And don't you know I love it? It just kind of hit me this morning as I was walking 'Jane' to school with 'Amber' in the stroller. I passed so many moms doing the exact same thing! lol. I don't know how I would have felt about this a few years ago. Truth be told, I never really felt like I fit in around here. I was never the type to really try. But here I am, doing what I want to do without the influence of outside forces, and I find myself suddenly "there".
Life is so often compared to road trips that it's becoming cliche. There is a saying that goes something like, "If you don't know where you're going, it doesn't matter where you end up." Life is like that in so many ways. But, even if you don't have a clear road map, or step-by-step goals, you can still get to where you're going in life--unlike a road trip. (Can you just imagine trying to get across the country with no more thought than "I'd like to go to the beach today. . ."?) But at the same time, if you have too vague an idea you'll still never get to where you want to go. I think that's how we can define the difference between knowing where you want to go, and maybe just knowing where you don't want to go.
I'm living proof. I didn't set out to 'fit-in' with the soccer moms, the triathlete moms, or even the Born Organized moms. And I probably never really will. But today was a sort of vindication that I must be doing something right! My kids may not ever want so many extra-circulars, and I'm not going to force them. I hate exercise and only do what I need to be healthy, so triathlons are out. And no one would ever mistakenly call me a Born Organized person. But walking my kids to school today, with all of those other moms felt so right. Not because I'm trying to gain membership into some exclusive club. It's because I felt I had reached a small, tangible milestone I could set my marker by. Something to indicate I'm on the right path, headed in the direction I want to go, and doing something "right" even if it's the only thing I do get right today.
My journey is far from over--not that it really will ever end. But that's what makes it so wonderful-- this gift called life. There isn't a set point that it becomes too late to change course. And while I might have figured out a few parenting "secrets" sooner than some, that doesn't mean I don't make mistakes or that it's too late for anyone else. My biggest struggles lie elsewhere. But I'm working on those too. So while I'm kind of starting from little more than scratch in the parenting department, all I can say to you is that you will spend time where your heart truly is. And if you spend your time trying to get better at parenting, look for the little things along the way.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
Grateful for the Rain--Mostly
This last weekend, my area got a bit more rain than usual. Ok, a lot more. The canyon just up from my house had a 30 foot landslide, blocking traffic on both sides. Our local mall was under so much water some people got stranded. And my friend's house was flooded to the point of having to call out a disaster clean-up crew to come help.
At my house, on the other hand, while we still got wet we didn't flood. Baby 'Amber' really doesn't like thunder. And 'Jane' doesn't like lightening. Apparently 'Alex' told her the lightening would strike the house and break it. I explained the lightening would strike one of the large, mature trees surrounding our house before it struck the house itself--to which she responded by getting very upset that the trees would get hurt.
Today, the sun is finally making an appearance. It's shaping up to be a beautiful day! All the extra water is making my lawn look fantastic too, so we might just have to celebrate with a picnic dinner in the backyard tonight. But, for as much as I love the sun, and I'm so grateful my friends are going to be out of danger (my husband too when he goes to work) the rain was such a blessing.
Besides the fact this year was a nasty drought year (up to this point--now, I don't know if we still qualify to call it such), and the rain was much needed, I managed to get a fair bit done on my next knitting project! Yes, I started another project without finishing any of the others I had been working on. That shouldn't be surprising.
The pattern, and full picture of what it will look like can be seen here. http://www.interweavestore.com/roam-tunic It's made using chunky/bulky yarn, and with the chill in the air over the weekend, this was the perfect project! So far, I'm about halfway done with the back panel. I saw this pattern and fell in love with it. The only thing I don't like, though, is that it's big and thick and long--how I like my sweaters--but it only has little cap sleeves. While the overall effect is beautiful, I think I'd prefer to have warm arms. So, I'm tinkering with a few ideas to add some longer sleeves that I think will look great. But if I'm going to add sleeves, I'm going to have to go back to the yarn shop since I didn't buy yarn beyond what the pattern calls for.
Also, since I spent so much time knitting this weekend, the girls have renewed their interest in learning how to knit! I love it! 'Alex' is having too much fun with the long-tail cast on to want to move on to the actual knitting. I cast on for 'Jane' after she struggled for a couple of hours even with help. She was so excited about finally getting all of her cast-on stitches last night that she informed me she was going to work on her knitting in the morning if she had time before school.
Well, this morning she got up an hour early just to be sure she could work on it. She completed her first row of what will eventually be a scarf. And still had more than enough time to get ready for school. *Note: I made her eat breakfast and get dressed before I let her touch the needles. Otherwise, there is a strong likelihood she would have been late for school.
I'm feeling so blessed this morning! Beautiful, smart kids who love to learn. A nice, dry house that was just chilly enough to work on a thick sweater--and the materials to do so! And a lush green lawn, too! Life just doesn't get any better. May you be as blessed today, whatever comes your way.
At my house, on the other hand, while we still got wet we didn't flood. Baby 'Amber' really doesn't like thunder. And 'Jane' doesn't like lightening. Apparently 'Alex' told her the lightening would strike the house and break it. I explained the lightening would strike one of the large, mature trees surrounding our house before it struck the house itself--to which she responded by getting very upset that the trees would get hurt.
Today, the sun is finally making an appearance. It's shaping up to be a beautiful day! All the extra water is making my lawn look fantastic too, so we might just have to celebrate with a picnic dinner in the backyard tonight. But, for as much as I love the sun, and I'm so grateful my friends are going to be out of danger (my husband too when he goes to work) the rain was such a blessing.
Besides the fact this year was a nasty drought year (up to this point--now, I don't know if we still qualify to call it such), and the rain was much needed, I managed to get a fair bit done on my next knitting project! Yes, I started another project without finishing any of the others I had been working on. That shouldn't be surprising.
The pattern, and full picture of what it will look like can be seen here. http://www.interweavestore.com/roam-tunic It's made using chunky/bulky yarn, and with the chill in the air over the weekend, this was the perfect project! So far, I'm about halfway done with the back panel. I saw this pattern and fell in love with it. The only thing I don't like, though, is that it's big and thick and long--how I like my sweaters--but it only has little cap sleeves. While the overall effect is beautiful, I think I'd prefer to have warm arms. So, I'm tinkering with a few ideas to add some longer sleeves that I think will look great. But if I'm going to add sleeves, I'm going to have to go back to the yarn shop since I didn't buy yarn beyond what the pattern calls for.
Also, since I spent so much time knitting this weekend, the girls have renewed their interest in learning how to knit! I love it! 'Alex' is having too much fun with the long-tail cast on to want to move on to the actual knitting. I cast on for 'Jane' after she struggled for a couple of hours even with help. She was so excited about finally getting all of her cast-on stitches last night that she informed me she was going to work on her knitting in the morning if she had time before school.
Well, this morning she got up an hour early just to be sure she could work on it. She completed her first row of what will eventually be a scarf. And still had more than enough time to get ready for school. *Note: I made her eat breakfast and get dressed before I let her touch the needles. Otherwise, there is a strong likelihood she would have been late for school.
I'm feeling so blessed this morning! Beautiful, smart kids who love to learn. A nice, dry house that was just chilly enough to work on a thick sweater--and the materials to do so! And a lush green lawn, too! Life just doesn't get any better. May you be as blessed today, whatever comes your way.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Saying Goodbye to Our Moth Friend
For the sake of my children's privacy, I think I'm going to give them pseudonyms. Sometimes, trying to explain things with "my second child told my first child. . ." just gets too wordy. So, from here on out we'll just use pseudonyms. My eldest child will be called Lexi, my second will be called Jane, and my baby we'll call Amber. Don't ask me why I've picked these--I really couldn't say.
So, yesterday we had to say goodbye to our little moth friend who has been in residence here for the last month or so. I found him (or her) as a little caterpillar, and a second one, hanging out in an ear of corn. The girls decided if it was a boy it's name was Gus Gus, and if it was a girl it's name was Lily. And by the markings on them, it looked like one was a boy and one was a girl.
Unfortunately, one of them died. Luckily for me, by the time we realized one was gone, the other was wrapped in it's pupa so we couldn't tell which had survived. There were a lot of tears as the girls learned one was gone; and it was hotly debated which it was. I did my best to explain things to them and try to help them see the positive side. We had managed to keep one alive, and that one was going to turn into a beautiful butterfly (or so we thought).
The surviving caterpillar remained in it's pupa for a couple of weeks. The girls would check on it every few days to make sure it was still in there. I began to worry it might have died as we stretched into the third week. But then, the other night, the pupa seemed to have moved location in the mesh container without anyone having gone near it. Of course, I had no way to know for sure if anyone had touched it, but seeing that gave me hope that the 'butterfly' was still alive and might emerge soon.
Yesterday morning, I went to check on the pupa and couldn't find it. I did find, however, a spot of creamy white on the bottom of the container! I started searching for the little guy, expecting a butterfly and found our beautiful little moth!
I told the girls we could wait for Daddy to get home before we released him. Of course, Jane began having a melt down over that idea. Huge tears welled up in her eyes as she panicked at the thought of having to say goodbye. (This has been common lately. She's even been crying over my sister, who lives a block away, having to go home.) I tried to explain to her that it wasn't fair to keep him when he deserved to be free and belonged outside. I also told her that she had the rest of the day to see him and admire him.
After dinner, it came time to say our goodbyes. Jane started getting teary again. Again, I explained that he needed to be free. I had my hubby grab the camera and we all went outside to wish our little friend farewell. You can't see it in this picture, but he's fuzzy underneath. And his second set of wings has beautiful spots on them. Lexi noticed he has green eyes, the color of new leaves.
As I was holding him, he began vibrating--right about the time this picture was taken. It was almost like a buzzing sensation. He just sat there, humming. Jane wanted to hold him, but as she came near he hopped off my finger and fluttered to my husband's shoe, and then to the grass nearby. He vibrated as he held on to that blade of grass for just a few seconds before leaping into the air, circling us once before flying away. Remarkably, Jane just giggled and called one last goodbye. Lexi, in her matter-of-fact way, just said he was going to be free and fly now.
I'd like to think the lack of tears was a very good sign that Jane is learning how to cope with sad feelings. I've been concerned lately at how very little it takes for her to go into a full melt-down. She's very sensitive and gets attached to things and people quickly and deeply. I want her to understand how to express those emotions in healthy ways; that while it's normal to have these feelings, melt-downs don't help her or the situation. This experience, I think, was good for her.
So, in honor of our little friend, here is a little bit of tatting based on a drawing by Elaine Phyllis Gan. This is my own pattern based on her idea. You can seen little butterflies, or moths ;-) , floating along.
So the next time you see a little cream-colored moth, remember to say hi to Gus Gus and Lily.
So, yesterday we had to say goodbye to our little moth friend who has been in residence here for the last month or so. I found him (or her) as a little caterpillar, and a second one, hanging out in an ear of corn. The girls decided if it was a boy it's name was Gus Gus, and if it was a girl it's name was Lily. And by the markings on them, it looked like one was a boy and one was a girl.
Unfortunately, one of them died. Luckily for me, by the time we realized one was gone, the other was wrapped in it's pupa so we couldn't tell which had survived. There were a lot of tears as the girls learned one was gone; and it was hotly debated which it was. I did my best to explain things to them and try to help them see the positive side. We had managed to keep one alive, and that one was going to turn into a beautiful butterfly (or so we thought).
The surviving caterpillar remained in it's pupa for a couple of weeks. The girls would check on it every few days to make sure it was still in there. I began to worry it might have died as we stretched into the third week. But then, the other night, the pupa seemed to have moved location in the mesh container without anyone having gone near it. Of course, I had no way to know for sure if anyone had touched it, but seeing that gave me hope that the 'butterfly' was still alive and might emerge soon.
Yesterday morning, I went to check on the pupa and couldn't find it. I did find, however, a spot of creamy white on the bottom of the container! I started searching for the little guy, expecting a butterfly and found our beautiful little moth!
After dinner, it came time to say our goodbyes. Jane started getting teary again. Again, I explained that he needed to be free. I had my hubby grab the camera and we all went outside to wish our little friend farewell. You can't see it in this picture, but he's fuzzy underneath. And his second set of wings has beautiful spots on them. Lexi noticed he has green eyes, the color of new leaves.
As I was holding him, he began vibrating--right about the time this picture was taken. It was almost like a buzzing sensation. He just sat there, humming. Jane wanted to hold him, but as she came near he hopped off my finger and fluttered to my husband's shoe, and then to the grass nearby. He vibrated as he held on to that blade of grass for just a few seconds before leaping into the air, circling us once before flying away. Remarkably, Jane just giggled and called one last goodbye. Lexi, in her matter-of-fact way, just said he was going to be free and fly now.
I'd like to think the lack of tears was a very good sign that Jane is learning how to cope with sad feelings. I've been concerned lately at how very little it takes for her to go into a full melt-down. She's very sensitive and gets attached to things and people quickly and deeply. I want her to understand how to express those emotions in healthy ways; that while it's normal to have these feelings, melt-downs don't help her or the situation. This experience, I think, was good for her.
So, in honor of our little friend, here is a little bit of tatting based on a drawing by Elaine Phyllis Gan. This is my own pattern based on her idea. You can seen little butterflies, or moths ;-) , floating along.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Toothfairies, and butterflies, and waffles! Oh, my!
What do these three things have in common? I'm sure you guessed it; all three appeared at my house this morning!
My second child lost her first tooth! She came home from school yesterday super excited to show me how loose her tooth had gotten. So, I touched it to see, and out it popped. She hadn't even realized it was gone until I showed it to her. She had it under her pillow for the toothfairy before one in the afternoon. And since my oldest started the tradition, she left a little letter for the toothfairy along with the tooth. The usual excitement over the visit of the toothfairy was present in our house this morning. Which was soon coupled with excitement over butterflies!!!
We found a couple of caterpillars in the garden a few weeks back. We learned the hard way that some caterpillars are cannibalistic. But the girls had fun watching the surviving caterpillar, and have checked on it every day since it entered its cocoon. This morning we were delighted to see the transformation. We greeted our little moth friend before we even had breakfast. I guess my title is a little misleading; yes, it's a moth not a butterfly. But he's so cute, and fluffy, and has beautiful cream colored wings.
An epic morning deserves an epic breakfast. On today's menu: buttermilk buckwheat banana waffles. Haha, say that five times fast! Ok, to be honest, I made buttermilk buckwheat pancakes the other day and had some left over batter that I needed to use up. I also had a huge bunch of bananas that ripened faster than we could eat them. Thus, I mashed up two of them and added it to the batter and made waffles. I'm not sure if the batter had sat too long, or I added too much banana, or what the deal was but the texture was a little off. They were too soft and floppy, not the wonderful, fluffy confection waffles are supposed to be. While they didn't stick to the waffle iron, I struggled to get them out because of how floppy they were. The next time I try banana waffles, I'm going to try it with fresh batter and see if that makes a difference.
It's only 9:30, and already this morning we've had quite a bit of excitement and my baby is down for her first nap. Thus, I'm off to get in a quick workout before getting as much housework done as possible before she wakes up. We're releasing our little moth friend this afternoon, so come back tomorrow for an update.
One thing is for sure, it's never dull in the Light house!
My second child lost her first tooth! She came home from school yesterday super excited to show me how loose her tooth had gotten. So, I touched it to see, and out it popped. She hadn't even realized it was gone until I showed it to her. She had it under her pillow for the toothfairy before one in the afternoon. And since my oldest started the tradition, she left a little letter for the toothfairy along with the tooth. The usual excitement over the visit of the toothfairy was present in our house this morning. Which was soon coupled with excitement over butterflies!!!
We found a couple of caterpillars in the garden a few weeks back. We learned the hard way that some caterpillars are cannibalistic. But the girls had fun watching the surviving caterpillar, and have checked on it every day since it entered its cocoon. This morning we were delighted to see the transformation. We greeted our little moth friend before we even had breakfast. I guess my title is a little misleading; yes, it's a moth not a butterfly. But he's so cute, and fluffy, and has beautiful cream colored wings.
An epic morning deserves an epic breakfast. On today's menu: buttermilk buckwheat banana waffles. Haha, say that five times fast! Ok, to be honest, I made buttermilk buckwheat pancakes the other day and had some left over batter that I needed to use up. I also had a huge bunch of bananas that ripened faster than we could eat them. Thus, I mashed up two of them and added it to the batter and made waffles. I'm not sure if the batter had sat too long, or I added too much banana, or what the deal was but the texture was a little off. They were too soft and floppy, not the wonderful, fluffy confection waffles are supposed to be. While they didn't stick to the waffle iron, I struggled to get them out because of how floppy they were. The next time I try banana waffles, I'm going to try it with fresh batter and see if that makes a difference.
It's only 9:30, and already this morning we've had quite a bit of excitement and my baby is down for her first nap. Thus, I'm off to get in a quick workout before getting as much housework done as possible before she wakes up. We're releasing our little moth friend this afternoon, so come back tomorrow for an update.
One thing is for sure, it's never dull in the Light house!
Friday, August 30, 2013
My Journey to Becoming a Domestic Goddess: Stress--Part 2
In my last post, I talked about learning how to deal with stress. But what about "letting go"? To me, it's long been this mysterious, elusive, unattainable concept. It was something I just couldn't understand. I would push my feelings aside, pretending I was fine. I would stuff my feelings down only to have them boil up later, often triggered by something incredibly small.
I'm still not the best at letting things go. Only recently have I begun to really understand just what that means and maybe how to do it. Just this week I've been struggling with feeling like I was being attacked or not accepted. I get to find a gentle way of addressing the issues with those involved. Ignoring it only makes things worse. But I don't have to hurt. I don't have to continue on feeling unappreciated, or worse, and I'm not pushing it aside. I'm just not letting it mess with my inner peace and happiness. How? By acknowledging the negative feelings and then searching out that peaceful feeling inside myself. I may need to vent a bit before I can successfully let those feelings go. I'm setting limits to that too.
Getting trapped by the victim mentality can happen to the best of us. Continually crying about slights and circumstances is the quickest way to slide into this pit of despair, taking us away from our ultimate goal of peace and happiness. Not saying anything, on the other hand, when someone has done us wrong only causes us to stuff and bottle everything up until we explode all over those closest to us; and usually they had nothing to do with it.
There is a fine line between venting and playing the victim. I was once told to go ahead and throw a "five second pity party", and then pick myself up and move on. Well, sometimes we need more than five seconds. But rarely do we need more than five minutes. So, that's the time limit for venting on the big things. Five minutes, tops. That's not five minutes per person we vent to. That crosses the line into victim. (Maybe a limit needs to be set on the number of people we vent to as well.) No more than five minutes of your time venting about the hurt. Then, it's time to let go of the hurt. If something needs to be said or done about the situation, wait a day or two until the sting has worn off, and come up with a calm plan of action. Once you've completed your plan-- maybe you needed to talk to someone about how they treated you--stop thinking about it. Our time is too valuable, especially in today's hectic world, to spend any more time on negative things.
My time with my family is too important to me to let other people ruin it. I used to let them too, by holding on to whatever had happened and letting it drag my spirits down. I wasn't able to give my family all of myself because my mind and heart were dwelling on those negative events. My family deserves to have me present with them; to have all of me, not just the leftovers. And they don't deserve to see me upset and angry all the time. That only teaches them negativity.
I want my children to learn to be happy, to be content with what they have, and to be strong, independent people. Learning the patterns of negativity doesn't teach them any of these things. I know, I grew up learning this pattern. Only when we rise above the pettiness shown us by other can our children see what it means to be independent and strong. Letting our children see us be happy despite others trying to tears us down is how they'll learn that internal happiness and not be afraid to pursue their dreams. If they see us not giving in to someone's criticisms, they'll learn their dreams really are worth pursuing and mistakes are a natural part of that--not something to be so afraid of that they never take those steps towards achieving those dreams.
These are just a few of the things I wish I had learned as a kid. How much further would I be in my life right now if I had learned these lessons sooner? But, everything happens in our life at just the right time to serve our highest good, and maybe in service to others. Thus, I share my journey with you, and maybe one day my kids will read this blog and gain insight into all I hope to teach them.
I'm still not the best at letting things go. Only recently have I begun to really understand just what that means and maybe how to do it. Just this week I've been struggling with feeling like I was being attacked or not accepted. I get to find a gentle way of addressing the issues with those involved. Ignoring it only makes things worse. But I don't have to hurt. I don't have to continue on feeling unappreciated, or worse, and I'm not pushing it aside. I'm just not letting it mess with my inner peace and happiness. How? By acknowledging the negative feelings and then searching out that peaceful feeling inside myself. I may need to vent a bit before I can successfully let those feelings go. I'm setting limits to that too.
Getting trapped by the victim mentality can happen to the best of us. Continually crying about slights and circumstances is the quickest way to slide into this pit of despair, taking us away from our ultimate goal of peace and happiness. Not saying anything, on the other hand, when someone has done us wrong only causes us to stuff and bottle everything up until we explode all over those closest to us; and usually they had nothing to do with it.
There is a fine line between venting and playing the victim. I was once told to go ahead and throw a "five second pity party", and then pick myself up and move on. Well, sometimes we need more than five seconds. But rarely do we need more than five minutes. So, that's the time limit for venting on the big things. Five minutes, tops. That's not five minutes per person we vent to. That crosses the line into victim. (Maybe a limit needs to be set on the number of people we vent to as well.) No more than five minutes of your time venting about the hurt. Then, it's time to let go of the hurt. If something needs to be said or done about the situation, wait a day or two until the sting has worn off, and come up with a calm plan of action. Once you've completed your plan-- maybe you needed to talk to someone about how they treated you--stop thinking about it. Our time is too valuable, especially in today's hectic world, to spend any more time on negative things.
My time with my family is too important to me to let other people ruin it. I used to let them too, by holding on to whatever had happened and letting it drag my spirits down. I wasn't able to give my family all of myself because my mind and heart were dwelling on those negative events. My family deserves to have me present with them; to have all of me, not just the leftovers. And they don't deserve to see me upset and angry all the time. That only teaches them negativity.
I want my children to learn to be happy, to be content with what they have, and to be strong, independent people. Learning the patterns of negativity doesn't teach them any of these things. I know, I grew up learning this pattern. Only when we rise above the pettiness shown us by other can our children see what it means to be independent and strong. Letting our children see us be happy despite others trying to tears us down is how they'll learn that internal happiness and not be afraid to pursue their dreams. If they see us not giving in to someone's criticisms, they'll learn their dreams really are worth pursuing and mistakes are a natural part of that--not something to be so afraid of that they never take those steps towards achieving those dreams.
These are just a few of the things I wish I had learned as a kid. How much further would I be in my life right now if I had learned these lessons sooner? But, everything happens in our life at just the right time to serve our highest good, and maybe in service to others. Thus, I share my journey with you, and maybe one day my kids will read this blog and gain insight into all I hope to teach them.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
My Journey to Becoming a Domestic Goddess: Stress--Part 1
We've all had those times in our life when things seemed out of control. And I'm sure you know that desperate feeling that comes with it. The hectic dash from one thing to another just trying to control the damage since controlling the situation had gone out the window long ago. We all have to develop coping skills for times like these, but it seems those skills come after the crisis is over. And only if we're very lucky do we remember those lessons when the next wave hits weeks, months, and sometimes years later.
I've never been good at dealing with stress. I didn't have a role model to show me healthy coping techniques growing up, leaving me woefully unprepared for the worst of life's challenges. When I went back to school for my degree in behavioral science, my lack of coping skills became so much more apparent than at any other time in my life.
My emergency c-section with my first child I didn't panic. I didn't hardly bat an eyelash when they told me she was breech and "don't sneeze. We're heading to the OR and she needs to stay in until then." I just nodded my head--all of the sudden the last three days made a lot of sense--and away we rolled. Though truth be told, I didn't handle my other mandatory c-sections with quite so much grace.
But going back to school was a very different story. And the worst part was my family suffered the most. All the stress I was under made me snappy, short-tempered, and a yeller. That's one of those things you never want to become, much less admit to it. But that's what I became: a yeller.
This is the first thing I noticed about myself that set me on this path of becoming the best possible version of myself I could be. I saw it happening, and felt powerless to change course. And I watched as my family began to change. My youngest at the time would shrink away from me. My oldest became very bossy of her only-slightly-younger sister. And my husband began to do the same things I was, which didn't help.
I took a leave of absence a year ago now. I was so sick during the first half of my pregnancy with our third child there was no way I was going to be able to keep up my grades and GPA. So, rather than kill myself trying to get the grades, and then beat myself up if I didn't make them, I took a break from it all to focus on me and my family. Best decision I could have made; and I learned a lot from it.
Besides it giving me the time and space I desperately needed to reflect on what I was creating and inspiring and seeing the things I needed to change outwardly, I saw so much within that I deserved to change. Self-care is something we talk a lot about in the social sciences, particularly if you go into a profession like social work or therapy. But I never really understood what to do or how to do it. I would go through some of the motions without it having much effect while in school, and just couldn't seem to "get it". I thought there must be a secret formula, a series of specific steps that everyone had selfishly refused to share. And that whole "letting go" thing was a load of crap.
I used my hobbies as a means to escape. It was a way to give me something else to direct my energies at while my mind kept spinning around the problems that were causing me so much stress. Thus, while I have many tatted pieces to show for all my effort, I wasn't getting any relief from the chaos. There was very little that could get me out of my head. Any respite to be had was always too short to help me feel much better, and I'd go back to being severely stressed in a very short amount of time. Escape isn't the same thing as coping.
Well, I can finally say I'm starting to get it now. No, there really aren't secret steps to take. Letting go isn't the same thing as pushing it aside, or stuffing it down. Escaping only solves the problem for about five seconds before reality comes crashing back in. Coping is about something else altogether. Inner peace. The kind that lasts.
I used to think I should only take 'me' time when two things happened: I was extremely stressed and I had the time to take. Talk about waiting for the stars to align! Trying to wait for the time to take when under a lot of pressure is like waiting for salad shrimp to grow into jumbo shrimp. It's never going to happen! It's a lie we tell ourselves all the time, that this magic moment when we can take a minute for ourselves will show up when we need it and until then we have to just keep plugging along. Not only is it self-destructive and harmful to ourselves, it's detrimental to those around us as well.
Self-care has taken on new meaning to me. Now, it means when I need to take a hot bath to relax my muscles and my mind, I take it--even if it's supposed to be the girls' night for baths. The girls aren't going to get horribly sick by waiting one more day. My husband doesn't hold that half hour against me, and I really do feel better afterward. Not necessarily because I took a bath, but because I did something for me. When it's the end of the day, and I just can't take another minute of the kids screaming, I allow myself a "time out", grab my book and go read outside in the setting sun for as long as I need to. Yes, I'm being a little selfish here. Believe it or not, it's a good thing!
Here's the most important part, the part everyone should learn and apply to their own lives (cause let's be honest, not everyone likes to be outside, not everyone likes to read, and if you're my husband you really hate both so it would be more like torture than self-care). Take the time before you need the time. Don't wait for the starts to align. Don't wait until you're ready to snap. Don't wait until you are past desperate and hanging on to your sanity by a thread. Take the time NOW! Do something small right now! It's ok! Everything will still be here when you get back! Love yourself enough to spend some time just for you so that you can spend the other time in your day focused on the other things you love. Give yourself permission to take care of you!
Since I've learned this incredible lesson, my tolerance for stress has gone down while at the same time gone up. I know, it sounds like the shrimp thing again. But here's the reality. I'm dealing with less stress every day by choice. And that's empowering beyond words. I've set the bar low--at least compared to where it was--and I'm no longer being overwhelmed by something as simple as what to make for dinner. Before, that simple thought could bring me to tears. So, my tolerance for stress has gone down in that what I tolerate before taking 'me' time has gone down, significantly.
But here's the other side of that coin: my life is still chaos. My baby is teething, and not taking it anywhere near as well as my other two did. My husband changed jobs back at the beginning of the year, and while not much has changed with that, we still haven't found just the right groove, yet. Though it feels like we're finally getting there. My second child started school for the first time this week, and adjusting to the new schedule still means setting an alarm so I don't forget to pick her up on time. On top of potentially moving, though hopefully not too far. But even that is still up in the air, which the uncertainty drives me nuts and stresses me out. I could keep going, but I think you get the point. My life hasn't gotten much easier, though the stress triggers have changed a bit. But I'm not being overwhelmed by it now. My overall tolerance, the amount I can deal with when necessary, has gone up! All because I tolerate less.
I've never been good at dealing with stress. I didn't have a role model to show me healthy coping techniques growing up, leaving me woefully unprepared for the worst of life's challenges. When I went back to school for my degree in behavioral science, my lack of coping skills became so much more apparent than at any other time in my life.
My emergency c-section with my first child I didn't panic. I didn't hardly bat an eyelash when they told me she was breech and "don't sneeze. We're heading to the OR and she needs to stay in until then." I just nodded my head--all of the sudden the last three days made a lot of sense--and away we rolled. Though truth be told, I didn't handle my other mandatory c-sections with quite so much grace.
But going back to school was a very different story. And the worst part was my family suffered the most. All the stress I was under made me snappy, short-tempered, and a yeller. That's one of those things you never want to become, much less admit to it. But that's what I became: a yeller.
This is the first thing I noticed about myself that set me on this path of becoming the best possible version of myself I could be. I saw it happening, and felt powerless to change course. And I watched as my family began to change. My youngest at the time would shrink away from me. My oldest became very bossy of her only-slightly-younger sister. And my husband began to do the same things I was, which didn't help.
I took a leave of absence a year ago now. I was so sick during the first half of my pregnancy with our third child there was no way I was going to be able to keep up my grades and GPA. So, rather than kill myself trying to get the grades, and then beat myself up if I didn't make them, I took a break from it all to focus on me and my family. Best decision I could have made; and I learned a lot from it.
Besides it giving me the time and space I desperately needed to reflect on what I was creating and inspiring and seeing the things I needed to change outwardly, I saw so much within that I deserved to change. Self-care is something we talk a lot about in the social sciences, particularly if you go into a profession like social work or therapy. But I never really understood what to do or how to do it. I would go through some of the motions without it having much effect while in school, and just couldn't seem to "get it". I thought there must be a secret formula, a series of specific steps that everyone had selfishly refused to share. And that whole "letting go" thing was a load of crap.
I used my hobbies as a means to escape. It was a way to give me something else to direct my energies at while my mind kept spinning around the problems that were causing me so much stress. Thus, while I have many tatted pieces to show for all my effort, I wasn't getting any relief from the chaos. There was very little that could get me out of my head. Any respite to be had was always too short to help me feel much better, and I'd go back to being severely stressed in a very short amount of time. Escape isn't the same thing as coping.
Well, I can finally say I'm starting to get it now. No, there really aren't secret steps to take. Letting go isn't the same thing as pushing it aside, or stuffing it down. Escaping only solves the problem for about five seconds before reality comes crashing back in. Coping is about something else altogether. Inner peace. The kind that lasts.
I used to think I should only take 'me' time when two things happened: I was extremely stressed and I had the time to take. Talk about waiting for the stars to align! Trying to wait for the time to take when under a lot of pressure is like waiting for salad shrimp to grow into jumbo shrimp. It's never going to happen! It's a lie we tell ourselves all the time, that this magic moment when we can take a minute for ourselves will show up when we need it and until then we have to just keep plugging along. Not only is it self-destructive and harmful to ourselves, it's detrimental to those around us as well.
Self-care has taken on new meaning to me. Now, it means when I need to take a hot bath to relax my muscles and my mind, I take it--even if it's supposed to be the girls' night for baths. The girls aren't going to get horribly sick by waiting one more day. My husband doesn't hold that half hour against me, and I really do feel better afterward. Not necessarily because I took a bath, but because I did something for me. When it's the end of the day, and I just can't take another minute of the kids screaming, I allow myself a "time out", grab my book and go read outside in the setting sun for as long as I need to. Yes, I'm being a little selfish here. Believe it or not, it's a good thing!
Here's the most important part, the part everyone should learn and apply to their own lives (cause let's be honest, not everyone likes to be outside, not everyone likes to read, and if you're my husband you really hate both so it would be more like torture than self-care). Take the time before you need the time. Don't wait for the starts to align. Don't wait until you're ready to snap. Don't wait until you are past desperate and hanging on to your sanity by a thread. Take the time NOW! Do something small right now! It's ok! Everything will still be here when you get back! Love yourself enough to spend some time just for you so that you can spend the other time in your day focused on the other things you love. Give yourself permission to take care of you!
Since I've learned this incredible lesson, my tolerance for stress has gone down while at the same time gone up. I know, it sounds like the shrimp thing again. But here's the reality. I'm dealing with less stress every day by choice. And that's empowering beyond words. I've set the bar low--at least compared to where it was--and I'm no longer being overwhelmed by something as simple as what to make for dinner. Before, that simple thought could bring me to tears. So, my tolerance for stress has gone down in that what I tolerate before taking 'me' time has gone down, significantly.
But here's the other side of that coin: my life is still chaos. My baby is teething, and not taking it anywhere near as well as my other two did. My husband changed jobs back at the beginning of the year, and while not much has changed with that, we still haven't found just the right groove, yet. Though it feels like we're finally getting there. My second child started school for the first time this week, and adjusting to the new schedule still means setting an alarm so I don't forget to pick her up on time. On top of potentially moving, though hopefully not too far. But even that is still up in the air, which the uncertainty drives me nuts and stresses me out. I could keep going, but I think you get the point. My life hasn't gotten much easier, though the stress triggers have changed a bit. But I'm not being overwhelmed by it now. My overall tolerance, the amount I can deal with when necessary, has gone up! All because I tolerate less.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
My Journey to Becoming a Domestic Goddess: Breakfast
I have a confession. I don't eat breakfast. I haven't for so long, I can't eat too early now without getting sick. That also means I never really developed the skills for making breakfast foods beyond a bowl of cereal. I can make a few of the basics, like bacon (great for cheeseburgers) and hard boiled eggs (for the potato salad to go with said burgers). But when it comes to things like pancakes, mine were never very good.
Then I married my husband, and started getting spoiled. When he was a teen, he got a job working in a diner--the kind that makes breakfast all day. He learned how to make all of those diner-breakfast kind of foods, and put those skills to use for me. Breakfast in bed for Mother's day, or sometimes just because he felt like it. He made breakfast for my family when we were visiting on summer vacation. It's something he's good at and loves to do.
But when I started re-evaluating my parenting skills, I became very unsatisfied with the kids eating cold cereal on a frigid winter morning to then be thrust out of the house to trudge to school. I didn't want to ask my hubby to get up early to make them a hot breakfast, and in the middle of last winter he switched jobs and was working weekday mornings all through training; so all of the sudden, there I was, hugely pregnant, waking up much earlier than I had been to get my oldest up and ready for school. The more she ate cold cereal each morning, the more I would think about my wonderful second mom.
My mom teaches parenting classes (along with divorced parents classes, law classes, and divorce classes) and one of the things she tells her students is to find ways to motivate your kids. We all know how hard it is to get kids out of bed in the morning, especially teenagers. So her tip for motivating them is to make breakfast in the morning. The aromas will draw the kids out of their rooms. And they'll likely get a more well rounded breakfast too. This little tip has always stuck with me, even though my oldest is a natural morning person and rarely has a hard time getting up in the morning. I feel it's important to note that I don't mind the cold cereal every once in a while. It's a good reminder to them of just how wonderful it is to get a hot breakfast. Which brings me back to my lack of breakfast cooking skills.
Over the summer, I've been slowly learning the things I need to know about cooking breakfast foods. I've gotten advice from my husband, and online. And I'm starting to get it all down. My eggs still stick to the pan a bit. But my pancakes, those once dreaded pancakes, now turn out a beautiful golden brown on the outside, and tender in the middle.
Now, my middle child is starting kindergarten. In fact, today is her first day! She's not as much of a morning person, though she does wake up in a good mood when I wake her. This morning, I made pancakes--from scratch! I mixed up the ingredients--wet and dry separately last night, mixed them together this morning as the griddle was heating--and had the kind of breakfast I could be proud of. The best part, the kids loved them! And with all that whole grain goodness, I know they're getting the best possible start to their day.
My house is still a wreck. My laundry needs to be folded. And there are always dishes in my sink. But my kids get a hot, nutritious breakfast, and I didn't even have to get up any earlier to make it. I'm not a perfect mom, but maybe someday I will be. It's all in the journey.
Then I married my husband, and started getting spoiled. When he was a teen, he got a job working in a diner--the kind that makes breakfast all day. He learned how to make all of those diner-breakfast kind of foods, and put those skills to use for me. Breakfast in bed for Mother's day, or sometimes just because he felt like it. He made breakfast for my family when we were visiting on summer vacation. It's something he's good at and loves to do.
But when I started re-evaluating my parenting skills, I became very unsatisfied with the kids eating cold cereal on a frigid winter morning to then be thrust out of the house to trudge to school. I didn't want to ask my hubby to get up early to make them a hot breakfast, and in the middle of last winter he switched jobs and was working weekday mornings all through training; so all of the sudden, there I was, hugely pregnant, waking up much earlier than I had been to get my oldest up and ready for school. The more she ate cold cereal each morning, the more I would think about my wonderful second mom.
My mom teaches parenting classes (along with divorced parents classes, law classes, and divorce classes) and one of the things she tells her students is to find ways to motivate your kids. We all know how hard it is to get kids out of bed in the morning, especially teenagers. So her tip for motivating them is to make breakfast in the morning. The aromas will draw the kids out of their rooms. And they'll likely get a more well rounded breakfast too. This little tip has always stuck with me, even though my oldest is a natural morning person and rarely has a hard time getting up in the morning. I feel it's important to note that I don't mind the cold cereal every once in a while. It's a good reminder to them of just how wonderful it is to get a hot breakfast. Which brings me back to my lack of breakfast cooking skills.
Over the summer, I've been slowly learning the things I need to know about cooking breakfast foods. I've gotten advice from my husband, and online. And I'm starting to get it all down. My eggs still stick to the pan a bit. But my pancakes, those once dreaded pancakes, now turn out a beautiful golden brown on the outside, and tender in the middle.
Now, my middle child is starting kindergarten. In fact, today is her first day! She's not as much of a morning person, though she does wake up in a good mood when I wake her. This morning, I made pancakes--from scratch! I mixed up the ingredients--wet and dry separately last night, mixed them together this morning as the griddle was heating--and had the kind of breakfast I could be proud of. The best part, the kids loved them! And with all that whole grain goodness, I know they're getting the best possible start to their day.
My house is still a wreck. My laundry needs to be folded. And there are always dishes in my sink. But my kids get a hot, nutritious breakfast, and I didn't even have to get up any earlier to make it. I'm not a perfect mom, but maybe someday I will be. It's all in the journey.
Monday, August 26, 2013
My journey to becoming a Domestic Goddess: What we teach our children
There are some things that a people were born to do. Ever known someone who seemed born to be a salesman? Or maybe you knew a kid who was always drawing buildings and became an architect?
And then there are those who maybe you couldn't pinpoint what they'd become, but you could always sense they'd be amazing at it! And then there are those who just seemed average in every possible way.
That's me.
I'm average in just about everything I do. That's not to say I'm sub-par. When it comes to things I love, like reading, I'm pretty good at them. But I'm no speed-reader. (No matter how much I might pretend otherwise.) And I'm ok with this fact about myself most of the time.
There are a few things that I love enough, however, to spend extra time becoming the best I possibly can be. Like lacemaking. We all know I've got my fingers in at least half a dozen different projects, all in various states of completion, all the time. (Current projects include a crochet-lace tablecloth, a tatted table runner, a knitted vest with a lace section in the middle, a little tatted piece based on someone else's concept that I'm working out the stitches for, a crochet piece to add to my daughter's swimsuit to make it a little less ugly and a lot more modest, and a project that is destined to become a Christmas present. Of course, there may be more. This is just what I can think of off the top of my head.)
But there has always been one thing that I wanted to be the best at--one thing that I love so much I have spent countless hours trying to improve myself.
Being Mom.
Since the birth of my third child, I've become more sensitive to what I'm doing right as a parent and what I need to work on. I look at other moms I know, things they're doing that I like and things I don't agree with, and ask myself "Am I doing that?" In the process, I've come to set new standards for myself.
To me, being a good mom is all about what we teach our kids.We've always been big on manners around here, and now we're back to working on them. When my oldest started preschool, we saw a few changes in her that we weren't too thrilled with. She picked up phrases/sayings, and some behaviors that were less than stellar. My husband and I have begun to reinforce simple things, like please and thank you's, but what about the more abstract concepts like greed?
Both of my older kids have taken to wanting everything in sight (except for candy, go figure), and TV commercials have become so dreaded in my house that we record everything just so we can skip the commercials so the kids won't be tempted. But that doesn't always work. So how do we teach kids to value what they have and that while it's ok to want other things, it's not ok to beg for things and it's ridiculous to expect to get everything you want? And for some reason, our oldest has really been struggling with the concept of borrowing.
I know their obsession with acquiring new things has nothing to do with them having less than enough. In fact, I've begun to suspect it's the opposite. While we have used some of the things they wanted as goals, things to work towards, I don't want my family to be so consumer-driven. Life is not about what you can buy. But how do you teach this concept to a 7 year old?
Research has shown that children need to hear the word 'no', and need clear boundaries. Perhaps my family needs new boundaries about when it's appropriate to ask/purchase a new toy, and when it's not. The problem here is that I have no idea what those boundaries should be.
I've debated making them get rid of something before they can get something new. But does that really teach them value? I'm afraid it will decrease the value in things for them and they will come to see everything as being expendable. Another idea is to make them wait six months and see if they still want it then. So far, I haven't seen the downside to that. There are a lot of things they thought were "so cool" six months ago that they haven't mentioned since. Then, there is the idea of them only getting new toys and things on their birthday and Christmas.
The next lesson for the kids has got to be about letting go of all of their extra stuff--all of the toys they don't really play with. Until we get this lesson down, we can't really make headway in the clean-bedroom department.
And then there are those who maybe you couldn't pinpoint what they'd become, but you could always sense they'd be amazing at it! And then there are those who just seemed average in every possible way.
That's me.
I'm average in just about everything I do. That's not to say I'm sub-par. When it comes to things I love, like reading, I'm pretty good at them. But I'm no speed-reader. (No matter how much I might pretend otherwise.) And I'm ok with this fact about myself most of the time.
There are a few things that I love enough, however, to spend extra time becoming the best I possibly can be. Like lacemaking. We all know I've got my fingers in at least half a dozen different projects, all in various states of completion, all the time. (Current projects include a crochet-lace tablecloth, a tatted table runner, a knitted vest with a lace section in the middle, a little tatted piece based on someone else's concept that I'm working out the stitches for, a crochet piece to add to my daughter's swimsuit to make it a little less ugly and a lot more modest, and a project that is destined to become a Christmas present. Of course, there may be more. This is just what I can think of off the top of my head.)
But there has always been one thing that I wanted to be the best at--one thing that I love so much I have spent countless hours trying to improve myself.
Being Mom.
Since the birth of my third child, I've become more sensitive to what I'm doing right as a parent and what I need to work on. I look at other moms I know, things they're doing that I like and things I don't agree with, and ask myself "Am I doing that?" In the process, I've come to set new standards for myself.
To me, being a good mom is all about what we teach our kids.We've always been big on manners around here, and now we're back to working on them. When my oldest started preschool, we saw a few changes in her that we weren't too thrilled with. She picked up phrases/sayings, and some behaviors that were less than stellar. My husband and I have begun to reinforce simple things, like please and thank you's, but what about the more abstract concepts like greed?
Both of my older kids have taken to wanting everything in sight (except for candy, go figure), and TV commercials have become so dreaded in my house that we record everything just so we can skip the commercials so the kids won't be tempted. But that doesn't always work. So how do we teach kids to value what they have and that while it's ok to want other things, it's not ok to beg for things and it's ridiculous to expect to get everything you want? And for some reason, our oldest has really been struggling with the concept of borrowing.
I know their obsession with acquiring new things has nothing to do with them having less than enough. In fact, I've begun to suspect it's the opposite. While we have used some of the things they wanted as goals, things to work towards, I don't want my family to be so consumer-driven. Life is not about what you can buy. But how do you teach this concept to a 7 year old?
Research has shown that children need to hear the word 'no', and need clear boundaries. Perhaps my family needs new boundaries about when it's appropriate to ask/purchase a new toy, and when it's not. The problem here is that I have no idea what those boundaries should be.
I've debated making them get rid of something before they can get something new. But does that really teach them value? I'm afraid it will decrease the value in things for them and they will come to see everything as being expendable. Another idea is to make them wait six months and see if they still want it then. So far, I haven't seen the downside to that. There are a lot of things they thought were "so cool" six months ago that they haven't mentioned since. Then, there is the idea of them only getting new toys and things on their birthday and Christmas.
The next lesson for the kids has got to be about letting go of all of their extra stuff--all of the toys they don't really play with. Until we get this lesson down, we can't really make headway in the clean-bedroom department.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Hospitals
My husband finally decided to fix the hernia that's been nagging him for the last THREE YEARS! He finally made all of the appointments, and before we knew it he was scheduled for surgery. We thought it would all take at least a month. The whole process only took us two weeks. Just enough time for my hubby to get really anxious, but not enough time to adjust to the idea and calm back down.
Well, since this is the biggest thing my husband has ever had to do medically (previously, he's only ever had stitches), he asked me to stay there at the hospital with him. I wasn't surprised by this, and was happy to do it for him. The original plan was to get him to the hospital, and while we was going through the surgery, I'd run our daughter to school and be back just in time for him to wake up. Then, after his recovery time, we could go home, pick up our daughter from school, and maybe even catch a quick nap while my family all napped. Yeah...that didn't happen.
So, I get up way too early so we can get everyone ready to go. I'm not a morning person to begin with. But couple that with my husband's anxiety and my lack of sleep, I was so looking forward to nap time. After we got to the hospital we learned that by the time they knocked him out for surgery, my daughter would be so late getting to school it wouldn't be worth driving that far to drop her off for the hour and half of class. And my hubby was due to wake up from the anesthesia around the same time as when I got back. If they delayed his release at all, we'd be late picking my daughter up from school. And my sweet girl, while she wanted to go to school, she also wanted to be there for Daddy. So, my girls and I stayed at the hospital the entire time.
Thank goodness I took my mini tatting bag. This is my "on the go" bag. It's just a little ziplock sandwich bag with a single ball of thread, a couple of shuttles, and a small pair of scissors.
I was recently asked to teach at the local lace guild. At the last meeting, I had shown them the piece I was mailing to my tatting exchange partner--a 3D rose bookmark--and everyone liked it so much they asked me to teach them all how to make it at the next available meeting. So while sitting at the hospital, I thought it would be great to make a few examples to have on display--maybe a few roses by themselves, and one attached to a hair clip, maybe a pin, and then--of course--the bookmark. Well, that's more than just a couple of roses to make and what better time to make them than while sitting in the surgical center? And I had everything I needed to make the roses in my little bag.
Well, sleep deprivation became evident in my first rose of the morning. I messed up several of the rings by adding too many stitches. Then, I ran out of thread because I underestimated how much I needed. So my rose came out much thinner than the original pattern. Thank goodness this is such a forgiving pattern. Even a little thinner, the rose turned out beautiful.
With the rose done, I couldn't help but look at the clock on the wall. My husband's surgery should be finishing up soon. I got up to look at the guys playing a game in the nearby field that my kids were watching. They wanted to know exactly what game the guys (identified as firemen) were playing. But before long, I caught myself pacing the floor and could feel my anxiety rising with every tick of the clock. Time to make another rose. At least when my hands are busy, my anxiety stays in control.
The second rose I put in an extra effort to get the pattern just right. Great way to distract myself from the tick of the clock, though the other couple of people in the waiting room may not have appreciated the "under, one. Under, two..." mantra I had taken up.
The doctor finally emerged, only about 10 minutes late, and informed me everything went really well. Though, because my husband had waited so long to have the hernia taken care of, the damage was really bad. Now, I just had to wait for him to come to. The anesthesiologist had warned me that because my hubby didn't get much sleep the night before, he would likely take a little longer to wake. It's a good thing I was warned. A whole hour after the time he should have woken on his own, the medical staff decided to give him a little nudge. We were finally allowed to go see him.
My poor hubby was disoriented and upset. He really didn't like the idea of having a three hour gap in his memory. And given how out of it he was, I figured the hospital staff wasn't likely to let him out any time soon. So, I pulled out my tatting again and finished up the last couple of split rings, wound it up, and tied the rose into shape.
The surgical center was excellent, took really good care of all of us--not just my husband. And we were right next to one of my favorite sandwich shops, Kneaders, so I decided we should have a little treat after such a long day. Originally, we thought he'd be out of there around noon. We got out about two hours after that. The girls were angels the entire time, thank goodness. And they're still trying hard to be good little helpers. I'm going to have to make them special rose hair clippies now. They really earned them!
I never did get my nap. After getting everyone home, I put the girls and my hubby down for naps while I ran to the pharmacy to get his script filled. I got in a little grocery shopping while I waited, and found a whole bunch of movies on sale that I knew my hubby would enjoy. I kept thinking at the hospital that I should get him something, but what do you get for a guy? Flowers just seemed too frilly, so to stumble upon all of these movies that I know he likes was great luck.
The girls helped make a 'get-well' card that we tied to the movies, and heated up leftovers for dinner. I was so lucky I happened to make extra food the day before completely by accident. I think I've had a guardian angel looking out for me the last couple of days, helping me get through. We were all in bed before 9pm, which I'm pretty sure is a first!
I never thought I'd ever be grateful for the C-sections I had to endure with both of my girls. But those experiences certainly prepared me to handle this one. I know all about how to take care of post-hernia surgery patients, how to manage pain safely and effectively, and the importance of making my husband get up and walk around even though it brought tears to his eyes this morning. (The first movements after 8 hours of stillness are always the worst!) And my husband has finally agreed to listen to me and not let health issues go for so long.
Today, I'm still feeling the effects of yesterday's sleep-deprived adventures. But I can't complain too much. My kids are super helpful, and my hubby's doing really well. And today, I should be able to catch that nap!
It's never dull in the Light house!
Well, since this is the biggest thing my husband has ever had to do medically (previously, he's only ever had stitches), he asked me to stay there at the hospital with him. I wasn't surprised by this, and was happy to do it for him. The original plan was to get him to the hospital, and while we was going through the surgery, I'd run our daughter to school and be back just in time for him to wake up. Then, after his recovery time, we could go home, pick up our daughter from school, and maybe even catch a quick nap while my family all napped. Yeah...that didn't happen.
So, I get up way too early so we can get everyone ready to go. I'm not a morning person to begin with. But couple that with my husband's anxiety and my lack of sleep, I was so looking forward to nap time. After we got to the hospital we learned that by the time they knocked him out for surgery, my daughter would be so late getting to school it wouldn't be worth driving that far to drop her off for the hour and half of class. And my hubby was due to wake up from the anesthesia around the same time as when I got back. If they delayed his release at all, we'd be late picking my daughter up from school. And my sweet girl, while she wanted to go to school, she also wanted to be there for Daddy. So, my girls and I stayed at the hospital the entire time.
Thank goodness I took my mini tatting bag. This is my "on the go" bag. It's just a little ziplock sandwich bag with a single ball of thread, a couple of shuttles, and a small pair of scissors.
I was recently asked to teach at the local lace guild. At the last meeting, I had shown them the piece I was mailing to my tatting exchange partner--a 3D rose bookmark--and everyone liked it so much they asked me to teach them all how to make it at the next available meeting. So while sitting at the hospital, I thought it would be great to make a few examples to have on display--maybe a few roses by themselves, and one attached to a hair clip, maybe a pin, and then--of course--the bookmark. Well, that's more than just a couple of roses to make and what better time to make them than while sitting in the surgical center? And I had everything I needed to make the roses in my little bag.
With the rose done, I couldn't help but look at the clock on the wall. My husband's surgery should be finishing up soon. I got up to look at the guys playing a game in the nearby field that my kids were watching. They wanted to know exactly what game the guys (identified as firemen) were playing. But before long, I caught myself pacing the floor and could feel my anxiety rising with every tick of the clock. Time to make another rose. At least when my hands are busy, my anxiety stays in control.
The second rose I put in an extra effort to get the pattern just right. Great way to distract myself from the tick of the clock, though the other couple of people in the waiting room may not have appreciated the "under, one. Under, two..." mantra I had taken up.
The doctor finally emerged, only about 10 minutes late, and informed me everything went really well. Though, because my husband had waited so long to have the hernia taken care of, the damage was really bad. Now, I just had to wait for him to come to. The anesthesiologist had warned me that because my hubby didn't get much sleep the night before, he would likely take a little longer to wake. It's a good thing I was warned. A whole hour after the time he should have woken on his own, the medical staff decided to give him a little nudge. We were finally allowed to go see him.
My poor hubby was disoriented and upset. He really didn't like the idea of having a three hour gap in his memory. And given how out of it he was, I figured the hospital staff wasn't likely to let him out any time soon. So, I pulled out my tatting again and finished up the last couple of split rings, wound it up, and tied the rose into shape.
I never did get my nap. After getting everyone home, I put the girls and my hubby down for naps while I ran to the pharmacy to get his script filled. I got in a little grocery shopping while I waited, and found a whole bunch of movies on sale that I knew my hubby would enjoy. I kept thinking at the hospital that I should get him something, but what do you get for a guy? Flowers just seemed too frilly, so to stumble upon all of these movies that I know he likes was great luck.
The girls helped make a 'get-well' card that we tied to the movies, and heated up leftovers for dinner. I was so lucky I happened to make extra food the day before completely by accident. I think I've had a guardian angel looking out for me the last couple of days, helping me get through. We were all in bed before 9pm, which I'm pretty sure is a first!
I never thought I'd ever be grateful for the C-sections I had to endure with both of my girls. But those experiences certainly prepared me to handle this one. I know all about how to take care of post-hernia surgery patients, how to manage pain safely and effectively, and the importance of making my husband get up and walk around even though it brought tears to his eyes this morning. (The first movements after 8 hours of stillness are always the worst!) And my husband has finally agreed to listen to me and not let health issues go for so long.
Today, I'm still feeling the effects of yesterday's sleep-deprived adventures. But I can't complain too much. My kids are super helpful, and my hubby's doing really well. And today, I should be able to catch that nap!
It's never dull in the Light house!
Monday, March 5, 2012
Sick babies and sore fingers
Just when you think things are going to calm down in your life, the universe decides to throw something else at you.
I was just recovering from the latest conference I had worked and was working as quickly as possible to catch up on a couple of missed tests. The previous weekend had been scheduled to be a relaxing one, but due to my sister's car breaking down at my house, that didn't work out so well. I finally got all caught up this last week and was looking forward to a weekend with my sister and her family coming down to visit again in an attempt to have the relaxing weekend that didn't work out so well the first time around. Everything was in place for a great weekend.
Then, around 5am Friday morning my oldest got sick. She's been throwing up at least once a month for the last three months now. I can't explain it. But every 3rd or 4th week she has a night where she wakes up, runs for the bathroom, and starts calling for me in between heaves. This night was the same as all the others. I figured we'd keep her home from school just in case she got sick again in a few hours, but by evening she would be fine--just like last time. So when my sister called to confirm our plans, I told her my baby was sick, but to come on down anyway since whatever makes her sick all the time doesn't seem to ever be contagious.
Well, by dinner time, my poor girl was still not feeling well. She had refused to eat hardly anything all day, but did manage to keep down the water she was drinking for the most part. I figured after a good night's rest all would be well. I had class the next morning, but afterwards we were all going to hang out and watch movies and whatever else came to mind. . . (I'm sure you can guess where this is going. . .)
I managed to make it to class, and was able to grasp the concepts by the end despite being exhausted from getting up three times that night to help hold back the hair. My poor girl hardly left the bathroom all that day, wouldn't touch food at all, and only wanted water. Now, my oldest is already pretty skinny, and I think she just had a growth spurt on top of it. So two days of not eating and constantly throwing up was making me pretty nervous at this point. And now, she also had a fever. So I'm thinking, "Oh, great! I told my sister not to worry about her family getting sick because no one else in my house ever gets sick when my oldest does. But if she's running a fever, isn't that a sign of infection--either viral or bacterial? And if that's the case, I just exposed a bunch of people to whatever she has!"
Saturday night I found myself too exhausted to make the chicken and gnocchi soup I had been planning. Two hours was just way too much time and energy to devote to dinner. So I grabbed a frozen lasagna I keep on hand for nights such as these. After dinner, my sister popped in The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my favorite movies, and we attempted to have an enjoyable evening. We were mostly successful in the endeavor. The only down side was missing some of my favorite parts when my daughter started calling for me from the bathroom again.
Sunday was much the same as Saturday. By now, I'm getting really worried about my daughter losing weight. She doesn't have any extra weight on her--not at all. She never has. She was so pale and starting to look gaunt. I bought some Poweraid, which she drank and managed to keep down as well as she did with water. And she ate a piece of toast. So that was an improvement. But she still camped out in the bathroom feeling awful and unsure if she was going to be able to keep anything down. My sister and her family left for home before lunchtime, and soon after, my husband left for work and my girls went down for a nap. Luckily, this is where my little horror story ends.
My daughter hasn't thrown up since yesterday morning; though, I chose to keep her home one more day to be sure she was over it, and to give her and everyone else a chance to catch up on some much needed sleep. Her color is starting to come back, and her usual attitude is back too (for better or worse.) So now, other than making extra sure she eats all the healthy things she needs--and possibly starting her on a round of probiotics--things are back to normal. . . except my fingers.
Being so sleep deprived these last few days, all I've been able to focus on with any success has been my tatting. Though I was able to complete my stats homework and get full points, but to be honest, I have no idea what I put down and couldn't even tell you what the questions were. I tatted a little snowflake with what was supposed to be an angel in the middle. But as a friend pointed out, it just looks like a little cross. I haven't figured out how to give her a halo yet, which I think would solve the issue. It's just so tiny a space.
I also was able to add about 1/3 of another row to the table runner I'm making for my sister. Since she knows about it now, I can share pictures of it and all that. The concept is a bunch of vines all running together and weaving around each other. My sister has an ivy theme in her home decor, and (hopefully) this will fit right in. The runner 60 inches long and each row takes about 10 hours to tat. And with all the running to the bathroom anytime my baby called for me, 1/3 of a row was a bit of an accomplishment this weekend. However, my fingers are rather sore.
Even though I've worked up some callouses on each of my fingers where the thread rubs, I managed to tat so much that the thread has still left certain spots sore. I went down to the craft store today and bought a thin sheet of foam and some little velcro tabs that I glued on. The idea is for it all to protect my fingers, but we'll have to see how well they work. I haven't tried them out yet. But if it works, it'll be a cheap fix--and I'm good with saving a few dollars while still saving my fingers.
It's never dull in the Light house.
I was just recovering from the latest conference I had worked and was working as quickly as possible to catch up on a couple of missed tests. The previous weekend had been scheduled to be a relaxing one, but due to my sister's car breaking down at my house, that didn't work out so well. I finally got all caught up this last week and was looking forward to a weekend with my sister and her family coming down to visit again in an attempt to have the relaxing weekend that didn't work out so well the first time around. Everything was in place for a great weekend.
Then, around 5am Friday morning my oldest got sick. She's been throwing up at least once a month for the last three months now. I can't explain it. But every 3rd or 4th week she has a night where she wakes up, runs for the bathroom, and starts calling for me in between heaves. This night was the same as all the others. I figured we'd keep her home from school just in case she got sick again in a few hours, but by evening she would be fine--just like last time. So when my sister called to confirm our plans, I told her my baby was sick, but to come on down anyway since whatever makes her sick all the time doesn't seem to ever be contagious.
Well, by dinner time, my poor girl was still not feeling well. She had refused to eat hardly anything all day, but did manage to keep down the water she was drinking for the most part. I figured after a good night's rest all would be well. I had class the next morning, but afterwards we were all going to hang out and watch movies and whatever else came to mind. . . (I'm sure you can guess where this is going. . .)
I managed to make it to class, and was able to grasp the concepts by the end despite being exhausted from getting up three times that night to help hold back the hair. My poor girl hardly left the bathroom all that day, wouldn't touch food at all, and only wanted water. Now, my oldest is already pretty skinny, and I think she just had a growth spurt on top of it. So two days of not eating and constantly throwing up was making me pretty nervous at this point. And now, she also had a fever. So I'm thinking, "Oh, great! I told my sister not to worry about her family getting sick because no one else in my house ever gets sick when my oldest does. But if she's running a fever, isn't that a sign of infection--either viral or bacterial? And if that's the case, I just exposed a bunch of people to whatever she has!"
Saturday night I found myself too exhausted to make the chicken and gnocchi soup I had been planning. Two hours was just way too much time and energy to devote to dinner. So I grabbed a frozen lasagna I keep on hand for nights such as these. After dinner, my sister popped in The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my favorite movies, and we attempted to have an enjoyable evening. We were mostly successful in the endeavor. The only down side was missing some of my favorite parts when my daughter started calling for me from the bathroom again.
Sunday was much the same as Saturday. By now, I'm getting really worried about my daughter losing weight. She doesn't have any extra weight on her--not at all. She never has. She was so pale and starting to look gaunt. I bought some Poweraid, which she drank and managed to keep down as well as she did with water. And she ate a piece of toast. So that was an improvement. But she still camped out in the bathroom feeling awful and unsure if she was going to be able to keep anything down. My sister and her family left for home before lunchtime, and soon after, my husband left for work and my girls went down for a nap. Luckily, this is where my little horror story ends.
My daughter hasn't thrown up since yesterday morning; though, I chose to keep her home one more day to be sure she was over it, and to give her and everyone else a chance to catch up on some much needed sleep. Her color is starting to come back, and her usual attitude is back too (for better or worse.) So now, other than making extra sure she eats all the healthy things she needs--and possibly starting her on a round of probiotics--things are back to normal. . . except my fingers.
Being so sleep deprived these last few days, all I've been able to focus on with any success has been my tatting. Though I was able to complete my stats homework and get full points, but to be honest, I have no idea what I put down and couldn't even tell you what the questions were. I tatted a little snowflake with what was supposed to be an angel in the middle. But as a friend pointed out, it just looks like a little cross. I haven't figured out how to give her a halo yet, which I think would solve the issue. It's just so tiny a space.
I also was able to add about 1/3 of another row to the table runner I'm making for my sister. Since she knows about it now, I can share pictures of it and all that. The concept is a bunch of vines all running together and weaving around each other. My sister has an ivy theme in her home decor, and (hopefully) this will fit right in. The runner 60 inches long and each row takes about 10 hours to tat. And with all the running to the bathroom anytime my baby called for me, 1/3 of a row was a bit of an accomplishment this weekend. However, my fingers are rather sore.
Even though I've worked up some callouses on each of my fingers where the thread rubs, I managed to tat so much that the thread has still left certain spots sore. I went down to the craft store today and bought a thin sheet of foam and some little velcro tabs that I glued on. The idea is for it all to protect my fingers, but we'll have to see how well they work. I haven't tried them out yet. But if it works, it'll be a cheap fix--and I'm good with saving a few dollars while still saving my fingers.
It's never dull in the Light house.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Even if no one reads this
I recently decided to start this blog (obviously), but I'm wondering who will read it. Who could possibly be interested in all of the random thoughts that will pass from my brain to my fingers and end up here? Judging by the very few responses I got when asking everyone's opinion on another site, I'm guessing my readers will be few and far between. But maybe this will be more like therapy for me than anything else.
I decided to start this blog as a way to talk about all of my many interests, hobbies, and whatever little bits of inspiration come to me. Not many people out there know what tatting or bobbin lace are. Perhaps only a few would be interested in learning to make lace in any form, even the more well known methods like crochet. But in that regard, I am unique.
I've been in love with lace since I was a little girl. I used to watch my grandmother make some of the most beautiful doilies that she would then place all around the house. She was an avid crocheter even when her health began to decline. She was never without her hook and thread.
About a year before my grandmother passed away, when I was about 9 or 10, I asked my mother to show me how to crochet. At the time, my mother knew a few of the many stitches and together we would make washcloth after washcloth. Sadly, my grandmother passed away before I ever had the chance to show her any of my work.
I started crocheting more than just washcloths, and soon found myself helping to work out mistakes in my mother's work. I entered an afghan that looked like the American flag into a local fair when I was only 13 and won first place. Of course, the fact that I was the only person of my age that entered a crocheted piece probably had a lot to do with it. But hey, a blue ribbon is still a blue ribbon. And the rest is history.
I've been crocheting for close to 20 years now. And as always, I have a work in progress. When I'm finished with it, I will have crocheted a table cloth. And not in the largest gauge thread either. I chose to work this piece in size 30 thread, which for those of you who don't know, is pretty small--especially for so large a piece. But the fineness of the lace is made so by the finer thread. So while this project is likely to take me years, it's will be a work of art. Something my grandma will smile down from heaven on as I continue to carry on this beautiful tradition.
It is for my love of lace that I name this blog.
I decided to start this blog as a way to talk about all of my many interests, hobbies, and whatever little bits of inspiration come to me. Not many people out there know what tatting or bobbin lace are. Perhaps only a few would be interested in learning to make lace in any form, even the more well known methods like crochet. But in that regard, I am unique.
I've been in love with lace since I was a little girl. I used to watch my grandmother make some of the most beautiful doilies that she would then place all around the house. She was an avid crocheter even when her health began to decline. She was never without her hook and thread.
About a year before my grandmother passed away, when I was about 9 or 10, I asked my mother to show me how to crochet. At the time, my mother knew a few of the many stitches and together we would make washcloth after washcloth. Sadly, my grandmother passed away before I ever had the chance to show her any of my work.
I started crocheting more than just washcloths, and soon found myself helping to work out mistakes in my mother's work. I entered an afghan that looked like the American flag into a local fair when I was only 13 and won first place. Of course, the fact that I was the only person of my age that entered a crocheted piece probably had a lot to do with it. But hey, a blue ribbon is still a blue ribbon. And the rest is history.
I've been crocheting for close to 20 years now. And as always, I have a work in progress. When I'm finished with it, I will have crocheted a table cloth. And not in the largest gauge thread either. I chose to work this piece in size 30 thread, which for those of you who don't know, is pretty small--especially for so large a piece. But the fineness of the lace is made so by the finer thread. So while this project is likely to take me years, it's will be a work of art. Something my grandma will smile down from heaven on as I continue to carry on this beautiful tradition.
It is for my love of lace that I name this blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)