Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Rawhide
Friday, February 21, 2014
Sista friend
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Lydia: A Study In Patience
It is 4:30 am and Lydia and I are sitting on the couch. She is playing with a board book while I type. She went to bed at 8, woke up at 10pm, 1am and 4am to eat has been awake ever since. She is 9 months and 3 week old exactly.
9 months and 3 weeks. It feels like much longer. Is that all?
Lydia's pregnancy was the hardest. Morning sickness was the worst with her. I couldn't sleep. I gained the most weight. My hips and back were ruined. It was incredibly difficult emotionally. I struggled with feeling excited about her, even though I knew I should be. I couldn't settle on a name for her.
Then her beautiful, glorious birth. A gift, an answer to my prayers. I had wanted a home birth but there was no one within 2 hours who did home births. I prayed for a fast, easy birth so I wouldn't have time to get to the hospital. A bright spot between 9 month bookends of hard.
She is my toughest baby. Loudest, most piercing cry. Cries a lot. Screamed the first four months of her life. Screamed every minute in her car seat. Hated the stroller. Wouldn't let me put her down, wouldn't nurse, wouldn't go to anyone else, wouldn't sleep on her own, wouldn't eat even if hungry unless she was held just right, just the perfect bottle, perfect temperature, not too loud, not too bright--it was hard, so hard. Every day was a battle. I didn't even like her; my goal was to get through the day, forget about the other kids, Matt did that. Survival mode.
Bit by tiny bit it got better. We figured out her quirks about eating. Can't cuddle her, she has to lie on my knee. I was able to move her out of our bed into a pack n play in our closet at 7 months. She started waking up three times a night instead of four. She finally started laughing at 8 months old,
after she had learned to crawl. She actually liked being in the bath. I could put her down for short periods of time and she was willing to play with Matt occasionally. Figured out she loved being outside.
But some things are still hard. Still wakes up several times a night. Eats every couple of hours. She had diarrhea for a month which I think was because of dairy, but I'm not sure and she still gets diarrhea frequently. She sometimes takes a long nap during the day, but more often than not she sleeps in 20 to 30 minute chunks. Doesn't like solid food (except Thin Mints, because she's my child). Still doesn't love Matt, although she will let him feed her about once a week and he can hold her if I am not around. She likes precisely one person outside of our family, so I was able to go to the temple for the first time since she was born and we went out to dinner the other night. She tolerates the stroller for .3 miles, and her car seat for 20 minutes, then she starts crying. She still cries and it's still loud.
I wonder why she was sent to our family. Why give her to us as the fourth, knowing that it would be really had to care for her with three other active daughters? Why send her to us right as we move away from our support group? Is it for her, because Matt and I are capable of understanding MCADD? For me to learn endurance, sacrifice, unselfishness?
Benefits of her: I can now function on very little sleep for long periods f time. I have learned how to cook, wash dishes, make beds, sweep one handed, although I can't do laundry one handed yet. In order to fight off the depression that would come with lack of sleep and hard situations, I have established much healthier eating, exercising and sleeping habits. I have learned how to control my temper much more. Matt has never been so involved in family life as he as since she was born. He now knows our daily routines, helps with homework, chores, can put kids to bed successfully. He has built a good relationship with the girls, especially Charlotte who has really struggled with my unavailability. We have learned to communicate better, to speak and listen with understanding, to be more united and not let our frustrations determine our day together. We are both more patient.
I love Lydia. It is a hard earned love. Some days are still blurry, just keep moving. I still wake up exhausted, still get fatigue headaches. But it's evened out now, between the good days and the hard days. Perhaps Lydia is here to teach me to find joy. To find happiness in the rare laugh, to smile in return, to be able to kiss her chubby cheeks in spite of being up at night with her. To realize that the most important things in life are the ones that are the hardest to earn. To laugh and hug and smile and love even when I'm tired, even when it all depends on me. Lydia has taught me that. She has taught me to love, even when it is hard. Taught me to be patient, to not get caught up in the hard things, but to look for the little sunshine spots. To appreciate that Lydia absolutely loves me, 200%, without reservation. I am the center of her universe, the whole reason for her existence. That type of love can't not be reciprocated.
It has been hard. But I look at her sweet face, squeeze her fat little thighs and watch her as she takes a few steps away from the table and when I say, "yay!!!" she claps. And then she smiles.
9 months and 3 weeks. It feels like much longer. Is that all?
Lydia's pregnancy was the hardest. Morning sickness was the worst with her. I couldn't sleep. I gained the most weight. My hips and back were ruined. It was incredibly difficult emotionally. I struggled with feeling excited about her, even though I knew I should be. I couldn't settle on a name for her.
Then her beautiful, glorious birth. A gift, an answer to my prayers. I had wanted a home birth but there was no one within 2 hours who did home births. I prayed for a fast, easy birth so I wouldn't have time to get to the hospital. A bright spot between 9 month bookends of hard.
She is my toughest baby. Loudest, most piercing cry. Cries a lot. Screamed the first four months of her life. Screamed every minute in her car seat. Hated the stroller. Wouldn't let me put her down, wouldn't nurse, wouldn't go to anyone else, wouldn't sleep on her own, wouldn't eat even if hungry unless she was held just right, just the perfect bottle, perfect temperature, not too loud, not too bright--it was hard, so hard. Every day was a battle. I didn't even like her; my goal was to get through the day, forget about the other kids, Matt did that. Survival mode.
Bit by tiny bit it got better. We figured out her quirks about eating. Can't cuddle her, she has to lie on my knee. I was able to move her out of our bed into a pack n play in our closet at 7 months. She started waking up three times a night instead of four. She finally started laughing at 8 months old,
after she had learned to crawl. She actually liked being in the bath. I could put her down for short periods of time and she was willing to play with Matt occasionally. Figured out she loved being outside.
But some things are still hard. Still wakes up several times a night. Eats every couple of hours. She had diarrhea for a month which I think was because of dairy, but I'm not sure and she still gets diarrhea frequently. She sometimes takes a long nap during the day, but more often than not she sleeps in 20 to 30 minute chunks. Doesn't like solid food (except Thin Mints, because she's my child). Still doesn't love Matt, although she will let him feed her about once a week and he can hold her if I am not around. She likes precisely one person outside of our family, so I was able to go to the temple for the first time since she was born and we went out to dinner the other night. She tolerates the stroller for .3 miles, and her car seat for 20 minutes, then she starts crying. She still cries and it's still loud.
I wonder why she was sent to our family. Why give her to us as the fourth, knowing that it would be really had to care for her with three other active daughters? Why send her to us right as we move away from our support group? Is it for her, because Matt and I are capable of understanding MCADD? For me to learn endurance, sacrifice, unselfishness?
Benefits of her: I can now function on very little sleep for long periods f time. I have learned how to cook, wash dishes, make beds, sweep one handed, although I can't do laundry one handed yet. In order to fight off the depression that would come with lack of sleep and hard situations, I have established much healthier eating, exercising and sleeping habits. I have learned how to control my temper much more. Matt has never been so involved in family life as he as since she was born. He now knows our daily routines, helps with homework, chores, can put kids to bed successfully. He has built a good relationship with the girls, especially Charlotte who has really struggled with my unavailability. We have learned to communicate better, to speak and listen with understanding, to be more united and not let our frustrations determine our day together. We are both more patient.
I love Lydia. It is a hard earned love. Some days are still blurry, just keep moving. I still wake up exhausted, still get fatigue headaches. But it's evened out now, between the good days and the hard days. Perhaps Lydia is here to teach me to find joy. To find happiness in the rare laugh, to smile in return, to be able to kiss her chubby cheeks in spite of being up at night with her. To realize that the most important things in life are the ones that are the hardest to earn. To laugh and hug and smile and love even when I'm tired, even when it all depends on me. Lydia has taught me that. She has taught me to love, even when it is hard. Taught me to be patient, to not get caught up in the hard things, but to look for the little sunshine spots. To appreciate that Lydia absolutely loves me, 200%, without reservation. I am the center of her universe, the whole reason for her existence. That type of love can't not be reciprocated.
It has been hard. But I look at her sweet face, squeeze her fat little thighs and watch her as she takes a few steps away from the table and when I say, "yay!!!" she claps. And then she smiles.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Friday, February 7, 2014
Yep. NAILED IT.
This week Emily had to do a poster on "blend" sounds-- br, cr, dr, pr, tr... etc. There were 12 sounds total, and each blend had to have four examples-- clipart, or pictures from magazines or newspapers. Each picture had to be labeled. The assignment was graded on whether or not the student followed the instructions, etc...and also neatness.
Here's the thing. Emily has been reading for 2 years already. The girl is super bored in school. She wanted to get this assignment over with quickly.
That's where we clashed. I wanted it over quickly too-- I mean, cutting out and labeling 48 pictures then organizing them on a posterboard? Yeah, not so much. But I also want Emily to learn how to do a thorough job of it and take pride in her work, no matter how easy. Since she typically rushes through anything hard as fast as she can, I really wanted her to be careful in the process of this.
Which she wasn't.
First I yelled at her because she kept running off to play instead of searching for pictures. Then I yelled at her because every time she cut out a picture, she only cut out half of it. Of course! Duh, I should have though of drawing a circle around each picture FIRST so she had lines...but I didn't figure that out until picture 30 or something. THEN I yelled at her because her handwriting was sloppy. Then it was the fact that some words were misspelled. So she scribbled them out and rewrote them, and I yelled at her for a sloppy poster. In fact, I kind of chewed her out for not being neat.
Then Matt called me on the carpet for it. At this point, Emily was on the verge of tears. Later that night, I really heard it from Matt. He was right, of course. She's a 6 yr old, a first grader, this is a dumb project for her and I'm tired. I'm the adult here, I should be seeking ways to teach, not make my daughter feel bad about herself.
I did apologize to Emily that night. Profusely, in fact, followed by some short cuddles.
Two days later, Emily said to me, "Mom, you know how you yelled at me about my project? That made me feel really bad about myself."
Oy.
Trust me, Em. No one is more sorry for her behavior than me. No one wishes I could go back in time to before the project and think about how I was going to respond more than I do. No one regrets criticizing you and trying to instill my perfectionist, OCD side in a little first grade who just wants to play for goodness' sake.
Sometimes I coast along, feeding these little people called my children, without thinking about the fact that I'm trying to raise adults here. Adults who are productive, hard-working, confident, spiritual, smart, teachable, happy, and loving. I forget that I'm the example for them.
Motherhood is without a doubt the most self-sacrificing, time-consuming, mind-numbing, creative-thinking, intellectually-stimulating, patience-trying, energy-draining, energy-producing, HARDEST thing I've ever done. The rewards are immense. The effort is just as immense. I forget my purpose by getting caught up in the day-to-day.
And then I'll have moments where it's all crystal clear to me.
Thank you, Emily, for making me feel bad. It changed my perspective on this week and made me realize just how much I need to work on my major flaws. Thank you for reminding me that the goal isn't a perfect poster of blends, but a little girl who knows her mother loves her and is willing to swallow her own pride and impatience to lovingly guide a first grader to learning about a work ethic. Thank for you for reminding me that my life's purpose is to teach you and, at the same time, love you.
Because I do. I love you.
Here's the thing. Emily has been reading for 2 years already. The girl is super bored in school. She wanted to get this assignment over with quickly.
That's where we clashed. I wanted it over quickly too-- I mean, cutting out and labeling 48 pictures then organizing them on a posterboard? Yeah, not so much. But I also want Emily to learn how to do a thorough job of it and take pride in her work, no matter how easy. Since she typically rushes through anything hard as fast as she can, I really wanted her to be careful in the process of this.
Which she wasn't.
First I yelled at her because she kept running off to play instead of searching for pictures. Then I yelled at her because every time she cut out a picture, she only cut out half of it. Of course! Duh, I should have though of drawing a circle around each picture FIRST so she had lines...but I didn't figure that out until picture 30 or something. THEN I yelled at her because her handwriting was sloppy. Then it was the fact that some words were misspelled. So she scribbled them out and rewrote them, and I yelled at her for a sloppy poster. In fact, I kind of chewed her out for not being neat.
Then Matt called me on the carpet for it. At this point, Emily was on the verge of tears. Later that night, I really heard it from Matt. He was right, of course. She's a 6 yr old, a first grader, this is a dumb project for her and I'm tired. I'm the adult here, I should be seeking ways to teach, not make my daughter feel bad about herself.
I did apologize to Emily that night. Profusely, in fact, followed by some short cuddles.
Two days later, Emily said to me, "Mom, you know how you yelled at me about my project? That made me feel really bad about myself."
Oy.
Trust me, Em. No one is more sorry for her behavior than me. No one wishes I could go back in time to before the project and think about how I was going to respond more than I do. No one regrets criticizing you and trying to instill my perfectionist, OCD side in a little first grade who just wants to play for goodness' sake.
Sometimes I coast along, feeding these little people called my children, without thinking about the fact that I'm trying to raise adults here. Adults who are productive, hard-working, confident, spiritual, smart, teachable, happy, and loving. I forget that I'm the example for them.
Motherhood is without a doubt the most self-sacrificing, time-consuming, mind-numbing, creative-thinking, intellectually-stimulating, patience-trying, energy-draining, energy-producing, HARDEST thing I've ever done. The rewards are immense. The effort is just as immense. I forget my purpose by getting caught up in the day-to-day.
And then I'll have moments where it's all crystal clear to me.
Thank you, Emily, for making me feel bad. It changed my perspective on this week and made me realize just how much I need to work on my major flaws. Thank you for reminding me that the goal isn't a perfect poster of blends, but a little girl who knows her mother loves her and is willing to swallow her own pride and impatience to lovingly guide a first grader to learning about a work ethic. Thank for you for reminding me that my life's purpose is to teach you and, at the same time, love you.
Because I do. I love you.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Grateful for Ohio
I am grateful for our 5 years in Ohio.
I am grateful for learning how to live simply.
I am grateful for the people who taught me how to can.
I am grateful for the people who taught me how to sew.
I am grateful for learning to live on a small food budget.
I am grateful for learning that joy comes from small things.
I am grateful for learning to love a place for the land.
I am grateful for being able to see the beauty in hardship.
I am grateful for learning that people in the most humble of circumstances are often the happiest.
I am grateful for the chance I had to serve a lot of people different from me.
I am grateful for being served by those same people.
I am grateful for learning the true feeling of a community.
I am grateful for the public library and the wonderful people in the children's department.
I am grateful for the small town feel.
I am grateful for the beautiful dogwood trees in the spring.
I am grateful for the beautiful maple trees in the fall.
I am grateful for the nearby state parks where we spent many hours playing.
I am grateful for the many playgrounds around the city where we spent nearly every day playing.
I am grateful for our beautiful garden which produced tons of squash.
I am grateful for our drafty old house and its efficient design, as well as its attic and basement.
I am grateful for the low cost of living.
I am grateful for Matt's good job, and the wonderful friends we made there.
I am grateful for the close knit ward and church community we felt.
I am grateful for people who knew each other, who cared about each other for many generations.
I am grateful for living close to family.
I am grateful for the rolling hills.
I am grateful for living in a place where you could be in the country in just 10 minutes.
I am grateful for learning to save.
I am grateful for quiet joys, bright sunlight and simple food.
I am grateful for the amazing support we felt there.
Matt and I are grateful for our chance to spend so many years in Ohio, some good, some tough. We are learning to love Georgia and are making wonderful friends here too. However, I don't think I could love Georgia as much if I hadn't learned to love our time in Ohio-- despite our challenges, the poverty of our city, no resources around us. I am grateful for all the skills we learned in Ohio, from money use to sewing to canning to reaching out to cooking to gardening to service and beyond.
When we moved there I never thought we'd learn to love this place. But we did. We grew a family there, and I'm not just talking about our daughters. We learned to love the smallest things and take delight in family walks, crunchy leaves, picking apples, and all the things that we did because there wasn't anything else to do. I am grateful for the hard work we put into our house so that I can enjoy renting right now.
Most of all, I'm grateful that the Lord really knew what He was doing when He told us to move there. For a long time I didn't understand why. Now I do. We learned so much there that we might not have learned anywhere else. And I'm so grateful for all the skills I didn't know I was missing.
I'm simply grateful for the simple things.
I am grateful for learning how to live simply.
I am grateful for the people who taught me how to can.
I am grateful for the people who taught me how to sew.
I am grateful for learning to live on a small food budget.
I am grateful for learning that joy comes from small things.
I am grateful for learning to love a place for the land.
I am grateful for being able to see the beauty in hardship.
I am grateful for learning that people in the most humble of circumstances are often the happiest.
I am grateful for the chance I had to serve a lot of people different from me.
I am grateful for being served by those same people.
I am grateful for learning the true feeling of a community.
I am grateful for the public library and the wonderful people in the children's department.
I am grateful for the small town feel.
I am grateful for the beautiful dogwood trees in the spring.
I am grateful for the beautiful maple trees in the fall.
I am grateful for the nearby state parks where we spent many hours playing.
I am grateful for the many playgrounds around the city where we spent nearly every day playing.
I am grateful for our beautiful garden which produced tons of squash.
I am grateful for our drafty old house and its efficient design, as well as its attic and basement.
I am grateful for the low cost of living.
I am grateful for Matt's good job, and the wonderful friends we made there.
I am grateful for the close knit ward and church community we felt.
I am grateful for people who knew each other, who cared about each other for many generations.
I am grateful for living close to family.
I am grateful for the rolling hills.
I am grateful for living in a place where you could be in the country in just 10 minutes.
I am grateful for learning to save.
I am grateful for quiet joys, bright sunlight and simple food.
I am grateful for the amazing support we felt there.
Matt and I are grateful for our chance to spend so many years in Ohio, some good, some tough. We are learning to love Georgia and are making wonderful friends here too. However, I don't think I could love Georgia as much if I hadn't learned to love our time in Ohio-- despite our challenges, the poverty of our city, no resources around us. I am grateful for all the skills we learned in Ohio, from money use to sewing to canning to reaching out to cooking to gardening to service and beyond.
When we moved there I never thought we'd learn to love this place. But we did. We grew a family there, and I'm not just talking about our daughters. We learned to love the smallest things and take delight in family walks, crunchy leaves, picking apples, and all the things that we did because there wasn't anything else to do. I am grateful for the hard work we put into our house so that I can enjoy renting right now.
Most of all, I'm grateful that the Lord really knew what He was doing when He told us to move there. For a long time I didn't understand why. Now I do. We learned so much there that we might not have learned anywhere else. And I'm so grateful for all the skills I didn't know I was missing.
I'm simply grateful for the simple things.
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