Yah, yah, we have been out of school for two weeks already, but what a 2 weeks it has been! We were just as busy, maybe busier, than we were at the end of school. But, life happens like that sometimes and you just have to do what you have to do. I have been soooo looking forward to today though...the beginning of relative quiet and calm for a few weeks.
Once when I just had the girls, I heard a Mom of older kids make the comment that she wished her kids were little again so she could actually stay at home and get something done. I smiled politely, but inwardly I was seething. Apparently, she doesn't remember what it's like to have a gaggle of small children at home, I thought huffily. Get something done indeed! I can't even go to the bathroom by myself!
Now, I get exactly what she meant. During the school year, it is unheard of that I stay at home all day. It literally never happens and often I have to pick up and leave the house 3, 4, 5 or more times to get the kids where they need to be and keep up with all that is required of me to run this house. Let me tell ya, it is HARD to focus on finishing a task when you are constantly required to stop and leave the house. So, I apologize to that Mom so long ago for my internal snarkiness - you were so right, dear lady.
So, summer is amazing for me. I only work for 2 weeks out of the summer and those 2 weeks don't start until the middle of July. I am blessed with kids who sleep in - and I mean until 10 or 11. I actually have extended time to just be quiet, to reflect, to pray, to get myself ready for the next marathon (school year).
I am really trying to impress this idea on my kids too. Yes, we do some fun things during the summer, but I bristle at the notion that they need to be entertained every second of every day. Actually, I think that is an awful idea - for anybody, but especially for kids. They need to learn to think their own thoughts, to be comfortable being quiet. They need some time to think about how they fit into the universe and to be amazed at grass, flowers, the sun, the breeze.
"I am bored," is rarely heard in this house; not because nobody ever is, but because they know they won't get any sympathy from me. No. They will hear, "Good. There's nothing wrong with being bored. Go lay down and think. Pray. Just be."
Life in this day and age is busy, there is no way around it. It is so important to take those moments of peace and reflection whenever you get them.
Family 2015
Monday, June 25, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Gift of Education
So, I'm starting to fill out the reams of paperwork that I will have to fill out for 4 out of my 5 kids to start new schools in the fall. Sure, it can get pretty monotonous to fill out the same info over and over and over again, (how many times do I need to write my address??) but mostly as I write, I'm just grateful.
The education system in America gets a bad rap, but my experiences with it thus far have been 95% positive. I do not regret the homeschooling that I have done, and there could be another year or two of it for this child or that one in the future; but it is an amazing thing to be able to enroll my child in a school. As a young homeschooling Mom, I was pretty sure that the public schools were on their way to becoming big brother, but I now I view them as a HUGE help to me in my job as the educator of my children.
Yes. I am still the educator of my children and I recognize that the responsibility of their education falls on my shoulders. Actually, that thought is part of what brought me to the place that I put my kids in school. I did an assessment of what I was offering them at home and realized that in some ways, they were missing out.
*Disclaimer* I know many of you who read my blog are homeschoolers. Please know that I completely respect and support your decision to homeschool and am sure that your kids are getting what they need. That was not a statement about homeschool in general, it was a statement about me.
I am just not that Mom. You know, the super creative one who has all kinds of great ideas about how to make learning fun. I enjoy being with my kids, but the added responsibility of being the only one to make sure they are getting the 3 R's is a bit much for me. I am all about helping with homework, as long as I'm not the one who assigned it in the first place.
Not to mention that schools teach so much more than the 3 R's these days. As we were touring McKinley's new school yesterday, the principal took us into the media center and proceeded to explain that they broadcast morning anouncements into each classroom on a t.v. screen every morning. The KIDS run the cameras, act as the anchors and broadcast the live anouncements. I was astounded. I can't wait for her to get to be a part of that.
As we did a visit of Carter's new class last week, we discovered that each year the kids in that particular class raise salmon. They also care for a guinea pig and a garden. They do math in such a way that each student works at their own level. And they took in excess of 20 field trips last year - one of which had them spending the night in a tall ship. My kid gets to do this? For free? Sign me up.
Then, there was the staggering list of offerings at the new middle and high school the older girls will be attending. I was so excited about all the opportunites that it almost made me cry. Education is a gift indeed.
So, I will fill out form after form after form after form...and I will be happy to do it. :)
The education system in America gets a bad rap, but my experiences with it thus far have been 95% positive. I do not regret the homeschooling that I have done, and there could be another year or two of it for this child or that one in the future; but it is an amazing thing to be able to enroll my child in a school. As a young homeschooling Mom, I was pretty sure that the public schools were on their way to becoming big brother, but I now I view them as a HUGE help to me in my job as the educator of my children.
Yes. I am still the educator of my children and I recognize that the responsibility of their education falls on my shoulders. Actually, that thought is part of what brought me to the place that I put my kids in school. I did an assessment of what I was offering them at home and realized that in some ways, they were missing out.
*Disclaimer* I know many of you who read my blog are homeschoolers. Please know that I completely respect and support your decision to homeschool and am sure that your kids are getting what they need. That was not a statement about homeschool in general, it was a statement about me.
I am just not that Mom. You know, the super creative one who has all kinds of great ideas about how to make learning fun. I enjoy being with my kids, but the added responsibility of being the only one to make sure they are getting the 3 R's is a bit much for me. I am all about helping with homework, as long as I'm not the one who assigned it in the first place.
Not to mention that schools teach so much more than the 3 R's these days. As we were touring McKinley's new school yesterday, the principal took us into the media center and proceeded to explain that they broadcast morning anouncements into each classroom on a t.v. screen every morning. The KIDS run the cameras, act as the anchors and broadcast the live anouncements. I was astounded. I can't wait for her to get to be a part of that.
As we did a visit of Carter's new class last week, we discovered that each year the kids in that particular class raise salmon. They also care for a guinea pig and a garden. They do math in such a way that each student works at their own level. And they took in excess of 20 field trips last year - one of which had them spending the night in a tall ship. My kid gets to do this? For free? Sign me up.
Then, there was the staggering list of offerings at the new middle and high school the older girls will be attending. I was so excited about all the opportunites that it almost made me cry. Education is a gift indeed.
So, I will fill out form after form after form after form...and I will be happy to do it. :)
Monday, May 14, 2012
Pre-Emptive Heart Breaking..
I don't know what it is with me, but I have the tendency to do some seriously premature emotional preparation for things. For instance, when Kennedy was about 10 weeks old, we attended a wedding. During the Daddy/Daughter dance at the reception, I bawled my eyes thinking of her upcoming marriage - you know, in 25 years or so. With that one, I could get away with calling it "post-partum", but that excuse isn't going to work for this one.
Over the last several months, as is customary for us and just about every other family on the planet, I have been getting ready for school in the fall. Around about January the questions start. "How has this year been?" "How is everyone doing?" "Is anyone going to need to be homeschooled next year?" "Do we need to make any changes?" And so on. Now that it's May, we pretty much have next year mapped out, and so I am done with the research/planning part and ready to move on to the reality part.
Wait, you say. It isn't even summer. Why are you thinking about the fall?? *sigh* I wish I knew. It's just the way I roll.
Anyway, we were driving to school this morning - me and the 4 older kids - and everyone was rejoicing that we only have 19 days of school left!!! Then, all of a sudden I felt like crying. Because, in the fall, it will be me and all 5 kids driving to school in the morning. My little red-head won't still be sleeping in his bed at home waiting to be awakened around 9:00, putz around the house, watch some shows, play with some toys, eat lunch and go to "school" for a half day at 11:30.
No, he will join the ranks of the others. Backpack with a lunch box or lunch money ("how will I buy lunch, Mom?" he wondered the other day. "I don't have any money.") Gym clothes and shoes. School supplies. Friends. A little shredding of the apron strings. Get me a kleenex.
Sure, all of my other kids have crossed this milestone already (although 3 of them didn't do it in Kindergarten...), but if you're a Mom, you already know that when the baby crosses it, it carries a little more weight in your heart. (To my other kids who might be reading this, don't take that wrong, you all carry the same amount of weight in my heart - it's just a timing issue.) :)
I suppose it could be the gift of God to me that I have this propensity. You see, by the time September 4th actually rolls around, I will be ready. I will have gone through all of my grieving and self-reflection. (Is this the right choice? Can he really handle it? Will Kindergarten turn him into an axe-murderer?) I will then be ready to be be strong for him, and for the rest of my kids who all have big changes coming in the fall. When they have a rough day, I'll be able to encourage them that it's just a bump in the road, that it happens to everyone, that they are up to the challenge, that they can do it.
I guess it's good. But, today, it doesn't feel like it.
Over the last several months, as is customary for us and just about every other family on the planet, I have been getting ready for school in the fall. Around about January the questions start. "How has this year been?" "How is everyone doing?" "Is anyone going to need to be homeschooled next year?" "Do we need to make any changes?" And so on. Now that it's May, we pretty much have next year mapped out, and so I am done with the research/planning part and ready to move on to the reality part.
Wait, you say. It isn't even summer. Why are you thinking about the fall?? *sigh* I wish I knew. It's just the way I roll.
Anyway, we were driving to school this morning - me and the 4 older kids - and everyone was rejoicing that we only have 19 days of school left!!! Then, all of a sudden I felt like crying. Because, in the fall, it will be me and all 5 kids driving to school in the morning. My little red-head won't still be sleeping in his bed at home waiting to be awakened around 9:00, putz around the house, watch some shows, play with some toys, eat lunch and go to "school" for a half day at 11:30.
No, he will join the ranks of the others. Backpack with a lunch box or lunch money ("how will I buy lunch, Mom?" he wondered the other day. "I don't have any money.") Gym clothes and shoes. School supplies. Friends. A little shredding of the apron strings. Get me a kleenex.
Sure, all of my other kids have crossed this milestone already (although 3 of them didn't do it in Kindergarten...), but if you're a Mom, you already know that when the baby crosses it, it carries a little more weight in your heart. (To my other kids who might be reading this, don't take that wrong, you all carry the same amount of weight in my heart - it's just a timing issue.) :)
I suppose it could be the gift of God to me that I have this propensity. You see, by the time September 4th actually rolls around, I will be ready. I will have gone through all of my grieving and self-reflection. (Is this the right choice? Can he really handle it? Will Kindergarten turn him into an axe-murderer?) I will then be ready to be be strong for him, and for the rest of my kids who all have big changes coming in the fall. When they have a rough day, I'll be able to encourage them that it's just a bump in the road, that it happens to everyone, that they are up to the challenge, that they can do it.
I guess it's good. But, today, it doesn't feel like it.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Sacred Cows and Why We Like Them.
I have a theory on why we, as people, hold so tightly to our sacred cows. The flavor of cow doesn't matter so much as the reason we hang on so tightly; so I'm not going to address any specific cow, but just their existence in general.
I think that we go through a bunch of stages of growth, not only in our body, but also in our minds. Ok, I know that we do. What I think, is that I'm starting to see some patterns. We start out knowing nothing and in our early years our opinions and attitudes are formed largely by those who take care of us. We learn from them because they love us (hopefully) and we have no reason to not believe what they tell us. They seem to have life all figured out and we assume they know all the answers.
It doesn't take long for this to start to change, although the change happens gradually. First, it is the realization that we are our own person. Second, the somewhat scary notion arises that perhaps, our caretakers don't have all the answers. Third, we figure out they have none of the answers (know any teenagers?) Then, we step out and begin to explore on our own.
I really think that the attitude with which this exploration is met is pivotal in our later handling of sacred cows. If, for instance, you have an authority figure, parent, teacher, etc who encourages your personal discovery, you are less likely to have a strangle hold on said cow. But, if you are made to feel ashamed or if your exploration is met with fea or anger by those guiding you, then the cows take on a life of their own.
Why? Because we all want to be accepted. If exploration of different ideas about things is reacted to in a very strong negative way, many people will back off and simply adopt the cows common to their culture for the sake of belonging. Then, when another person tries to kick the cow down, or even just give it a good once over, the owner of the cow feels that their very security is being threatened.
So, to state it simply, we protect those cows because we're afraid. We're afraid that if they get knocked down, our whole identity and security goes down with them.
This is what I have discovered. I am not one with my sacred cows. I am a person in my own right and whether I cling to the cow or not, it does not define me. I may have grown up feeling very strongly about something - because those guiding me held certain convictions - and come to find out that I actually feel exactly the opposite way about it.
This is ok. It is not a slap in the face of those who raised me and nurtured me. No, it is actually a testament to their bravery and lack of fear as they carried out that job.
Question away, Mihailoff kids, I'm not afraid of your questions. Your place in my heart is quite secure whether you like my cows or not. :)
I think that we go through a bunch of stages of growth, not only in our body, but also in our minds. Ok, I know that we do. What I think, is that I'm starting to see some patterns. We start out knowing nothing and in our early years our opinions and attitudes are formed largely by those who take care of us. We learn from them because they love us (hopefully) and we have no reason to not believe what they tell us. They seem to have life all figured out and we assume they know all the answers.
It doesn't take long for this to start to change, although the change happens gradually. First, it is the realization that we are our own person. Second, the somewhat scary notion arises that perhaps, our caretakers don't have all the answers. Third, we figure out they have none of the answers (know any teenagers?) Then, we step out and begin to explore on our own.
I really think that the attitude with which this exploration is met is pivotal in our later handling of sacred cows. If, for instance, you have an authority figure, parent, teacher, etc who encourages your personal discovery, you are less likely to have a strangle hold on said cow. But, if you are made to feel ashamed or if your exploration is met with fea or anger by those guiding you, then the cows take on a life of their own.
Why? Because we all want to be accepted. If exploration of different ideas about things is reacted to in a very strong negative way, many people will back off and simply adopt the cows common to their culture for the sake of belonging. Then, when another person tries to kick the cow down, or even just give it a good once over, the owner of the cow feels that their very security is being threatened.
So, to state it simply, we protect those cows because we're afraid. We're afraid that if they get knocked down, our whole identity and security goes down with them.
This is what I have discovered. I am not one with my sacred cows. I am a person in my own right and whether I cling to the cow or not, it does not define me. I may have grown up feeling very strongly about something - because those guiding me held certain convictions - and come to find out that I actually feel exactly the opposite way about it.
This is ok. It is not a slap in the face of those who raised me and nurtured me. No, it is actually a testament to their bravery and lack of fear as they carried out that job.
Question away, Mihailoff kids, I'm not afraid of your questions. Your place in my heart is quite secure whether you like my cows or not. :)
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
One For the Dads.
A neighbor of mine posted a link to a new movie coming out that's called "What to Expect When You're Expecting." It brought one word to my mind. OFFENSIVE.
Seriously, if society expects women to be the perfect parent, it equally expects men to be bumbling idiots in that area. It's a stereotype that needs to be retired. We have learned that women can be just as effective as men in the workplace and now it's time to admit that men can be just as effective as women with the children.
I live across the street from two very capable stay at home dads. I see them doing all the things a stay at home mom would do. I see them playing outside and taking walks. I see them managing to get their kids in the car and go places. I don't actually see what goes on inside the house, but I do see their children being dressed, obviously well-fed and cared for and looking pretty damn happy. Also, both of the dads still look exactly like men. Imagine that.
This might sound hypocritical coming from someone who has been a stay at home Mom for the last 15 years, but let me explain why it isn't. I have been a stay at home Mom by choice, not because it was some mold I was expected to fit into. My husband has been very supportive of this and is now equally supportive of the fact that I'm going back to school and will eventually have a job outside of the home. He also hasn't used the fact that I'm a stay at home Mom as an excuse not to be a parent. He is just as able as I am to care for our children and has never given me the feeling that what I'm doing is "women's work."
When I was pregnant with our 4th child, I had a condition called placenta previa. Basically, my placenta attached down too low and was covering my cervix. This is very dangerous for obvious reasons. From 20 weeks on, I was being very closely monitored and at 27 weeks, I had a pretty big bleed. It was 2 days after Christmas and our girls were already asleep for the night. My Mom came to sit with them while Nic took me to the hospital. The verdict was, strict bedrest until our son was born. (With this condition, once you have the "really big bleed," you have 5 minutes to get the baby out - whey they say "strict," they're not messing around). We both knew there was no way I would be able to stay on strict bedrest while trying to care for our 6, 4 and 1 1/2 year old daughters. So, I stayed in the hospital until Carter was born...on February 18th.
Yes, you read that right. I was in the hospital for 56 nights. The entire time I was there, Nic worked full time AND took care of our 3 girls. (Yes, he did have some help from family and friends, but he was on the clock all the time). He fed them. He bathed them. He put their mattresses in our bedroom and they slept in there so they could feel secure while I was gone. He even took them to their dance classes. Also, there were only a handful of days that he didn't put all 3 of them in the van (in the middle of the winter) and drag them up to the hospital to see me. Bumbling? Incompetent? Hardly.
So, here is to all the dads who feel irritated and frustrated by society's image of them. Don't worry what "they" think. We know the truth. And we think you're awesome.
Seriously, if society expects women to be the perfect parent, it equally expects men to be bumbling idiots in that area. It's a stereotype that needs to be retired. We have learned that women can be just as effective as men in the workplace and now it's time to admit that men can be just as effective as women with the children.
I live across the street from two very capable stay at home dads. I see them doing all the things a stay at home mom would do. I see them playing outside and taking walks. I see them managing to get their kids in the car and go places. I don't actually see what goes on inside the house, but I do see their children being dressed, obviously well-fed and cared for and looking pretty damn happy. Also, both of the dads still look exactly like men. Imagine that.
This might sound hypocritical coming from someone who has been a stay at home Mom for the last 15 years, but let me explain why it isn't. I have been a stay at home Mom by choice, not because it was some mold I was expected to fit into. My husband has been very supportive of this and is now equally supportive of the fact that I'm going back to school and will eventually have a job outside of the home. He also hasn't used the fact that I'm a stay at home Mom as an excuse not to be a parent. He is just as able as I am to care for our children and has never given me the feeling that what I'm doing is "women's work."
When I was pregnant with our 4th child, I had a condition called placenta previa. Basically, my placenta attached down too low and was covering my cervix. This is very dangerous for obvious reasons. From 20 weeks on, I was being very closely monitored and at 27 weeks, I had a pretty big bleed. It was 2 days after Christmas and our girls were already asleep for the night. My Mom came to sit with them while Nic took me to the hospital. The verdict was, strict bedrest until our son was born. (With this condition, once you have the "really big bleed," you have 5 minutes to get the baby out - whey they say "strict," they're not messing around). We both knew there was no way I would be able to stay on strict bedrest while trying to care for our 6, 4 and 1 1/2 year old daughters. So, I stayed in the hospital until Carter was born...on February 18th.
Yes, you read that right. I was in the hospital for 56 nights. The entire time I was there, Nic worked full time AND took care of our 3 girls. (Yes, he did have some help from family and friends, but he was on the clock all the time). He fed them. He bathed them. He put their mattresses in our bedroom and they slept in there so they could feel secure while I was gone. He even took them to their dance classes. Also, there were only a handful of days that he didn't put all 3 of them in the van (in the middle of the winter) and drag them up to the hospital to see me. Bumbling? Incompetent? Hardly.
So, here is to all the dads who feel irritated and frustrated by society's image of them. Don't worry what "they" think. We know the truth. And we think you're awesome.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
15 years ago...
I was about 2 months away from becoming a Mom for the first time. When I think back to that time, it feels like it was almost another life. So many things have happened since then (not the least of which has been my becoming a Mom 4 more times) and I have grown so much as a person that I almost don't recognize the me of way back then.
One thing you don't count on as a first time parent is that your own personal growth and change will affect the way you parent. I have been blessed, very blessed indeed, to have been a stay at home mom for this last decade and a half. I would not trade, for anything, the privilege of having been the sole care giver for my children. But, the last 15 years have also added some thoughts to my brain that maybe weren't there yet when I was 24.
I couldn't see, back then, that there would come a time in my life that the kids would all be in the process of growing, not be as needy and demanding as babies and toddlers can be, and that I would once again have the time to think my own thoughts. I couldn't see that part of what I was doing was helping them to get to the point that they would be increasingly more independent.
I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean to imply that I think my kids no longer need me. No indeed. I know that's not true, but the physically demanding part has lightened up considerably. This year, they were all in school and even though it was only half days for Pierce, it was the first time since 1997 that I could count on some time to myself each day.
And I realized that somewhere along the way, I have done a lot of growing up.
My vision of life and the world has been expanded.
I've come to understand that although I still have a long ways to go, there will come a time when my kids will be grown and have their own lives.
And when that time comes, I am not the kind of person who will be happy passing my time at the gym and salon.
How could I be? How could I go from doing what I feel is one of the most important jobs on the planet to doing not much? I won't be able to. So, it's back to school I go.
I'm quite certain that this will be a very long road for me. I have maybe 10 college credits to my name and what I'm after will require a Masters. Also, I have these 5 amazing children and this great husband and I have no intention of being so busy that I'm unavailable to them. But, I am going to get started. I am going to commence with "baby steps" and "eating the elephant one bite at a time" and all of that. I am going to embrace the beginning of a new season.
One thing you don't count on as a first time parent is that your own personal growth and change will affect the way you parent. I have been blessed, very blessed indeed, to have been a stay at home mom for this last decade and a half. I would not trade, for anything, the privilege of having been the sole care giver for my children. But, the last 15 years have also added some thoughts to my brain that maybe weren't there yet when I was 24.
I couldn't see, back then, that there would come a time in my life that the kids would all be in the process of growing, not be as needy and demanding as babies and toddlers can be, and that I would once again have the time to think my own thoughts. I couldn't see that part of what I was doing was helping them to get to the point that they would be increasingly more independent.
I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean to imply that I think my kids no longer need me. No indeed. I know that's not true, but the physically demanding part has lightened up considerably. This year, they were all in school and even though it was only half days for Pierce, it was the first time since 1997 that I could count on some time to myself each day.
And I realized that somewhere along the way, I have done a lot of growing up.
My vision of life and the world has been expanded.
I've come to understand that although I still have a long ways to go, there will come a time when my kids will be grown and have their own lives.
And when that time comes, I am not the kind of person who will be happy passing my time at the gym and salon.
How could I be? How could I go from doing what I feel is one of the most important jobs on the planet to doing not much? I won't be able to. So, it's back to school I go.
I'm quite certain that this will be a very long road for me. I have maybe 10 college credits to my name and what I'm after will require a Masters. Also, I have these 5 amazing children and this great husband and I have no intention of being so busy that I'm unavailable to them. But, I am going to get started. I am going to commence with "baby steps" and "eating the elephant one bite at a time" and all of that. I am going to embrace the beginning of a new season.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
The Myth of Super-Mommery
I feel like my head is about to explode with this today. There is a lot in the old brain that I want to get out, so this may take a few days, but I hope you read and comment and consider what I'm going to talk about because it is a real problem.
There is no such thing as a super Mom.
It's interesting that the reason I started blogging in the first place always comes back around. I think it's because it is such a huge issue in our society that I often feel like we're all held captive by it. When I see the pressures that Moms put on themselves it makes me want to curl up and cry for them. Or slap them. Who has convinced us that we must Do It All? That we, in fact, are able to Do It All? That it is good for our kids if we Do It All?
I, for whatever reason, have always had a pretty clear picture of my limitations. I don't mean that to sound like I am down on myself. I'm not. I just generally know what I can and can't do. I can get up early and be pleasant and help pack lunches and get my kids off to school. I can't put on a happy face and read stories and be cuddly and wonderful past 8:00 at night. My kids got a morning bird for a Mom, that is just the way it is. Will this mean they need therapy when they are older? No.
I can make sure that everyone has clean clothes. I can't make sure that they are always folded and put away. Will digging through a laundry basket for socks make them feel uncared for? No. I can cook dinner. I can't be Rachel Ray. I can help with English homework. I can't help with science homework.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I can only be who I am. It is not necessary for me to morph into some sort of demi-god in order to be a "good" mother. Indeed, a mother is just a person who has produced an offspring, not a savior.
I try my very best to do what I think is best for my kids, and that is all that I can do. It is self-defeating and a little bit crazy to think that the littlest thing I might do or say wrong in a day has the capacity to ruin my child. Please, please, don't drive yourself crazy trying to make every decision into "right" or "wrong" or to elevate everything in a child's life to the level of life or death importance.
Yesterday, we were getting ready to go for a walk and the boys were wearing their superhero outfits. They went outside first while I was getting my shoes on and finding the dog's leash. A few minutes later, Carter came dashing into the house in a frenzy and grabbed a pair of scissors. Nic followed him out. Pierce had hopped onto his bike and taken off like a rocket only to be stopped short by his batman cape getting all wound up in his bike tire. He was crying and gagging and his lip was bleeding and Carter was valiantly headed out with a pair of very sharp scissors to cut the cape. Off of his brother's neck.
This is the stuff of modern-day Mommy nightmares. I could almost hear the accusing questions and comments flying at me through the atmosphere. "Why didn't he know he shouldn't wear his cape on a bike? (and, by the way, where is his helmet???") "How could you let him run out like that without knowing what he was up to?" "His brother is running with scissors??" "I knew 5 kids were too many, look at what has happened because there's not enough of you to go around!!" "A good Mom would never have let that happen!!"
It was enough to make me cry, but then, I laughed. Laughed my head off. Because I am just a Mom, not a Savior. I do not possess the ability to control every little thing that happens to my kids. I do not have the gift of foreknowledge. I don't have a special hook to hang the dog leash on so that we never have to look for it, AND because Pierce was fine. And it was funny.
Pierce didn't need me to stop that from happening. He needed me to pick him up and hug him and wipe the blood off of his lip. He needed me to say, "It's ok, buddy. You really shouldn't wear your cape while you ride your bike, but you're going to be fine."
Just be who you are, Moms (and Dads), that's what your kids need. They need someone to help them swim, not someone to part the waters.
There is no such thing as a super Mom.
It's interesting that the reason I started blogging in the first place always comes back around. I think it's because it is such a huge issue in our society that I often feel like we're all held captive by it. When I see the pressures that Moms put on themselves it makes me want to curl up and cry for them. Or slap them. Who has convinced us that we must Do It All? That we, in fact, are able to Do It All? That it is good for our kids if we Do It All?
I, for whatever reason, have always had a pretty clear picture of my limitations. I don't mean that to sound like I am down on myself. I'm not. I just generally know what I can and can't do. I can get up early and be pleasant and help pack lunches and get my kids off to school. I can't put on a happy face and read stories and be cuddly and wonderful past 8:00 at night. My kids got a morning bird for a Mom, that is just the way it is. Will this mean they need therapy when they are older? No.
I can make sure that everyone has clean clothes. I can't make sure that they are always folded and put away. Will digging through a laundry basket for socks make them feel uncared for? No. I can cook dinner. I can't be Rachel Ray. I can help with English homework. I can't help with science homework.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I can only be who I am. It is not necessary for me to morph into some sort of demi-god in order to be a "good" mother. Indeed, a mother is just a person who has produced an offspring, not a savior.
I try my very best to do what I think is best for my kids, and that is all that I can do. It is self-defeating and a little bit crazy to think that the littlest thing I might do or say wrong in a day has the capacity to ruin my child. Please, please, don't drive yourself crazy trying to make every decision into "right" or "wrong" or to elevate everything in a child's life to the level of life or death importance.
Yesterday, we were getting ready to go for a walk and the boys were wearing their superhero outfits. They went outside first while I was getting my shoes on and finding the dog's leash. A few minutes later, Carter came dashing into the house in a frenzy and grabbed a pair of scissors. Nic followed him out. Pierce had hopped onto his bike and taken off like a rocket only to be stopped short by his batman cape getting all wound up in his bike tire. He was crying and gagging and his lip was bleeding and Carter was valiantly headed out with a pair of very sharp scissors to cut the cape. Off of his brother's neck.
This is the stuff of modern-day Mommy nightmares. I could almost hear the accusing questions and comments flying at me through the atmosphere. "Why didn't he know he shouldn't wear his cape on a bike? (and, by the way, where is his helmet???") "How could you let him run out like that without knowing what he was up to?" "His brother is running with scissors??" "I knew 5 kids were too many, look at what has happened because there's not enough of you to go around!!" "A good Mom would never have let that happen!!"
It was enough to make me cry, but then, I laughed. Laughed my head off. Because I am just a Mom, not a Savior. I do not possess the ability to control every little thing that happens to my kids. I do not have the gift of foreknowledge. I don't have a special hook to hang the dog leash on so that we never have to look for it, AND because Pierce was fine. And it was funny.
Pierce didn't need me to stop that from happening. He needed me to pick him up and hug him and wipe the blood off of his lip. He needed me to say, "It's ok, buddy. You really shouldn't wear your cape while you ride your bike, but you're going to be fine."
Just be who you are, Moms (and Dads), that's what your kids need. They need someone to help them swim, not someone to part the waters.
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