So I wasn't really planning on posting today but I came across this excerpt from a book that I just had to share: Carry On, Warrior , by Glennon Melton.
She talks about the difficulties of mothering and how we find them hard to admit because we're always being told to "love every minute of it" by old ladies in the grocery store. This is something that I think about often. Especially as a stay-at-home mom I'm on the defensive about my motherhood. In a society where it's anti-cultural to raise your children full-time if I admit that it can be lonely, or even sometimes, dare I say it, boring, I'm afraid that someone will tell me to just get a job because I obviously don't have enough to do (this is coming from a woman with only one child; I'm sure once I have eight children no one will question whether I have enough to do--then they'll question my sanity).
Anyway, I love this excerpt. It made me laugh and cry at the same time.
I just hope to be one [nostalgic old lady] with a clear memory. And here’s what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
“It’s helluva hard, isn’t it? You’re a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She’s my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours ’til bedtime.”
Monday, 25 February 2013
Friday, 15 February 2013
St. Valentine's
Another Valentine's Day has come and gone and I've fallen into the trap once again. The hype surrounding the holy-martyr's-feast-somehow-turned-day-of-ultra-romance has fooled me into putting romantic love on a high pedestal for which it was never destined. Darn you greeting card company conspiracy!
Truth be told, I've been feeling a little blue lately. I don't fully know why. I think partly it's the weather and being cooped up indoors too much. Also, Isaac has been pretty temperamental lately, which really wears on me. Maybe the weather is getting to him too.
Anyway, I've never really thought much about Valentine's Day. Sure it's nice for couples to have an extra reason to show their love, but it's pretty much a made up holiday anyway, right? But as it approached this year I began to look forward to it as a break from recent monotony. I began to think that in some small way maybe it would make me happy. BIG mistake.
Flowers and chocolate certainly cannot make me happy. Neither can the love of my husband, dear though he is. Only God can.
One of the few things that humans can never get enough of is love. We desire to be loved perfectly, completely, forever. Can I love someone like that? Of course not. It is how I strive to love my husband and son everyday but I'm constantly falling short. Romantic love, beautiful and amazing as it is, can never truly fulfill a person. The reason romantic love is so beautiful is that it is a shadow, the faintest whisper, of real love--God's love. The only love so perfect and all-encompassing that it can make a person happy.
When we put the burden of our happiness into someone else's hands we are doing them a great injustice. No human was ever meant to bear that burden. Essentially, we are making them into our god. Expecting your spouse to fulfill you will only lead to frustration and disappointment. Expecting them to be perfect will only make them feel inadequate and unappreciated.
All of this I know, and have known ever since studying Theology of the Body before I was married--in theory. In practice it's very easy to forget. In practice it's very easy to look to the person who is beside you everyday for your happiness. It is very easy to blame him whenever you have a bad day, whenever you're the least bit down. It is much more difficult to look to myself, to what is lacking in my spiritual life, to sincerely put my well-being into God's hands.
There's a song by Jon Foreman about this called A Mirror is Harder to Hold. He says:
I could try and point the finger but the glass points in my direction
Sure you've got your sharp edges but my wounds are from my own reflection
Happy belated St. Valentine's Day everyone! Hug your loved ones and don't forget to remind them that you can't make each other happy!
Truth be told, I've been feeling a little blue lately. I don't fully know why. I think partly it's the weather and being cooped up indoors too much. Also, Isaac has been pretty temperamental lately, which really wears on me. Maybe the weather is getting to him too.
Anyway, I've never really thought much about Valentine's Day. Sure it's nice for couples to have an extra reason to show their love, but it's pretty much a made up holiday anyway, right? But as it approached this year I began to look forward to it as a break from recent monotony. I began to think that in some small way maybe it would make me happy. BIG mistake.
Flowers and chocolate certainly cannot make me happy. Neither can the love of my husband, dear though he is. Only God can.
One of the few things that humans can never get enough of is love. We desire to be loved perfectly, completely, forever. Can I love someone like that? Of course not. It is how I strive to love my husband and son everyday but I'm constantly falling short. Romantic love, beautiful and amazing as it is, can never truly fulfill a person. The reason romantic love is so beautiful is that it is a shadow, the faintest whisper, of real love--God's love. The only love so perfect and all-encompassing that it can make a person happy.
When we put the burden of our happiness into someone else's hands we are doing them a great injustice. No human was ever meant to bear that burden. Essentially, we are making them into our god. Expecting your spouse to fulfill you will only lead to frustration and disappointment. Expecting them to be perfect will only make them feel inadequate and unappreciated.
All of this I know, and have known ever since studying Theology of the Body before I was married--in theory. In practice it's very easy to forget. In practice it's very easy to look to the person who is beside you everyday for your happiness. It is very easy to blame him whenever you have a bad day, whenever you're the least bit down. It is much more difficult to look to myself, to what is lacking in my spiritual life, to sincerely put my well-being into God's hands.
There's a song by Jon Foreman about this called A Mirror is Harder to Hold. He says:
I could try and point the finger but the glass points in my direction
Sure you've got your sharp edges but my wounds are from my own reflection
Happy belated St. Valentine's Day everyone! Hug your loved ones and don't forget to remind them that you can't make each other happy!
Friday, 1 February 2013
Will the world be so kind?
Awhile ago we noticed that when we said "good job!" Isaac would clap. Now he's doing it even if we don't say anything, whenever he thinks he's accomplished something.
Today Isaac put a fork on a pair of shoes and smiled and clapped for himself like it was the greatest thing in the world. It just made me wonder: are we overdoing it? Have we set him up to be one of those kids who thinks he's the cat's pyjamas because he can adequately pair cutlery and footwear? Will he go off to college and throw a temper tantrum when his professor isn't impressed that he put a spoon in a boot? I guess only time will tell...
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| Sorry, I don't have a better picture. This is Isaac making a rush for the camera as usual. |
Tuesday, 22 January 2013
photos!
I thought I'd do a post with a couple photos just to mix things up a little.
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| Isaac and Daddy, getting the pizza dough ready. |
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| Isaac taking a break from his very important job (stirring some floury water in the measuring cup) to test the dough. |
triscuit crumbs in the sheets
I come out of quarantine to write to you today. Pretty much since Christmas it's been one bout of sickness after another. Sure, we've had small pockets of good health here and there, but for the most part one or all of us has had some sort of bug. Thankfully, it's been nothing serious, but our house has definitely been more chaotic than usual as we struggle to keep our heads above water in this germ infested pool.
There is a huge pile of laundry in the bedroom and one load that's been sitting in the dryer for three days. There is a stack of dishes by the sink, food smeared all over the floor. Isaac's latest thing is to continually "reorganize" the front hallway, so it is barely passable because of all the shoes, hats, and mitts scattered everywhere. We haven't seen the main set of car keys for two days (another one of Isaac's latest things: he takes them and tries to stick them in keyholes). Top it off with a deluge of dirty kleenexes and you've got an idea of what we're living in.
Last night I crawled into bed only to be greeted by a bumpy, scratchy sensation. Of course. Earlier in the day Isaac had been bouncing on our bed, eating a triscuit (my fault, for letting him).
Sometimes the continual mess makes me feel like I'm going to lose my mind. Everything has either been hidden by Isaac or hidden from Isaac, so I can never find anything. Some days every other step crushes a cheerio and there are no matching socks and Isaac literally follows me around and untidies everything that I try to tidy. It can be gut-wrenchingly frustrating.
But last night, as I brushed the triscuit crumbs off the sheets I remembered (for once) to be thankful. Even with all of our colds and flus, we have no serious health problems. We have never had the terrifying experience of rushing our child to the hospital for an emergency. And our house is a mess, but it is made a mess by such a charming little man that sometimes I think my heart is going to burst. I am so thankful that God has given us our little monkey. I am so thankful that he has the health and spirit to turn our home upside down everyday. Last night I realized that triscuit crumbs in the sheets are a very, very small price to pay.
There is a huge pile of laundry in the bedroom and one load that's been sitting in the dryer for three days. There is a stack of dishes by the sink, food smeared all over the floor. Isaac's latest thing is to continually "reorganize" the front hallway, so it is barely passable because of all the shoes, hats, and mitts scattered everywhere. We haven't seen the main set of car keys for two days (another one of Isaac's latest things: he takes them and tries to stick them in keyholes). Top it off with a deluge of dirty kleenexes and you've got an idea of what we're living in.
Last night I crawled into bed only to be greeted by a bumpy, scratchy sensation. Of course. Earlier in the day Isaac had been bouncing on our bed, eating a triscuit (my fault, for letting him).
Sometimes the continual mess makes me feel like I'm going to lose my mind. Everything has either been hidden by Isaac or hidden from Isaac, so I can never find anything. Some days every other step crushes a cheerio and there are no matching socks and Isaac literally follows me around and untidies everything that I try to tidy. It can be gut-wrenchingly frustrating.
But last night, as I brushed the triscuit crumbs off the sheets I remembered (for once) to be thankful. Even with all of our colds and flus, we have no serious health problems. We have never had the terrifying experience of rushing our child to the hospital for an emergency. And our house is a mess, but it is made a mess by such a charming little man that sometimes I think my heart is going to burst. I am so thankful that God has given us our little monkey. I am so thankful that he has the health and spirit to turn our home upside down everyday. Last night I realized that triscuit crumbs in the sheets are a very, very small price to pay.
Monday, 31 December 2012
foggy head and Happy New Year
Our munchkin came down with a cold on boxing day and I soon followed suit. Sean's week off work, therefore, consisted in taking care of his two sickies.
Today was Sean's first day back at work, so Isaac and I were left alone in our mutual sickness. My head is still foggy so I won't write much, I just wanted to say something about love. Whenever Isaac and I are sick at the same time it always challenges my idea of love. It's just plain hard to give him all the love and attention he deserves when I'm not fully functioning myself. Sometimes it's actually painful. Sometimes I want to cry. Sometimes I do cry. It's the Cross. I'm now getting too sleepy and foggy to coherently connect all the points I wanted to make but it was something about God loving us. A lot.
May His love bless you and yours this Christmas season and bring you health and happiness in the New Year.
Today was Sean's first day back at work, so Isaac and I were left alone in our mutual sickness. My head is still foggy so I won't write much, I just wanted to say something about love. Whenever Isaac and I are sick at the same time it always challenges my idea of love. It's just plain hard to give him all the love and attention he deserves when I'm not fully functioning myself. Sometimes it's actually painful. Sometimes I want to cry. Sometimes I do cry. It's the Cross. I'm now getting too sleepy and foggy to coherently connect all the points I wanted to make but it was something about God loving us. A lot.
May His love bless you and yours this Christmas season and bring you health and happiness in the New Year.
Friday, 14 December 2012
my marriage to a Hobbit nerd
Last night Sean and I had a rare date night and went to the premiere showing of The Hobbit (it was great; we loved it. If you're a fan you should go see it, pronto). We weren't sure how busy it would be and wanted to be sure of getting good seats so we arrived two and a half hours early.
There were only five people ahead of us in line. One of them had a tattoo in Elvish on his arm.
As we sat there chatting with our new found Hobbit friends I realized something. I had been suspecting it for some time. As the premiere approached, Sean's daily visits to fan sites and meticulous watching of every trailer, clip, and tv spot tipped me off, but last night confirmed it. I am married to a nerd.
The thing is, I don't think I realized how much of a nerd he was when I married him. I thought he was a "movie buff." I now know that "movie buff" is just a code word for nerd (just a warning for all you single ladies. Beware!).
All of this has had me thinking about the mystery of the human person. We are made in the image and likeness of God, which gives us greater depth than we can ever know. We grow, we learn, we change. Every day. Until we die. Which means that no one can ever really be boring. If we find someone boring then we're not looking closely enough.
I've also been reading about the temperament types: four categories that explain the natural inclinations and tendencies of different types of people (The Temperament God Gave You by Art and Laraine Bennett). I find it extremely interesting and helpful to some degree, but I've begun to notice something. It's pretty easy to pigeonhole people that I don't know very well, but the better I know someone the harder I find it to fit them into a category. Sean is the most difficult by far. When I think of all the different sides of him that I'm getting to know I find it almost impossible.
After pulling my hair out over it for a little while I've realized that it doesn't really matter. Because people don't ever fit neatly into categories. If they do then it's probably because, again, we're not looking closely enough. Take the categories for what they're worth (because they are helpful when used properly), and then forget about them and just marvel at the beauty and complexity of God's creation.
Two and half years ago I didn't know that my soon to be husband was a big ole' nerd in hiding. Now I know. And that's awesome. It's amazing that after two and a half years I'm still only scratching the surface of the mystery that is my husband. Every day, if I make the effort, I can find a little bit more of him to fall in love with.
There were only five people ahead of us in line. One of them had a tattoo in Elvish on his arm.
As we sat there chatting with our new found Hobbit friends I realized something. I had been suspecting it for some time. As the premiere approached, Sean's daily visits to fan sites and meticulous watching of every trailer, clip, and tv spot tipped me off, but last night confirmed it. I am married to a nerd.
The thing is, I don't think I realized how much of a nerd he was when I married him. I thought he was a "movie buff." I now know that "movie buff" is just a code word for nerd (just a warning for all you single ladies. Beware!).
All of this has had me thinking about the mystery of the human person. We are made in the image and likeness of God, which gives us greater depth than we can ever know. We grow, we learn, we change. Every day. Until we die. Which means that no one can ever really be boring. If we find someone boring then we're not looking closely enough.
I've also been reading about the temperament types: four categories that explain the natural inclinations and tendencies of different types of people (The Temperament God Gave You by Art and Laraine Bennett). I find it extremely interesting and helpful to some degree, but I've begun to notice something. It's pretty easy to pigeonhole people that I don't know very well, but the better I know someone the harder I find it to fit them into a category. Sean is the most difficult by far. When I think of all the different sides of him that I'm getting to know I find it almost impossible.
After pulling my hair out over it for a little while I've realized that it doesn't really matter. Because people don't ever fit neatly into categories. If they do then it's probably because, again, we're not looking closely enough. Take the categories for what they're worth (because they are helpful when used properly), and then forget about them and just marvel at the beauty and complexity of God's creation.
Two and half years ago I didn't know that my soon to be husband was a big ole' nerd in hiding. Now I know. And that's awesome. It's amazing that after two and a half years I'm still only scratching the surface of the mystery that is my husband. Every day, if I make the effort, I can find a little bit more of him to fall in love with.
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