I have had a lot of things happen to me and around me at the ripe old age of 30 that make me wonder if I expect too much overall - from everyone and everything, including myself. My report cards as a child always showed straight A's...well mostly...but the reports would say that I was a "worry wart" and a "perfectionist". Obviously it was a bit of an issue if I was making A's and a teacher thought to tell my parents. Hmm. I think I must have carried that through my whole life...for whatever reason.... I do NOT like to disappoint ANYONE and I am afraid of all sorts of things. As a cutie patootie 5 year old told me today " That's RUBBISH." How true...but how hard to stop.
I am the product of a public school system that doesn't exactly have the best reputation...but came out seemingly unscathed. But it is b/c of that negative reputation that I find myself questioning my abilities...time and time again. Am I really smart or just smarter than Joe-Smoe next to me? Yes I graduated 7th in my high school class, but if you compared me to someone from another area, I wouldn't be in the same league intellectually - right?! I don't know. I DO know that I try really hard at everything, am more than fairly bright and have a deep desire to know more and more...about EVERYTHING. However...I am 30..and should know better when it comes to my son. I have recently caught myself expecting my 3, almost 4 year old, to have it all together, to know more than the average runny nose kid. What is WRONG with me?
Well. Sometimes I wonder if that's not what's "right" with me. People don't give kids enough credit. They know and absorb SO much more than we give them credit for...IF you take the time to watch and understand your child. I remember reading that although they can't speak, babies understand everything you say by 6 months of age...or something like that. It was that knowledge that led me to believe that I was right in discipling a baby and toddler. I remember the first time I ever disciplined him...and it was before he was 1. The moment I asked him to do something and he looked at me and did the opposite...I knew the battle of wills had begun!!! I remember thinking HOLY CRAP this is young for him to defy me...someday he'll actually speak sentences, be sarcastic (it's inevitable in my family line)and THEN what will I do? I am there now.
Every day is a battle. I used to get really really caught up in it. It would make me miserable. When Micah was younger, he wasn't able to reason...he felt a certain way and he reacted...period. When he was an infant/baby, he cried to get what he wanted. We taught him a few sign language words, thinking it would help him communicate....which it did...but he always signed "MORE COOKIE"...ha! No joke!
When he was a baby/toddler...he pointed and cried and said a few words. When he was a toddler, he spoke full sentences and told me - demanded things of me with no room for listening. As a preschooler...he not only informs me of his desires, but lays them out LOUD AND CLEAR. "Mommy, when I get big like you, I am NOT cleaning my toys up. That's how it will be b/c I will be in charge." Impressive. I laughed. Or there's "I can do whatever I want." THAT was learned somewhere other than our home...so to that I say "Yes, you always have a choice, but you have to pay the consequences for the bad ones." He understands but I think just likes to say things. He even has this annoying way of fluctuating his voice in a whiney way to get his point across. Ahh...he's learning how to stress certain words and not stress others to make a point. Pretty good stuff.
As I look back, I realize that I NEVER spoke baby talk. I talked in a low voice, was goofy and playful...but didn't shorten words, didn't make up words...and maybe that's why his verbal skills are so good...I don't know. Maybe God just gifted him in all sorts of ways. But I've realized that I sometimes, b/c of his great communication, expect him to act a bit older. Not that I don't love 3 year olds for the little bright things that they are...but I just realized that my son is not even 4. He has NOT BEEN ON THIS EARTH 4 years yet...how could he have his behavior down yet? I mean...when he acts out or reacts to something...it's actually quite similar to what I NATURALLY want to do.
When my parents annoy me, I WANT to yell at them...but I don't..because I have been taught to respect them.
When people disappoint me, I WANT to sulk and feel sorry for myself - but instead try to turn the other cheek and let things go. This doesn't always work for me.
When I am annoyed, I WANT to bite the head off of anyone close to me...but I instead walk away and fume until I can return to the room an adult.
When I open my fridge and see chicken - AGAIN - I want to DEMAND pizza or pasta and want to eat out.
When I see someone wronged, a justice not served...I feel a strong desire to get in someone's face and serve justice, so to speak...but instead...I have learned to pray for the situation.
It has taken me THIRTY years to get here...I just listed what I REALLY want to do in certain circumstances...it's no different than what my son does naturally. I am trying to help him through his natural reaction so that he can live AMONG PEOPLE in peace - or at least in a rational manner - when he grows up. Simple as that. I sometimes expect him to know so much, to take what I said and run with it instead of forgetting it. But he's not EVEN 4!
I am not beyond telling my son I am sorry. I did it several times this week. I love him so much. Thinking of him, only one room away - I miss him. He is light and life and everything that is right in my world. I think I may need to take a step back and appreciate the intelligent, fairly well controlled boy that he is and just PLAY with him:)
Micah Gabriel Carper...will he EVER know how much I love him? Probably not.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Why So Secretive
Some people refer to it as personal. Others as private. Others as not appropriate to discuss.
Religion.
Spirituality.
Church.
Belief Systems.
Any or all of these is what I am referring to. Why is it that we are all so afraid to talk about them? I was very afraid - for a long time - until I realized I wasn't scared.
One of the biggest, well, THINGS, that I have noticed, is that the "shut down" begins when people can't answer their own questions - when they've come to the realization that they've made it this far not really KNOWING FOR SURE a lot of things. Some are content with the unknown. Those who are agnostic sometimes believe that it is beyond human capability to know if God exists. Don't worry - I am not going to say "look at the face of a newborn baby, or the sunset, or the rainbow" and expect the realization to hit. That would be absurd. If that was enough to convince the masses, we'd all be on our knees asking forgiveness, no?
I grew up "religious." I went to church, Lutheran to be exact. I went to a southern christian school for one year, where I learned that the Bible wasn't an object you dusted on the end table or that people placed their hand on to promise something super duper important. You actually read it as a GUIDE. A fricking GUIDE! How crazy...of course at that time we were locked into the version that forced me to say words like "bestow, thus and though" and that just made me giggle. Fortunately, though, I realized the significance - that this was God's word. His WORDS! I mean...if he wasn't going to show up with skin on in my life, then thank, well, GOD, that there's SOMETHING I can touch, open and read!
I have a whole other set of thoughts I am constructing on the validity of those words - written down by man - but haven't quite mastered what it is I need to get out of my brain...it's a bit touchy for me...so I have to get back to you (ok me - who else is frickin reading this) on that.
So anyway - once I learned the words I realized I needed to read more...wanted to read more...because these words were alterning my being, my life...then I remembered the Bible being referred to as "the book of life" and I thought..."Huh! I remembered something from church!" But then quickly learned that many, many of those I knew and loved around me weren't being taught to open their Bibles, but were taught to sit, listen and learn from a person - who would either make references to the Bible, or not, read a bit out of it, but never teach it solely. THAT is where my journey to discuss EVERYTHING started. I thought...well what is this OTHER stuff I am learning - my people, my family, my friends are learning?
So - ok - how to continue? Years have gone by since I first learned how to read the Bible, how to study it. I spent some time working on the validity of it...because there are other beliefs that have books that serve as their "bible" - The Koran, The additional book/writings that Mormons use, etc. Careful now - I am not saying anything about THEM. No need. I am just talking through the journey MY brain and heart took.
So I am still on that journey a bit. I have learned the history (tho I can't recite it) on how the scriptures came to be and how the translations were made...and I'll leave it at that for now.
What eats at me is why even the closest of friends and family - who may be of different belief systems and backgrounds choose not to discuss any this - THIS "WHO" THAT THEY "ARE".
I mean...there are reasons people keep their lips sealed. It's awkward. It IS personal and to some - it's just none of your business. I tend to view the gazillion churches on every corner an obvious demonstration of disunity (is that word?) and confusion and the propeller of the secretism I am discussing. THere are also people who you fear you'll be associated with if you open your trap. That was my issue. I mean, you have the obvious morons who think they know it all and judge instantly - and really, that's a lack of spiritual maturity.
For example...I LOVE to dance. If a person came to me to learn the first thing about it, and I decided to really put on a DEMONSTRATION - to really dazzle them with my talents (stretching the truth here)...don't you think they would 1. be irritated and 2. discouraged. I mean...how could a beginner who doesn't know HOW TO PUT ON a ballet slipper dance Swan Lake? See?
There are also those so wrapped up in themselves and their "righteous" lives that they are afraid of everyone else and force themselves and their families to abstain from any activity affiliated with those who believe something other than what they do - you know - those who won't eat in a place that sells alcohol because they feel alcohol is an evil (I don't remember the last time an establishment made drinking alcohol a requirement), those who won't let their kids play with others of different beliefs because they are afraid of its affects - or those who know so little/care so little about the human race as a whole that they spend no time with them. There are also those who are just plain WEIRD.
I guess I just feel like this. I know some stuff. This stuff happens to be about God. I want to know more stuff, but most I know are afraid to investigate the stuff. I mean...not without good reason - I just stated some good ones in the above paragraph- who wants to go THERE?
I have felt more sure of things than I do right now. I feel more sure of things right now than I have at other times. I am LEARNING. And while I feel very sure there is ONE answer (another blog), I'd like to discuss, to analyze, to speculate. People are afraid to be WRONG. I certainly don't like to be wrong. But I have been wrong...and will most likely be wrong again in my life:)
There is one thing, however. I have an eternal focus. I have seen too many people die and have wondered - in all general respects -WHERE they were/are now b/c it was obvious that the body they lived in was a HOUSE for who THEY were.
So my desire to learn and KNOW comes from the FACT that I will die someday. My son will die someday. We will all die someday. Enjoy life while you can? ABSOLUTELY. Why not do it with an understanding of why we're here in the first place?
Religion.
Spirituality.
Church.
Belief Systems.
Any or all of these is what I am referring to. Why is it that we are all so afraid to talk about them? I was very afraid - for a long time - until I realized I wasn't scared.
One of the biggest, well, THINGS, that I have noticed, is that the "shut down" begins when people can't answer their own questions - when they've come to the realization that they've made it this far not really KNOWING FOR SURE a lot of things. Some are content with the unknown. Those who are agnostic sometimes believe that it is beyond human capability to know if God exists. Don't worry - I am not going to say "look at the face of a newborn baby, or the sunset, or the rainbow" and expect the realization to hit. That would be absurd. If that was enough to convince the masses, we'd all be on our knees asking forgiveness, no?
I grew up "religious." I went to church, Lutheran to be exact. I went to a southern christian school for one year, where I learned that the Bible wasn't an object you dusted on the end table or that people placed their hand on to promise something super duper important. You actually read it as a GUIDE. A fricking GUIDE! How crazy...of course at that time we were locked into the version that forced me to say words like "bestow, thus and though" and that just made me giggle. Fortunately, though, I realized the significance - that this was God's word. His WORDS! I mean...if he wasn't going to show up with skin on in my life, then thank, well, GOD, that there's SOMETHING I can touch, open and read!
I have a whole other set of thoughts I am constructing on the validity of those words - written down by man - but haven't quite mastered what it is I need to get out of my brain...it's a bit touchy for me...so I have to get back to you (ok me - who else is frickin reading this) on that.
So anyway - once I learned the words I realized I needed to read more...wanted to read more...because these words were alterning my being, my life...then I remembered the Bible being referred to as "the book of life" and I thought..."Huh! I remembered something from church!" But then quickly learned that many, many of those I knew and loved around me weren't being taught to open their Bibles, but were taught to sit, listen and learn from a person - who would either make references to the Bible, or not, read a bit out of it, but never teach it solely. THAT is where my journey to discuss EVERYTHING started. I thought...well what is this OTHER stuff I am learning - my people, my family, my friends are learning?
So - ok - how to continue? Years have gone by since I first learned how to read the Bible, how to study it. I spent some time working on the validity of it...because there are other beliefs that have books that serve as their "bible" - The Koran, The additional book/writings that Mormons use, etc. Careful now - I am not saying anything about THEM. No need. I am just talking through the journey MY brain and heart took.
So I am still on that journey a bit. I have learned the history (tho I can't recite it) on how the scriptures came to be and how the translations were made...and I'll leave it at that for now.
What eats at me is why even the closest of friends and family - who may be of different belief systems and backgrounds choose not to discuss any this - THIS "WHO" THAT THEY "ARE".
I mean...there are reasons people keep their lips sealed. It's awkward. It IS personal and to some - it's just none of your business. I tend to view the gazillion churches on every corner an obvious demonstration of disunity (is that word?) and confusion and the propeller of the secretism I am discussing. THere are also people who you fear you'll be associated with if you open your trap. That was my issue. I mean, you have the obvious morons who think they know it all and judge instantly - and really, that's a lack of spiritual maturity.
For example...I LOVE to dance. If a person came to me to learn the first thing about it, and I decided to really put on a DEMONSTRATION - to really dazzle them with my talents (stretching the truth here)...don't you think they would 1. be irritated and 2. discouraged. I mean...how could a beginner who doesn't know HOW TO PUT ON a ballet slipper dance Swan Lake? See?
There are also those so wrapped up in themselves and their "righteous" lives that they are afraid of everyone else and force themselves and their families to abstain from any activity affiliated with those who believe something other than what they do - you know - those who won't eat in a place that sells alcohol because they feel alcohol is an evil (I don't remember the last time an establishment made drinking alcohol a requirement), those who won't let their kids play with others of different beliefs because they are afraid of its affects - or those who know so little/care so little about the human race as a whole that they spend no time with them. There are also those who are just plain WEIRD.
I guess I just feel like this. I know some stuff. This stuff happens to be about God. I want to know more stuff, but most I know are afraid to investigate the stuff. I mean...not without good reason - I just stated some good ones in the above paragraph- who wants to go THERE?
I have felt more sure of things than I do right now. I feel more sure of things right now than I have at other times. I am LEARNING. And while I feel very sure there is ONE answer (another blog), I'd like to discuss, to analyze, to speculate. People are afraid to be WRONG. I certainly don't like to be wrong. But I have been wrong...and will most likely be wrong again in my life:)
There is one thing, however. I have an eternal focus. I have seen too many people die and have wondered - in all general respects -WHERE they were/are now b/c it was obvious that the body they lived in was a HOUSE for who THEY were.
So my desire to learn and KNOW comes from the FACT that I will die someday. My son will die someday. We will all die someday. Enjoy life while you can? ABSOLUTELY. Why not do it with an understanding of why we're here in the first place?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Bulldogs...
Everyone needs a bulldog. I am sure of that. I have recently had a bulldog. Not in the furry, friendly companion type of way, but in a way that defends your honor and your character and your, well, person.
I have not had many defenders in my life, actually none that I can really remember. Yesterday I did. And it was great. Something was said about me - and without batting an eye, my bulldog delivered a tactful, power-packed, defense statement in my honor. Amazing.
I have had the privelege of being someone's bulldog before. It comes naturally for a real cause.
Today I was my son's bulldog as well as his classmate's. I was also my own bulldog today - something I am a bit uncomfortable doing because I question myself so much. But I have resolved to stop being afraid of what will happen. I am convinced if I do the right thing, that fear has no room to grow.
I have not had many defenders in my life, actually none that I can really remember. Yesterday I did. And it was great. Something was said about me - and without batting an eye, my bulldog delivered a tactful, power-packed, defense statement in my honor. Amazing.
I have had the privelege of being someone's bulldog before. It comes naturally for a real cause.
Today I was my son's bulldog as well as his classmate's. I was also my own bulldog today - something I am a bit uncomfortable doing because I question myself so much. But I have resolved to stop being afraid of what will happen. I am convinced if I do the right thing, that fear has no room to grow.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
It occured to me...
It occured to me, only recently, that I really have no reason to fear much of anything. I am not saying I don't fear things...a lot of things...or act like a total idiot, paralyzed by the unknown...but like I said, it just occured to me that there is no reason for it.
Here's why.
If I actually subscribe to the belief I profess to "belong" to, that is one of no particular denomination and "Mere Christianity" (thank you C.S. Lewis for that easy title - makes explaining my strangeness so much easier)of the simplest kind...you know God, Jesus, a book of life that is the key to everything I need to know....well...then there can't possibly be much to fear. RIGHT?! I mean, if you BELIEVE something...WHATEVER it is...it should affect the way you live your life.
Because, in that "book" - which was once like reading Greek ( I would say Hebrew...but might confuse myself in that joke) - I have found so many things to be true...so many of its passages, once totally absorbed and understood in CONTEXT (don't let me get started on that one...you can't pull random shit out of anything and piece it together the way you want to and have it be anything that really makes sense or has actual validity), to change my life. Not in the way that self help books change you. I am not talking about jazzercising my way to a better me or learning that I actually "AM SOMEBODY"...or better yet...learning to control myself by Jenny Craiging to the next boxed meal delivered by UPS (although all of these have merit and worth - seriously). I AM talking about the kind of life change that rocks your insides...your brain, your heart, your soul in a way that says, damn, how can this not be truth - kind of way. I have experienced this. However - I have since let those experiences and memories go, chosen to forget them and allowed myself to believe that I was under some kind of influence, and let myself be absorbed by my day to day so that I could BE the angry biotch I want to be...but my memories only stay away so long:)
Sidenote for the jokesters:
Some may be more concerned with me saying shit and damn in the middle of talking about the Bible...well...sorry. Truly I am. I realize it's a bit contradictory for someone claiming to have strong beliefs. I mean, even those who don't necessarily affiliate themselves with God or spirituality or even religion probably suspect that it's odd for someone who does to so easily throw the words out:) Sometimes, though I know it's not the right thing, throwing in a good curse word now and then really seems to help get the point across. Think about it...what's more effective (note I did not say CORRECT or RIGHT): "What do you mean we're losing the house? You forgot to make the mortgage payments for the last 4 months?" OR "What the ____ do you mean we're losing the house? You forgot to make the ____-ing mortgage payments for the last 4 months?" I digress.
Focusing now:
Believing all of the above, that there is a God whose love for his creation was so great- that before we were even created He had a method (jesus) that would allow a union with Him in heaven(I mean, there has to be A method, right - how can holy and perfect be joined with the imperfect, without something occuring to bridge the gap) - that would mean that I am a stupid ____-ing moron for allowing myself to succumb to the inferior feelings of fear and anxiety. Because if I am His, so-to-speak, I feel pretty secure he's got my back.
I am terribly, terrribly afraid of failure. Does God not qualify? I am afraid of what people think of me. Does God not shape and mold my character if I am His? I am afraid that I will lose control of the things around me (financially, relationally, career-illy:)?) and BIG BLACK DOOM will swallow me and my family whole. Does God not make promises that He has a plan to prosper us and not to harm us? Well...all that means a hill of beans (my first southern saying in a blog!) to me when I allow myself to be scared by the, well, fear. Shame on me.
I have been the recipient of many gifts, many things in my life...all that have come at just the right time. I don't always get what I want, but I get what I need (sing along people - the Stones were created for a REASON!). Sometimes that comes in the form of severe loneliness...no matter who or how many are around...but it's become clear that God is my constant companion. I have been cast aside by people closest to me...people who chose to assume about me rather than investigate...but I've had a constant ally.
There's so much more to say here. To some, I've said too much. To others, I've said the obvious. To me, I've said what I needed to say. It's my blog. :))))
Here's why.
If I actually subscribe to the belief I profess to "belong" to, that is one of no particular denomination and "Mere Christianity" (thank you C.S. Lewis for that easy title - makes explaining my strangeness so much easier)of the simplest kind...you know God, Jesus, a book of life that is the key to everything I need to know....well...then there can't possibly be much to fear. RIGHT?! I mean, if you BELIEVE something...WHATEVER it is...it should affect the way you live your life.
Because, in that "book" - which was once like reading Greek ( I would say Hebrew...but might confuse myself in that joke) - I have found so many things to be true...so many of its passages, once totally absorbed and understood in CONTEXT (don't let me get started on that one...you can't pull random shit out of anything and piece it together the way you want to and have it be anything that really makes sense or has actual validity), to change my life. Not in the way that self help books change you. I am not talking about jazzercising my way to a better me or learning that I actually "AM SOMEBODY"...or better yet...learning to control myself by Jenny Craiging to the next boxed meal delivered by UPS (although all of these have merit and worth - seriously). I AM talking about the kind of life change that rocks your insides...your brain, your heart, your soul in a way that says, damn, how can this not be truth - kind of way. I have experienced this. However - I have since let those experiences and memories go, chosen to forget them and allowed myself to believe that I was under some kind of influence, and let myself be absorbed by my day to day so that I could BE the angry biotch I want to be...but my memories only stay away so long:)
Sidenote for the jokesters:
Some may be more concerned with me saying shit and damn in the middle of talking about the Bible...well...sorry. Truly I am. I realize it's a bit contradictory for someone claiming to have strong beliefs. I mean, even those who don't necessarily affiliate themselves with God or spirituality or even religion probably suspect that it's odd for someone who does to so easily throw the words out:) Sometimes, though I know it's not the right thing, throwing in a good curse word now and then really seems to help get the point across. Think about it...what's more effective (note I did not say CORRECT or RIGHT): "What do you mean we're losing the house? You forgot to make the mortgage payments for the last 4 months?" OR "What the ____ do you mean we're losing the house? You forgot to make the ____-ing mortgage payments for the last 4 months?" I digress.
Focusing now:
Believing all of the above, that there is a God whose love for his creation was so great- that before we were even created He had a method (jesus) that would allow a union with Him in heaven(I mean, there has to be A method, right - how can holy and perfect be joined with the imperfect, without something occuring to bridge the gap) - that would mean that I am a stupid ____-ing moron for allowing myself to succumb to the inferior feelings of fear and anxiety. Because if I am His, so-to-speak, I feel pretty secure he's got my back.
I am terribly, terrribly afraid of failure. Does God not qualify? I am afraid of what people think of me. Does God not shape and mold my character if I am His? I am afraid that I will lose control of the things around me (financially, relationally, career-illy:)?) and BIG BLACK DOOM will swallow me and my family whole. Does God not make promises that He has a plan to prosper us and not to harm us? Well...all that means a hill of beans (my first southern saying in a blog!) to me when I allow myself to be scared by the, well, fear. Shame on me.
I have been the recipient of many gifts, many things in my life...all that have come at just the right time. I don't always get what I want, but I get what I need (sing along people - the Stones were created for a REASON!). Sometimes that comes in the form of severe loneliness...no matter who or how many are around...but it's become clear that God is my constant companion. I have been cast aside by people closest to me...people who chose to assume about me rather than investigate...but I've had a constant ally.
There's so much more to say here. To some, I've said too much. To others, I've said the obvious. To me, I've said what I needed to say. It's my blog. :))))
Monday, February 2, 2009
So This is How it Starts
Hmm. I am not entirely sure I want to go here. Blogging I mean. I could easily turn this into a vice, a necessity, an outlet than no one else wants to be part of or read:) My silent audience. Ahh - maybe this IS what I need.
I've been thinking of so many things lately (lately- huh! My brain hasn't shut off since I was born) and am over the days of diaries that I never filled out (writing on paper is soooo-o slow), stories half written, thoughts half expressed or over analyzed that they now seem like insanity...that I thought I'd start a blog. Yay me!
I am sure many of my entries will be about my son, Micah, now almost 4. He is the center of my world, as any little boy should be:) I don't know where to start with talking about him. Well, maybe I do. I wrote this, this, THING about him being 3 this past summer. So I'll post it and go from there:
Three.
My son Micah is three. Three. At three he runs tirelessly, eats constantly, grows quickly (out of everything), speaks intelligently, contemplates major things and comes full circle with many thoughts. Impressive. Before I had a child, I thought three meant small and cute and cuddly, and just, well, there. You know, throw him a cracker, pop in a movie, the usual. I learned quickly that was not the case. Micah is funny, articulate and pretty good at almost everything he tries. Shame on me for thinking three- year- olds were anything but incredible!
He took his first swimming lessons this week and I think I was more anxious than he was. He goes to preschool, so he understands the teacher/student relationship, and while I felt I thoroughly prepped him on listening and trying his best, especially around water (for the obvious safety reasons), I was worried. I was worried that he would be afraid. He loves the water, swims great with a life jacket, but this was a new ballgame. I could see every emotion, feel them almost, as he sat there, trying to comprehend the instruction.
“Blow bubbles, kick, turn your hands into ice cream scoops and push the water away,” his teacher said.
He was trying his best to believe me that the person I allowed to be in charge of him in the water would keep him safe. I could tell that by his timid face and his constant looks back to make sure I was still there. Micah is no introvert, but when it comes to him being uneasy, he wants his mommy. I sometimes revel in that, knowing that will soon not be the case. So, here I was, on the bleachers, watching him, and he listened. He tried. He succeeded. He said no to going under the water other day, but he agreed to try today, after much coaxing and promise of a matchbox car if he did it (bribery, sometimes evil, sometimes God’s gift). So, as the last words came out of the teacher’s mouth, “ready Micah?” I saw him panic, but not refuse, and he did it. He came up, looked miserable, about to cry, looked for me, and I nearly bounded down the bleachers to hug and kiss him. Realizing that might freak everyone out, I just stood and cheered. Another mom next to me smiled and did the same. There’s nothing like mom support when you can hardly control your pride in your child.
I was thinking the other day how awesome it is to raise a child, a person. I mean, that’s what I am doing. I am thoroughly aware that I don’t have some kid to watch and entertain (or throw a cracker to), but a spirit to encourage and inspire, a will to sometimes break, to sometimes build, and a brain to teach right and wrong to. What a job.
While he can drive me completely over the edge, causing me to question my own self control, he can also speak to me so kindly, so lovingly and is actually quite empathetic to people. We talk a lot about people who have less than we do. We pray for them at night and I wonder, in his little mind, what he imagines as I say the words “God, please watch over and protect all the boys and girls in the world and the mommies and daddies who need help. Help us to help them. If we can’t, please send others to help them.” I learned last Christmas, that he knows what that means after all those nightly prayers.. When he was given the choice to spend his $1 on candy or donate it to the Santa with the Salvation Army, he said, “let’s help the kids.” He knew. He was 2 ½.
Now by no means is he some angelic genius. He is a fighter…through and through. He will test me and cause me to want to get my tubes tied. He will remind me of the words he is not allowed to say. Nearly every day he says “Mommy, we can’t say shut up or I hate you….RIGHT?” Obviously that’s his way of saying them without getting in trouble –by acknowledging he can’t say them. He spanks our dogs, all the time, because he wants to be in charge. We’re working on that one. He absolutely must have the correct number of grapes in his bowl…not that he counts them all, but if there is any space left in the bottom of the bowl, he knows it’s not full. If I give him a cup of juice that is too full, he refuses to drink it down and I must pour half back in the container. What else? This is a tough one. My father smokes. We try, very hard, to limit Micah’s exposure to my dad while he is enjoying this activity. But, he loves my dad and at first thought it was some cool thing Pop Pop did. He even put his crayon box in his pocket and said they were his “smokes.” Of course I freaked out, feeling like I was the worst parent ever, angry at my dad…and proceeded to point out ALL that is bad and wrong about smoking. He gets it now. He gets it so much that he tells any and every adult that they should not smoke and how they won’t be able to play basketball or run. I know adults find it annoying, but all I can think is “That’s my guy!”
At three Micah can see his wrong, admit it and occasionally apologize without coaxing. At three he can ride in the back of my car, look out the window toward the sky and say, “good job, God! Mommy, did you see what God painted?” That one gets me every time. At three he knows what good behavior is, reminds me of the good job he is doing IN TIME OUT and can barely wait to get into trouble upon release. At three he can ride a bike, skip, hop, dance, sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to the hundreds of baby frogs he catches in our yard. At three he can miss me, be angry with me and be frustrated by my unwillingness to bend. But in the end, we come full circle and love each other very much.
I just turned 30, and while that is young to some, old to others, it’s new to me. It’s a time in my life when I am learning to be comfortable in my own skin, my own parenting skills and my own ability to truly raise a person. I figure the wrinkles to come will be mostly from laughing at my son, crying with him and loving him through any and all things. Thirty is ok. Three is way better.
I've been thinking of so many things lately (lately- huh! My brain hasn't shut off since I was born) and am over the days of diaries that I never filled out (writing on paper is soooo-o slow), stories half written, thoughts half expressed or over analyzed that they now seem like insanity...that I thought I'd start a blog. Yay me!
I am sure many of my entries will be about my son, Micah, now almost 4. He is the center of my world, as any little boy should be:) I don't know where to start with talking about him. Well, maybe I do. I wrote this, this, THING about him being 3 this past summer. So I'll post it and go from there:
Three.
My son Micah is three. Three. At three he runs tirelessly, eats constantly, grows quickly (out of everything), speaks intelligently, contemplates major things and comes full circle with many thoughts. Impressive. Before I had a child, I thought three meant small and cute and cuddly, and just, well, there. You know, throw him a cracker, pop in a movie, the usual. I learned quickly that was not the case. Micah is funny, articulate and pretty good at almost everything he tries. Shame on me for thinking three- year- olds were anything but incredible!
He took his first swimming lessons this week and I think I was more anxious than he was. He goes to preschool, so he understands the teacher/student relationship, and while I felt I thoroughly prepped him on listening and trying his best, especially around water (for the obvious safety reasons), I was worried. I was worried that he would be afraid. He loves the water, swims great with a life jacket, but this was a new ballgame. I could see every emotion, feel them almost, as he sat there, trying to comprehend the instruction.
“Blow bubbles, kick, turn your hands into ice cream scoops and push the water away,” his teacher said.
He was trying his best to believe me that the person I allowed to be in charge of him in the water would keep him safe. I could tell that by his timid face and his constant looks back to make sure I was still there. Micah is no introvert, but when it comes to him being uneasy, he wants his mommy. I sometimes revel in that, knowing that will soon not be the case. So, here I was, on the bleachers, watching him, and he listened. He tried. He succeeded. He said no to going under the water other day, but he agreed to try today, after much coaxing and promise of a matchbox car if he did it (bribery, sometimes evil, sometimes God’s gift). So, as the last words came out of the teacher’s mouth, “ready Micah?” I saw him panic, but not refuse, and he did it. He came up, looked miserable, about to cry, looked for me, and I nearly bounded down the bleachers to hug and kiss him. Realizing that might freak everyone out, I just stood and cheered. Another mom next to me smiled and did the same. There’s nothing like mom support when you can hardly control your pride in your child.
I was thinking the other day how awesome it is to raise a child, a person. I mean, that’s what I am doing. I am thoroughly aware that I don’t have some kid to watch and entertain (or throw a cracker to), but a spirit to encourage and inspire, a will to sometimes break, to sometimes build, and a brain to teach right and wrong to. What a job.
While he can drive me completely over the edge, causing me to question my own self control, he can also speak to me so kindly, so lovingly and is actually quite empathetic to people. We talk a lot about people who have less than we do. We pray for them at night and I wonder, in his little mind, what he imagines as I say the words “God, please watch over and protect all the boys and girls in the world and the mommies and daddies who need help. Help us to help them. If we can’t, please send others to help them.” I learned last Christmas, that he knows what that means after all those nightly prayers.. When he was given the choice to spend his $1 on candy or donate it to the Santa with the Salvation Army, he said, “let’s help the kids.” He knew. He was 2 ½.
Now by no means is he some angelic genius. He is a fighter…through and through. He will test me and cause me to want to get my tubes tied. He will remind me of the words he is not allowed to say. Nearly every day he says “Mommy, we can’t say shut up or I hate you….RIGHT?” Obviously that’s his way of saying them without getting in trouble –by acknowledging he can’t say them. He spanks our dogs, all the time, because he wants to be in charge. We’re working on that one. He absolutely must have the correct number of grapes in his bowl…not that he counts them all, but if there is any space left in the bottom of the bowl, he knows it’s not full. If I give him a cup of juice that is too full, he refuses to drink it down and I must pour half back in the container. What else? This is a tough one. My father smokes. We try, very hard, to limit Micah’s exposure to my dad while he is enjoying this activity. But, he loves my dad and at first thought it was some cool thing Pop Pop did. He even put his crayon box in his pocket and said they were his “smokes.” Of course I freaked out, feeling like I was the worst parent ever, angry at my dad…and proceeded to point out ALL that is bad and wrong about smoking. He gets it now. He gets it so much that he tells any and every adult that they should not smoke and how they won’t be able to play basketball or run. I know adults find it annoying, but all I can think is “That’s my guy!”
At three Micah can see his wrong, admit it and occasionally apologize without coaxing. At three he can ride in the back of my car, look out the window toward the sky and say, “good job, God! Mommy, did you see what God painted?” That one gets me every time. At three he knows what good behavior is, reminds me of the good job he is doing IN TIME OUT and can barely wait to get into trouble upon release. At three he can ride a bike, skip, hop, dance, sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to the hundreds of baby frogs he catches in our yard. At three he can miss me, be angry with me and be frustrated by my unwillingness to bend. But in the end, we come full circle and love each other very much.
I just turned 30, and while that is young to some, old to others, it’s new to me. It’s a time in my life when I am learning to be comfortable in my own skin, my own parenting skills and my own ability to truly raise a person. I figure the wrinkles to come will be mostly from laughing at my son, crying with him and loving him through any and all things. Thirty is ok. Three is way better.
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