy hair pulled back into a bun, etc) so as to maintain our sense of mystery. And through all this, we will do whatever it was we studied so hard for in university. (Di has probably spit her coffee out twice while reading this, because she knows exactly what I mean.)
You're beginning to see how in all of this, things like doing dishes, folding laundry and preparing meals don't play a role. We'd be much too busy eating the petals of lilies so that in the poem we were writing we wouldn't be limited to touch, sight and smell in our descriptors.
Adjusting to reality in terms of being a successful writer/poet while living a regular life actually took a bit. I had it in my mind that no one living a simple life of hard work and ordinary chores (sans travel, eclectic husband and 'starving artist' experience) would even be considered for publication. Some editor would look at me in my jeans and tee-shirt (sans unique hankie, headpiece or wild hair) and grunt, "Nope. Boring life. Go away."
After four and half years of marriage and a having a child, sometimes the level of domesticity I have achieved shocks me. But it is an accomplishment and a blessing. And when I'm holding Annie in my arms and take in the scent of her sweet-smelling little head or take out a loaf of homemade bread from the oven I realise I revel in my domesticity as much as I ever did my artistry.
So.Odds and ends. Travel. Work. Holidays. Home life. Writing. Typing. Family. Friends. All part of living in West Coast Grace.
02 October 2008
four walls
On a day like today, it is easy to forget that there is a world beyond the walls of our two bedroom apartment.
On a day like today, the challenges coming at me from within these four walls seem as insurmountable as all the problems of the four corners of the earth.
A day of no naps follows a night of no sleep. A stuffed up nose and fever exist simultaneously with three teeth trying to make their way to the surface.
This adds up to a miserable child who adorably wants to sit on my lap to be comforted one minute but is scrambling off to get into something she shouldn't the next. This does not make for a good day. This, along with the pressure to work on my course, makes for a certain element of constant stress.
I have always prided myself in maintaining an interest in the world beyond my little world. Many people have a daily life of hardships that I cannot even fathom. But is easy to forget about all that and to have a very narrow vision when it comes to day to day life.
For example, when I vote it is with thanks in my heart for the many people a hundred years who stood up for democracy (Emmeline Pankhurst and Nellie McClung among them) and the knowledge that for many thousands of years this was a privilege unheard of for men and women ( I am an historian, after all).
So on day like today when the four walls threaten to close in on me like an Indiana Jones movie, I need to remember that what happens beyond our home could have a great impact on what happens inside it. And the reverse is true as well.
Enjoying a nice glass of red wine while watching the evening news after a day like today makes it a little easier. Small blessings.
On a day like today, the challenges coming at me from within these four walls seem as insurmountable as all the problems of the four corners of the earth.
A day of no naps follows a night of no sleep. A stuffed up nose and fever exist simultaneously with three teeth trying to make their way to the surface.
This adds up to a miserable child who adorably wants to sit on my lap to be comforted one minute but is scrambling off to get into something she shouldn't the next. This does not make for a good day. This, along with the pressure to work on my course, makes for a certain element of constant stress.
I have always prided myself in maintaining an interest in the world beyond my little world. Many people have a daily life of hardships that I cannot even fathom. But is easy to forget about all that and to have a very narrow vision when it comes to day to day life.
For example, when I vote it is with thanks in my heart for the many people a hundred years who stood up for democracy (Emmeline Pankhurst and Nellie McClung among them) and the knowledge that for many thousands of years this was a privilege unheard of for men and women ( I am an historian, after all).
So on day like today when the four walls threaten to close in on me like an Indiana Jones movie, I need to remember that what happens beyond our home could have a great impact on what happens inside it. And the reverse is true as well.
Enjoying a nice glass of red wine while watching the evening news after a day like today makes it a little easier. Small blessings.
28 September 2008
a week in the life of a New Mom of a Toddler
So, not enough angst? Let's just say that I experienced enough angst this week, but if I had written it up in a blog it would have sounded a lot worse than it was. I think that if I wasn't so stressed out with my course, and I think that if Mike hadn't been busy every night last week with a side job that he was working on, it would have gone a lot better.
What is going on? you ask.
A is in a transition... and going from a regularly scheduled day to me trying to figure when naptime is just threw us both for a loop. She's getting bigger and I think she's growing out of two naps. However, one nap a day is not enough yet. Her clockwork day of a nap at 9:00 or 9:30am and 1:00 or 1:30pm is just not happening anymore. This has been her schedule for atleast 8 months...
So our days, like dice, have been thrown up in the air, and who knows where they will land. Some days she is tired at 9:00. And then I ask the question, if I put her down for a nap now, and this is her only nap for the day, am I going to have a little crank on my hands by 3:00? She doesn't go to bed until 7:00 and I will not put her down for another nap at 4:00 or 5:00. Do I wait until 11:00 and deal with a little crank for two hours? And then there's the whole thing of those hours when she's napping that I can quickly run around the house and get everything done... dishes, bed made, laundry started, etc. I fear those precious hours are going for good. Now it takes me much longer to do those things because I have to watch her at the same time. I've said it before and I'll say it again now, and I'll probably keep on saying it until we buy a house... even though we only live in a two bedroom apartment right now, she still finds all sorts of stuff to get into. I'm actually glad we don't live in a house right now, because WHO KNOWS what kind of SHENANIGANS she would get into.
At the start of another week, I'm hoping a pattern will start to form itself. Anyone out there with some advice for this New Mom would be welcome.
Come to think of it, I think that Moms are always New Moms. Because really every stage is new and every child is a new and different personality. Even if your child is growing older, you're a new mom of a toddler... or a grade schooler...or a teenager... or a new mom of a young adult...
Good thing for a us New Moms that there is enough Experienced Moms out there with plenty of wisdom and good advice.
What is going on? you ask.
A is in a transition... and going from a regularly scheduled day to me trying to figure when naptime is just threw us both for a loop. She's getting bigger and I think she's growing out of two naps. However, one nap a day is not enough yet. Her clockwork day of a nap at 9:00 or 9:30am and 1:00 or 1:30pm is just not happening anymore. This has been her schedule for atleast 8 months...
So our days, like dice, have been thrown up in the air, and who knows where they will land. Some days she is tired at 9:00. And then I ask the question, if I put her down for a nap now, and this is her only nap for the day, am I going to have a little crank on my hands by 3:00? She doesn't go to bed until 7:00 and I will not put her down for another nap at 4:00 or 5:00. Do I wait until 11:00 and deal with a little crank for two hours? And then there's the whole thing of those hours when she's napping that I can quickly run around the house and get everything done... dishes, bed made, laundry started, etc. I fear those precious hours are going for good. Now it takes me much longer to do those things because I have to watch her at the same time. I've said it before and I'll say it again now, and I'll probably keep on saying it until we buy a house... even though we only live in a two bedroom apartment right now, she still finds all sorts of stuff to get into. I'm actually glad we don't live in a house right now, because WHO KNOWS what kind of SHENANIGANS she would get into.
At the start of another week, I'm hoping a pattern will start to form itself. Anyone out there with some advice for this New Mom would be welcome.
Come to think of it, I think that Moms are always New Moms. Because really every stage is new and every child is a new and different personality. Even if your child is growing older, you're a new mom of a toddler... or a grade schooler...or a teenager... or a new mom of a young adult...
Good thing for a us New Moms that there is enough Experienced Moms out there with plenty of wisdom and good advice.
22 September 2008
woodworking
It was a dark and stormy Saturday night and I was not in the best of moods when I pulled into the Walmart parking lot. That West Coast rain was pouring down, but unlike the name of this blog, grace was the last thing on my mind.
It had been a busy day running errands and only two hours before I had come home from grocery shopping and looking forward to sitting down with some supper and perhaps a g&t. Not being used to a new and much bigger grocery store had left my flustered and frustrated as I tried to find all the things on my list. Save-on-Foods in Abbotsford is a lot larger than Super Valu in Houston.
But the quiet time had to wait. After having a quick bite to eat to stave off a fainting spell, I had to head out again. A had thrown her soother in the garbage that afternoon and to avoid a 13-month-old-sized catastrophe we needed a new one ASAP.
The Walmart baby section is at the furthest corner of the store. As I walked down the main centre aisle I noticed a homeless man dressed in raggedy clothes drinking a hot coffee and watching the tv, most likely taking some shelter from the deluge outside. And his clothes were raggedy indeed - a myriad of colours from different shirts showing through a myriad of holes and tears.
"Why do the homeless have to look so homeless?" I thought uncharitably, begrudging his right to be in the store, as if the sight of him injured my eyes.
As the thought finished crossing my mind, shame filled me. How bad of a mood did I have to be in and how full of my own self-importance, to judge another person? The verse about seeing the sliver in someone else's eye around the plank in my own came to me.
I continued my journey to the far end of the store a little slower and a little more somberly, with words of prayer in my heart.
Those planks of judgmentalism surprised and convicted me. It seems I have some woodworking to do.
It had been a busy day running errands and only two hours before I had come home from grocery shopping and looking forward to sitting down with some supper and perhaps a g&t. Not being used to a new and much bigger grocery store had left my flustered and frustrated as I tried to find all the things on my list. Save-on-Foods in Abbotsford is a lot larger than Super Valu in Houston.
But the quiet time had to wait. After having a quick bite to eat to stave off a fainting spell, I had to head out again. A had thrown her soother in the garbage that afternoon and to avoid a 13-month-old-sized catastrophe we needed a new one ASAP.
The Walmart baby section is at the furthest corner of the store. As I walked down the main centre aisle I noticed a homeless man dressed in raggedy clothes drinking a hot coffee and watching the tv, most likely taking some shelter from the deluge outside. And his clothes were raggedy indeed - a myriad of colours from different shirts showing through a myriad of holes and tears.
"Why do the homeless have to look so homeless?" I thought uncharitably, begrudging his right to be in the store, as if the sight of him injured my eyes.
As the thought finished crossing my mind, shame filled me. How bad of a mood did I have to be in and how full of my own self-importance, to judge another person? The verse about seeing the sliver in someone else's eye around the plank in my own came to me.
I continued my journey to the far end of the store a little slower and a little more somberly, with words of prayer in my heart.
Those planks of judgmentalism surprised and convicted me. It seems I have some woodworking to do.
15 September 2008
a place for everything...
I should expect the unexpected with life with a one-year-old. Even in a two-bedroom apartment A is never at a loss to find things to get into. Everyday she surprises me.
Today, for example, she came sauntering towards me carrying a diaper. Thankfully, it was not that dirty. She hands it to me, then saunters off again towards her bedroom. I follow her only to find that she has been digging in her garbage pail. The lid was off and it was not in its normal place, but surprisingly there was no garbage all over the floor. I took a quick look around and had to laugh when I noticed that she had placed four diapers, neatly and carefully, in her laundry basket.
I don't know if this means that she has budding genius sorting or organisational skills, or that she is just getting into trouble...
Today, for example, she came sauntering towards me carrying a diaper. Thankfully, it was not that dirty. She hands it to me, then saunters off again towards her bedroom. I follow her only to find that she has been digging in her garbage pail. The lid was off and it was not in its normal place, but surprisingly there was no garbage all over the floor. I took a quick look around and had to laugh when I noticed that she had placed four diapers, neatly and carefully, in her laundry basket.
I don't know if this means that she has budding genius sorting or organisational skills, or that she is just getting into trouble...
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