I am pretty sure that I couldn't have two more opposite children when it comes to the world of emotions.
Hobbes is the epitome of strong will and control. He goes through most of life happy and laid back, but when he chooses to exert his will, there is not mistaking it. "Chooses" is a good word. He rarely has emotional outbursts that are not calculated, and he often lets us know that he wants to cry just a "lil' bit mo." That doesn't mean that his emotions aren't valid, just that he is in amazing control of them for a two year old.
A story from today. Right before dinner, Hobbes bit Calvin as they were fighting over something. I instantly disciplined him, as biting is one of those things I can't tolerate in a child about to begin preschool. He looked at me in anger and/or surprise, and began crying in protest. I asked him if he could tell Calvin he was sorry, and when he responded with a definite "no," I told him to sit in the chair until he could. The rest of us sat down to dinner while he protested that he was too tired to sit in his chair. I told him he could go to his bed until he was ready to apologize. After about five minutes of controlled crying in his room, he came out, happy as a clam. He apologized to Calvin and then proceeded to tell me that he would come eat in just a little bit. He returned to his room, did a puzzle, and then pranced into the dining room, pleasant as could be, to eat his dinner.
Now we turn to Calvin, whose emotional waters are so deep that I often can't navigate them. In fact, he rarely knows how to himself and often ends up shipwrecked and crying beyond control in his bed.
The boys were playing with a marble run toy this morning, and I gave them plenty of warning that we were going to pack it away soon to clean up the living room. Both Hobbes and Calvin seemed to be helping me put the pieces up, but when I told Calvin that I needed the pieces he was holding, he became hysterical. I could not control him, though he finally managed enough to give me the pieces so that I could put them away. He then ran to his room screaming and crying, presumably angry that I had taken his pieces away. We battled for some time over the need for him to learn to obey. (We've had a long few months of defiance that we are trying to curb.) Finally, he ended up in my lap, telling me that he needed to start over and put the pieces away or, in his own words, "We are going to have a very bad day." I am starting to figure it out. It is not anger that makes him lash out, but guilt and shame at himself, his desire to please contradicting his developing preschooler's mind that wants to exert independence. His boat is fighting through some powerful waves of emotion and instinct, and he gets scared of the loss of control.
Such different dispositions, but each with their own strengths, if we can only teach Hobbes to use his strong will and charming personality for good and help Calvin to learn to master his emotions without losing his sensitivity and compassion. This is why parenting is so hard!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Gettin' in Touch with My Roots
-a weekend away with my husband
-boys happily settled at their Nana's
-my uncle's cabin on the lake
-waking late to mountain air coming through the open windows
-driving back mountain roads with the windows down
-men in kilts throwing large objects
-little boys in kilts, shirtless and wrestling
-little girls in tartan and knee socks, dancing
-whole families decked out in their clan's tartan
-Freedom!!!
-Yes, I'm Scottish.
-another morning of mountain air
-biscuits and gravy for breakfast on the deck
-returning to normal life, just a little more centered
-boys happily settled at their Nana's
-my uncle's cabin on the lake
-waking late to mountain air coming through the open windows
-driving back mountain roads with the windows down
-men in kilts throwing large objects
-little boys in kilts, shirtless and wrestling
-little girls in tartan and knee socks, dancing
-whole families decked out in their clan's tartan
-Freedom!!!
-Yes, I'm Scottish.
-another morning of mountain air
-biscuits and gravy for breakfast on the deck
-returning to normal life, just a little more centered
Thursday, July 10, 2008
To Fix, To Fight, or To Fall on Our Knees
This post is part of Julie's Hump Day Hmmm. It's a day late, but hopefully not a dollar short. To read some other great posts on the topic of "fixing" visit her site.
My father was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in August of 2003. Doctors told him he was lucky. They found it early, and with agressive treatment he had a chance of living another five to fifteen years. None of us ever even asked if not getting treatment was an option; it was just assumed that my dad would do whatever it took to live a few more years. In retrospect, I wonder if he made the right choice.
You see, even with several rounds of chemo and two stem cell transplants, my father only lived another three years. Some of that time was good, and he did get to meet three of his grandchildren, even being around Calvin long enough that Calvin still remembers his PopPop. But most of those years were not full of quality life. He and my mom spent several months at a time in Arkansas, far away from family and friends, so that my dad could get the most advanced treatment. When he was finally home and done with his transplants, my dad had about eight months of feeling pretty good until the cancer started to return. My workaholic doctor dad, who had always been fit and full of energy, spent most of his time on the couch, making the occasional outing to make memories with his family. In September of 2006, he passed into eternity.
Should my dad have gotten treatment? I don't know. I certainly don't regret the time I had with him or the memories he made with Calvin. I don't regret our last summer at the beach, when he spent time with baby Hobbes and watched Calvin and my niece play in the sand and waves. But I know that most of that time, my dad felt awful, and I believe that he only went through with later treatments for our sake. He was ready to go.
My husband and I have talked about this a lot lately, and I keep coming back with questions. Why do terminally ill people receive treatment? What would I do if I were diagnosed with a terminal illness? I am thankful for medicine and for the time it bought my dad. I also think that there is no question of receiving treatment if there is hope for a cure, or of using medicine if it can alleviate some pain and suffering in order to provide a better quality of life. But I do think that aggressive treatment in order to fight off death sometimes goes too far. Sometimes, people are ready to die. Sometimes people do not want to live in misery for just a few more months. Sometimes people are like Mrs. Dubose in To Kill a Mockinbird and just want to die in their full minds and at peace, not dependent on outside chemicals to regulate their bodies.
This is a tricky topic, and I think it extends far beyond terminal illnesses. There are so many medical treatments and medications that people use these days to lengthen life, hold off aging, "fix" a problem that may not be a problem (or at least not one that is meant to be fixed).
As I Christian, I can't help but see this pursuit of health and long life as proof that we live in a world that is not as it should be. Disease and brokenness are not part of the created order; they are a corruption of it. Death is not natural, it is the enemy. We are not meant to be comfortable with these things, but I also don't think we are ultimately meant to cure all of them. We are meant to live in this broken world and allow the brokenness to awake our longing for something more. We are meant to pray for God's kingdom to come into our brokenness and death and to bring healing and life. And ultimately, we are to look to Jesus, who was victorious over disease and death. His rule will usher in a new creation, where there is "no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" (Revelation 21:4). Amen, Come Lord Jesus.
My father was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in August of 2003. Doctors told him he was lucky. They found it early, and with agressive treatment he had a chance of living another five to fifteen years. None of us ever even asked if not getting treatment was an option; it was just assumed that my dad would do whatever it took to live a few more years. In retrospect, I wonder if he made the right choice.
You see, even with several rounds of chemo and two stem cell transplants, my father only lived another three years. Some of that time was good, and he did get to meet three of his grandchildren, even being around Calvin long enough that Calvin still remembers his PopPop. But most of those years were not full of quality life. He and my mom spent several months at a time in Arkansas, far away from family and friends, so that my dad could get the most advanced treatment. When he was finally home and done with his transplants, my dad had about eight months of feeling pretty good until the cancer started to return. My workaholic doctor dad, who had always been fit and full of energy, spent most of his time on the couch, making the occasional outing to make memories with his family. In September of 2006, he passed into eternity.
Should my dad have gotten treatment? I don't know. I certainly don't regret the time I had with him or the memories he made with Calvin. I don't regret our last summer at the beach, when he spent time with baby Hobbes and watched Calvin and my niece play in the sand and waves. But I know that most of that time, my dad felt awful, and I believe that he only went through with later treatments for our sake. He was ready to go.
My husband and I have talked about this a lot lately, and I keep coming back with questions. Why do terminally ill people receive treatment? What would I do if I were diagnosed with a terminal illness? I am thankful for medicine and for the time it bought my dad. I also think that there is no question of receiving treatment if there is hope for a cure, or of using medicine if it can alleviate some pain and suffering in order to provide a better quality of life. But I do think that aggressive treatment in order to fight off death sometimes goes too far. Sometimes, people are ready to die. Sometimes people do not want to live in misery for just a few more months. Sometimes people are like Mrs. Dubose in To Kill a Mockinbird and just want to die in their full minds and at peace, not dependent on outside chemicals to regulate their bodies.
This is a tricky topic, and I think it extends far beyond terminal illnesses. There are so many medical treatments and medications that people use these days to lengthen life, hold off aging, "fix" a problem that may not be a problem (or at least not one that is meant to be fixed).
As I Christian, I can't help but see this pursuit of health and long life as proof that we live in a world that is not as it should be. Disease and brokenness are not part of the created order; they are a corruption of it. Death is not natural, it is the enemy. We are not meant to be comfortable with these things, but I also don't think we are ultimately meant to cure all of them. We are meant to live in this broken world and allow the brokenness to awake our longing for something more. We are meant to pray for God's kingdom to come into our brokenness and death and to bring healing and life. And ultimately, we are to look to Jesus, who was victorious over disease and death. His rule will usher in a new creation, where there is "no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" (Revelation 21:4). Amen, Come Lord Jesus.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
"I think I'll move to Australia."
Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Calvin woke up whining and being defiant and didn't stop all day.
Hobbes decided picking fights with his brother was a good way to spend the day, the whole day.
It was too hot and muggy to play outside.
I really needed a nap and a break from kids.
Calvin took a nap for the first time this week, but Hobbes woke up 15 minutes after his brother went to sleep.
It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
My mom says some days are like that, even in Australia.
A little Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck seems like the perfect cure.
Calvin woke up whining and being defiant and didn't stop all day.
Hobbes decided picking fights with his brother was a good way to spend the day, the whole day.
It was too hot and muggy to play outside.
I really needed a nap and a break from kids.
Calvin took a nap for the first time this week, but Hobbes woke up 15 minutes after his brother went to sleep.
It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
My mom says some days are like that, even in Australia.
A little Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck seems like the perfect cure.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Finding My Way
Thanks to all of you who left kind and wise comments on my post about mothering woes. It is definitely good to be reminded of the big picture. I know my children have a loving mother and father, which is a lot more than a lot of children. And I also know that if I can teach them to love God and love their neighbor then I am getting the essentials. I needed those reminders and am thankful for other people who can bring them to me.
But I do think I am in a place where God is trying to teach me something, to humble me a bit, and to bring me into a better sense of calling. You see, I don't really feel like I have grasped my calling as a mother. Sure I love my kids, feed them, dress them, get up with them at night, and occasionally even do fun things with them, but I don't see myself as a mother. I know that most moms have a desire to be involved in activities and work and relationships outside of mothering, and I think that desire is a healthy one. But my problem seems to go beyond that. I'm not sure that I can describe it well except by contrast to other mothers I know.
Many mothers I know seem to have a real sense that their priority right now is their children. Beyond just meeting their physical needs, they take time to reflect on how to parent their children well. They sincerely desire what is best for each child, worrying in a good way whether or not they are meeting each child's needs. They have an intuition about how each child will respond to a given situation, and they work to accommodate that. Of course, there is a fine line between letting the child dictate one's life and working to accommodate a child's needs, but these moms seem to have found a balance. In other words, they see themselves as the person to whom their children look for guidance and comfort and security, and they are willing to do what it takes to maintain that trust. Though mothering may no always be joyful, they find joy in seeing themselves as mothers and in doing their best to fulfill their calling. I sense this when I hear them talking about their children, and I wonder how I am missing it.
I think this is what I mean when I say I am missing a parenting gene. Or maybe I am just late getting on the boat. I know I am a mother, but I have not accepted my calling to motherhood to its fullest. I have good moments, but I have not made this role, these relationships, this calling a part of my identity in a way that allows me to truly parent selflessly and with a sense of God's leading. I don't commit time to considering my children's needs or my parenting strategies. My husband and I don't often have conversations about how we parent. We just sort of go through life hoping we don't screw our kids up too badly.
I'm not saying that all of this reflection is necessary for good parenting. People in different circumstances around the world certainly don't have the luxury to worry about their parenting styles when they just worry about having enough food. And parenting young children definitely leaves less time for reflection than I will have once they get older. But I do think God is calling me to really consider the implications of this privilege of motherhood that I have been given and to start getting serious about it in a way that I haven't before. I think it has to start in prayer, for me and for my kids, and in an ordering of my house around love of God and neighbor. I'm going to pick this book up again, since I started it months ago and never got very far.
Thanks again, for listening to this rambling topic. I think it is more for my own reflection, but if it can encourage someone else or bring encouragement to me through my readers, then I am glad.
But I do think I am in a place where God is trying to teach me something, to humble me a bit, and to bring me into a better sense of calling. You see, I don't really feel like I have grasped my calling as a mother. Sure I love my kids, feed them, dress them, get up with them at night, and occasionally even do fun things with them, but I don't see myself as a mother. I know that most moms have a desire to be involved in activities and work and relationships outside of mothering, and I think that desire is a healthy one. But my problem seems to go beyond that. I'm not sure that I can describe it well except by contrast to other mothers I know.
Many mothers I know seem to have a real sense that their priority right now is their children. Beyond just meeting their physical needs, they take time to reflect on how to parent their children well. They sincerely desire what is best for each child, worrying in a good way whether or not they are meeting each child's needs. They have an intuition about how each child will respond to a given situation, and they work to accommodate that. Of course, there is a fine line between letting the child dictate one's life and working to accommodate a child's needs, but these moms seem to have found a balance. In other words, they see themselves as the person to whom their children look for guidance and comfort and security, and they are willing to do what it takes to maintain that trust. Though mothering may no always be joyful, they find joy in seeing themselves as mothers and in doing their best to fulfill their calling. I sense this when I hear them talking about their children, and I wonder how I am missing it.
I think this is what I mean when I say I am missing a parenting gene. Or maybe I am just late getting on the boat. I know I am a mother, but I have not accepted my calling to motherhood to its fullest. I have good moments, but I have not made this role, these relationships, this calling a part of my identity in a way that allows me to truly parent selflessly and with a sense of God's leading. I don't commit time to considering my children's needs or my parenting strategies. My husband and I don't often have conversations about how we parent. We just sort of go through life hoping we don't screw our kids up too badly.
I'm not saying that all of this reflection is necessary for good parenting. People in different circumstances around the world certainly don't have the luxury to worry about their parenting styles when they just worry about having enough food. And parenting young children definitely leaves less time for reflection than I will have once they get older. But I do think God is calling me to really consider the implications of this privilege of motherhood that I have been given and to start getting serious about it in a way that I haven't before. I think it has to start in prayer, for me and for my kids, and in an ordering of my house around love of God and neighbor. I'm going to pick this book up again, since I started it months ago and never got very far.
Thanks again, for listening to this rambling topic. I think it is more for my own reflection, but if it can encourage someone else or bring encouragement to me through my readers, then I am glad.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy Independence Day!
I know patriotism isn't popular these days, but since it is July 4th, I just wanted to let you know that I am thankful to be from the United States. I have traveled enough in various countries to know that we are immensely blessed in our country. We are blessed with abundance and freedom and peace and an overall charitable spirit among our people.
Of course we abuse these things and of course we are not perfect; no nation is. But I am very thankful to live in a place where we have the freedom to worship as we choose, where my children have access to free education all the way through high school (and where I can choose not to send them to state schools if I don't want to), where we have access to food and clean water at relatively good prices. I am even thankful that we live where we can choose to live selfishly, because a compulsive generosity is really not generous at all. I pray that we choose to live generously and wisely with what we have been given, and I ask for wisdom to see where our family does not.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone! May you find a little bit of joy in being an American today, knowing that even our ability to criticize our country is a freedom not many around the world enjoy.
Of course we abuse these things and of course we are not perfect; no nation is. But I am very thankful to live in a place where we have the freedom to worship as we choose, where my children have access to free education all the way through high school (and where I can choose not to send them to state schools if I don't want to), where we have access to food and clean water at relatively good prices. I am even thankful that we live where we can choose to live selfishly, because a compulsive generosity is really not generous at all. I pray that we choose to live generously and wisely with what we have been given, and I ask for wisdom to see where our family does not.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone! May you find a little bit of joy in being an American today, knowing that even our ability to criticize our country is a freedom not many around the world enjoy.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Where's the Map?
I feel like I am really failing at this mothering thing lately. For the past 3 1/2 years we have been sort of coasting along without a real plan and suddenly it is catching up with us. I have no idea what my goals are for raising my children, and I certainly haven't figured out how to parent consistently and well without goals. Really, I am not being hard on myself. I am basically lost at sea on this one.
Why is it so hard? Part of the reason is that I have an incredibly sensitive and emotionally overwhelmed first child. Calvin has the biggest, most compassionate heart of any kid I know. I hate answering his questions about bad things that happen in the world because I know it will leave him sad for the rest of the day. And any bad interaction we have affects him for a long time afterward. He doesn't just feel bad because he has disobeyed but he internalizes it. He suddenly is a bad person because he had to be disciplined. It crushes him and sends him into a storm of emotion that can takes hours to subside. Loving him well takes a lot of emotional energy, and I am finding it hard to come up with that these days. Yelling, spanking, threats of consequences, and shows of disappointment and frustration all lead to bad outcomes with him. But I find myself resorting to these when I lose the patience required to deal with each little incident.
I am not a patient person by nature, nor am I incredibly in touch with my emotions. Calvin's mind and heart are territory I am not familiar with. I don't want to squelch his compassion or sensitivity. I do want to help him learn to control his emotions and to deal with disappointment. We need to go back to the beginning and redefine how we interact, but I am not sure how to do it. In the meantime, poor Hobbes is getting less attention and direction than a two-year-old needs, and he is lashing out in frustration, mostly mimicking my yucky attitude.
I look around at how intentionally other mothers seem to be parenting their children, and I wonder where I have been. We don't have any consistent enforcement of good behavior or a well-thought-out way to deal with bad behavior. We don't have a good routine. I have no goals for what I need to be teaching my children or what responsibilities they need to start taking on. I can't even seem to teach Calvin to swim or Hobbes to use the potty, for crying out loud. I know I once wrote a post about mommy guilt and what a bad thing it is, but I don't think this is it. I honestly think I am lacking in some mothering gene that most other moms I know have. I am just not good at making this a priority or at being intentional about my parenting, and God is trying to get my attention.
What about the other parents our there reading my blog? How do you find time to make goals and decide on parenting priorities? How do you do more than just coast through all of your days hoping not to pull your hair out or permanently damage your child's emotional state? Or am I just surrounded by exceptional moms?
I am lost and in desperate need of a map. Help.
Why is it so hard? Part of the reason is that I have an incredibly sensitive and emotionally overwhelmed first child. Calvin has the biggest, most compassionate heart of any kid I know. I hate answering his questions about bad things that happen in the world because I know it will leave him sad for the rest of the day. And any bad interaction we have affects him for a long time afterward. He doesn't just feel bad because he has disobeyed but he internalizes it. He suddenly is a bad person because he had to be disciplined. It crushes him and sends him into a storm of emotion that can takes hours to subside. Loving him well takes a lot of emotional energy, and I am finding it hard to come up with that these days. Yelling, spanking, threats of consequences, and shows of disappointment and frustration all lead to bad outcomes with him. But I find myself resorting to these when I lose the patience required to deal with each little incident.
I am not a patient person by nature, nor am I incredibly in touch with my emotions. Calvin's mind and heart are territory I am not familiar with. I don't want to squelch his compassion or sensitivity. I do want to help him learn to control his emotions and to deal with disappointment. We need to go back to the beginning and redefine how we interact, but I am not sure how to do it. In the meantime, poor Hobbes is getting less attention and direction than a two-year-old needs, and he is lashing out in frustration, mostly mimicking my yucky attitude.
I look around at how intentionally other mothers seem to be parenting their children, and I wonder where I have been. We don't have any consistent enforcement of good behavior or a well-thought-out way to deal with bad behavior. We don't have a good routine. I have no goals for what I need to be teaching my children or what responsibilities they need to start taking on. I can't even seem to teach Calvin to swim or Hobbes to use the potty, for crying out loud. I know I once wrote a post about mommy guilt and what a bad thing it is, but I don't think this is it. I honestly think I am lacking in some mothering gene that most other moms I know have. I am just not good at making this a priority or at being intentional about my parenting, and God is trying to get my attention.
What about the other parents our there reading my blog? How do you find time to make goals and decide on parenting priorities? How do you do more than just coast through all of your days hoping not to pull your hair out or permanently damage your child's emotional state? Or am I just surrounded by exceptional moms?
I am lost and in desperate need of a map. Help.
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