A Storyteller's Journey

Welcome Sadie!

2012-01-15T16:23:00.000-08:00

I finally have a few quiet moments. Sadie is sleeping, Josh and the children are at church. The news is playing quietly, but the chaos in the world isn't really getting in. It's peaceful here.

Photo Credit: Audrey Dodgen of Dodgen Photography.

I went into labor sometime Wednesday night. I'm not sure what time because, after we got home from church and put the kids to bed I got into the bathtub with a really good book. I haven't finished it yet. I did read about half of it before I got out of the tub at 12:30. It was late and Josh was already sleeping, so I just crawled into bed and fell asleep pretty quickly. Caroline woke us up about an hour later and Josh went to check on her. I realized that I was having contractions and I was wet. Not soaked, but pretty wet. Caroline was still fussing, so I went and rocked her for a bit and noticed that the contractions were pretty regular. I put her to bed when she fell asleep and then told Josh what was going on. We timed a few and they were about 6 minutes apart, so we called my Mom and Tara. Mom was coming over to sit with the kids and Tara was going to have to drive up from Texas, where she's just moved.

We got to the hospital around 3 am and got up to L&D without any incident, thought I have to admit that OU's hospitals are the most confusing hallways I've ever navigated. We checked in and I was already at 6 cm, so they took us to a room and basically left us alone until it was time to push. My Midwife wasn't on call until the next day, so another one, Barb was there. She was fabulous.

My cousin Audrey came up to take pictures. It was nice to have someone to chat with between contractions. She takes fantastic pictures and she kept Josh occupied. The contractions were pretty intense after a bit, and Josh would rub my back or let me hold onto him until they passed. For a while I really didn't think Tara was going to make it. They were incredibly intense, and I started to feel a little pushy, so they called Barb and she checked me. I was only at 8, so she told me I was going to have to wait a bit. Oddly, just after that things slowed down for a while. I kept thinking about Tara and hoping she'd make it and at about 6 am the contractions picked back up and Tara got there. I had them call Barb back and she checked me again and I was ready. They broke the bed down so I could squat at the end of the bed.

On and off I had been listening to my Hypnobabies tracks. This is the third unmedicated birth that I've had and I realized early on that the only way to accomplish it was to learn to relax myself as completely as possible and let my body do what it was supposed to do. I had asked that I not have anyone coach me to push. Instead I let my body push as it needed to. I started to feel kind of embarrassed, like I wasn't doing anything. Barb and my nurse (what was her name?) and Josh and Tara and Audrey were all just standing around while I waited for a contraction and the eventual, short urge to push that would pass pretty quickly. But Barb never said a thing except to encourage me when I made a little progress and Josh just kept whispering in my ear. It was really peaceful and relaxed. There wasn't any hurry. The monitors showed that Sadie was fine and my body was working.

About 35 minutes in I got a stronger urge and so I pushed. And then I pushed really hard. Her head came out and she was about halfway there, but that's when they realized that the cord was wrapped around her neck. Twice. And she started to turn purple. So Barb told me those things and told me that I needed to push now. She was gentle but firm. I wanted to rest, I was afraid of pushing too hard and tearing, but I knew that I needed to push so I did. And thats how Sadie came out in basically two pushes.

I've been so afraid of what might happen. I had no idea how peaceful it could be to give birth on my own time. I didn't tear at all, and Sadie was as red as a lobster, but she was fine and now she's doing just fine. There wasn't the kind of fear this time that there was in the past.

I've been thinking about a particular Bible verse for the last week or so:

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. 1 John 4:18 (esv)

I'm not saying that I've somehow been perfected in love- I have a long way to go- but in that moment, when I could have been frightened, I was strong. It actually never occurred to me that anything bad would happen to her. I just knew that I needed to do something for her and I did.

Maybe it's because I stopped thinking about it so much and just did what I needed to do in the way that I needed to do it, or maybe it's because I've been so intentionally preparing for this birth, but whatever it is or was, all I thought about was that little face and what she needed. It feels like this is speaking so much toward where I am and what I am hoping to become as a mother. It's hard and lonely sometimes to be a mother. It feels like you give and give until you have almost nothing left and you just want to eat a meal without having to get up, or go to the bathroom without an audience. But there are moments when your kids really need you to stop thinking about yourself and the things you are afraid of and be or do for them what they really need at that moment. Maybe they won't strangle, but maybe they won't thrive either.

Am I an old pro? No, but I feel like I might be hitting a stride. I feel like I might finally be figuring things out. Of course, I still haven't actually gone anywhere with the three of them alone. Yet.

1000 Gifts Post #8

2012-01-09T12:54:00.000-08:00

132. Nap time
133. Watching Jonah draw and color
134. Exercise Balls
135. Tea
136. Quiet days
137. Bath time for me
138. Vanilla Yogurt
139. Blogs
140. Email
141. Hand-me-down clothing
142. Moms who help you clean everything out and reorganize
143. fuzzy socks
144. Quesadillas

Old Pro

2012-01-06T07:31:00.000-08:00

"Do you feel like an old pro yet? I'm curious what it is like to have some of the mystery taken out of the experience."

My friend, Rose, commented on my last post and this statement really caught my attention. Am I an old pro? This will be my third baby and my third completely natural birth. I still remember how nervous I was before Jonah was born, and how everyone was pretty encouraging, except for one woman from church. I mentioned in a social situation (to someone else) that I was planning on a natural birth and she laughed at me. She told me it would hurt too bad and I would never be able to do it. WHile listening to her talk, I realized that she was offended that I would even think that I would be able to do it. It was a very strange experience. On the one hand she fed into all of my deepest fears: that I wouldn't be able to handle the pain or that I simply wasn't strong enough. On the other hand, I felt strangely detached listening to her. I felt sorry for her. I don't know what her experience was with that one child she'd had 6 or 8 years before, but it obviously wasn't particularly good. I didn't really respond much to her. Instead I went on to have Jonah, drug free and very quickly. I don't know what her thoughts were after that, but I wasn't going to ask either.

All of my appointments with my midwife have been fairly brief. She's super-nice and open to whatever questions I might have, but the truth is that there aren't a lot of questions about this pregnancy. So I come in and they weigh me and take my blood pressure, and we listen to the heartbeat and they measure my belly to make sure she's growing roughly on schedule. She has and my blood pressure and weight haven't been an issue, so we visit for a few minutes and then I go. I usually get home from the appointment about an hour after I leave the house. This pregnancy has been fairly boring.

So, am I an old pro? I know what to expect and I don't really need to ask a million questions. I'm very well read on pregnancy and birth, though there are still things I'm learning every day.

The rest of Rose's comment was about the spiritual side of birth. In theory I know that I need to have patience and faith that my body was made to do this: that Sadie will come at the right time, even if it isn't my timing. I have a lot of faith in my body. I know that I can give birth and that my body doesn't need lots of medical intervention to do what it's supposed to do. I suppose that's not really faith, since it's been proven on two pervious occasions, but pregnancy and birth are unpredictable things, like hurricanes. They are strong, wild acts of nature that you can't control. You can predict a lot of what will happen, but sometimes they fly off in a direction you didn't expect. You might suddenly find yourself with shoulder dystocia or unexpected tearing, or other things that I won't talk about. That's what makes it all so frightening

And it is frightening, even if you have had several children. You still don't know if the storm will take off in some unknown direction and leave you physically and spiritually ravaged. It's not just a question of medical issues, though it certainly does involve your physical integrity. It also involves your spiritual integrity. It's true, the quote by Elizabeth Stone, having a child is a momentous decision, because a piece of your heart is forever outside of your control after you make it. Whatever happens to your child, happens to a part of you. There is almost no way to be fully prepared for that release.

So, why the impatience? Jonah was born eight days after his scheduled due date, so there was more than a little impatient anticipation (not helped at all by the boss who called repeatedly to ask if I had gone into labor yet, or the fact that my substitute teacher quit a few days after I started my maternity leave, or the abrasive midwife who brought up induction the minute I was "overdue"). I carried Caroline so low toward the end of my pregnancy that I was incredibly uncomfortable. But discomfort and social pressure and being overdue are only a small part of it, i think. I think it's a simple matter of wanting to have the outcome decided. To have the next stage of things begin and some closure to the uncertainty.

Am I an old pro? Am I an old pro at being impatient. I'm an old pro at researching my options and knowing as much about the process as possible. I'm an old pro at going into labor and keeping calm. I'm an old pro at finding myself about to push and being suddenly terrified.

So maybe I'm an old pro, but not necessarily in the way I'd like to be. I'd like to be a pro at relinquishing control without reservation. I'd like to be a pro at recognizing my own power in moments when fear usually grips me. I'm not sure you ever become completely competent at these things, perhaps just more practiced at it.

Waiting

2012-01-05T18:36:00.000-08:00

For so long my prayer has been- Not until after Christmas. I just have too many little projects that have to be completed before Sadie comes, so Lord, please let her wait until I have a chance to get past Christmas!

And she did.

I'm not technically due until the 14th, so I'm really still quite early to be so impatient, but I'm also very worn out. My body hurts. For the last few evenings she has decided to stick her behind out just over my belly button. My only recourse is to push back to lessen the pressure, but it doesn't help much. There are lots of hot baths and sitting on my exercise ball, but mostly I'm just ready to be done.

And then there's the kids... Jonah knows it's coming, which has made him a bit difficult and it's hard to explain to Caroline, so I'm afraid she's just in for a big shock.

Life changes so quickly, and it seems like there's nothing to do but to go along and try to adjust in the moment. To take a close look at how you are dealing with things and to constantly gauge whether your own approach is still appropriate for the situation. There are lots of times when I feel like I just need to catch my breath. I just needs to take a moment and step away from all of it and remember who I am and what I am passionate about.

My kids. My husband. Stories. Not necessarily always in that order.

I'll have a new story to tell soon.

Christmas Crazy

2011-12-09T06:17:00.000-08:00

So, I haven't posted in so long that I'm sure most of you think I forgot I even had a blog. The truth is that I didn't feel like I had anything to say, and what I did have to say was mostly complaining about the craziness that is December.
Yesterday I gave my final exam review for my Comm 2 class at OC. On Tuesday I will give the final exam, grade them all and be done with it. In them mean time I have a few grades to input. Mostly, my mind is on Christmas, though. I have a list, but I still haven't purchased about half of it, plus the wrapping. My saving grace will be the kid's Mother's Day Out program. It's going to give me two days to go shopping alone. Well, two five hour windows.
We haven't even decorated the tree. We got it on the Saturday after Thanksgiving and it sits with lights and star, but no decor. Kinda sad.
Also, what do you buy for an 18 month old for Christmas. I have no problem coming up with great ideas for Jonah, but Caroline seems to be getting the short end of the stick. I suppose it doesn't matter too much since she can't tell that she's gotten less, but it makes me feel bad. Maybe I'll buy her extra clothing or something?

After Christmas we'll have to get all the decorations down pretty quick and rearrange our room because baby Sadie will arrive just after the school semester starts back in January. Fortunately babies don't take up much space when they are very little, because she will be sharing a room with me and Josh for a while.
In the mean time I'm feeling large and awkward, and still pleading with this sweet little girl to take her time. No matter how cumbersome I feel, or how achy I get, I can care for her a lot easier, and sleep much easier if she stays put, than if I'm also running around like a lunatic trying to get my house rearranged for her, or trying to buy Christmas gifts. I'm only 35 weeks (on Saturday) so it's unlikely she'll be here before Christmas, but it's still a worry, since I've already dropped and I've been having lots of practice contractions.

Most of all I'm a bit sad. I love Christmas. I want it to be magical and fun for my children. I want it to take a slower pace and for us to be able to spend some time together, happily enjoying each other's company. I don't want to stress over timing and to-do lists.

So we're doing the Elf on the Shelf, which Jonah thinks is a hoot. I'm trying to plan a time when we can drive around to look at some lights and hopefully we'll get to decorate the tree tonight. And all the while I'll be trying to put all the deadlines and upcoming events out of my mind.

1000 Gifts, post #7

2011-11-02T12:45:00.000-07:00

114. afternoon naps
115. cheap cowboy hats
116. Apple cider
117. Jonah's imagination
118. The way Caroline looks at me when I come pick her up.
119. Rain
120. Having time to myself
121. Prayer
122. Good biblical discussions with friends
123. realizing that I am not in control
124. realizing that I am more in control than I realized, just not of the things I thought I was
125. Our dog
126. Green Tomatoes
127. Falling leaves
128. Falling temperatures
129. A new Bible
130. Good health
131. Sisters

Fall 2

2011-09-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

I love fall, but the change of weather has left me in a funk. If I am honest, it isn't simply the change in weather but the presence of a climate of coldness and indifference.

I don't know Troy Davis, but the whole story has made me sad.
A friend is keeping a foster child who showed up on their doorstep with nothing but the clothes on her back and I can't help but feel angry on her behalf.
I am starting to think that this country is going to rip itself apart because we have two political parties who are more interested in proving a point, and being right, than doing what is right.
It seems that everywhere you turn, people are taking advantage of one another, often under the pretense of doing good things.

I just keep reminding myself that Psalm 23:4 promises me, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will not fear evil. His rod and His staff comfort me." Whatever evil things we encounter, whether is it injustice or selfishness, or even if we are used or mocked, we do not have to be afraid. He offers us comfort. The Bible also promises that he is a God of justice, mercy, and compassion.

There are other thoughts that have become themes to me lately.
Repentance
Being a thoughtful parent
Reconciliation

Fall

2011-09-13T08:30:00.000-07:00

I've always loved Fall the best. Spring is nice, but summer and winter tend to draw out long and get old. Fall never gets old. It always feels like it doesn't last nearly long enough. I love the smell of cider and fires and turkey and pumpkin bread. Fall is a time when we harvest all the good from the work we've done. It is a time of abundance and family.

Thursday there will be a high of 72 degrees. I will wear a sweater.

Secret Project

2011-09-12T14:46:00.000-07:00

The house, just after we bought it.

It wasn't all that long ago that I came across a blog post on a blog that I follow that smacked me between the eyes. I was so excited by it that I emailed a link to my husband, which I'm not sure he actually read. It was an email full of talk about throwing out all of our belongings and excessive exclamation points (this often annoys PR professionals) and it was probably a little incoherent. I know we talked about it briefly in bed that night, but we haven't talked about it since.

But I haven't been able to get it out of my head.

We live in a small house. This is mostly due to financial constraints and the fact that when we bought it, we were a family of three and Josh was more interested in the yard than the house. We have outdoor space aplenty, but the interior of the house needed a lot of work and it's tight quarters for four (soon to be five) people.

After we got some of the work done, I realized that adding a walk-in closet and second bathroom would never add enough space for all the things we had amassed over the years. The shed was full of boxes of books that we couldn't bring ourselves to get rid of, but never read. Eventually a leak forced us to throw some of them out. How wasteful.

So, after I read Megan's blog about making their home an Oasis (seriously, just go read the post, and the related ones) I started to think about how to make that same kind of place- comfortable and welcoming, rather than cluttered. I wanted to be more mindful of the utility of our home. I wanted to be someone who was comfortable being hospitable, even though we had so very little room. I wanted something different than we had.

But like many other things, it was forgotten. I could list off all the other things I was preoccupied with, but the truth is that what I wanted seemed difficult and out of my reach. How could I possibly make it a reality when I was often just grateful to have the toys picked up at the end of the day (forget getting the kitchen cleaned or the laundry put away)?

And that's the other thing... How can I fit one more small person and all of their small person equiptment into my house as it currently is? The changing table (we mostly use for baby supplies) was moved to our room a long time ago, and since we stopped changing Caroline on it it's become a catch-all for whatever book I'm reading, or thing I don't have time to put away. How can I be hospitable and welcome others into my home if I can't even welcome my own family?

But something happened. They call it a drought. It's hard to spend a lot of time in a beautiful yard when it's 108 degrees outside, and we've had 60 some-odd days of that kind of weather this summer. So we went to the library and Target and Mardel, but we spent most of our time at home this summer. And it drove me crazy. The toys were unorganized (despite my efforts), the closets stuffed, and cabinets were a wreck. I was having to leave the bathroom doors shut so that Caroline wouldn't pull out all of the toiletries and medicine and towels and drag them all over the house. I can't tell you how many times a door got left open and I would discover her with a bottle of pills or a tampon in each clenched fist. I thought I was going to lose my mind.

Not long ago, I reread that post. I read all the connected posts on the subject. I started scouring other Mom blogs for organizations and simplification ideas. I was especially interested in blogs by mothers with large families. When you have six or seven kids, you get organized or you go crazy.

You know what I figured out? I have way more stuff than I need. Why on earth do we have so many towels? Why do we all have so many clothes? Why do I have all those plastic dishes? If my pantry shelves aren't working well, why do I just live with it???

I have slowly started to make changes. We tore out the shelves in the pantry and bought some cheap some from Ikea. You know what? I feel better ever time I look in my pantry. I can see everything, and it's organized. I also threw out a bunch of stuff when we started the project, so there aren't out-of-date, or unwanted dry goods taking up space.

The other day I cleaned out the underside of my bathroom cabinet, threw out a tons of junk and refolded all the towels. Josh installed child safety latches. I haven't finished cleaning out that bathroom, but it's a small part of a big job that needed to be done. I broke the house down into small 15 or 30 minute cleaning/purging jobs and I am hoping that I can have most of them done before Christmas.

When I first read that blog post, I could envision my house completely simplified. I could see it as I desperately wanted it to be. It completely overwhelmed me. All I could see was the enormous amount of work that would be required, and the challenge of keeping my kids out of the mess until I sorted through everything.

What a defeated way of looking at things! This house can certainly bless someone, even if it is still my secret little project in progress. Most of all it can bless me every time I see small accomplishments. Small things are often the most powerful.

Wake Up Wednesday

2011-09-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

It's Wednesday again. Last week's challenge was to spread good, uplifting messages, and while I didn't do that on my blog, I tried to do it among friends. It's hard enough being a young mother without all the negativity, so I made an effort not to say anything discouraging this week to anyone. It was more than a little hard a few times with my children (yes, I can get frustrated) but I think I did a fairly decent job of trying to only say positive things.

This week's challenge is to pick up trash whenever you see it. Not the easiest idea, but let me tell you why this one is important. We went into the library around noon today and Jonah noticed that there was trash on the ground all around the can outside the library. He noticed. He pointed it out. I would have had him help me pick it up, but the can was already very full. Jonah told me, "You shouldn't throw your trash on the ground. That's nasty!"

Oh, how I want to have my children understand that it's a kindness to others to do small things! I want him to think of these things himself, so I know that we need to start doing these kind of things together. I don't know when or where we will be able to do this (maybe the park?) but I'm hoping that Jonah will get more out of this than just picking up garbage.

Rule #5

2011-09-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

I had just about had it yesterday. I was ready to pull all my hair out, or sell Jonah to the circus and use the money to move to Australia, or maybe even lose my temper in a way that I might just regret. It seems that I couldn't turn my back on Jonah or Caroline for a single second without one of them attacking the other, or dragging out everything in my bathroom cabinets. They couldn't play near each other, and Caroline wasn't allowed to even look at any of Jonah's toys without eliciting an ear piercing screech that might just have deafened our dog.

I was worn out. I had almost nothing left hold onto my last shred of patience with either of them. I was praying to God for 11 am (yes, it was that bad) so my mother would come and watch the kids so I could go teach class.

When I got back from school Caroline was asleep and Jonah was occupied, so I called Amy. I met Amy in college, but we weren't all that close. It's just been in the last few years that we've gotten to know each other better through facebook and blogs that I've started to realize that I should have befriended her a long time ago.

Amy has four daughters between 7 years and under 1 year, so I knew that she had to deal with this herself. I laid it out and we chatted about half an hour before Caroline woke up and I had to go. She did give me some good advice, but mostly she just listened and commiserated and encouraged me.

Rule #5: Ask for help.

You will not believe how much better yesterday afternoon went. The kids played nicely and no one came whining to me while I tried to make dinner. Do I think that there was magic involved? Possibly, but the magic had to be on me, and not on the kids. That part all goes back to Rule #3: Set the tone. The reality is that I needed some help. I didn't necessarily need a break from the kids, I just needed to be refocused and encouraged. Maybe some other time I will need a break, or maybe I'll need someone to do something more serious, like come do laundry after Baby X comes in January. You need different things at different times, but often, what you really need is to get a little help.

Wake Up Wednesday

2011-08-31T11:53:00.000-07:00

Last week I confessed that there was something that I hadn't done and I told everyone who reads this blog that I feel like a child. Over the last week I have realized why I still feel like a child, and I'm making an effort to be the adult that I know I am.

Like this morning, when I took Caroline to the doctor. How is that related? Well, that's the thing I hadn't done. It's been since February that she has seen a doctor. That means she is way behind on her vaccinations, and she's supposed to start Sonshine School in two weeks. That's no good because she's going to be surrounded by other kids and other kids germs and their sibling's germs... so I sucked it up and called the new doctor's office.

That was actually part of the problem- we had to get a new doctor. Our Insurance changed for the 2nd year in a row and our pediatrician no longer took our insurance. I was overwhelmed, embarrassed, and really worn out. So I just let it go.

No one got really sick in the mean time, so it didn't seem like a pressing issue. And I let it go.

I was worried that the doctor, or nurses would give us a hard time for the lapse in care. I thought up a short speech to use in case I needed to tell them to mind their own business. I reminded myself that I am an adult and I am responsible for the time lapse, but I don't have to take a lecture.

You know what? They weren't that worried about it. She should be completely caught up on her shots by 18 months (that's only 3 months from now) and The doctor was great. Very friendly and laid back. It was nice to find a doctor that I feel like will listen to me and trust my instincts.

So what's on the calendar for the week? If you pop over to I am Momma you can see her whole post- including the super-cute video that she had made of her boys. Here's the short version:

Anyhow, this week's challenge is to spread good, uplifting messages. Let me clarify.

Have you ever read something or seen something that really meant a lot to you and you wanted to share it with others? Maybe it was a quote or a book or a movie.

I'll be working on a post for that.

Sleeping Beauty

2011-08-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

I was inspired to pick up Joan Gould's "Spinning Straw In Gold" again, recently. An internet friend has been reading it on my recommendation and I thought it would be nice to look back through it. It's funny how you can reread something after a little time has passed and it can mean something completely different to you. You can relate to it in a way that is completely foreign to the person who read it the time before. That's when you know you are learning something.

* *     *

On Wednesday I said, "I still feel like that gawky teenager with braces and a serious lack of responsibility. I know that everyone says that they feel this way, and maybe they do, but there are times when this insecurity eats me alive- like when I've put something off for too long and it becomes awkward to actually correct the mistake."

I've been thinking about that post a lot in the last few days. It's been the chewing gum in the back of my mind (as Carol Birch would put it) that I've slowly been processing, looking for the essence of it. Why do I feel this way? What is it that makes me disregard all the growth I've been through?

It's hard to recognize how deeply this feeling goes. It's painful to know that some part of me feels so inadequate and that feeling has spread it's roots throughout my life. It effects my mothering, my friendships, my ability to become a woman. I have noticed that it's been especially bothersome just after I have a baby. After Jonah I just felt odd. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the usual new-mother feelings of panic. That was probably part of it.

After Caroline was born, I spent a lot of time searching for fairy tales about that transition from maiden to mother. It seemed that everything focused so much more on maiden to wife transitions, except for a few stories, like "The Witch in the Stone Boat." It was frustrating. Otherwise, I took a lot of reassurance from other young moms who have expressed feeling overwhelmed. Maybe I wasn't the only one? Maybe this was all normal?

* *     *

Reread that quote of mine:
"I still feel like that gawky teenager with braces and a serious lack of responsibility. "

You know the funny thing? I wasn't really ever a gawky teenager in braces. I didn't get braces until I was a senior in high school and I wore them through the first two years of college. I was twenty when they came off after two and a half years. I was definitely irresponsible during that time.

* *     *

Joan Gould said, "In real life, all of us know sleeping beauties who fall asleep during puberty and fail to wake up until they find themselves married to the wrong man. We know grown women (my mother was one of them) who spend their entire lives thinking of themselves as gils- in fact, as persecuted girls like Cinderella, forced to sit forever in the ashes and do the dirty work while the undeservedly happy women around them pass their time by going to balls."

I felt that. Deep in my bones. I never thought that I "fell asleep" during puberty, but the resentfulness, and the feeling that other women were happier and they had it easy. I couldn't understand why our situations were so different.

In sleeping beauty, she is put to sleep by a spell which is meant to keep her young and beautiful and untouched until she is mean to wake and become a woman. Not just a woman, but a wife and a queen, and a mother. Until that time she sleeps, but for what purpose? Sleeping Beauty was put to sleep to keep her safe; to keep her from slipping in to death instead of her rightful role.

How many of us have seen the writing on the wall and known that what awaits us is not what we were meant to have, to be and do? So we build walls of thorns and shut ourselves down to preserve ourselves until things correct themselves, and until we are able to go through a transformation.

In that time of slumber, which is also, sometimes referred to being "in the belly of the whale," something must happen. No girl just awakes one day a woman. We change while we sleep.

"Sleeping Beauty's sleep is not nothing, then; not simply repair of the spindle's prick, though that must be accomplished too; certainly not a punishment imposed upon her... In some way that we are only beginning to understand, it is a time for growth. While she sleeps, her cells network and form new perceptions; her emotions catch up with her body even if her mind doesn't understand either of them. This is a time for transformations, after which- if she wakes up- she'll have the strength to face what overwhelmed her..."

* *     *

I am realizing that I have been sleeping; for quite some time, actually. But it seems that the part of my dream when I realize that I have been dreaming, is the part that always comes just before I wake up. So, why do i stir now? Almost four years after the birth of my son, and more than ten since I first drowsed (though I can't absolutely say that I have been sleeping all that time) why do I suddenly realize that I am asleep, and not awake?

'The truth is that we have no idea why we wake when we do. Call it an inner migration from the Underworld to the upperworld, brought about by some seasonal change in the light.
At any age, if we get a taste of who we are, if we fall in love with life in whatever form we find it and we choose to embrace it, we can fairly call that moment, "The Prince's Kiss." '

Rule #4

2011-08-25T19:48:00.000-07:00

I completely stink at getting up early. Partly this is because I am a closet night owl. I like the time after dark when I can sit and ruminate over the things that have occurred for the day and try to make some of them make sense. I like my time alone when the kids are sleeping.

But all of the books on being a good Mother, and being an organized Mom say things like, get up before everyone else. Well... I've tried. I'm not very good at it. It requires me to go to bed early, and then it requires me to tip-toe around our tiny house trying to accomplish tasks (while I'm not very awake) without waking the kids. I understand their point. Maybe if our house were larger and I didn't feel so much pressure to be completely silent, it would work better. As it is, the kid's room is right off the kitchen, which means I can't empty the dishwasher, or start breakfast, or do a load of laundry without making noise.

My Mother has suggested that I lay out clothes and things the night before, so it's all ready to go. You know what? This generally works better for me. I can set out breakfast bowls and spoons and clothes and cereal without waking the kids up. In the morning I don't feel like I'm rushed and I don't have a long list of junk to do. I can lay in bed for a few minutes and enjoy the feeling.

Rule #4: Listen to everyone's advice and then do what works best for you.

Every family, house, parent, and child is different and because they are all different and they all interact in different ways, no one can claim to have the perfect answer for everyone. Someone surely has the answer for you, but even if 90% of the "experts"/busybodies/little old ladies/friends all say the same thing, it still won't work all that well for 10% of us.

It's okay to ignore someone's advice. There will be times when you are given unsolicited, pushy advice. Listen politely and ignore it. If you have to push back... well that's another post. Suffice it to say that some things will work for you, and some things won't. It's okay to go your own way.

1000 Gifts, post #6

2011-08-25T19:32:00.000-07:00

97. Squash
98. Finishing projects
99. Good women friends, even if they are far away.
100. The ability to stay home with my kids.
101. My fabulous bathtub
102. Skype
103. Tums
104. Jasper Fforde (if you haven't read his books and you are a complete book nerd, you need to read them)
105. Having a God who listens when we pray.
106. Baby movements
107. The funny things that Jonah says that completely catch me off guard (Apparently, being hot can give you bad breath).
108. That Caroline can put herself to sleep at night.
109. Having a very handy husband.
110. My job
111. Forgiveness
112. Having a husband who makes me laugh.
113. Falling temperatures.

Wake up Wednesday

2011-08-24T08:05:00.000-07:00

There's a blog I follow on a regular basis called I am Momma Heat Me Roar. I read it the first time because she does some of the neatest crafty things for boys- and if you have boys, you know how hard it is to find really cute, but masculine craft ideas for boys. Cheri is interesting, creative, and godly. It's a nice mix.

Every Wednesday she does a thing called Wake Up Wednesday where she challenges her readers, and herself, to do something small but kind for other people. You might want to watch the video here to hear a bit more about it. I usually pay attention to what she is doing, but I rarely try to meet the challenges because I seem to forget. Life gets busy.

This morning I woke up before the kids, which is a little unusual, so I had some spare time. I decided to go ahead and check my email and read through some blogs, and I checked out Cheri's post this week, and her challenge was this:

This week's challenge is to do one thing you've been meaning to do for several months. I hate it when I have something that keeps getting put off. It makes me feel so bad when I stop to think about it. It may be writing a kind note you meant to write a long time ago. It may be returning something you borrowed a while back even though you feel stupid for still having it. It may be paying someone back. It may be something big or small. I'm going to make a little list and try to check off a couple of those items. It always feels so good to finally accomplish something you've put off.

And there's this thing that I've been meaning to do. For months. And it's gotten a little embarrassing and problematic at times, but I just didn't want to deal with it. I was afraid of how I would feel, of what it would look like to other people. I'm sometimes bad about procrastinating and then too much time passes and I feel really dumb.

The truth is that I feel like someone is going to finally notice that I'm not an adult and I have no business being a mom or being in charge of these kids or being married. I still feel like that gawky teenager with braces and a serious lack of responsibility. I know that everyone says that they feel this way, and maybe they do, but there are times when this insecurity eats me alive- like when I've put something off for too long and it becomes awkward to actually correct the mistake.

I made this shirt with bleach and embroidery floss. How clever!

But I like Cheri. I don't know her or anything, but I like her. I know she probably doesn't live a magical existence, but she makes me feel like I could accomplish something, even if it's just a little something. I've made shirts for Jonah that were inspired by her blog, and I've felt less alone as a woman who has small children.

So I did it. Or, at least, I took the first step toward having the awkwardness over with. It makes things a little better than they were. I don't feel so bad. I don't feel so inept and inadequate. It wasn't easy, and I imagine that it will be just as awkward when I have to really dig in a deal with it, but it was worthwhile. It was worth it just so I wouldn't feel so bad about myself and my shortcomings every time I thought about it.

So I'm sharing Cheri's challenge this week, and maybe next week. What will you do?

Suggestions are welcome...

2011-08-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

I had my 20 week Ultrasound yesterday. Never mind that I am only 18 weeks today, I was glad to go ahead and get it done. Josh won't talk about baby names until we know what we're having, and I'm kind of anxious about naming this one. We chose the names that we loved for a boy and a girl... now what? Just FYI, name suggestions are welcome.

The I'm glad that Caroline will have a sister, and a little sad because Jonah seemed to want a brother so much. I wouldn't have minded having another boy. I thought I was done after this one, but we have already started talking about, "if we have another one..." and whether it might be a boy. I did remind Josh that it is the male DNA that determines the sex of the baby.

So Caroline will have a sister and I will have another girl. I'm already looking for the perfect fabric to make her bedding and her blankets. I've been thinking of Russian Nesting Dolls. I like this one, but $10.00 a yard seems steep. I also love the fabric used for this, but she's not selling the fabric, just a blanket. I also had a friend suggest this, which I like as well. I need to look on spoonflower a bit more. Since Caroline and Baby X will share a room, eventually, I would like them to have somewhat coordinated fabrics... or at least fabrics that won't clash too badly.

Fabric suggestions are also welcome. :)

Having girls has been a source of some anxiety for me. It seems that there are so many things that girls are subjected to in life, that boys don't have to worry about. A friend of mine moved to India recently. She is a little younger than me, but married with a child, and she recently posted on her blog about an incident that was truly frightening. It's also all the "princess" stuff and the prospect of being the role model she will look to... It's all just a lot.

My sister recently asked me about a pot I had about raising girls, and if there is one on my blog, I can't find it. So here is what I think:

Raising children is hard, right now. I've heard a lot about banning children from public places, and it seems like there is a cultural hostility toward childhood. While it seems pointed toward both sexes, it seems to be especially pointed toward girls. We push them toward puberty earlier and earlier. We push them to wear more mature clothing and push themselves out in front of other people for approval. It frightens me for them. Will my girls really get the chance to just be little girls, or will they be need to transition to "tween" at age six???

There is a book I heard of and have been wanting to read, but I can't remember the name... Maybe something like, "The Princess Factor" but I can't seem to find it. Anyone know what I'm talking about?

Anyway, it all seems like a lot to worry about when really my daughter seems most interested in baby dolls and putting things in her mouth, and her sister isn't even born yet.

My sister was looking for stories about strong princesses to read or tell to her girls and I like that idea. I'm compiling a list, starting with the book "Fearless Girls, Wise Women & Beloved Sisters: Heroines in Folktales from Around the World" by Kathleen Regan. I have had this book for a long time and have really enjoyed reading the commentary after each story. It's sometimes hard to figure out why the heroine might be considered a heroine in come of them, but she finds strength in women that is often very hidden.

Other books:

Ronia, the Robber's Daughter, By Astrid Lindgren

The Paper Bag Princess By Robert Munsch (I used to tell this story)

The Penderwicks, By Jeanne Birdsall (which I haven't read yet, but have wanted to read for a while, so it may come off the list)

The Princess Academy By Shannon Hale (especially this one)

Other title suggestions would also be welcome.

Rule #3

2011-08-10T09:39:00.000-07:00

It never fails. Today is one of those days when I could crawl back into bed and go to sleep without a problem. Not to mention that I'm short tempered because my mind is elsewhere. There are things I didn't get to finish yesterday that are staring me in the face and I am dreading having to deal with them while also dealing with two small, bored children.

It never fails. On any day that I feel like this, my children will be equally distemped and irritable. The bo9y wants to wrestle the girl. She wants to be held. We don't have what either of them wants for breakfast. Lots of whining ensues... some of it from me.

I take them outside because our house is small and they seem to be right on top of one another. We have an acre and the boy still follows his sister around the yard, trying to tell her what to do and taking things away from her. I hear him yelling, "Caroline Andrew! Come here right now!" and I hear my own voice. I have no patience today, and neither does he.

Rule #3: Your children will follow your cues. You set the tone.

Yes, they will have the odd day when they will just be out of sorts, but for the most part, they will mimic what they see and hear from you. We all know this. Who among us hasn't heard something come out oft heir mouth and we are instant able to identify the source immediately. There are some that are especially cringe-worthy. We hear the exhaustion, impatience, unkindnesses... but we may also hear the love, appreciation and kindness.

When my son is out of control, it upsets me. He's almost four, which means there are a lot of things that he want to do that he simply can't do. There are so many things he has no control over. It is infinitely frustrating to be four. I have to be cautious that my own frustration, my own lack of control doesn't overwhelm me and spill over into my children. It's so easy to become that evil stepmother, given over to my own jealousy, anger, and hatred. Without compassion, there is no ability to temper that whirlwind in my own heart, much less the whirlwind in his.

Ruminating

2011-08-01T21:57:00.000-07:00

I have had several posts marinating in my head for a while now and hopefully I'll be able to get them all finished eventually. There will be more Rules, and a few story related posts...

However, I've been a bit distracted by life for the last few weeks. I've been reading (whenever possible) the wonderful Thursday Next Series by Jasper Fforde. I highly recommend it.

Also, we've made a few trips in the last three weeks. We went to Dallas for a little vacation time, and we went to Colorado to visit Josh's parents. Both were very enjoyable, but tiring. Travel with small children isn't always a fun experience.

School starts back in a few weeks and we will all have a different schedule. Hopefully it won't be 110 degrees anymore. I am also looking forward to August the 12th, when we get to see if the littlest Watson will be a boy or a girl. Then the naming frenzy can begin.

So just for fun- name suggestions?

Rule #2

2011-07-19T13:48:00.000-07:00

When Jonah was about 15 months old I weaned him. It wasn't voluntary for either of us, but the truth is that he couldn't keep dairy products down and that made it impossible to nurse him. This was all due to a horrible virus that I managed to pick up about five days after he got sick. Mine was much worse. I didn't eat at all for at least three days and even after that I was pretty hesitant to eat anything that I might not want to ever see again.

The result... a doctor's visit. He was given an antibiotic, which he turned out to be allergic to. So we went in again. This time we couldn't get in to see our regular pediatrician so we saw a new doctor who weighed Jonah and started to make dissatisfied noises about his weight gain. He hadn't gained any weight at all. This was actually just before his 18 month check-up (the sick seemed to drag on a while) and so she started making noises about seeing a specialist and testing him for all sorts of things.

The thing is, I knew that he was just fine. He had been sick and lost some weight, but he was active and happy and he ate well. My gut was telling me that he didn't need to be put through the blood draws and urine samples and whatever else they wanted to subject him to. I didn't have charts or graphs or studies or statistics, but I knew that he was just fine.

I told the pediatrician that I would talk to my regular ped about it.

My twin sister reminded me that she was doing the right thing. It was her job to be concerned about his lack of weight gain. It was a good thing. But part of me was a little angry. I was annoyed that this woman, who did not know me, or my child, would not trust me when I told her that I didn't think there was anything wrong with my child.

About a week later I saw our regular pediatrician and she looked at the chart and the note that her colleague had written and said that she thought it was probably unnecessary to test him. He came from small parents and had always been at the lower end of the weight spectrum... and I wasn't concerned. She said that she would test him if I felt it was necessary, but she thought we should just watch it for a while and if he didn't gain anything over the next 6 months we might revisit the topic.

Rule #2: Always listen to your gut.

I could have freaked out and put my child through all sorts of tests just to accommodate this doctor, but I didn't. I can't tell you how affirming it was to have our regular pediatrician listen to whether I felt that there might be a problem rather than just look at the growth charts.

It can be so confusing to be a mother. Do you vaccinate? Do you have natural childbirth? Do you supplement? Do you co-sleep? Do you let them cry it out? You can read every study, every recommendation from every specialist, or expert and still feel overwhelmed and unsure. None of them agree, and if you aren't doing it someone else's way, you are doing it wrong. You'll probably screw them up. It's always the mother's fault.

If we will eventually be blamed anyway, we might as well be as informed as possible, but let our gut make the final decision. In the end, it only really matters if you did your best. If you were true to what you know, and what you believe, you will be doing your best. It's not about making decisions from a place of fear or anger. It's about making your choices as a parent from a place of love and intuition.

Rule #1

2011-07-02T14:15:00.000-07:00

The thing about having #3 so close to having Caroline is that my body hasn't quite bounced back. For instance, I still have those wispy little bangs from where my hair fell out. They are now of a more normal length, but that's almost kind of worse because it looks like they are intentional. Which they are not. I do not look good with bangs.

The other thing is that now, at exactly 12 weeks, I am already dipping into the maternity clothes. That pooch that eventually lessens (does it ever go away??) hadn't really gotten all that "less" yet.

When I was pregnant with Jonah, Josh and I went to Edisto Island with the youth group from the church we had attended in Johnson City, TN. They were helping a small congregation with a building project. I was 6 months pregnant so I spent my time cooking and shopping (for groceries) and doing other things along those lines. In the evening all the girls would come back and they would shower, go to the beach and sit around talking. One of the girls asked me something along the lines of, "Has your body changed much?"

Even at 6 months with my first one I laughed. I told her that I was pretty sure that my body wouldn't ever be the same again. And I was okay with it. My belly was stretching and there were the red lines running down my abdomen to prove it. My balance was all off, and I got tired very easily. Someone else had taken up residency in my body, and now I had to share it until they decided to leave.

The funny thing is that I learned more about my body from their presences than I ever would have thought possible. I carried Jonah high and I carried Caroline low, and either way I was suddenly more aware of everything. More aware of what I eat and drink and how I stand or sit. If I slouched I'd get an elbow in the bladder or heartburn.

The loss of my own bodily autonomy (to some extent) has made me more aware of myself physically and emotionally. My needs and actions are sometimes contrary to their desires and the result can be difficult to deal with at first. it is the first step to motherhood, though. It is the first rule, being applied so that you will never forget it.

Rule #1: Your needs and desires will have to come second.

This rule isn't absolute, and it fades away when they get older, but I can still see my mother living this fundamental rule when she drops everything to fly off to North Carolina or Tennessee to help my sisters, or when she spends time with my children so I can work, or when I can see the conflict on her face because she cannot be in two places at once.

When I was pregnant it was easy to get this rule. Don't drink cokes, it will give you heartburn. Don't slouch, Jonah will kick you in the side. Eat regularly. Learn how to give birth. Not that complicated. And then he was born. Then I find myself sleeping while sitting up in the rocker, or nursing for hours on end, or unable to get up and go to the bathroom when I need to go for any number of reasons. I was always just out of reach of the thing I needed, and unable to move, lest I wake or disturb my child. I couldn't sleep more than a few hours at a time.

I did eventually learn to deal with those things- after all, he was a helpless baby. Now he's three and I find that I am still constrained by him, just in different ways. We can't just get in the car and go. He has to buckle his own seatbelt and he has to say the magic words to open or close the car doors... heaven help you if you forget one of his crucial steps. I imagine it will be something like this until he moves out.

And it's okay. It's just Rule #1. Just the first of many changes you make as a mother.

Momentary

2011-07-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I was sitting at the kitchen table, alone, checking my e-mail and enjoying my momentary peace, when I looked up and saw a painted bunting at my bird feeder. It's not the first time I've seen one, but it hung around a while and I got to look at it pretty closely. They are beautiful birds.

I started noticing birds when I was pretty young. When we would visit my Granny and Papa we would sit at the breakfast table and watch the birds eat from their numerous bird feeders. Their patio was always full of flowers and wind chimes and plants that I learned the names of. Hen and Chicks were my favorites.

There were also dozens of birds. Many of them were just black birds, but there were hummingbirds and all sorts of other birds as well. My grandparents could usually identify most or all of them. They would flock to the tree shuffling around, looking for the best spot to eat. Jays and Cardinals would drive the others off temporarily. Occasionally we'd see one of the neighbor's peacocks or a deer. My parents once saw a wildcat sneak up on some big birds and pounce on one.

I don't have as many birds as my grandparents. I have seen deer and owls and even a fox in our yard, but they don't stay long. Nothing really stays long around here except for the fat squirrels who have discovered how to climb off the side of the roof onto my bird feeder to plunder the seeds.

Life gets very busy around here and I only occasionally get the opportunity to really sit down alone in the quiet of the house. For a moment today, I got to regard this beautiful bird before it flew off. Before I had to go put a baby back to sleep. Before the laundry begged to be folded.

Expecting the Unexpected

2011-06-12T21:02:00.001-07:00

This pretty much sums it up.

I still vividly remember a day when Caroline was about 2 weeks old when I just needed out of the house. Things had been going really well, but I hadn't been anywhere alone with my two children, and I was thinking a short trip to the library or Target might cheer me up and get me past that hump. But you know how stuff goes when they are so little- first she fell asleep and then she pooped and I had to change her clothes, and then she pooped again, and I had to change her clothes, again...

Pretty soon is was two o'clock in the afternoon and I was calling my Mom crying. I was frustrated and hormonal and really tired of being in my house. My Mom came over and reminded me that I was going to have to be flexible for a while.

Be flexible.

For a long time I thought I was a Type B personality. I blame this entirely on my twin sister, whose OCD leanings frequently made me think I was laid back when I am really just as much of a control freak as anyone else. Just because I don't care if my shoes are straight, doesn't mean I'm not (at times) unreasonably uptight about some things. I like things to fit in their little boxes. I like to be on time and organized.

Being flexible is not the easiest thing in the world when you want to be in control.

After Caroline was born I was sort of shocked at how much more difficult it was. It was only one extra little person who couldn't even move themselves... how hard could it be? But seriously, it was one extra person who couldn't even move themselves. On top of that, the real difficulties were often because of Jonah. Suddenly, he wasn't sleeping, and he was throwing tantrums like you wouldn't believe. In public. It was certainly a big change for all of us, but for Jonah it was exceptionally difficult. He had lost all control of everything. It took a while for him to be okay with the changes, and there are still times when he will copy Caroline because she doesn't get in trouble for things that he isn't allowed to do.
I can relate, though. As frustrated as I have gotten with him at various times over the last year, part of me has never forgotten that he is still just adjusting to a complete shift in the balance of things.

How do you expect the unexpected? How do you prepare for the thing you didn't know to prepare for?

Be flexible.

It's the thing I've been telling myself a lot for the past few weeks. I am expecting the unexpected. It's poor timing, and sooner than I would have wanted in any scenario, but just because it's unexpected and just because it required a major mental rebalance, and just because it changes some serious life plans, doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Change is good, I keep telling myself.

And just in case you were wondering... January 14th.

My Pretty Pony

2011-06-01T12:34:00.001-07:00

Several years ago I read a short story by Stephen King titled, "My Pretty Pony." It was pretty different from most of the things you would expect to read in a collection of Stephen King's short stories. There wasn't a gruesome creature and no one was murdered. According to wikipedia: An elderly man, his death rapidly approaching, takes his young grandson up onto a hill behind his house and gives the boy his pocketwatch. Then, standing among falling apple blossoms, the man also "gives instruction" on the nature of time: how when you grow up, it begins to move faster and faster, slipping away from you in great chunks if you don't hold tightly onto it. Time is a pretty pony, with a wicked heart.

I originally remembered it because it was so different form the other stories in the book, but as I grow older I find that (as in many other things) Stephen King was right. Time is a pretty pony that will dart away if you aren't paying attention. Before you know it, you've lost months to simple inattention, or business.

I can't tell you how many times I've been stopped in the grocery store in the last year and had some older woman tell me that she remembers how sweet her children were at Jonah and Caroline's ages. She's always got a little glimmer of wistful sadness in her eyes, as though she'd like nothing more than to make her children young again so she could scoop them up in her arms and cuddle them all day. It never fails that when this happens I have been having the kind of day where I might gladly trade my children for a bottle of Cheerwine and a bubble bath.

God is probably using them all to tell me something. Slow Down! Spend more time playing with them and even less time cleaning and doing laundry! This will pass so quickly- you don't want to miss these moments.

How many times a day do I tell my children to hurry up? How many times do I become impatient with them because they want to stop and look at every leaf or flower?

*sigh!*

My children are currently napping and I am thinking of the dozen or so things on my to-do list that seems only to grow longer as the day goes on. Even these few moments that I have to myself feel too few and too fast.

I take more pictures. I try to spend a little time alone with each child every day. I try to have more patience, less worry about the dishes and cobwebs in the corners. Jonah grows and inch every time I turn around and Caroline is getting big so fast. I want him to be innocent and for her to have the chance to be a baby for a while longer, but time marches forward. Gallops forward.

So I'll take a minute and reign in the seconds... I'll count them slowly so they don't slip away.

"Rise up and call her Blessed."

2011-05-26T19:43:00.000-07:00

My daughter turns one on Saturday. This year has flown by so quickly. I want to be able to hold her as my little one for a bit longer, but it seems that she has other ideas. She likes to walk around holding your hands- both hands- and will probably be walking soon. She can help me dress and undress her. She says cracker, Mama, Daddy, and growls at the dog. She has her first ear infection, but doesn't seem to mind taking the antibiotics.

Her brother holds her hands and helps her walk. He makes her laugh all the time. He rides around in the wagon behind the lawnmower and helps his Daddy pick up fallen branches after the storms from the other night. He suddenly likes Fiber One, and won't take baths, and tried calling me by my first name today. There was a wicked little gleam in his eye when he said it and I had to laugh.

Will these little blessings speak well of me when I am old? Will they remember my short temper or my indulgences? I don't know. For now I take it all one day at a time.

The Virtuous Woman

2011-05-08T21:41:00.000-07:00

The Virtuous Woman
Proverbs 31:10-31
A good woman is hard to find,
   and worth far more than diamonds.
Her husband trusts her without reserve,
   and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously
   all her life long.
She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,
   and enjoys knitting and sewing.
She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
   and brings back exotic surprises.
She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast
   for her family and organizing her day.
She looks over a field and buys it,
   then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden.
First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,
   rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.
She senses the worth of her work,
   is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.
She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,
   diligent in homemaking.
She's quick to assist anyone in need,
   reaches out to help the poor.
She doesn't worry about her family when it snows;
   their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing,
   and dresses in colorful linens and silks.
Her husband is greatly respected
   when he deliberates with the city fathers.
She designs gowns and sells them,
   brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant,
   and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.
When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,
   and she always says it kindly.
She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,
   and keeps them all busy and productive.
Her children respect and bless her;
   her husband joins in with words of praise:
"Many women have done wonderful things,
   but you've outclassed them all!"
Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
   The woman to be admired and praised
   is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
   Festoon her life with praises! (Proverbs 31:10-31, The Message)

This morning, in Bible class, we discussed Proverbs 31 and the Virtuous Woman. It's Mother's Day and the teacher felt that it would be appropriate. He mentioned it to his wife (a good friend of mine) and he told us that she rolled her eyes, and when he asked her why she said, "Oh great, now I can sit and feel bad about myself for 45 minutes."

I have to say that I understand what she meant. It doesn't help that the versions of the Bible that we usually read make the jobs she chooses sound antiquated and un-relatable. She's like one of those Super-Moms who makes her own crustless bread and survives on only 4 hours of sleep, dedicating the rest of the night to scouring her home with a toothbrush. That's why I used The Message's version of the text above. I don't always like The Message, but in this instance it made the passage much easier to relate to... or at least less antiquated.

Really, there are many standards that I feel I will never be able to live up to, but this one truly takes the cake. The more that I sat through class this morning, the more irked I got. Possibly, it was because of the comments, and the fact that they were almost exclusively coming from the men in the class, who seemed to clearly have no idea how high a standard was being set, or how capable a woman is without a man. Especially that second one.

I had to speak up. (Shocker, right? I didn't say everything I wanted to say, so maybe that's why I'm writing this.) The Elder in our class had just pointed out that the example was to be an ideal, not necessarily something that we were always completely capable of achieving, but one we were to aspire to. I said that I thought that the transition to being a mother was likely the hardest transition in my entire life and I agreed with Mr. Blankenship.

I wanted to say (and, of course, did not) that the list of jobs that this woman accomplishes are often the most thankless tasks. Making sure your winter clothes are available and in good repair when it gets cold? Most people don't think to do anything about that until it's actually cold, but talk about complaining when they are freezing and their long johns are in storage. Planting and working a garden so your family has fresh, free veggies in season? Great for your family, but will they even eat them? Getting up before dawn to make breakfast and prepare for the day? Wonderful, unless you only caught sleep in two or three hour increments the night before. Really? It's likely that no one will thank you for getting up early, but they'll sure complain if they are hungry, or don't have all their things ready to go when they have to leave in the morning.

Yes, a list of thankless tasks.

As I have been reminded, it's okay to thank yourself for completing these tasks- even if it sounds silly. And, it's not as if Mothers do them to be thanked, anyway. It's only now, as I am an adult, that I really understand how very hard my mother worked. One summer she made 16 pairs of shorts for us. That's 4 pairs apiece. We didn't have a lot of money, so it was really necessary for her to do it. I don't remember if I thanked her, but at least one pair of those shorts earned me my first nickname. I wore them all summer and kept a chunk of the fabric even after I outgrew them.

I don't believe that if I don't become exactly this woman (say I never learn to sew properly, or I never am quite able to dedicate myself to a garden) that I will be a failure. There is more in the spirit of this description than the specifics of it, that make her virtuous. It's something to aspire to, though. it's something to slowly hope I can evolve into.

Maybe one day I'll be able to go to bed early enough that I can manage to sneak up before the rest of my family. Maybe one day I'll learn to sew well enough that I can make clothes for them. Maybe one day I will be able to keep my tongue in check, and spend time helping the needy and think ahead far enough in advance that I can be prepared for the next season before it is already half over. Maybe one day. In the mean time, I'll work on the little things I can accomplish in her list. I'll work at getting proficient at them and worry about acquiring new skills as I can.

The Work We Do

2011-05-01T20:53:00.000-07:00

Recently, I had a friend who blogged about her dislike for the SAHM label. I have to say that I dislike the term as well. In so many ways it is very limiting. I was asked today if i "work outside the home" and I almost made a crack about how sometimes I take my kids into the yard.

"I am an adjunct professor at OC." is what I answered, because I am polite.

And I thought about the work I do. It's true, I take care of my children, and I teach, and I manage a home. I struggle to keep up with all these things. The individual tasks are not difficult, by any means, but the combination of watching children while trying to make dinner, or grade while my house needs to be cleaned, and laundry done.

This is not the hardest work I do.

Every morning I wake up and before I get out of bed I remake myself. I have to do this every day, or I will revert to the person I used to be. This new me is someone who has to remain calm and lead. I must be someone who absolutely puts my family first; well ahead of my own needs. I must be someone who is patient and kind even when I am very tired from lack of sleep, or frustrated from being unable to accomplish small tasks with ease. I must be a focused example for my children, loving and respectful toward my husband, efficient and thoughtful in the tasks I am given. It's a lot, and often I am not successful.

But the work I do must first, and foremost, be on myself. I can accomplish every task, grade every paper, dress and feed my children, but if I do not have a joyful heart, no matter the complication, I fail at my work. This is the work of a mother. It's a process that will change you or galvanize a coldness of heart. As a mother, you are softened by pregnancy, destroyed through selflessness, and reborn in love.

This is the work we do.

1000 Gifts, post #5

2011-04-25T12:52:00.000-07:00

83. My Students- they keep me on my toes and keep me feeling young.
84. Flylady: Laugh all you want. She has these great podcasts that you can listen to while you crisis clean, or do your weekly home blessing hour and some of us just need someone to cheer us on!
85. Spring rains- goodbye pollen, hello green grass!
86. oxyclean- and hello mud.
87. Good friends online that listen to me rant and rave and ask the Magical Secret questions... and don't laugh.
88. Common sense.
89. Good health
90. hindsight
91. air conditioning
92. books.
93. My Mother-in-law
94. Baby giggles
95. rain
96. green grass

Beautiful Day

2011-04-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

Today I ended a brief hiatus from Facebook. I realized recently that I didn't like the way I was communicating with other people. I was lonely because I only seemed to have contact with other people through this media that made it impossible to communicate with facial expression, warmth, or physical contact. What if I wanted to hug someone? What if I wanted to hold someone's hand. I couldn't.

Being a mother is often very lonely. It's especially lonely when your children are small and getting out of the house involves a U-haul of diapers, juice, snacks, extra clothing, wipes, hand sanitizer, a cup or two, pacifiers, blankets and the like.... On top of that you often feel like you will never get your act together. You find yourself in public with no makeup, or no deodorant, or having forgotten to change out of the blouse with baby drool all over it.

The last few days have been the kinds of days that you feel like you never stop for more than a few minutes, and still you got nearly nothing accomplished, your house is a mess, and you realize at 4:30 that you haven't changed the baby since you dressed her.

A friend of mine posted a link to a blog post about motherhood. One paragraph particularly resonated with me:
"Don't find it strange if you are grieving who you once were or what you used to be able to do.
This is a new phase of your life! You may be able to bring along some of the old you, but you may have to leave a ton of it behind. Frankly, you were probably pretty super, but it is nothing compared to who you will become as you grow in love and maturity...and faith! "

And I suddenly don't feel so lonely or so very scattered. I am on a journey, and the particular part of my journey that I am on right now, is called motherhood. I am changing, again, into something new and different. It is painful and sad and exciting and so very rewarding. I've had my second child almost a year ago, and I am still trying to transition my mind and heart to this new phase of life. I'm almost afraid that their childhood will be over before I come to terms with the changes that I have resisted so much. It makes me sad sometimes, to know how slow I have been at understanding how much my life MUST change.

A word, after a word, after a word is power.

So I've been trying to reframe my life, one word at a time. I don't have to change. I get to change. My children are not driving me crazy, they are tired and grumpy, and need a nap. I am not just so very behind, I am doing my best.

To you, I am a little silly, but I prefer to think of myself as powerful.

What was Jesus like?

2011-04-10T21:38:00.001-07:00

This is the question that I spent an hour trying to answer today.

I somehow became the head re-writer for our VBS plays and this year we are doing the death of Jesus. The title is "The Love of the Son" which is great because it gives me the Most Important Thing to focus on.

Somehow I volunteered to write up a short character study for each of the major characters in the play. There are about 30. Okay, maybe just 20... but still.

I've done Peter, Judas, Annas, Caiaphas and today I was working on Jesus. Seems pretty simple, right? Son of God... died for our sins... yadda yadda yadda.

Not so much. The historical/biblical record of who he was and what he did is there, but then I have a section after the basic information that is titled, What was He like? I have this section for each character and it is basically a run-down of known, and sometimes guessed personality traits. Peter was impetuous... Annas and Caiaphas were prideful. Deep stuff.

How do you describe the personality of Jesus?

We've all seen the videos made of Jesus doing miracles or preaching. He's usually very serious and kind looking, but there isn't any personality in him. The Bible isn't much help. It describes him as an unremarkable guy, with nothing that set him apart from other people. Nothing to indicate his deity.

So I started brainstorming. Jesus came, knowing what would happen to him, feeling a deep abiding love for all mankind. He was righteous and good. That's what we get from the wooden portrayals of the Christ. I would also like to think that he was joyful and maybe had a sense of humor. Surely he looked at us the way we look at our children when they are trying to make sense out of complicated ideas. I can't tell you how many times I've laughed at Jonah's funny ways of explaining things.

And then I remembered the smiling Jesus. Have you seen these videos? They are called The Visual Bible: Gospel of Matthew. Jesus isn't some serious, emotionless God. He is a deeply loving savior who submitted himself in love, compassion and mercy. Jesus is played by a man named Bruce Marchiano, and it is a take on Jesus that you don't often see. He is joyful.

I know that Bruce Marchiano is just a guy who is interpreting the bible as best he can, but some part of me feels like he has caught some subtext from the red letters that we tend to miss. Jesus didn't come because it was his duty; he came because he loved us deeply.

I don't often spend a lot of time discussing spiritual matters here, but this seemed to be the thing that was most on my mind tonight. There are a lot of questions and thoughts rolling around, waiting to become part of my overall understanding of God, and a part of the script I am working on.

Jesus wept. I have to believe that he laughed, too.

The Magical Secret

2011-04-09T13:42:00.000-07:00

In South Carolina, 6 months pregnant with Jonah.

I recently took a look at my personality profile and all I could think was... well, yeah. I guess it can be hard to see yourself truthfully at times, but when it is spelled out, very clearly, right in front of you, it's hard to ignore.

One aspect of myself that I hadn't really noticed (but didn't surprise me) was my tendency to constantly try to improve myself, my relationships, my situation... basically everything in my life. It's taken me years to truly admit to myself that I'm never going to read a book, or talk to another person and have them impart to me The Magical Secret.

What is The Magical Secret? It's the thing that makes everything perfect and right. If only we all operated according to The Magical Secret we would never lose our tempers with one another, we would not burn dinner, our homes would be immaculate and we would never want things that we should not have. I don't know The Magical Secret, which is why I am overweight, don't have enough time and disorganized.

Has anyone else ever felt this way?

I am starting to understand that life is not perfect, and I cannot make it so. Relationships are messy, people forgetful, circumstances unpredictable... And it's okay.

The secret isn't magical, and it's not even really a secret. The secret is that life is perfect when we are content. Life is perfect when we are joyful. Life is perfect when we are able to forgive ourselves and others for not being perfect.

Thinking Backward

2011-03-16T15:32:00.000-07:00

It's Spring Break 'round these parts and we've been fortunate to have decent weather. It has been cold, but not entirely uninviting. Today it has warmed up quite a bit and I'm expecting it to stay this way for the rest of the week.

My sister came to visit, and it was a good thing. I think I needed to see her as much as she needed to see me. It's harder being away from my wombmate than my other sisters- not because I don't love them, just because it is.

And like parenthesis, our week is being punctuated at the end and beginning by a visit from Josh's parents, which causes all sorts of excitement around here.

And I'm getting ready for the garden. I need to get the spinach in the ground and I've started the tomatoes. In a few days I'll start a few more things. I'm not the world's best gardener, but, like Josh, I'm enthusiastic.

My first real garden was planted the summer that I graduated college. I lived in a house with my sister, and we lived next door to Josh and his roommate, and John Wilson. We spent lots of time out in the dirt when we weren't working, and it was deeply rewarding to eat our own okra and... well I don't remember if anything else really came up. Thinking of gardening always makes me think of Josh.

I met Josh at Freed-Hardeman University in 2001. We had seen each other around a bit because he did several theatre productions with my younger sister, Laura, but we'd never really spoken. I still remember going to visit Tara one weekend and hearing about how he was finally dating someone and how they should have been dating forever ago. It was just another passing conversation at the time.

I transferred to FHU after a difficult fall semester and a bad break-up. I needed a change of scenery and All three of my sisters were there. It was a no-brainer. A couple of weeks into school I was sitting at dinner in Gano with a bunch of Tara's friends and he came in. He was flirty with everyone, and paid attention to the girl he had been dating (they'd since broken up) so after he left, everyone commented how nice it was that he was so nice to her. But we'd made eye contact and part of me hoped he wasn't still interested in her.

I'd see him in chapel, usually wearing pajama bottoms. He sat about 15 rows in front of me and I could pick out the back of his head. Cause he was balding. I didn't care. I still don't.

It's funny how warm days like today can make me think about those things. They make me think about how much it meant to me that he waited until we'd been dating 8 months to even kiss me. Once warm night we finally kissed and something in me has never been the same. We've had ups and downs and I'm sure we'll have more int he future, but spring makes it all feel new again.

1000 gifts, post #4

2011-03-07T20:23:00.000-08:00

63. Having the internet at home.
64. Having my internet cut off for a few days.
65. Home made granola
66. Getting a night off at Apples of Gold
67. My Mom
68. Tara coming to visit
69. Pinterest
70. Prayer
71. Nights when Josh has class.
72. My rocking chair
73. Spring
74. Yard work
75. hyacinths
76. Baby giggles
77. Being able to teach part-time
78. New opportunities
79. Watching my children grow
80. Laughing with my husband
81. My kind in-laws
82. The power of God

A Guilty Breath

2011-03-01T21:14:00.000-08:00

Last night I sat down and made a ridiculous list of things that i would accomplish today. I didn't really accomplish any of them, but today made me feel good. Guilty, but good.

Last year at this time I was teaching at Sonshine School (a mother's day out program at our church) and at OCU on alternating days, while pregnant. Needless to say, I only had one child at the time but I was exhausted. The mother's would come to drop their children off for five hours and I would resent them. I would hate them. I would envy them beyond any measure that is normal. There was never a day when I would be able to drop my child off and spend a few hours doing grocery shopping or laundry or nap. And I loved my naps when I was pregnant.
But about a month before Sweet Caroline was born I quit. I quit working at Sonshine School, and OCU let out. And i kept sending Jonah to school. When I worked at SSS Jonah had (more or less) free tuition and the social interaction was good for him, so it made sense for him to be there. When I quit we had to pay for it. And I didn't have other obligations to blame on sending him. I spent time wandering around Target and looking at fabric in Hancock's. I napped.

We sent Jonah through the summer so that I could spend a little uninterrupted time with Caroline, but really it was that blessed magical time before Caroline and after quitting that I remember so well. The freedom that I had during that time was familiar. It was like having shackles removed. I didn't have to convince a preschooler to obey, or carry large and heavy bags everywhere that I went.

But I felt guilty, just as I did today when I dropped Jonah off at SSS again. Caroline and I had the day to wander Target, run errands that weren't that pressing, and take a nap. I was still carrying a baby, but I still felt so free... and so guilty.

What is it about wanting time away from him that makes me feel so guilty? The knowledge that I can watch him, but would rather have a nice long break, doesn't mean that I don't love my child. We've made a lot of financial sacrifices so that I don't have to work a full-time job, so that I CAN be home with him all the time. If I really want to be away form him, why don't I get a real job?

Oh, how I rail against the bars of my own self-made prison... or so it seems.

But you already understand- needing a break doesn't mean I don't want to be with him. It doesn't mean I should give up being a mostly-stay-at-home-mom. It means I'm human. It means I'm a woman who desires some personal fulfillment.

I've put myself on the waiting list for a copy of "The Feminine Mystique" from the local library. Apparently, there are a lot of us waiting for it. I heard an interview on NPR about it recently, which is what sparked my interest. The interviewee was pointing out that the book was written for upper/middle class women who had plenty of money, good families and technically very little to complain about, except that they were unhappy. Most of them had some sort of higher education and they were asking themselves, "Is this all there is?" It recognized a fundamental truth- That women need to feel a higher purpose for their lives, just the same as men. We need to feel a sense of accomplishment and the ability to exercise our brains and unleash our curiosity in order to be happy.

I do not feel that I am imprisoned in my home by my family. I choose to love them and work for them. However, I also want to follow my own pursuits. I need to follow my own pursuits in order to be happy. Sometimes that means learning to sew, or reading a book, or leaving the house to go run.

So why do I feel guilty? Maybe it's because we have sacrificed financially for me to stay home, and it costs us a lot to pay someone else to watch him. Maybe it's because I feel so relaxed after I leave. Maybe it's because I think I'm supposed to feel angst at leaving him and I don't.

Maybe it's just what come with being a mother.

Something to talk about...

2011-02-22T21:31:00.000-08:00

It's funny how being with someone for a long time can make it both easier and harder to find things to talk about. There's a kind of shorthand that persists and makes conversation a bit stunted, but that is a part of knowing someone so well that you can predict their reaction with relative ease. You know how they think and you have so much shared history that conversations are Cliff's notes. You are in the know...

So, how do you keep talking about things without it becoming rote? How do you keep the conversation from being stale and boring?

Shockingly, the answer is that you have to keep yourself from being stale and boring. When you stop growing, you have nothing new to offer, and no new ways of offering yourself. You have to be able to meet one another from new angles and with new experiences.

When my husband began teaching just as I stopped, I found myself having more understanding of his job and how he dealt with it, and the stress, and the actual work, in a totally different way. When he was working in a PR agency, I really didn't understand what he did all day. I'd had limited experience writing press releases and calling newspapers, but the culture of his office, the way he spent his time, how he dealt with clients... they were all mysteries to me.

Grading. I might just as well have typed, Poop. It's the part of teaching that I hated the most and I'm pretty sure that Josh feels the same way.

Students. I might just as well have typed, Monkeys. Okay, that's not the most accurate way to put it, but I can say for sure that Josh and I are equally amused by students, though we don't always see them the same way.

My point is that we have a new way of interacting, new things to talk about and news ways to talk about them. It's kind of weird having an understanding of his job, that (at first) he did not. It's even weirder now that I'm teaching and he has an understanding of my job that I do not.

But it's nice.

So, I keep thinking about the ways that I need to keep myself from becoming stagnant. You could call it my to-do list to shake things up between us and keep myself growing.

new and improved

2011-02-20T20:50:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a while, and it's partly because I feel like I don't have much to say. Nothing new anyway. The weather has warmed up and we've been spending time outside, as much as possible. My classes are going well, and I am looking at the possibility of teaching a storytelling class in the fall. I'm probably going to visit my sister in North Carolina for Spring Break, and Sweet Caroline will get to take her first ever flight on an airplane, and I will get to meet the fabulous Ruthie the Dog.

No matter how angsty I get about life, and my current circumstances, or how suddenly enlightened I become, or busy, or distracted, or just lazy... life just moves on. It keeps going whether I'm caught up or not. Caroline will learn to walk, and Jonah will calm down (right?) and the rhythm that we've created will become a regular beat to the music that is our life. I am learning to improvise and harmonize and relax into the melody a bit. I spend time remembering who I am and how very far I have come. And I've been spending more time with the One who has led me this far.

I remember a few years ago writing a post called Things I Would Never Post in which I listed off a few topics that I would never really get very explicit with... one of the topics was about some anger that I still had that really frightened me. I'm happy to say that I don't feel anger toward that person anymore, and that anger doesn't frighten me. I think I had to feel it to know that I felt that I was a worthwhile person.

So that anger is gone but sometimes (maybe this should be in the category of things I should never post?) I feel anger toward my children and my husband. My whole life is wrapped around being the one who takes complete care of their needs: laundry, dishes, meals, appointments, naps, activities, snacks, happiness... these things have become my responsibility, but no one seems to have taken on the responsibility of MY needs. I realize that it is selfish, but occasionally I get prickly about it and worn out (usually when I haven't had a lot of sleep) and that anger frightens me.

Maybe in a few years I will be able to look back and know that my anger was just my own way or reasserting to myself that I am a person who is worthy of having her needs cared for.

Philippians 4:19-20 And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

...more at peace with the time that Life takes...

2011-01-22T15:15:00.000-08:00

Recently, I checked up on my sister's blog (by the way, can I tell you how proud I am of her??) and something that she threw out there really caught my attention.

"I know it will be a challenge to balance my designing with being a mother, as it always is. And there are so many other things I'd like to be doing (...helping John with the house, traveling, returning to school, painting - sigh), but I'm also feeling more peace about the time that life takes. I'm grateful that I have many adventures waiting to follow this one." (emphasis mine)

And suddenly it clicked. I wasn't looking for balance, so much as peace.

Someone has been trying to tell me that for a while, but I have been a bit preoccupied and unable to really hear the small still voice that has been whispering in my ear.

It's like the comment someone recently left on my post "The Black Bride and the White Bride"

Lissanne said...

I just read your post and I think that I have to disagree with your conclusion. I think that to let that black bride live on and balance out the white bride is in the end, to lose yourself to darkness. Balance between the two is not the goal. In the end, there will be a clear winner and if we don't have the guts to die to our "selves" then we can never really live in that beautiful place that we were meant to. In the end, don't we all long to be that pure and spotless bride?

Lissanne (whoever she may be, and however she may have come to my blog) saw something that I didn't. Matthew 6:24 says, “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. " And here I have been for the last few years trying to live both as my single self, and as my adult-mother-wife self. It's no wonder that I've been so unsettled. I haven't committed to hating any aspect of my life, but I haven't been able to commit to loving either one. What a sad way to live.

I do long to be that pure and spotless bride. I do long to be more at peace with the time that life is taking. But I still find myself longing to be only myself, and not everyone else's Mother-Wife-Daughter-Sister-Friend. I know that this is normal. I know that it happens to every woman at varying degrees and at varying times, but I find myself a bit shocked at just how vehemently I have found myself desiring to step out of my roles.

Don't misunderstand. I don't want a permanent leave from them; I only want to be able to retreat to some solitude upon occasion. I would like some temporary escape. I believe that this is why I stay up too late at night.

So instead of looking for balance (I won't be doing that anymore) I am going to be looking for peace with my life. I am going to look for reasons to commit fully to loving ALL the roles in my life. I'm going to look for joy in places that I usually just get annoyed- like the dishes, or the laundry, or the tantrums that my Monkey throws. I'm going to spend time falling in love with my jobs, and my family and myself, again.

Isn't it just depressing that I've been thinking all this time that I'm just not balancing them correctly, and really I've just been spending all my time lamenting that life moves on? We make choices and take all sorts of different paths, and life always keeps moving. It doesn't stop for us to enjoy it, so we have to enjoy the ride.

A New Year

2011-01-04T09:31:00.000-08:00

Several years ago I stumbled onto a website called Flylady. At the time I got super excited because I was working at home and I felt overwhelmed and trapped. Our little house was truly tiny and it was often too much trouble for me to leave after work... so I didn't. Looking back, I was probably depressed and my house reflected that. boxes were never unpacked. My room wasn't clean, and dishes weren't done. I spent a lot of time online doing nothing of any value.

And then I found Flylady...

In short, she shows you how to get your act together, and how to stop feeling guilty. In some ways it seems a little hokey and at first I was a little embarrassed. Then i noticed that I felt better about myself when i had a routine. I am not a naturally neat person (Tara got that gene) and I'm not naturally organized or very disciplined- so she showed me how.

Over the years I've been on and off with her program. I feel more balanced when i am on, but it usually only lasts a few weeks and then I crash and burn. I could never figure out why until yesterday.

Did you notice in there how she said that she got overwhelmed with the cards? I've done that. I've done the cards, I've done flylady, I've done a notebook, I've done everything I can think of. In the end, I just fly by the seat of my pants with little or no planning and a constant feeling of panic. It's silly and dumb for a 30 year old woman to feel this way all the time.

This isn't about flylady. It's about me. I try to do it all at the same time and it doesn't work out right and I get frustrated and quit.

So I asked myself this morning (yes, I know it's the 4th of January) what I wanted to accomplish this year. I knew that instantly. I want to feel less panicked and more in control. So instead of implementing some major new system, or even going back to Flylady, I'm going to take her advice. One thing at a time. Sort of.

See there's another thing I want. I want to start taking better care of myself. I spend so much time taking care of other people that I let myself get run down and tired and frazzled. I don't spend enough time with God, or by myself, and that is why I feel like I'm going 90 MPH all day long until I just collapse.

So what are my goals? For now, My goals are to do the following every day:
1. Shine my sink.
This is the same thing you saw in that video I posted. She's right. A clean sink makes me feel so much better. My least favorite chore is to do the dishes and if my sink is shining, there is no looming, nasty chore waiting for me.

2. Sit down and journal with a cup of tea at the end of every day.
I've gotten into a habit of sitting in bed and checking facebook after the kids are asleep, and I think it destroys my ability to stop thinking when I get into bed at night. So instead, I want to take some time to really reflect on my day, read my Bible and drink a little tea just before bed. I think it will be a good way to take care of myself and get into the mood to sleep.

Silly? Stupid? Not grand enough? Maybe, but it is accomplishable, which is more than I can say for some of my past resolutions. My goal is to reevaluate in a month, and if I can add something to this, so be it.

2011-01-04T08:46:00.001-08:00

"Simplicity is the mother of balance." ~Kelly Morris

End of the year

2010-12-31T20:28:00.000-08:00

So it's almost 2011 and I should probably post a nice reflective post on my year... but honestly I'm too exhausted. I've been up since about 5:30, though I did have a nice nap today (thanks, Honey!), but that is not really what I mean.

A recurring theme over the years has been my search for balance, and that has taken different forms at different times, but it is something that I have been more or less successful at until recently. Josh had surgery and my children are demanding a lot of my time, and then there were the holidays...

I'm starting to think that part of the problem is that I have unrealistic expectations for myself- goals too high to be reasonably attainable without help.

Maybe this post is more reflective of the last year than I thought.

Anyway...
I won't be posting here for a while (not that I've been very good about it lately anyway, but...) so i can regroup and maybe find some focus for myself. I'm not the best at disciplining myself, and that's something I want to think about as well.

1000 gifts, post #3

2010-11-14T21:03:00.000-08:00

45. My new Vacuum cleaner
46. Babies who learn to roll over, and over, and over.
47. Quiet music
48. Running
49. Chili
50. Josh and Josh and Josh.
51. Cookie dough
52. Pumpkin Spice scented lotion
53. Sunday afternoon naps.
54. Babies who reach for you to hold them to go to sleep.
55. An abundance of oxyclean.
56. Cooler temperatures
57. Hot Chocolate
58. My Mother-in-law
59. Being able to go to God in prayer
60. That my son's favorite song is Victory in Jesus
61. That my daughter's favorite thing to grab is my husband's beard
62. Dishwashers

Day 14 and 15

2010-11-13T08:47:00.000-08:00

So this is my family... we haven't taken a lot of pictures of all four of us, lately.

It's pretty funny to think that this picture was taken in July and now Jonah and Caroline can't wear those outfits anymore because they've both grown way too much.

Day 15:
What's on my ipod? Well, funny you should ask. I was running this morning and listening to my nano... this is what I got...
1. Yellow Submarine, by the Beatles
2. Sweet Caroline, by Neil Diamond
3. Maybe This Time, From Glee featuring the fabulous Kristin Chenoweth
4. Don't Rain on My Parade, From Glee (Lea Michelle)
5. Get Happy, By Judy Garland
6. Don't Stop Me Now, by Queen
7. World Spins Madly Round, By The Weepies
8. Popsicle, By the Starlight Mints
9. I get Mad! From Sesame Street (Sung by a goat)
1o. I am Woman, By Helen Reddy

Day 13

2010-11-08T20:45:00.000-08:00

~~Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself~~
~~Day 02- The meaning behind your blog name~~
~~Day 03- A recent picture of you and your friends~~
~~Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have~~
~~Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to~~
~~Day 06- Favorite super hero and why~~
~~Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you~~
~~Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why~~
~~Day 09- Something you’re proud of in the past few days~~
~~Day 10- Songs you listen to when you are Happy, Sad, Bored, Hyped, Mad~~
~~Day 11- Another picture of you and your friends~~
~~Day 12- How you found out about Tumblr and why you made one~~
Day 13- A letter to someone who has hurt you recently

I have put off doing this post for several days now (I'm using the term "days" very loosely now, anyway) because I couldn't really think of someone to write to. Who has really hurt me recently? I could only think of one person.

Dear Chara,
Get it under control, girl! Just because your life is hectic doesn't mean that you have to make me miserable. Yes- you seem to be in a hurry all the time, but it's not really necessary. Slow down! Stop sweat ing the fact that your house is a wreck and disorganized. It's okay. I feel like you need to step back from life for a while. Spend more time playing on the floor with your kids and less time trying to make everything in your world 'just so.' So you missed a few blog posts? Who cares? So your NaNoWriMo word count is way low? Who cares? You're okay.

Me.

Day 11 & 12

2010-11-02T19:24:00.000-07:00

Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself
D~~ay 02- The meaning behind your blog name~~
~~Day 03- A recent picture of you and your friends~~
~~Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have~~
~~Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to~~
~~Day 06- Favorite super hero and why~~
~~Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you~~
~~Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why~~
~~Day 09- Something you’re proud of in the past few days~~
~~Day 10- Songs you listen to when you are Happy, Sad, Bored, Hyped, Mad~~
~~Day 11- Another picture of you and your friends~~
Day 12- How you found out about Tumblr and why you made one

Day 12: What is Tumblr?? I don't have time right now to find out. Josh says it's the newest evolution of blogging. I guess I'm stuck in the stone age, or something.

Day 11

2010-11-01T20:15:00.000-07:00

Day 10

2010-10-30T19:11:00.000-07:00

~~Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself~~
~~Day 02- The meaning behind your blog name~~
~~Day 03- A recent picture of you and your friends~~
~~Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have~~
~~Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to~~
~~Day 06- Favorite super hero and why~~
~~Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you~~
~~Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why~~
~~Day 09- Something you’re proud of in the past few days~~
Day 10- Songs you listen to when you are Happy, Sad, Bored, Hyped, Mad

It's funny this is the topic for today because I've been listening to Pandora more frequently over the past few days. The best way to answer this question would be to describe my main pandora stations.

First, there is the "High School" station. This is mainly top 40 music form the three or four years around the time I graduated form High School. Alanis Morisette, Lisa Loeb, The Cranberries, Sugar Ray (I got all excited when "Fly" came on the other day), Blues Traveler, Jewel, and the Counting Crows... there are others but this is the basis of the station. This is a nice way to spend my mornings- when I need a little energy to get some things done.

There's also Jonah's Station with Elizabeth Mitchell, Laurie Berkner, some Beatles, Jason Mraz and the Barenaked Ladies' children's album. Right now it's playing Elizabeth Mitchell's "So Glad I'm Here." I save this station for when Jonah is under foot and I'm working on something, and he doesn't need to be watching TV... which is pretty frequent lately.

I also have a channel for NaNoWriMo... it's called "This is not the House that Pain Built" after a Dar Williams song that (sort of) inspired the story I'm going to be working on. It's got Dar Williams, KT Tunstall, Kate Wolf (who I'd never heard of before, but she has a great song called "Give Yourself to Love"). I'll be adding to this station a bit over the next month, I presume. Mostly it's thoughtful, folky music by women. Hopefully with just enough energy to motivate me.

Day 9

2010-10-28T22:15:00.000-07:00

Day 7... & 8

2010-10-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

Oops. Oh, who am I kidding? You knew it would happen eventually.

Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself
~~Day 02- The meaning behind your blog name~~
~~Day 03- A recent picture of you and your friends~~
~~Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have~~
~~Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to~~
~~Day 06- Favorite super hero and why~~
Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you
Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why

Josh, Jonah and Caroline (less than an hour old)

Day 7

This is my family- they are my employers and they basically determine how much time I get to spend alone, when and how often I get to exercise. What I eat, what/whether I get to go to movies, and what I wear.

Talk about an impact.

As a side not, I hate the way the word 'impact' is over used, and used improperly.

Day 8

My short term goals are for next month, not this month, since it is almost over.
Goal #1: NaNoWriMo
Goal #2: Get all Christmas shopping done before December 1st.
Goal #3: Make a Turkey for Thanksgiving. By myself-ish.

Day 6

2010-10-23T20:04:00.000-07:00

Day 5

2010-10-22T22:14:00.000-07:00

A picture of somewhere I've been to... This is a lake. Josh and I can't remember the name of it at the moment, but it's not far from Buena Vista, Co. We took Josh's Dad's jeep up into the mountains and after a really long drive over rocks the size of my head we ended up at the top of this mountain looking out over this beautiful lake. It was so peaceful and lovely. There were come campers around, but otherwise you could tell that it wasn't someplace that a lot of people got to see.

Day #4

2010-10-21T21:21:00.000-07:00

A habit you didn't wish you had...

Wow, now that's a hard one, because there are a couple of habits I'd like to chuck. I'm pretty sure that I'm a little addicted to sugar, and I have a tendency to dump my clothing at the end of my bed at the end of the day rather than put it away (I'm looking at it now... guilt!). I also tend to avoid doing the dishes because I hate to put my hands into the dish water.

So there you have it. Riveting, I'm sure.

Day 3

2010-10-20T21:17:00.000-07:00

So here's a confession... I don't have a recent picture of me and my friends. I've looked and I've got pictures of me and my family, my in-laws at my brother-in-law's wonderful wedding, my kids, even a praying mantis, but I barely have any pictures of me, much less with friends.

Why?

I don't know. It's not that I don't have friends, it's just that we don't sit around taking pictures of ourselves, I guess. We're more likely to be taking pictures of our kids than ourselves. We're mostly moms. We're trying to balance all the different aspects of our lives, and chronicling what we look like and who we spent our time with in film (okay, digital pixels or something?) is just not a priority.

But I'm thinking about pictures of myself in general... I don't have a lot. I had to have Josh take the picture of me that I posted the other day. Unless I'm at an event (like the wonderful wedding this summer) it's not likely that I'm going to be in any pictures that are taken. I'm more likely to be behind the camera.

And that's fine with me. The post-baby weight hasn't come off as easily with #2 as with #1 and some days I feel lucky to get a shower, so I'm not always looking my best. That's hard to admit- especially for the part of me that is still a high school girl, paranoid that I don't look good enough.

This all hit home last weekend. We were supposed to have a family portrait made to go in our church directory. I was hoping it might come out well so that we could have a nice framed portrait of the four of us. Maybe even something to frame and give our parents. I managed to get Jonah and Caroline dressed properly and everyone was clean and neat... except me. I realized after the pictures were taken that I had forgotten to put on make-up before we left the house. I was trying so hard to make sure that everyone was dressed and pressed that I completely missed that I didn't even put lipstick on, or darken my almost invisible eyelashes.

The result wasn't one that I will be sharing.

I could go into a whole tirade about body image, or even about how I put everyone else's needs first and neglect my own... but the truth is that it's just part of being in this stage of life. My job (my actual occupation) is to take care of three other people as well as myself, and make-up just isn't the most important thing right now. The important things are making sure that my kids are healthy, loved, and nurtured. The important things are making sure my husband has a nice place to come home to and a happy wife, and good kids. The important things are making sure that I don't waste this short, precious time in our lives by getting hung up on myself, but on doing my job well. No one is going to fire me from this job, but I'll sure know if I've deserved to be.

The meaning behind the name

2010-10-19T19:11:00.000-07:00

Day 2:
today's assignment was to explain the meaning behind my blog's name. Well... I started this blog while I was in grad school and it was my husband's idea. I had actually forgotten that until i went back and looked at my first post again. I intended it to be a way to keep in touch with my family and let them know what I was doing, and to kind of reflect on what I was doing in Grad school. In my first post I liken myself to a wallflower at the dance.

That's the story... but there's more. I realized after a couple posts that I had completely stolen the name of my blog from Dr. Joseph Sobol's book, "The Storyteller's Journey" about the process that brings storytellers to the art form. He interviewed a bunch of storytellers and then found connections to the heroes journey in their stories... it's actually a good book to read if you're wanting to become an artist.

So what does the name mean to me now? In a lot of ways, it means the same thing it meant then: this is a record of the process of becoming a storyteller. I was called to an adventure, and maybe I'm spending some time in the belly of the whale right now, but it's all part of a journey. Even the frustrating parts where I don't actually get to spend much time telling stories to anyone but my children.

Fake it 'till you make it.

2010-10-18T19:46:00.000-07:00

I stole this from someone else's blog, who stole it from someone else's blog... really it just seems like a good way to keep me warmed up for NaNoWriMo...

Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself
Day 02- The meaning behind your blog name
Day 03- A recent picture of you and your friends
Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have
Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to
Day 06- Favorite super hero and why
Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you
Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why
Day 09- Something you’re proud of in the past few days
Day 10- Songs you listen to when you are Happy, Sad, Bored, Hyped, Mad
Day 11- Another picture of you and your friends
Day 12- How you found out about Tumblr and why you made one
Day 13- A letter to someone who has hurt you recently
Day 14- A picture of you and your family
Day 15- Put your iPod on shuffle: First 10 songs that play
Day 16- Another picture of yourself
Day 17- Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why
Day 18- Plans/dreams/goals you have
Day 19- Nicknames you have; why do you have them
Day 20- Someone you see yourself marrying/being with in the future
Day 21- A picture of something that makes you happy
Day 22- What makes you different from everyone else
Day 23- Something you crave for a lot
Day 24- A letter to your parents
Day 25- What I would find in your bag
Day 26- What you think about your friends
Day 27- Why are you doing this 30 day challenge
Day 28- A picture of you last year and now, how have you changed since then?
Day 29- In this past month, what have you learned
Day 30- Who are you?

Day 1:

1. I am an adjunct professor and I like it.
2. My son finds my moles to be comforting. This is something I will tease him about when he gets old enough to be embarrassed.
3. I occasionally speak at Ladies Days at churches, and I wish I got to do it more.
4. I am a terrible housekeeper- not nasty, but I despair of ever having a truly clean house.
5. I don't really want a smart phone... but I wouldn't mind having a Kindle.
6. I have three sisters. One of them is my twin.
7. I am apparently addicted to sugar.
8. I am, in no way at all athletic, but I love to run.
9. I've had two babies, and two completely natural births... not even an IV.
10. I hate needles (that's why there was no IV).
11. I'm too chicken to have a home birth.
12. No, I'm not done having kids, even though we have a boy and a girl.
13. I don't chew gum. I think it makes me look dumb, and I have TMJ, so it becomes painful after a few minutes.
14. Don't tell my husband, but I would secretly like a little dog that I could carry around in a bag. Not till my kids are older, though. I clean up enough poo as it is.
15. In theory, I love gardening, but in reality, I love that my husband does most of the work. Don't tell him I said that either.

NaNoWriMo

2010-10-12T15:07:00.000-07:00

NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. For the past 3 years I've been thinking that I should do this. How hard could it really be to put down 4.5 pages of stuff every day?

And then I think about it and I realize that I haven't written that prolifically since... high school? I guess that's how hard it is.

But, in the spirit of just doing what I need to do... I'm just gonna do it. On the bright side I've read all sorts of articles about how to do this and basically they all agree: you just have to make yourself do it, and don't worry if what you are putting out is just plain drivel. I don't think they have to worry too much about that drivel part.

So this doesn't start until November 1st. Usually I start things and then after a few days I get too busy and they sputter out, but now I have to wait. So what does one do while waiting? Apparently most people work on their outlines and make detailed files with information about their characters, plots, locations and any other pertinent topics they might need to know about. So that's what I've started doing. I've had a story in the back of my mind for years now, and I've started it several times, but it never felt right and it never went anywhere. Last night I was working on a very broad outline and it suddenly occurred to me that I knew how the story ended... I could do this.

What else am I doing? Well, for one I'm downloading a free trial sample of Inspiration software. Inspiration is for people who think visually (like me) to put information out there in a visual way. The plan is to put all of my outline information into a visual medium. I'll share some of that here later.

Anyone out there interested in trying this with me? Let me know. Even if you don't want to try it, please feel free to harass me so I have some motivation for days (kinda like today) when having 5 minutes of peace seems impossible.

"What kills you, Mom?"

2010-10-02T20:50:00.000-07:00

Telling at the International Storytelling Center
in Jonesborough, TN in July, 2004.

Today was one of those days when it seems like I just couldn't get done the things that I really wanted to get done. I almost typed, "...one of those days where you don't get anything done." but that isn't true. I went to the Farmer's Market (terrible turn-out today... I need to look up the closing week. It makes me sad.) and bought honey and okra. I went to the store and bought a rug, drawer liner, new oven mitt (no egg poacher... what's up with that?) for the kitchen. I cleaned out my kitchen drawers and put in the new liners (yellow- so happy!) and mopped the kitchen floor.

Then I spent forever trying to put in a bling hem on my new pants with my sewing machine. I did one leg and then I had to pick it out and start over. So I gave up and decided to fix the hem on a shirt that I really like, only to discover that there wasn't anything wrong with the hem- there was a flaw in the fabric and it was a rip that couldn't be fixed. I ended up using the shirt to make a pair of black tights for Sweet Caroline, but she fell asleep before I could try them on her. I have another shirt I'd like to make tights out of, but I want to make sure the fit is right, first. I made dinner, and did dishes and did some water colors with Jonah (his first time) and played with Sweet Caroline.

And yet I am feeling frustrated this evening. I am trying to pinpoint why I feel this way and the only thing I can come up with is that my time was being constantly hijacked by some little requests for juice, or for a light to be turned on, or to be fed or picked up, or dinner made. I don't begrudge my family my time- but, do they get all of it?

I was browsing the interwebs the other night and came upon a great preview for a film that I would love to see. It's called Who Does She Think She Is. It's about mothers who are also artists and the barriers that they run up against in trying to be successful in their artistic pursuits.

Do you know what I really wanted to do today? Sit and read through a few folktales that I have been wanting to learn. I wanted to sit and learn how to make a blind hem without the constant interruptions. I wanted to take the brush from my son's hand and do my own watercolors.

It is any wonder that my temper was short at the end of the day? Caroline was asleep and I was trying to finish up her tights. I was talking to Josh and I said, "It just kills me that I can't seem to get anything done today." And there was Jonah, his little ears always on alert. He asked me, "What kills you Mom?"

Does it kill me? Is part of me just going to shrivel up if I stop trying to pursue the creative side of myself?

Maybe.

I had a conversation on facebook with some friends about the animosity that some women are subjected to because they choose to try to pursue their art and Amy, who I went to college with answered.

"Animosity comes from the assumption that pursuing a career while being a mom is some kind of denial of God-given role, desiring to compete with man for economic power. What people don't realize is that mothers who are artists are driven by a deep desire to actually do exactly what the naysayers are expecting her to do: fulfill a deep-seeded role, God-given role. Everything in the mother-artist cries out to share her God-given gifts, especially with her children. To go through life not allowing her children to be be nourished by such an important gift feels like she's not living up to her potential, and thus cheapening their childhood. It has little to do with self-fulfillment; it has everything to do with feeding the creative soul of the next generation. The problem lies in the voices of the naysayers, stuck in the back of our minds, wondering 'Are they right? Am I selfish? Am I kidding myself that I have a gift?'

When I start feeling like that [resentful], I realize it comes from comparing myself, even subconsciously to other womens' seemingly perfect routines and family life. But every family dynamic is so different - and I have to do what is best for MY family. I can't make the same choices other women make for their families and expect them to work for MINE. If I really look at where the resentment is coming from, I realize I'm not resenting my children, but the supposed little box I'm feel like I'm supposed to be directing my family into in order to have that ideal homelife. For the sake of my family, I long to be true to who God made me to be, and to glorify Him through it all - "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men..."
But so often I feel like I'm working for "men" (man's ideals of womanhood) rather than who God really truly blessed me to be.

I've been re-reading the Little House books - Farmer Boy stands out to me because of Mrs. Wilder and her butter business. She was just so crafty and independent about it, without putting on any airs. It was something she was good at, she was regarded for it, it served her community and her family. No big deal. Why can't we see art as useful a commodity as butter?

And we all know those women who HAVE sacrificed their families in vain pursuit - and we all grew up knowing we never, ever EVER wanted to be anything like that. It's scary to tread in these waters that, to those who don't understand, look so much like those of vain pursuits of self-glory we find abominable. The easier road is to just not try."

And she's right. It's easier to stop trying, to just feel resentful but ignore it. Instead I find myself with a very difficult challenge- to find new ways to make time for creative pursuits while still caring for two small children. The challenge is enough to terrify and exhaust me before I even get started, and yet the idea of simply giving up is equally unappealing.

Maybe I don't have 40 hours in a week that I can sit and read through folktales to learn new stories, but I can be very careful to pick out good books for my kids at the library to get ideas for stories I may want to tell. I can go to bed early and get up before everyone else so I have time to do my morning pages. I can take full advantage of the quiet during nap time (which currently coincides for both of my children, for at least an hour) and plot out stories, or learn new sewing skills.

I think I can do this.

1000 Gifts, post #2

2010-09-25T09:11:00.000-07:00

30. Being a twin.
31. I have never felt the slightest twinge of fear because of my age.
32. Having close friends, even if I don't see them often.
33. A husband who knows how to plug a leak in a tire.
34. Figs
35. Inspirations
36. Our garden (such as it is)
37. My new shoes
38. A new haircut
39. The beginnings of fall
40. Sweet Caroline's smiles and hoots
41. Jonah's funny expressions
42. Canning Jars
43. Birds in my yard.
44. local honey

Stories with Students

2010-09-23T10:24:00.000-07:00

Class started up for me a few weeks ago, and for the most part it's been pretty simple. My lesson plans and quizzes and presentations have all been finished sometime before school started so it's mostly been autopilot, until yesterday. Maybe that's why I was such a mess yesterday morning.

Last semester my first speech was a demonstration speech. You know- they demonstrated some skill. Thrilling. But I started thinking about it and I realized that I had total freedom on my first speech and I wasn't using it.

So this semester they are telling a fairytale. It's been interesting to watch which stories they choose to tell. you can tell the ones who are really nervous about the assignment. They choose things like "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" or "Jack and the Beanstalk." But I've had a couple who have chosen stories like "King Thrushbeard" and one who even chose "Frau Holle"- a story that I've been wanting to learn for a while now. I'll let you know how it goes.

*****

It got a little messy.

On a totally different note, I've been working on a few small projects around the house lately. One of them is this shirt that I made for Jonah. I got the idea from I Am Momma. She's got a lot of great ideas for boy friendly crafts.

I used a bleach pen and traced a line drawing of a tractor, and then I went back and embroidered the tractor lines on the bleached spots. My first attempt was a little messy and the bleach bled more than I intended, but it al kind of makes it look more like a kid's drawing- which is actually what I was going for. I also had a pretty interesting adventure with wonder under. I bought the wrong kind (the sewable kind for applique) so it had to be redone, but at least I know what I'm doing now.

I'm hoping that I can make several more for the fall. She has a cute robot pattern, and she shows you how to use fabric spray paint as well. I really want to do one for Caroline, too, but so far I can't really think of a good idea that isn't flowers or butterflies... and I get kinda sick of pink. I'll let you know how that goes, as well.

1000 Gifts (post #1)

2010-09-20T12:20:00.000-07:00

Recently I started reading/following a blog called New Nostalgia. She has started making lists of blessings- a post of about 25 at a time and because of the title of the post, I'm assuming she's trying to get to 1000.

It seemed like a good idea to me to really think through the ways in which I am blessed. So here it goes...

1. My Children
2. My husband (I could not ask for a better man)
3. My adjunct job (how awesome is it that I have to opportunity to get out of the house and deal with college kids?)
4. My home
5. My van
6. The gas in my van
7. the local library
8. My Mom
9. The abundance and variety of food available to me.
10. That Jonah is incredibly verbal (what a blessing)
11. My degree in Storytelling
12. Strawberries
13. Religious freedom
14. God
15. Sunshine
16. Electricity
17. Clean water
18. Good friends
19. books
20. photos
21. My Sisters
22. My health
23. The fantastic birth experiences I've been able to have
24. Good friends who check on me when I don't sound like I'm doing very well
25. wind chimes
26. peanut butter
27. porch swings
28. nap time
29. Fall

Why are you here?

2010-09-11T20:06:00.000-07:00

At the first workshop this weekend, Carol Birch began by asking if there was anything that any of us were specifically hoping to get out of the time with her. Several people offered suggestions of things that they were looking for, but I wasn't entirely paying attention. I was thinking about what I was trying to get out of my time. I realized that I wanted to learn to multitask. I had already heard lots of Carol's workshop before (not that I didn't learn anything- quite the contrary) but I wanted to hear it, and learn from her, while simultaneously trying to care for a child. Because this isn't really an option for me right now.

I was nervous because I had Caroline with me and if she fussed I might have to leave, or I might annoy the other participants. I didn't want to be rude, but when you are a child's sole source of nutrition, you can't exactly leave them at home. I was lucky. She slept through most of the workshops on Friday. She didn't do as well on Saturday, so I missed some of Bill Harley and Willy Claflin's performances this afternoon, and I decided that she wasn't going to be cooperative enough to take her to Charlotte Blake Alston's workshop- but for the most part she did great.

I proved to myself that I could do both at one time- she wasn't perfect, but I could deal with that. I'm really wondering how other storytellers do this. I know that there are other gals my age with kids who still manage to perform regularly. There is one in particular that I am thinking of, and I really want to know what her secret is. Is her husband just insanely supportive, or does she have a live-in nanny? I don't know.

Anyway... I managed to get more out of the weekend than I was hoping for.

I got to see an old friend that I hadn't seen or heard about in a long time. She was doing well and doesn't live all that far away. I'm hoping to get to see her again.

We got to take Jonah to see storytellers- something he probably only thought his mom did, up until now.

And I relearned a few very valuable things that I'll talk about some other time- it's getting late.

...in which Chara realizes she should be doing something else.

2010-09-09T20:43:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here in bed at 10:30 about to write a blog. Why? Why not?

I should be preparing for class (rereading my notes- the powerpoint is done and I am loathe to give a quiz on a day when I almost cancelled class), or taking a bath, or just crawling under the covers to be ready for tomorrow. So, why am I not doing one of those things?

Lets back up to a day some months ago when I was on the phone with a storyteller who was doing an interview with me for Storytelling Magazine. After I got off the phone I realized that I had an entire conversation to justify the complete lack of storytelling in my life right now. And yet I am still paying the student loans and pretending that this is not the case.

It was on that day that I realized I was truly lame.

LAME!

Why wasn't I involved with storytelling in Oklahoma? There's a story slam here in OKC once a month. There are all sorts of events going on around the state and even fairly close. And what am I doing...? Jack Squat! Using my kids as an excuse not to get involved and not to develop myself into something that could lead to a professional experience of any sort.

So, I'm tired of being lame. I'm going to the OKC Storytelling Festival tomorrow to attend some of the workshops and get to know some of the local storytellers. At the very least I will get to hear from some very talented storytellers.

And here I am, the night before, staying up too late.

Truth? I'm kinda nervous. I'm going to be taking Sweet Caroline (no way around this since I am her source of sustenance) and I'm going to have to drive back and forth to teach my class tomorrow. I'm going to have to meet people I don't know and try not to feel like an idiot. I'm going to have to hope that these people didn't read the article about me in SM and see straight through it to the fact that I am LAME.

But at least I'm doing something, right?

Neat-o stuff

2010-09-04T13:43:00.000-07:00

Super cute flowers

Something to do with the okra you left too long on the stalk.

I'd like to do this over Caroline's bed

Maybe make some of these?

Maybe need one of these?

And if only I had the time...

I think I could do this!

Math is life (part 2)

2010-09-04T11:39:00.000-07:00

This is, in part a sequel to the original Math is life post from February.

"I did find that I liked Geometry. As a sophomore in high school I took an advanced geometry class and I loved it, even though it was really hard for me and I still didn't get everything. I liked how ordered it was and how spatial. I could picture the problems in my head and usually I could get myself from point A to plane X, though often, I couldn't explain how."

That quote is form the original post on Math... And much like the original post, this one is also inspired by NPR.

I was listening to This American Life today and their theme was Family Physics. I absolutely suggest that you follow through the link and listen to the show (sorry, it won't be available until tomorrow). It's about the way that theories of physics can be applied to life- to relationships and humanity, not just math and science. According to the show, mathematicians and scientists hate it when people do that kind of thing. I think they should just be glad that people are interested in what they have to say, but hey, that's just me.

They use the theories of Ocam's Razar, The Trajectory and Force of Bodies in Orbit, The Mediocrity Principal, and the Casmir effect. You can look all of these up in google... I'll wait.

Now that you know what they are you can see how they all seem to have very relevant connections to general principals about life. For instance, according to Ocam's Razar, the simplest explanation is usually the easiest. It may not be the truth, but it can certainly be the easiest answer. So, yeah, life needs math- even higher level math theory... but understanding that theory, and being able to apply it? That's a whole other matter.

****

Recently I've been looking very closely at a lot of stories about women and the transitions that they are required to make, so that I can (maybe) make sense of some of the transitions that I am making. I've found it (at the very least) frustrating. They all seem very descriptive of the problems women face in trying to transition smoothly, but less descriptive of how that complete metamorphosis is made without destroying the woman, or her marriage.

I was/am still struggling with how to make the transitions in life. How do you become a mother? It's not like you can simply spin a cocoon and come out with all of the changes complete. My hope was that some theory might come out of the fairy tales that I've found so many other answers in. Instead I can only find the ultimate destruction of the woman in the story, or the dissolution of her marriage. It seems like all of the mature women in Fairy Tales are wicked witches, evil stepmothers, hags, cild abandoners... All except Mother Holle. I'm still looking at her story. But there is no answer coming out of my reading. No simple answer anyway. Maybe I'm not entirely sure of the question I am asking.

****

So what do you do when you don't understand a math problem? You ask your teacher to help you understand. When it comes to stories I've learned more from David Novak than any other storyteller. Listening to him tell a story is a magical experience, and from classes with him I can say with all sincerity that it is mostly because he spends a great deal of time trying to understand the story himself, and very carefully combines the stories that he tells. So who else did I have to ask?

In an emailed response, David reminded me that "Campbell suggests that the male need for myth and ritual is largely motivated by a deep sense of alienation from the divine. Whereas women appear to have a direct connection to the divine via the moon and birth, men feel the need to manufacture that connection via rites of passage. For example, women have an inherent rite of passage with the onset of menses and so on."

This is certainly something that I knew... have known since graduate school, but had perhaps dismissed out of hand because of the seemingly ludicrous identification of women as innately divine. It sounded like some Freudian, misogynist idea that made women the "angel of the house." And yet, somehow, being told this again struck an entirely different chord for me.

How do we successfully make the transitions that life will inevitably require of us? We accept the fact that we are being divinely led to change, and trust that we will be/are given the faculties we need to make those transitions.

In math I frequently heard that "The whole is equal to the sum of it's parts." And while you will see many people question this in non-scientific applications, it is a generally held principal. So can't we also theorize that when a thing goes through a metamorphosis it already has the necessary components to change, has acquired the components in order to make those changes, or is able to produce them as a bi-product of that change?

Not being particularly scientifically minded I can only think about this in a very abstract kind of way, but it seems to me that when a butterfly changes into a caterpillar it is not a coincidence that it is attracted to a specific kind of leaf to be eaten. Nor is is coincidental that birth involves a very physical, emotional period of time that we refer to as labor. What are we working toward as women who are laboring? We are working to extricate the child from our body, in both a literal and figurative way. Youth leaves us and we become mother.

A period of adjustment always comes after the transition, but the thing we must realize is that we are already provided with what we need to make the adjustment. It is only when we are unable to trust that what we need is already made available to us that we become the hag, the jealous queen, the wicked step-mother. If we cannot accept the transition we will doom ourselves. To accept it, we have only to realize that we have in us the needed components to be the thing that we are trying to be.

****

Is it always easy to change who we are? Of course not. If you look back at Ocam's Razar again- the simplest answer is the easiest- you will see why so many stories have women who refuse to transform. It's not easy to transition from maiden to wife, from wife to mother, from mother to matron. Each of these transformations leaves us grief stricken over a loss. Can we mourn the loss and move forward? Perhaps that's part of the question.

****

What is the whole, and what are the parts? Does metamorphosis mean that the original product and the end product are always completely equivalent? Math is life. Math is problem solving. Life is a problem because it is mysterious to those who are moving through it.

So what do we do with a problem?
You identify what you know and what you do not know. You identify the problem. You try to figure out the rules. You simplify. You always look at things and try to decide if they make practical sense. You cast off the fear of making mistakes. Embrace the mistakes.

What if...?

2010-09-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

I read this last night and I decided that it might be worth a try.
The idea is to brainstorm five “what if?” questions as quickly as you can. Take this assignment seriously, but do it fast. What will happen is that you’ll begin to dream, you’ll stop thinking of life as stagnant, and you’ll be reminded that life, for the most part, is what you make of it.

So here are my 5 questions...
1. What is I just enjoyed being a Mom as much as possible and stopped letting myself get upset and stressed?
2. What if I committed to eating no sugar for a month, like Emily did?
3. What if I committed to running a 5K before the end of November and really started running 3 times a week to prepare?
4. What if I committed to doing Jonah's calendar time with him every day?
5. What if I really became involved with storytellers in the area?

What if I did?
What are your 5 questions?

398.2

2010-08-29T12:59:00.000-07:00

My title is a Dewy Decimal joke... just for all you storytellers and librarians out there. Also, this is apparently post number 398 on my blog. Just so you know.

Lots going on:
~One really dumb AHA! moment that I'll probably share with all of you later.
~Trying to figure out what to register for at the Oklahoma City Storytelling Festival Workshops. I'm so excited, but I have a class that day. Kicker? I'm offering my students extra credit if they attend workshops at the festival.
~Classes start tomorrow at OC. I'm teaching only one section of Comm 2, but I'm excited. I've worked pretty hard on my syllabus and on the class in general- changing a speech for a story, creating my quizzes and tests ahead of time, and putting everything on a calendar before the semester starts so I'll know exactly what I'm doing well in advance.

I guess it doesn't sound like very much is really going on, but with Jonah and Sweet Caroline demanding as much attention as any 3 year old and 3 month old will... well, it's been a lot. Fortunately, it's started to cool off a bit outside and Jonah can spend more time playing outside (now that the temperature is under 100 degrees) and that leaves me with a baby who is highly entertained by the rotation of a ceiling fan. That's how I plan to grade test and quizzes anyway.

Maybe my moon or more...

2010-08-27T07:32:00.000-07:00

Complaint

by James Wright

She's gone. She was my love, my moon or more.
She chased the chickens out and swept the floor,
Emptied the bones and nut-shells after feasts,
And smacked the kids for leaping up like beasts.
Now morbid boys have grown past awkwardness;
The girls let stitches out, dress after dress,
To free some swinging body's riding space
And form the new child's unimagined face.
Yet, while vague nephews, spitting on their curls,
Amble to pester winds and blowsy girls,
What arm will sweep the room, what hand will hold
New snow against the milk to keep it cold?
And who will dump the garbage, feed the hogs,
And pitch the chickens' heads to hungry dogs?
Not my lost hag who dumbly bore such pain:
Childbirth at midnight sassafras and rain.
New snow against her face and hands she bore,
And now lies down, who was my moon or more.

More on this later...

(LATER)

I got this poem in my inbox from Garrison Keilor's "The Writer's Almanac." I read it and immediately thought of The Seal Wife. The entire poem has a feel of loss, but the loss of the relationship seems only to be subtext. The greater part of the complaint is over who will care for him. Who will do all of the work she did that now lies undone? He even goes so far as to blunt refer to her as his "lost hag." Not the most endearing term.

I've been puzzling over the heroine's journey, lately. It seems so different than the hero's journey, and yet there doesn't seem to be any sort of consensus on the fate of women. In many stories they end up old crones, wicked witches, or jealous queens, and in others they destroy their relationship with their husband and flee to a kind of solitude. What does a fully realized heroine look like? I'm not sure I can find that answer in fairy tales or mythology. We see so many men in stories able to reach self-actualization. They come full circle and become whole as men, but women seem to have a different cycle or cycles to fulfill.

The question I am asking isn't simply a story question. As a woman I want to be able to understand the phases of my life, and how I am called to change through each one. While I don't believe that story can offer us complete understanding, it can offer us a direction to look into- a path that we may explore. Stories evolve through the collective wisdom of their tellers, as they are passed on gaining bits of truth and wisdom like some cosmic oyster of human truth.

And yet, stories seem to leave women only the option of becoming undesirable and used up- missed mostly for the work they leave undone. Perhaps I need a different perspective.

Anyone out there have one to offer?

Joy

2010-08-16T21:03:00.000-07:00

"Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain."

and

"Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.

~Joseph Campbell

Is this...?

2010-08-15T22:37:00.000-07:00

Dragon Seasoning?

Please go back and reread that post because it was quite a long time ago and I wonder if anyone really remembers it. I didn't.
As a matter of fact I had completely forgotten about that meeting all together.

I am thinking of several of those seasoned tellers that were there- the old ones- the dragons. They all went through many years of life before they came to be the storytellers that they were. And each of them were good storytellers with much wisdom and heart.

I keep thinking about the interview I did for Storytelling Magazine. I have been thinking that (maybe) a lot of what I said was a lie I was telling myself about who I am and what I am doing with my life. Perhaps I didn't lie when I told Rachel Hedman that these years were to prepare me to have the stories I needed to be able to tell. Maybe they ARE the seasoning I need.

Rocking

2010-08-14T20:33:00.000-07:00

Every night about 8:30 my sweet Caroline stops being so sweet and starts being upset. Jonah did the same thing and usually I can settle her down pretty quickly by wrapping her up, popping in her pacifier and rocking her in the rocking chair. Tonight it was extra difficult to get her to calm down, but when I did Jonah was already in bed (they share a room) so I gave him a quick kiss and told him goodnight. I was on my way out when he told me he wanted to rock in my chair. I had spent so much time trying to calm Sweet Caroline that I hadn't really said good night to my Sweet Jonah and he was wanting my affection. So I scooped him up and rocked him in the chair too. He's so big that it's not as easy as it used to be, but a Mama's arms can stretch wide enough for even the biggest boy.

I rocked him there, next to Sweet Caroline's crib- bed that used to be his bed- in the rocking chair I was given just before Jonah was born. It's a chair that used to be my Granny's chair. It sat in the living room at her house and it was reserved only for her. I can still picture her sitting in it. She would be sitting with her elbows resting on the arms, leaning forward. Her toes just resting on the ground, pressing down in a slow rhythm to rock it back and forth. She would be wearing her dark green housecoat and her glasses. The time I am remembering most is when I was teaching myself to crochet and she was looking at the scarf I was making. She would lift her chin and then look down through the bi-focals on her glasses, slightly frowning in a concentrating sort of way. Her hair was brown with silver-grey mixed in- much like my mother's is now. I can see her clearly pulling out row after row in my scarf because I had made a mistake almost a foot up. I was compelled to start over. She wasn't a perfectionist- she just believed in doing a thing the right way the first time.

Today is the anniversary of the day that she died. Not the most important day of her life, but one that I cannot shake, today. And here I am, tonight rocking my oldest baby in her chair in my own slow rhythm. She never met him. I regret that very much. But I am rocking him in her chair and I am trying to remember any lessons I might have learned from her.

Like learning to keep your mouth shut when necessary. She was apparently a feisty woman with a quick tongue when she lost her temper, but I rarely saw her lose it. I think she must have learned to tame both as she got older.

Like taking time to laugh and talk with your children. I always remember her and my mother, anytime we would visit, sitting up after everyone else in the house had gone to bed. I don't know what they would laugh about all the time, but I know that sometimes it was at my Grandfather's booming snores. Often I would fall asleep to the soothing mumble of their voices. I try to remember to spend time with Jonah, and someday Caroline, just listening to what they have to say and laughing with them.

And like doing things right the first time. Like being unafraid to start over when you dropped a stitch so you can fix a mistake. Repair it before you get so far that you can't imagine how you could possibly go back and fix it- even though it seems so very small.

Small like my children. But they will grow, and I will rock them in her chair, trying to do things right so things don't have to come unraveled later. Just like she taught me.

This Part of the Journey

2010-08-12T22:05:00.000-07:00

There is silence all around me. Everyone else is in bed. This seems to be the only time I can really write. Between relearning how to nurse, potty training, keeping the house clean, trying to nap whenever possible, and cleaning up after a cross-country trip, I find that these rare moments of quiet in my house, and in my life, are the only moments when I can sit to put thoughts down before they disappear, like my full coffee cup from this morning. Where on earth did I set that down?

I have goals and things I want to accomplish, for myself certainly, but also for Jonah and Caroline. I'd like to learn to sew, finish Sweet Caroline's baby blanket, write one new story every week, teach Jonah his letters, finish reading "The Heroine's Journey" ....

But instead it seems that I have only enough time to scribble down a few ideas between the endless dishes, laundry, nursing, kissing the owies and the fifty million other things that never quite come off my to-do list.

Who nurtures the nurturer? Who comforts the comforter? Who cleans up after the cleaner? Who mothers the mother?

It doesn't seem that there is an answer to these questions. I have gathered that somehow these things are supposed to come ethereally from the inherent goodness of my own actions as a mother. In some way I am supposed to feel loved and appreciated and feminine as I stand over a sink of dirty dishes. And yet I do not. Somehow, I don't think I'm just doing it wrong.

Do not misunderstand- I don't regret having my babies. I am not resentful that this life has needs that I must meet. I simply do not understand why meeting those needs should make me feel whole as a woman, or even like a woman at all. Instead I feel more like communal property, or simply the one who gives. My biggest fear is not that I won't be appreciated or loved- every time Sweet Caroline smiles and Jonah touches my moles, and Josh wraps his arms around me, I feel loved. My biggest fear is that one day they will move on and I will not know myself. Without someone to hover over and care for I will be left feeling, all the time, as I do anytime I am surrounded by people I do not know. Uncomfortable and shy.

In these quiet little moments I try to find myself under the laundry and dishes and piles of toys and goodness-knows-what-else that demand so much of my attention. So much of my life has changed because I have changed so much of myself over the last few years. I want to get to know this new woman that I have become.

I guess that's what this part of the journey is about. I take this time to fill my pack with the people I love and trudge up hill to a place where they will be able to walk on their own, and in the mean time I keep in touch with myself, so when they take their own paths, I am able to choose one for myself

Mama

2010-08-11T22:57:00.000-07:00

There is another storyteller I met once and have kept half an eye on over the years. She was interesting, and close to my age. I've been staying up too late reading her blog, tonight. It was a bit shocking to realize just how deeply the reflection of my own personal disconnect was found in her words... and yet, was not. She is still working on her stories, and writing poetry and doing so many other things that I have allowed my children to be the justification for quitting. Part of my soul is drying up, and I am allowing my family to be the reason. One day I will resent them. Maybe I already do.

When did my name become "Mama"? I don't remember. Honestly. Even Josh doesn't use my name anymore.

Names are important things. A name holds power over the person or object that it is given to.

There is a verse in Revelation that I've always found especially interesting. It says, "He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it."

I don't really understand this verse (or much of the book of Revelation, for that matter) but there is something I understand about being given a new and special name. It is something to be cherished- and I do cherish being called Mama. It is a term of the deepest love and endearment- a word that has deeper meaning and greater connotation than any other word I can think of.

But I was given a name by my mother when I was born. That name, along with parts of myself seem to have been stolen.

When we were children, my mother would get so tired of hearing us say, "Mama! Mama!" that she would change her name. She told us that her name was Griselda. We couldn't say Griselda, so she would pretend not to hear us for a while.

Who was Griselda, really? I think I may be becoming my own Griselda.

There's a story here.

Night Owl

2010-08-03T22:09:00.000-07:00

I can't help myself- I'm still awake. I turned the light off and I tried to sleep but the list of things I have to do just keeps floating around in my head. Tomorrow we are leaving on a 21 hour road trip with an infant and a boy who I hesitate to say, is almost completely potty trained.
Bags are packed, suits and dresses purchased for the wedding, snacks for the car ride packed, rooms reserved, and yet I am still nervous about this trip. So many things could go wrong. I'm having visions of poop, hours of screaming, sleeplessness... more poop. How does a mother control her mind and make it still? Isn't our job to care for our families, and provide for them? There are so many facets to that job that there are times when I cannot find peace enough to sleep at night. How can I be prepared for every eventuality?

I can't.

I will lie down and sleep in peace,
       for you alone, O LORD,
       make me dwell in safety.
   Psalm 4:8

I'm letting go tonight. I'm trying to let go every night, and every day. I cannot anticipate everything, and I'm tired of trying. While I lay here hoping to think of that one eventuality that will make everything go smoothly... I realize that I will do my job best, if I recognize who is really the caregiver for my family.
No more night owl... At least I'll try.

To Say What You Mean and Mean What You Say

2010-07-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

I am very much one of those women who has never quite learned the art of speaking up for themselves. I am not fond of confrontation, and I still have a need to please others. You would think that I would grow out of these habits, but alas, even at 30 I cannot seem to let go of the habit of simply shutting my mouth.

So what's the problem with that, you ask? Several things.

Resentment festers when you don't speak up. Granted, there are right and wrong ways to speak up for yourself, but continually keeping your mouth closed means that you don't release your dissatisfaction, and eventually that leads to resentment.
It nourishes the idea that what you have to say isn't worth hearing- in you and in other people.
It can give the impression that you agree with incorrect ideas.
It can be a disservice to people who need to hear what you have to say. If said right, speaking up can change the minds of the people around you, and change behavior as well.

Okay, so I'm completely preaching to myself here. There have been times in the past when I knew I needed to speak up for myself, but was too emotional to really get a grip on what should be said, or how it should be said. The result: either I say something incoherent, or I say nothing at all. Neither action was very satisfying.

Have you noticed that in fairy tales, the women who speak up for themselves are usually the wicked witches or evil stepmothers, or ugly step-sisters? Why do women believe that they are bad or ugly if they look after their own interests? Usually the heroine in the story is vindicated, but rarely because of something she has done for herself. There is some sort of intercessory power that puts things right, after she endures a period of silent suffering. Why must she be silent? To prove that she is worthy of the things that are supposedly her right?

There is a story called "The Goose Girl" in which is about a princess who is going to marry her prince, but her chambermaid overpowers her and takes her place. She is made to tend geese in the palace with a boy named Conrad. When Conrad asks her about some strange behavior, she does not tell him who she is, instead she answers,

"I am not allowed to tell you, nor can I reveal my sorrows to any human being, for I have sworn under the open heaven not to do so, and if I had not so sworn, I would have been killed."

At that moment she chooses to continue holding her tongue rather than stand up for herself. Instead, the truth is discovered after Conrad tricks her into telling her troubles to the woodstove, where she is overheard, and all is made right.

This is a story of a true and false bride but in this story, the powerful woman- the one who speaks up for herself, and apparently is not deserving of the fate she reaches for- is the one who must be destroyed. Does the story tell us that it is only in silent piety that we can be self-actualized as women??? This is probably a question for one of my wiser storytelling friends.

Instead, I think I should encourage my daughter (because she is the one that will learn from my actions or lack of action, how a woman should be) to be more like Molly Whuppie. A young girl who sees an impossible situation and takes action. She does not demure in the face of hardship, danger, or opposition. Instead she takes each as a challenge, and secures a fate for her two sisters, and for herself that they were not meant to have, but for Molly's clever mind, quick tongue and willingness to take risks.

I don't believe that there is piety in a woman who keeps her mouth shut and does as she is told until someone else notices her suffering and puts things right. I believe that there is more worth to a woman who takes action based on the conviction of her heart, because she believes that those convictions are worth voicing.

One of my favorite examples from the Bible would be Abigail, wife of Nabal, whose husband had treated David so badly, and put her entire family at risk. Instead of sitting back and hoping that things worked themselves out, she took the initiative and went to David. She did apologize to him for the wrongs he had suffered, but she also challenged him. She saw his anger, and knew he intended to kill all of the men in her family, and she let him know that his intent was wrong. Talk about speaking up for herself, and taking a risk. Her voice is what Abigail is remembered for, and that choice to speak up and use her voice is what make us believe that she was a good woman.

The Seal Wife

2010-06-30T06:08:00.000-07:00

Her skin was gone again. She didn't know what had become of it- which dusty shelf they had put it on, or if they were off in a corner playing dress-up with it, but it was gone. It was such a disorienting feeling to have it off and to not know where it was- at first. Now she was getting used to the sensation of being no one... or being not herself. It was hard to tell who she felt like when her skin was gone.

It's easy to lose your skin when you are busy doing laundry, making dinner, cleaning up toys, reading books, laundry, wiping noses, finding lost matchbox cars and doing laundry. It's almost as if it has gotten mixed up in all that laundry and somehow disappeared with all the socks. I guess that's what it feels like- a mateless sock. You are purposeful, but limited.

And it traps you. You can't leave this place, no matter how up-side down you feel. You're trapped because you've lost your skin, and you're trapped by love. Love that shows itself in laundry, making dinner, cleaning up toys, reading books, laundry, wiping noses, finding lost matchbox cars, and more laundry. You are purposeful, but limited.

Sleeping Beauty 2

2010-06-30T05:41:00.000-07:00

I'm enjoying a rare quiet moment. Baby sleeping, Boy sleeping, Husband sleeping. This house is warm and quiet and full of sleeping love. The sun is rising and when those golden rays finally reach down and kiss the windows, my house will awake.

Sleeping Beauty 1

Her Story Becomes My Story: Fear

2010-06-19T00:06:00.000-07:00

"I picked her up and held her in my arms and wondered how I could have been afraid. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't so bad that I should ever have been afraid of giving birth. "

I was thinking about this as I typed it. There are a lot of things in life that we avoid because we are simply afraid. By "we" I mean me. I'm afraid of being seen as pushy, so I don't market myself as a storyteller. I'm afraid of being seen as too granola, so I don't talk about my choices in raising my children, or giving birth. I'm afraid I am not really talented, so I avoid telling my stories (because, what if there aren't any stories in me to be told?)

Ok- so my description of Caroline's birth story was a little graphic, but I am glad my memory of it was good enough for me to be that graphic. Knowing that there were only two pushes between me being terrified and me being a mother (again) is an interesting thing to realize. It isn't that it wasn't a lot of effort, or that it was painless. It's just that, "It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't so bad that I should ever have been afraid of giving birth."

How many other places in my life am I holding back? How many other areas do I just need to suck it up and push through the fear and the discomfort? I'm going to start looking for those places. We forget that childbirth is bearable because there is this incredible prize at the end. There are other treasures out there that I think I may be denying myself without having realized that the reward at the end makes the temporary discomfort small in comparison.

Her first story...

2010-06-18T22:25:00.000-07:00

I welcomed Caroline three weeks ago. She was born on May 28th, at 4:24 in the afternoon. I'm typing with one hand, playing chase the passey with the other. She's mostly very laid back. Like now. Eyes closed, hands grasping the edges of her blanket, pacifier occasionally bobbing up and down.

***

I spent most of the day having mild occasional contractions, wondering if it was real labor, but knowing that my body felt different, my contractions felt different, and being glad. Being so glad because I was so tired of being pregnant and I didn't want to be a big whiner, but I was uncomfortable, and couldn't sleep, and the heartburn was killing me.

We called my Mom and my sister early in the day. I got bored. I shaved my legs, checked my bag, cleaned the house. Things were slow going, but I knew that's how they started wit Jonah, and once they picked up, there would be no slowing down.

I laid down and started timing things around noon and by 1:30 things were getting pretty intense. My body was telling me that it was time to go... funny how it can know so many things that my mind isn't sure of. We called the midwives and told them that we were headed to the hospital. No questions. We were coming. The car ride was pretty rough. I ended up on the floor with my head in Tara's lap. Josh drove and I was thanking the Lord that we had gotten a van so I could fit in the floor. Sitting was out of the question.

When we arrived Josh went to park and Tara walked me up. They got a little information pretty quickly and took me back to get me gowned and ready. I just wanted to get into the bathtub at that point, but They got a base reading on the fetal monitor and saw that we were both good, and I gave them my birth plan. No questions after that. They didn't try to change my mind about any of the choices I'd made. It was very respectful.

Josh showed up after a few minutes and we walked back tot he delivery room. I had to stop at one point to let a contraction pass, but once we got in the delivery room, I got right into the tub and felt better immediately. During contractions Tara sprayed my lower back with the water and between contractions she make jokes about feeling like she was washing a car. My cousin Audrey showed up to take some pictures (and probably now has PTSD). It didn't take long for me to start to feel pushy. I thought I might wait out the feelign until it got really strong, but that only lasted through the first contraction. When the second one started I told Josh and tara that they better tell the midwife.

My midwife was stuck at the clinic, but I had met the midwife on call. She was wonderful. She had me check myself and my water hadn't broken but I could feel Caroline's head. I got out of the tub and into a gown and into the bed where the midwife could check me. She offered to break my water, but I declined. Not that it mattered much at that point, but I didn't really want the contractions to get much more intense just yet. My water broke on it's own about five minutes later anyway. I ended up pushing with my upper body draped over the head of the bed. It was kind of like being on my hands and knees but with more support. She came fast and furious and I must admit that I got pretty scared after the second push. I was afraid of tearing, of the pain I anticipated, of being unable to do what I needed to do... but I didn't really need to be. I held back on that third push, but I steeled myself and after the fifth one, there she was. I picked her up and held her in my arms and wondered how I could have been afraid. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't so bad that I should ever have been afraid of giving birth.

She was red all over and a bit swollen because her cord was wrapped around her neck, but the redness went away in a few hours and the swelling wasn't all that bad- she just has big cheeks. She slept a few hours but she was hungry, and she let me know it that first night. She's spunky and yet tolerant of us. Nice to know.

Post #399- her name will be Caroline

2010-05-24T12:49:00.000-07:00

I was recently interviewed for Storytelling Magazine and during the interview I was asked about my children's names. Or maybe I volunteered. I don't remember anymore. I explained about Jonah's name and then she asked about Caroline's.

I guess I'm just a big chicken. If I weren't a chicken I would have insisted on making her first name Story, not Caroline. But I know what it can be like to have an odd name and Jonah is used to calling her Caroline. I won't rock the boat on this one. Her name will be Caroline Story Watson. I think that's the first time I've typed it all out like that.

Josh picked Caroline and I gave him a hard time, but I think he knew I liked it from the beginning. It seems simple and clean, and I'd like her to create her own story- you know? I can't think of a lot of characters named Caroline, so it's not associated with anything. It's not overly popular right now, so she won't have a half dozen friends with the same name. She can be herself, and decide who that is.

I know that I've said it before, but having a girl is a kind of terrifying thing to me. Jonah was whole new territory. Boys aren't exactly something I know how to deal with. I've been making it up as I go along, and I suppose it hasn't gone too badly. The unknown wasn't a bad thing. There weren't any expectations to be met.

But a girl... Girls are emotional and seem so much more complicated to deal with as they get older. They need support and understanding- but they don't understand the power they can have. I want to give that to her- an understanding of how capable and powerful she can be.

Maybe I should have decided to name her Supergirl?

Instead I am giving her a name that she can define for herself. Nothing to wild. Something a shade unassuming that she can assume for her own. One day she can tell me the story of herself.

Headboard

2010-05-15T21:14:00.000-07:00

So, being pregnant and not having to work this last few weeks has given me a little spare time... mostly to come up with projects that MUST be completed before this child is born. Nothing too messy- mostly cleaning out closets and making trips to Goodwill. However, I was sitting in the waiting room two weeks ago and saw this fabulous headboard in a magazine by the Crafty Convict and I fell in love with it.
We haven't had a headboard since we got rid of our sweet little full-sized bed (the trade-off has been worth it) and sometimes it drives me a little crazy.

I was called back so fast that i didn't have the presence of mind to check the issue, or steal the magazine or anything, so when I got home and started talking about this headboard to my poor husband, he was just at a loss. I googled the bed, the magazine... I scoured the website to see if they had a picture somewhere. No luck.

Bless Josh. I think I had to explain my (terrible) drawing a million times but he built it. It's not exactly the same- the one in the magazine was white with crown molding around the top and ours it black and very simple, but I like it better. We're using the underside for storage and the top to display pictures and hold our lamps. No junk. All that goes in the shelving on the sides.

***

Almost everything on my list has been completed- everything I can do anyway. There's just one more thing on my list, and I don't really get to decide when that happens. I'm not due until the 31st (still 16 days away) and I went 8 days overdue with Jonah. i could still be waiting in June, as hard as that is to believe. Still, I've already got people making THE comment.

"Haven't you had that baby yet????"

Seriously, People of the World, no pregnant woman wants to hear that. Obviously we're still here, or you wouldn't see us. Obviously we're still pregnant or there wouldn't be a giant bulge under our shirts. Obviously we're uncomfortable- wouldn't you be?

So, from me and all the other expectant Moms out there- Please, just say something nice about how lovely we look and leave it at that.

A Daughter

2010-05-14T06:49:00.000-07:00

"When you realize that you are the woman – you are the woman she is going to hold up against all other women, you are what she will know when she becomes her own woman – you want to be some woman. I mean, you want to be the most amazing woman in the universe."

This is from a birth story on one of my favorite birth blogs. I've been a little afraid of having a daughter. Perhaps it is fear of retribution when she turns thirteen, or maybe it's just because I've seen the girl's clothing section after they get out of the toddler clothes (do they have to look like tiny hookers?). Or maybe it's just because my own mother has been such a huge molding force on my own life that I can't imagine being that kind of spectacular woman for someone else. It's a daunting task.

I'll meet her in the next few days or weeks, and then it will begin. My task of mothering a daughter... of being That woman for her.

That Kind of Morning

2010-05-11T06:15:00.000-07:00

Since I can't seem to sleep beyond 7 am much anymore I am awake before Josh or Jonah. My natural inclination is to wake Josh up and try to keep Jonah sleeping as long as possible, but Josh has nowhere in particular to be, and honestly, neither do I. I've certainly got a to-do list for the day, but until Jonah has to be at school, we're basically free. So I am letting them sleep and I'm not worry about all the stuff i haven't gotten done yet.

I think this must be the hardest part of pregnancy for most women- those last few weeks when it seems like the timer is ticking so loudly and you are uncomfortable and nervous. You just want to get things going. It's the waiting that makes it so hard.

Since I want a natural, intervention-free birth it's even harder to wait. I still remember the midwife I'd never met before trying to schedule an induction last time. I wasn't even a week "overdue" at that point and it made it so much worse. I spent days trying everything to make Jonah come. But then I had a lovely evening out with good friends and good food and a movie and the next day he decided to come. It seemed that he needed me to relax and let him come when he was ready. This is a lesson I still find myself struggling with as a parent. Patience.

****

It makes me wonder about God. Does He look at us and just want to give us a huge shove in the desired direction? I realize he's perfect but that desire to see your children make good, healthy decisions is so difficult to stifle sometimes. It makes you want to take over for them. I have to say I like my free-will, though.

****

The bed linens are on. The clothes are washed and sorted. Jonah is as prepared as I figure we will ever be able to prepare him. The bags are packed. Phone numbers are written down and ready. I feel like a beached whale. My due date isn't until the 31st but people are already asking me, "Are you still here?" So where is Sweet Caroline?

I was reading an article encouraging women not to induce and it had a different slant on things. The author pointed out that the baby isn't really likely to grow more than a pound or so in the last three weeks, but there is a phenomenal amount of brain development going on during that time. That's when your baby learns to self-soothe and learns sleeping habits and all sorts of other things that become pretty important in the first few months of life. It can make a big difference in the kind of baby you deal with in those first few weeks. Her point was- let them learn those things in utero while you can still sleep at night (at least sort of) and have a much calmer beginning. Thinking of it that way has made it easier for me to be patient. Patience has all kinds of rewards that we aren't aware of.

It's morning. I'm listening to the birds sing outside and enjoying the overcast light and my green yard. I would make coffee if it wouldn't wake Jonah or give me heartburn. It seems like a coffee kind of morning. It seems like the kind of morning to take things slow and easy. To enjoy the quiet time, and appreciate this momentary freedom. A good time to be patient.

Expired milk?

2010-04-30T21:11:00.000-07:00

So, around here, we rarely have milk go bad anymore. We drink it like crazy, so I rarely look at the expiration dates when I'm picking up a gallon (more likely two or three). Unlike my last pregnancy I will not be wondering over the possibility of having a baby before my milk goes bad. Instead I'll be hoping that she takes her time.

As of yesterday I am officially not working anywhere. And may I just say: Hallelujah!

I've got to enter grades for my students at OC, but I am not returning to Sonshine School at Edmond, except to drop off the monkey. I am a woman of leisure. Heh! I shouldn't say leisure, because if you could see my to-do list right now you would laugh at me. You'd probably tell me that I ought to hope this baby doesn't come until August.

In some ways I'm hoping the time flies (What can I say? I'm not altogether comfy right now.) But in other ways I'm pretty sure that the next 31 days are some of the most precious time I'm going to have for a while.

It's not that I don't want to meet Sweet Caroline, but I also think about how much time I spent preparing for Jonah, and I haven't gotten to do that for her. I'm also thinking about how much less time I'm going to be able to spend with Jonah afterward. I think about how confused and slighted he might feel. I feel torn.

Eh... what else is new?

So I'm looking at my to-do list. I want to make a place for this child. I want her to be welcomed into our home and made as much a part of our family as any of the rest of us. So I need to get her crib together, make sure she has blankets and art on her walls and organized space... Not that she'd know if I didn't, but it seems like the nesting instinct is there for a reason.

31-ish days and counting.

Saturday morning Socos

2010-04-24T05:42:00.000-07:00

There are birds chirping outside. They are probably fighting around the bird feeder to see who is the top bird. My guess is that the Jay will win again.
It's only 7:30 but I've already been awake for 45 minutes. I really would much rather be sleeping in, but it seems like I can't sleep past 6:45 anymore. That's about the time the birds get hungry, so maybe it's connected.
I'm headed to the Farmer's Market again today. Last Saturday it was raining and my mother and I got soaked, but I came home with some really good stuff. I think I'll buy eggs this week. Maybe more of the bagged spinach, a tomato (probably hothouse, but so good!), some strawberries and asparagus. I'm curious about their cuts of meat, but I don't know what I'd buy exactly.
Josh mowed most of the yard last night. Jonah rode along, and amazingly didn't fall asleep. I'm hoping he'll finish it today because the parts he hasn't mown are looking like a jungle from all the rain we got last week. I'm assuming he's going to plant the garden today, though, so who knows if he will.
The garden. I'm starting to think seeds are a bad idea. We should have planted it a few weeks ago, but it's been so busy with finals coming up and grading and then there was the rain... Josh spent a lot of time getting the beds raised and putting down straw. I'm really kind of excited about it.
I hear Jonah waking up. 7:40. I miss when he used to sleep in until 9:00 every morning. I slept in then, too. I guess it makes sense that I'm waking up before him. We'll see if he gets up and comes out of his room, or if he's just talking to himself in his sleep.
I'm almost 35 weeks pregnant. Last time around I was so reflective, and spent so much time preparing (I also wasn't working at all) and this time I'm looking at my to-do list and wondering if I'll have enough time. I'm almost wanting Sweet Caroline to decide to come late, just so I can get it all done. I don't want her to be less prepared-for than Jonah was. I don't want to spend less time with her, or sit her in her bouncy seat int he corner because I am okay with that now, but I know that's coming.
Having a little girl scares me to death. So much more complicated.

Jonah is knocking. He must not be able to get the door open!

Planting Seeds

2010-04-19T09:05:00.000-07:00

Josh has spent a little extra time this spring preparing for our garden. He's decided to try something new this year that I think might make our soil a little better without the kind of weeding that we haven't really been able to do. It's called Ruth Stout's method. The result, so far, is that we haven't been able to plant anything. We bought plenty of seeds but we may have to go get some plants just to get caught up... except for one area.

Last fall Josh tossed a pumpkin into the garden when he was pulling up all the dead plants. Josh figured it was just compost for next year, though why he didn't walk 15 feet and throw it into the actual compost heap, I don't know. The result? About three weeks ago, after Josh had tilled the first time, we started to see a patch of plants come up. Pumpkin plants, in roughly a round shape, like an exploded pumpkin.

We spend so much of our lives trying to be intentional and we plant our little seeds in neat rows and cultivate our soil with cover crops and compost and fertilizer. What we forget is that we're scattering seeds when we aren't even intending to. When things pop up in unexpected places, it's often because we weren't paying attention, but it's also because we have a God who makes the most of even our ham-handed attempts at producing fruit.

Now, I have to be honest. The pumpkin came from seeds that were probably genetically modified, which means we aren't likely to actually get anything out of the plants that's really eatable. Josh was building raised beds, so he sort of just built around the plants. It's not as neat as the little rows he had planned, but it seemed right to let them stay. Josh and I thought we might just wait and see what God can do with the plants.

"...your first naming, your first name,/ your first word."

2010-04-14T20:02:00.000-07:00

The title of this post is from my favorite Margaret Atwood Poem, Spelling. The basis for our communication with others (for better or worse) is the words we first learn to use- and what word do we learn first? Our names. The first word we respond to is our name. We quickly learn to recognize that word as our identifier, if not our very identity.

And that makes our relationship with our names one of the most crucial relationships of our lives.

I can personally vouch for the power a name can hold for a person. My relationship with my name has been a kind of on-again/off-again, high school romance type of relationship. One minute I love it, and the next I'm not sure what I ever saw in it. For the most part it isn't that unique, except that it is.

In Margaret Atwood's poem she says, "A word after a word/ after a word is power." She is right. And the beginning of power is to know- really know- your own name.

My name is spelled... differently. My father used the Greek spelling for the word "joy," so it's spelled with a silent "H" which leads most people to mispronounce it. It's kind of a big deal because the sound of it is significantly different than if you use the soft "ch" sound (as in character, or charismatic).

I had a coach in middle school who called me Charlotte because (as she told my mother at a parent-teacher night) she just liked it better. She was just plain strange, so I didn't sweat her opinion too much, but as the years went by, I got pretty tired of having to correct every new person I met on the pronunciation of my name. Sometimes multiple times before they caught on.

I think the biggest offender was my Spanish teacher my junior year of high school. Mr. Hammond was a coach of some kind, and as strange as the previous coach I mentioned, except that he refused to pronounce my name correctly. I corrected him every day for months, but he refused. It got to the point that I felt that it was just a matter of disrespect that he persisted. I spoke to him several times about it, but he ignored me.

I was once walking down a flight of stairs behind him in a deserted stairwell and the though actually crossed my mind that I could easily shove him down the stairs and no one would know. He probably wouldn't even see me. Also, it was a side stairwell that wasn't often used and he might lay there unassisted for quite some time before he was found and helped.

Ultimately, the realization that I would actually consider such a thing really disturbed me (as it probably should have) and I simply gave up on him and the class. I passed Spanish, but without any enthusiasm. I can still only a handful of spanish words, and they would do me little practical good unless I was desperately in need of some peanuts.

For the most part, however, I came to terms with my name a while back. I was asked, recently, how I would planned on explaining to my kids about how I picked their names. I haven't though too much about this, but the best answer I could give was that I really understood the meaning behind my name at a time when I really needed to know it. It was a time when I was honestly at the lowest point of my life that my mother made it clear that they chose my name for a reason. They wanted me to be joyful- to know joy and be characterized by it (pun intended).

It's still a little annoying, but I persist in letting the people around me know what my name is and how to pronounce it. Usually I will tell them that it means "joy" with the hope that they will remember that it is meant to be a little different, but there is a purpose behind it.

All about the guilt?

2010-04-13T19:47:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Tasha, told me (just before I gave birth to the Monkey) about her difficulties in breast feeding, and about one particularly difficult day at the pediatrician's office where she just broke down and cried about how guilty she felt about wanting to quit but wanting to do what was best for her sweet baby. The Doctor (a woman, I believe) hugged her and told her that she should get used to it, because feeling guilty was part of the job description for mothers, and that she should do what she had to do. Tasha decided not to give up and things got better.

I keep thinking about what that doctor said. At first glance it seems like a terrible thing to say to a young mother, but I've discovered- she's right. The level of duty that you feel to your child is matched with love, and when you can't seem to give enough, or do the right thing enough, it is next to impossible to feel anything but guilt. I am mostly a stay-at-home Mom with a highly verbal child who is loved and read to, and frequently given vegetables, and never beaten... but I can still find my own shortcomings. Am I spending enough time just playing with him? Brushing his teeth enough? Disciplining him enough? Is what I'm doing enough?

Ugly truth? I will never feel that I have done enough for him.

So where does that leave me? There are certainly things that I want out of my own life that I don't necessarily want to put on hold until he's out of college or married, and some other woman's responsibility. I want to get to tell stories, and connect with other storytellers, and run another 5K and actually go through The Artist's Way and do all sorts of other things that having Jonah and sweet Caroline complicates. Where is the ME part left if I'm spending all my time trying to do and be enough for my babies? It's hard to know.

So we're back at the guilt.

Today I was interviewed for an article in Storytelling Magazine by a storyteller that I deeply respect. My first thought was, WHY would she want to interview me? The article is featuring storytellers in the New Voices category (18-35 year olds) to find out what they are doing with their art. I wanted to tell her that she had called the wrong person. I wasn't really doing anything with my art.

But then we started to talk and it occurred to me that I have been telling my child stories since he was much too small to understand them, and he's highly verbal. Maybe there's a connection? And I'm teaching a communications class, and sometimes even getting to use my storytelling background. And I've done storytelling in schools (a little anyway) and in churches around here since we moved. It's limited, but it's what I can do right now.

I mentioned that I had noticed the age gap in storytellers in my category (young mothers) and she asked if I had any theories, and I told her that I thought it was just a hard time of life to put a lot of effort into a career that requires you to spend a lot of time selling yourself, and being away from your family. And then I said something that I hadn't realized that I had come to believe...

I told her that I was starting to see this part of my life as a "belly of the whale" experience. It's a time for me to learn and evaluate and prepare for what will come later. I told her about reading books about women and the transitions they go through in life and finding that I felt the need to profoundly experience these transitions so I could be able to tell stories about them with the truth of experience, not just the general knowledge of the story and an analysis to go behind it. It's one thing to tell the story of the Seal Wife. It's another to feel that it is sometimes your own skin that has been stolen from you.

I know this topic is generally something that I have generally harped on in the last few years- balance, motherhood vs. personhood, but I suppose that it's part of processing this entire transition to being a mother. I'm not sure it's a transition I will ever fully process. I've been through the beginning where you just can't believe that you actually did something as amazing and miraculous as give birth to another human being, to the mundane part where you talk about poop a lot, and now I guess I'm in that part where I'm comfortable (mostly) with my skills, and I'm trying to figure out how I got here and what really qualifies me to be anyone's Mother.

I guess it's the guilt.

What is going on ??

2010-04-08T18:14:00.000-07:00

-Heartburn and getting kicked a lot.

- SPRING!

-Enjoying my last days as a mother of one child.

-Getting ready to give birth using self-hypnosis. This has been really interesting, and is pretty helpful so far.

-Already gearing up for VBS this year. My yet-to-be-born child has already secured the part of the Christ child. I think we'll have to put a mustache on her.

SoCoS, again

2010-03-20T07:35:00.000-07:00

Snow on the first day of Spring:

It's snowing. They said maybe 12 inches, but I'm thinking we'll maybe get 6. The flakes are big and fat and sometimes flying sideways. It's windy. There are birds all over the front porch where the birdseed fell from the feeder. The Feeder is empty, though. Maybe I'll refill it in a while. Once I'm dressed, that is. Stall stall stall I really want to go to Hobby Lobby to get another skein of yarn to work on a baby blanket for Caroline, but I'm not sure if the roads are okay. I can't see them from the house to know if the snow is sticking to them. I'm thinking that they should be fine but You never know. Stall Stall STall stall stall I think I should have covered the daffodils. I hate that they are all going to be dead. But They were God's daffodil's, not mine, so maybe He will take care of that. Stall Stall Stall Stall I need to plant new Lantana in the planters soon- obviously after the snow melts. It's hard to know when to start planting anything right now. Yesterday I was outside and we had the air conditioning on in the car. and today it seems like it will be a million years before the snow stops falling. I was so looking forward to planting the garden soon. I want tomatoes and green beans and squash and spinich and who knows what else. I love the smell of it and the looks of it. I miss the leaves on the trees. Now I'm just complaining. And wasn't I just saying last night how nice it might be to have the snow wipe out some of the pollen for us? Then again, the pollen is what makes the green things grow.

Hmmm...