Mothering, Intuition, Books, and Sister Mothers

Do you know why I love blogging?  Because this morning I read this post by my blog friend, Leighann, and in her comments I linked to this post of mine from last year.  And she commented on my post, which led to an email exchange that energized me to think about things... and ultimately this blog post.  I LOVE this blog sisterhood of mothers!  I am very choosy about the blogs that I read regularly, partly out of necessity because I need to limit computer time, but also because I want to spend that time reading from women whose opinions I value, not whose houses I envy.  Oh and I have GOOD mom blogs that I read!  They make me think about my own parenting decisions and motivate me to do a better job, women who have been real friends as we go through tough times, who are willing to engage in conversations without turning them into ugly debates, Blog Sisters.

I was telling a friend the other day, that I think I am in my favorite decade of life (but who knows, the next may be better!)  I have left behind the insecurity and uncertainty of my 20's, but still have the physical health and ability of being young (and I do thank God for that daily!).  I am confident in my decisions and the way that I choose to live my life, with not an ounce of keeping up with the Joneses or insecurity about my parenting.  I know what career I have, who my children will be (all of them!), what our priorities are, how to be happily married to Davis, who I am, what I want and don't want... life is good.

As with my Blog Sisters, I have surrounded myself with a sisterhood of mothers who support me rather than undermine me, who respect our parenting differences without defensiveness, who are wise and help me to be a better mother.  Many are a few steps ahead of me, with teenagers, a few are grandmothers, all of them are amazing mothers.  They are my village.

This morning, when I pulled up my Tiger Mom post from last year, I briefly skimmed it, just to remind myself what I wrote (my body may be healthy in my 30's, but by golly my memory is shot!) I saw what I wrote about hating parenting books, and I realized that I have changed my mind about that in the past year.  And that was what Leighanne and I talked about... So, now that my children are one year older, let me share my new and changed view about parenting books (parenting is nothing if not figuring things out as you go, and being willing to change your mind!)

What I still hate, are parenting books about BABIES, written for and read by new and expecting first time moms.  I truly believe that mothers (except, perhaps a very, very few whose mental illnesses or past damage have interfered) have within them the knowledge and intuition to care for their babies.  I feel sad for us 1970's kids who were left to cry, because some male doctor wrote a book telling our mothers not to spoil us.  I feel sad for mothers who can't get their baby to be happy, because none of the tricks they read about in some book worked.  I chuckle when I hear a pregnant first time mom tell me that, based on her reading, she has decided against co-sleeping and will swaddle, feed on a schedule, whatever...

The thing is, babies are all different.  Families are different.  If a mother spends her time getting to know her baby rather than reading books written by people who had other babies, I believe her time will be much better spent.  In fact, I think the damage those books (and magazine articles) do, is that they make mothers DOUBT.  And that, to me, is sad.  Because doubt is a great squelcher of intuition. 

Leighann brought up the great point that generally we spend much less time with our extended families and other mothers now, and that because we no longer have 8 or 9 siblings, less time caring for babies as we are growing up.  And so, yes, there may be a steeper learning curve for 21st Century new moms.  However,  I still believe that so much of mothering babies and young children is intuitive, and that knowing when to feed our babies and get them to sleep and be happy comes from getting to know them.  For more information, I would much rather see new mothers turn to their sister mothers than some book.  Surround yourself with mothers you admire, who will not prosthelytize but share, and pick their brains and talk things through with them... and then make up your own mind, knowing your own child!

BUT here is where I have changed my mind about books... I now have school age children.  I have come to realize in the past year, that mothering older children is so much harder than mothering babies and toddlers and preschoolers.  Sure, they sleep through the night and can wipe their own bottoms... but now they are asking hard questions and grappling with BIG issues, and it takes a much more deliberate approach to parent them well.  And (this is important!) by the time your children are older, you know them and you are more confident in what you believe, and so in reading parenting books/articles, you are more easily able to weed out the things that will not work for your family or that you disagree with without doubting your own belief system.  I have found some wonderful and valuable parenting books that address parenting older children, and I have been devouring them.  I finished these two just this past month

And there were wonderful ideas in them, things that energized me to be a better mother, tricks that I had never thought of.  There were also things that I knew would not work for us, and I was able to discard them. 

I think in the end, the lesson is this: be willing to learn as a mother - always.  Learn first who your children are, acknowledging that each is unique with his own needs.  Spend time with them, un-distracted, hearing them, holding them, learning who they are.  Then discern what your values and priorities are, so that you can have a framework upon which to build your parenting decisions.  Then find your village, your sister mothers - whether they are your own mother and grandmother, friends, bloggers - and use their own experiences and values to help you think about your own family, acknowledging that their circumstances are different than yours and that's okay.  And finally, reach out to books, seminars, magazines, blogs whose writers you may not know, etc., acknowledging that these "experts" may have incredibly valuable information to make you a better mother, but in the end you are still the expert about your own children.

Our Capable Kids

I've seen a trend lately on blogs, Pinterest, and elsewhere on the web, which kind of cracks me up.  People are discovering - like a bright flash of sudden inspiration - that children are actually capable of doing things. Lots of things.  Lots of things that we didn't think they could do.  It cracks me up, because I'm pretty sure it's only recently that our children have been deemed totally INcapable of doing things for themselves, and yet we are having to rediscover that, "oh hey! I did those chores when I was a kid! And my grandmother knew how to button her own shirt when she was five years old!"


There are so many reasons that I think it's ridiculous for us to keep our children from doing things they are capable of doing.  We are not our children's servants, chefs, valets, chauffeurs... so let's not act like it.  YES we cook for our families, and we help younger children dress themselves, and of course we drive them where they need to go before they learn to drive.  But there is a big difference in my mind between acting like we are there to make sure our children never lift a finger and simply helping them learn to do things for themselves.  It's as simple as HOW you do the task.

For example, when I get Henry dressed, it would be so much easier to lay him on a changing table and dress him top to bottom myself (and I have seen people do this with two year olds!)  But I take the slightly less efficient (in the short-term) route of having Henry dress himself, with a lot of help from me.  I hold out the shirt so that he can easily get his head and arms into it properly.  He can pull on his own underwear and pants, but I help button his pants if needed (most are just elastic).  He can put on his own shoes most of the time.  And while I do most of the cooking around here, one of Sophia's chores is to make breakfast for herself and the other kids during the school year.  She can microwave oatmeal, make toast, fix cereal, reheat pancakes I made and froze, and even cook eggs on our electric griddle.  I have started pulling her into the kitchen a few times a week to help me cook dinner - she can chop some vegetables, and help me pour and stir.  She knows how to make a sandwich and fix chocolate milk for Amelia.  She can mash a banana or avocado and feed it to Wyatt while I'm cooking dinner.  These are all completely reasonable things for an almost-seven year old to do.

There has also been quite a bit of publicity around the so-called "free-range kids" movement.  While I actually have a problem with that whole "movement" and a lot of their rhetoric (because in their quest to make the world seem like a safer place than it is, they have almost completely ignored the high rate of sexual abuse that occurs in children's lives, and only focus on the extreme rarity of kidnappings... but anyway...)  I do agree that a lot of parents seem too over-protective of their kids these days.  Over-protective sounds like a weird word - I mean how can it POSSIBLY be bad to be as protective of our children as we can be?!  But the thing is, by keeping such constant watch of them, we forget, I think, to teach them how to be safe and confident away from us.  I let my girls to to public restrooms together without me.  At a large playground, I let them play away from me where I can't see them at every moment.  Why?  Because I have taught them what to do if someone wants them to go with them or bothers them.  I haven't taught them that all strangers are bad and the world is a terrifying place.  Instead, I have told them that there is a little voice inside of them that helps them know when a situation is dangerous, and they are empowered to do anything and everything they can to get out of that situation.  I have taught them how to spot safe people (police officers, other mothers, etc.) to go to if they are lost or need help.  I believe it's possible to empower our children instead of scaring them into believing that the world is so frightening that they can only be safe if mom or dad are holding their hand.

Similarly, I think it's demeaning to children to treat them like helpless little things.  How sad would it be to in kindergarten and not be able to properly dress yourself or eat your food without your mommy there to pull up your pants and cut up your food?! Both of my girls (ages 5 and almost-7) take care of their own personal hygiene - they bathe or shower, floss and brush their teeth, etc. Of course I inspect their teeth and let them know if they haven't rinsed all the shampoo from their hair, but for the most part they take care of these things without me.  Henry is now (since my last post on the subject!) going to the bathroom by himself, with only occasional reminders from me (especially if we are away from home) and of course my help in wiping and washing his hands.  He brushes his own teeth with a spinning toothbrush, and then I go in after him and brush again.  Henry can feed himself with normal dishes and silverware and drink from a regular glass.  I just think kids who are more self-sufficient at an earlier age are going to be more confident and independent in the long-run.

And finally, back to the whole servant issue, I just think it's so important for children to feel like they are part of a family, not that their parents are there to cater to them.  Our children have their own bedrooms, but they do not have a "playroom" or "their" bathroom, they don't have separate dishes, and our living room is filled with only normal furniture.  They can sit on The Family Couch and eat using The Family Dishes and pee in The Family Toilet.  Right?? They don't need all their "own" stuff.

And we expect them to take care of this house and help keep up with the things that must be taken care of - from setting the table to putting away the laundry to dusting the baseboards.   Just like anyone else.  That's how it was when I was growing up, and I think it was perfectly fine.  I certainly did not feel like I was the little princess who ran the house and had grown ups around to cater to my every whim.  I also didn't feel like a child-slave because I had to do chores.

Oh my gosh, I think I posted about this before, but have you seen the signs?  The NURSERY signs that say stuff like "Spoiled Princess" on cute little wooden plaques with pink swirls on them? Why?!  That WHY?! makes me think that some parents WANT spoiled, entitled, helpless kids (*ahem* Suri Cruise).  One of the things (a small thing, compared to much bigger issues) that told us it was time to change schools, was when Sophia came home and announced, "we need a housekeeper so I don't have to clean!"  Ugh.  I want my children to be HAPPY, I want them to feel like they had everything they needed growing up, I want them to feel loved and deserving.  And I want them to grow up knowing without a shadow of a doubt, that they do not need a housekeeper to be happy and that loved does not equal spoiled.

I want my children to be self-sufficient, confident, independent, hard-working, humble, and willing to help out.  And so, I will continue to make sure they are self-dressing, cooking, cleaning, lawn-mowing (I can't wait!), somewhat-but-not-quite-free-range kids.  If choosing between doing something for them or teaching them to do it for themselves, I am going to go with helping them do it themselves.  If wondering whether they are old enough to tackle a job, I am going to give it a shot and see if they can.  If choosing between making their lives easier and making them work hard, I am going to do with hard-working almost every time.  If choosing between a situation that is almost certainly safe because I am physically there with them and a situation that requires my (older) children to take some responsibility for their own safety, I am probably going to err on the side of sending them out into the world.

In this great experiment that we call parenting, I guess we won't know how it all turns out until it's all over.  Suri Cruise is about Sophia's age... we'll check back in with them in about twenty years.

Days of Our Lives

"Like sands through the hourglass... so are the Days of Our Lives."

Ha ha I totally just quoted a soap opera, even though I don't think I've watched more than two soap opera episodes in my whole life. But, it's what I'm thinking about.

Because first, there was this article that half a dozen of my friends posted on Facebook. And then I've been thinking about this blog post, which makes me bawl every time I read it. And then, there are the ladies. The grocery store ladies, and the church ladies, and the doctor's office elevator ladies, who smile whistfully, and say "enjoy every minute, it goes by so fast."

And you know what? I am not annoyed by them. I always tell them, no matter what kind of day I am having, thank you. Because it is probably on those crazy, harrowing, overwhelming days that I need to hear them say it. I still cry when I think about Sophia's first day of kindergarten. Because all those first five years, I thought I had all the time in the world to think about her going to school, and then WHAM! there it was - it came so much faster than I expected. I wasn't ready, but it came anyway. It didn't feel like five years, but it was. And now, when I think about her being in high school, and I think it's so far away. But I know. I know, it's just going to suddenly be here, whether I'm ready or not.

And every now and then I let myself think about the days that my house will be quiet. The days that little handprints and crayon marks no longer mar my walls. Days that my bathroom floor isn't flooded every night at 7 p.m., days that I do not step on Legos, days that cleaning up after a spaghetti dinner doesn't involve a whole roll of paper towels. And I cry. I know that when those days come, the echos of my children running through the house will be a deafening silence.

The HuffPo article likens raising children to climbing Mount Everest. And yes, some day I will look proudly at my children and think "I made it to the top of that mountain." But I do not want to think of the journey as a painful, uphill climb. Because I will also think about their little hands reaching up to be held, and their sweet baby lips sucking the air while they sleep, the weight of their bodies on my chest when they are sick, and their little eyes looking at me - burrowing into my soul, saying don't forget this moment. I want to know that I have sucked the marrow out of those moments, that I stopped to breathe in every single second, so that when they are gone, I know I didn't miss anything.

It can be so easy to let ourselves count down the hours until bedtime, to laugh about how nice it will be to not have ketchup on our shirts, and to sit around talking about how three year olds are so whiny and newborns don't sleep enough and toddlers wear us out. Those are the thoughts that crop up when we are in the midst of motherhood. Those are the easy conversations to lapse into when we are with other mothers. But those are not the thoughts I want validated. Rather, I cherish the reminders that I'm missing the point. I need to be brought back to the sacredness of these moments. Yes, even the hard ones. If I find myself having too many days that I am overwhelmed and annoyed and not enjoying every moment with my children, it is usually a clue that I need to change something - about the way I parent, about the way I take care of myself, or about something simple like how we enforce certain rules in our house.

I cannot say that I have enjoyed every single second of being with my children. But I can tell you that I have regretted every second that I didn't enjoy them. And so, even when I hear that cry in the middle of the night and I think I might actually die from being so tired, or when I've told my six year old to pick up her sweater for the fifteenth time, I remind myself that these days are numbered. Tonight might be the last night that the baby wakes up to eat in the middle of the night, and oh my gosh, I can't stop the tears from flowing when I think - those sweet moments in the dark of night, when all the distractions of the world are gone, and there is nothing but the sweet smell of my baby's head and his little hand on my breast, they are gone. I have a lot of life left to live, and many things to look forward to, but those days, they are past.

It's loving our children through their worst behavior, learning to laugh when everything goes wrong, feeling daily gratitude for being given these precious children to raise up, that's what makes parenthood so sacred.

So, thank you grocery store ladies, for telling me to cherish even the exhaustion and exasperation. Thank you, church ladies, for reminding me that, yes, my children are beautiful and well-behaved. Thank you, doctor's office elevator ladies, for transporting me to the future for just a glipse, because now I remember what I don't want to regret.

Christmas Gratitudes

You know, I think I had been feeling pretty happy and thankful for all the blessings in my life lately. But the past few weeks, I had also been feeling sad for things that were missing this Christmas - loved ones who have died this past year who I wasn't sending Christmas cards to (there were more this year than ever before in my life), my children's sweet school that closed last year and their Christmas pageant (in its place, a very cute but completely un-Christmas-ed production at their new school), our old church and their magnificent ringing bells... Well, I guess God decided to wake me up and turn up that gratitude a notch, because I landed myself in the hospital this week.

I have battled a UTI/kidney infection on and off since Wyatt's birth. Every time I was put on antibiotics, it got better. Every time I finished the antibiotics, it came back. I have kidney stones (11, if you want to know) that according to my urologist might have helped hang onto the infection. Well, last week the infection came back, and by Sunday I was feeling really, really bad. I made it through Monday thanks to the miracle powers of a LOT of coffee, and dragged myself to the doctor on Tuesday. My lab results didn't look pretty. I was pleading with him to make this go away forever. I felt and looked awful. So, here I am, in room 3057, getting IV antibiotics and fluids. He told me he also wanted me to get some rest - it took some effort not to laugh. He's obviously never spent the night in a hospital. I got 1 hour and 35 minutes of sleep my first 24 hours here. But I also got some medicine that has helped me feel so, so much better!

My first night, when I felt physically horrible and exhausted and couldn't sleep because of all the people coming into my room, my friend who lives in Armenia right now kept me company all night long. We laughed about my awful nurse. We laughed about my awesome patient care tech named Orlando, who danced around my room, "We've got a full house! We're rockin' it on 3 North tonight!" And she listened to me whine and whine and whine.

Another friend volunteered to be my breastmilk courier. Three times a day, she's come by to pick up milk and deliver it home to Wyatt. She also brought me snacks and bought toilet paper for my family so Davis wouldn't have to drag all the kids to the store. They even called me to make sure they got the right brand.

On Facebook, my friends sent me well wishes and prayers and cheered me up with funny posts and sweet private messages. Yesterday afternoon I felt really sad, because I missed my baby. I've never spent the night away from one of my little babies, and it was making me anxious and a little queasy and a LOT sad. At around 2pm, I looked at a picture of him and sobbed for an hour. I literally didn't know how I was going to make it through another 24 hours without holding him. It's the middle of winter, and I'm on a general medicine floor, so there was just no way I was going to drag a new baby up here into the germosphere. But I wanted him sooo badly. Four friends called me and many more sent me texts, and I was lifted up and carried through that sadness, until my lovely day nurse came in and took pity on me. She suggested that Davis bring the kids up in the car, and they would unhook me and let me go downstairs. I literally jumped up, called Davis, and ran downstairs. Nursing my little baby in the car while my other kids jibber-jabbered at me was the best thing EVER! I came back upstairs and my nurse looked at me and said I looked like a new person. I felt like it too!

And at home, my sweet husband has been keeping the four kids and calling to tell me things like "oh I'm actually bored, things are going so well!" And friends are coming by with meals and homemade baked goodies. Friends are offering to help during a time that I know is crazy and busy for everyone. And my sweet Sophia, she slept next to baby Wyatt because she knew he would miss mama and, "Daddy, I know you're really tired, so if he wakes up and you don't hear him, I'll wake you up." She's SIX, my sweet oldest baby, and she always rises to the occasion.

And as I've sat here in room 3057, I have been overcome with the realization that I am so blessed. So, so blessed. To have these beautiful children that I love so much I can't stand to be away from them, to have a husband who can be home taking care of everything without batting an eye, to have THE best friends in the whole world, and to know that after a couple of days, I get to walk out of this hospital cured, and never looking back, and home in time for Christmas.

I have prayed a lot the last couple of days. I've prayed for all the people in this building who aren't getting to go home for Christmas. I've prayed for those who won't walk out of here healed. I've prayed for those who are alone and don't have friends and family to lift them up and carry them through. I've prayed for the old woman in the room next to me, who is here from a nursing home and doesn't know where she is, so she cries and screams in confusion all night long. I've prayed for those who have lost children and don't get to go back and hold them again after a couple of days of separation. Yes, these days before Christmas, my eyes have been opened and I've been reminded powerfully of how blessed I am.

A friend brought me a beautiful collection of Celtic prayers last night. This one is from Celtic Prayers from Iona by Phillip Newell

Watch now O Christ
With those who are weary
Or wandering
Or weeping this night.
Guide them to a house
Of your peace
And lead us to be caring
For their tears.

The White Door

Amelia told me yesterday that there is a big white door - she made a motion that showed it was a double door, with handles that open outward - and all of the people who have died are on the other side. "If you open the door," she said, "then you get dead too." When I was a little girl, I thought of Heaven like a stratospheric cloth stretched over the Earth, and on that cloth were chairs made of clouds where God and Jesus sat looking down on us, surrounded by angels. When she was three years old, Sophia told me, "when you die, God picks you up and carries you to Heaven" (an image that has stayed with me and made death so much less scary!)

It was easy for me, growing up, to believe in Heaven as a very concrete and real place. But I told a friend last week, the more people I love who have died, the more I NEED to believe in Heaven, and the more scared I am that perhaps there are no thrones of clouds and hosts of angels... there is so much more at stake now that I have people I love in Heaven - people I need to believe I will see again. I feel almost a desperate need to know things that I just cannot know. In a way Amelia is right, once you open the door, you will be dead too. I will just need to cling to faith, carry on bravely through the rest of my life, and know that when my time comes I will know, and I will be with my loved ones again.

My favorite funeral prayer is from the Book of Common Prayer:

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you this day our brother/sister. We thank you for giving him to us, his family and friends, to know and to love as companion on our earthly pilgrimage. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our course on earth, until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

On Wednesday, in Toulouse, France, my entire family will be at the funeral for my uncle and his family (who died in a plane crash last week). Because I have a newborn, I can't be there, and that has been really hard. I have sent this prayer, which will be part of the funeral service, and at 4 a.m. Central Standard Time and 11 a.m. Central European Time, I will be saying the same prayer as my family. Actually, I have found myself many many times over the past week, silently praying give me faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence I may continue my course on earth, until, by your call, I am reunited with those who have gone before. In a couple of weeks will be the anniversary of our Violet's death - another opportunity to look toward Heaven.

I wrote a much more hopeful post on this same subject earlier in the year. I will get to that same place again. Until then, I am thankful for prayers that allow me to ask for help.

Forgiveness

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.
Lewis Smedes

The topic of forgiveness has been on my mind and heart all summer. It was the topic of our sermon in church Sunday. I have had several great conversations with friends about forgiveness lately. When I can't stop thinking about something, it's usually time to blog about it!

When I wonder, to what lengths are we called upon to forgive? The answer is simple. "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." That is the answer to every excuse we may come up with about why we have NOT forgiven something. But what he did was TOO wrong... But it hasn't been long enough... But she's not sorry yet...

Now that we have that out of the way - the question of whether our faith really requires that we forgive under these circumstances - the hard part is the how. C.S. Lewis said "every one says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive." And it's true, it is much easier to recognize the theoretical value of forgiveness, to acknowledge the spiritual need to forgive, than to actually DO the forgiving.

One reason I wanted to write about this, is because I feel like I have been given a gift. And when I talk about it, it sounds like bragging, like I've figured out something that's hard for other people, and that is why I have NOT wanted to blog about it - because that is not it AT ALL. Believe me, I am absolutely no better of a person than anyone else (quite the contrary - I am in need of much forgiveness myself every day!!). I am just blessed, and I have been my whole life - long before I recognized it. I can forgive - sometimes easier and faster than other times - and when I forgive, I completely forgive, and I forget. We all have our trials, and I also don't want to sound like I have led some horrible life or been some sort of martyr. But I have had people hurt me in my life, deeply. And I have forgiven all of them. And I can honestly tell you that I cannot evoke any feelings of anger or hurt toward them. Some acts against me were big enough that I have not forgotten what happened (though in many, many instances I have), I have forgotten the feelings of mine that those actions brought on.

In one case, a man did something awful to me when I was twelve years old - I remember a lot of things about that night, but I do not remember him. I have lots of reasons to, but I don't. I could not begin to tell you what he looks like, and I don't know his last or his first name. I know the hurt that his actions caused me in the years that followed. But today, I know that pain and the turmoil that it caused in my life brought me to where I am today and made me into the person that I am now. I have been able to look another hurting person in the eye and say "I know" because of what happened. I am stronger and different because of what happened. And so I no longer hurt because of it. And him? Why do I not hate him? Why do I not even remember him? Because he doesn't matter. What mattered was what God ultimately did with me and my life. That is my journey. That man, wherever his life has taken him since, has his own journey. And I have no doubt that God is in charge of it too, so I don't have to worry about it. I don't have to be angry that his prison sentence was too short. I don't have to think about his own children and what his actions did to their lives. I don't have to wonder whether he is sorry or whether he ever realized how much hurt he caused. It's not MY problem, thank God.

And that brings me to what I believe the biggest part of forgiveness is - it is FAITH. Faith that our Father is truly in charge. If we believe that God is the ultimate judge, then we must let go of our own judgment. If we believe that God determines the fate of people's lives and souls, then we can let go of the burden of trying to see that justice through. I don't have to spend the rest of my life keeping track of, thinking about, wondering whether my offender is sorry, whether he "got what he deserved." I can lay that burden down. Because I believe with all of my heart that my Heavenly Father is taking care of it for me. And oh, my friends, THAT is the most amazing blessing EVER!!

When we carry a hurt around, when we are angry, when we stew and obsess and re-live over and over again, it is US being hurt. And I have been there. There have been months and months that I have carried that burden with me - and it is like a cancer that eats away at me. It poisons my spirit and ruins my every day. It creeps in whenever my mind is still, it comes to remind me that "all is not well" when I am happy, and it weighs me down. When there are people in my life with whom I am angry or disappointed, I feel burdened in a way that I cannot stand.

But the temptation to withhold forgiveness is strong sometimes. Why? Our human nature for some reason makes us believe that revenge is sweet. We think that inflicting pain on someone who has hurt us will make it better. Self-righteous anger can be like a drug - even though it is eating at us, ruining our lives, we cling to it. If we can get others to see how we have been wronged, and to join us in condemning and judging our offender, even better. But why? What good does it bring us? How are we healed from our hurt? How can we ever be free?

This sounds funny, but there have been times that it is a disadvantage that I can't remember most wrongs once I have forgiven them. There are people who are no longer in my life, because they were hurtful to me and I chose no longer to associate with them regularly. But now I hold no animosity toward them - I know they were not a positive influence on my life and therefore are not a regular part of it, but I have no memory of why. Once I forgave them, I forgot what hurtful thing they did or said to me. It can be weird sometimes if I encounter them and cannot remember our falling out - but it allows me to smile and say hello. And I don't mind if my mistake is that I am too kind to someone. Even in my marriage - I'm often at a disadvantage during arguments, because I cannot bring up past examples of my husband's bad deeds. I just don't remember.

But ultimately, because all of those wrongdoings are gone, I am free. And the reason I am writing this blog post, is that I wish everyone could know what this freedom feels like. I have been chained by anger and holding grudges, and I know what that feels like. It makes me hurt for everyone out there who is unable to forgive.

One friend I was speaking with recently said, "you should write out your recipe for how to forgive." And so here is my attempt, for anyone who might be struggling with this right now, to share what has worked for me.

1. Pray. It is God who commands us to forgive, and He will help us.

2. Ask yourself: Do you believe that our Savior calls upon us to forgive any wrong done to us by anyone?

3. Ask yourself: Do you believe that it is God's responsibility to judge others and oversee ultimate justice?

4. Think about your actions in the wrong that was committed. You are not confessing anything to anyone else, so feel free to be completely honest with yourself. Are you disappointed in yourself, do you feel responsible for any part of what happened? The answer may be no, but if it is yes, it is helpful to spend some time reflecting on what you have learned from this experience.

5. Think about your offender. Do you believe that he or she is an important person in your life?

a. If the answer is yes (such as a parent or spouse) think about the action or actions that person has done to hurt you. Think about your expectations of that person. In order to continue to have this person in your life, are you expecting them to change who they are? For sure, there are actions that are wrong, which should not be repeated and can be forgiven individually. But you cannot change who that other person is. If your parent has let you down your whole life, you have the option to forgive him or her for not being the best parent to you, to acknowledge that this is the parent that God gave you, and to move forward in your relationship with the understanding that you may have to lower your expectations of them. That does not mean that you have to put up with abuse, but it means you can stop being disappointed that they are not someone else. You can discover the limits of the relationship by saying "I will never be able to rely on my mother for____" and stop seeking that. And then think about what relationship you CAN have - and then let go of your disappointment and expectation and move forward. Your parents will not be around forever, and I promise you that ultimately you will be blessed if you have made peace with them before they are gone. In the case of your spouse, this blog post could get too long (it already is!) so let me just say - if I am going to be with someone for the rest of our lives, I would much rather love them than hate them!

b. If the answer is no, this person is not an important person in your life, then your job is much easier. Although whatever they have done to you has caused you pain, you are solely in control over how much continued pain you allow this person to inflict upon you. What is done, is done. You can now focus on how God will shape your life and your character as a result, you can look hopefully toward a day when you recognize the blessings that come from the pain you are feeling. What you cannot do is undo what happened. You also have no control over how your offender feels. It is not your job to follow up on God to make sure he really takes care of the situation. And so you can let this other person go - they will go from your life and no longer be a person of consequence to you. You may even forget their name, forget the words they have spoken to you, forget the things that anger you about them... none of those things matter any more. This is not an important person in your life. Forgive them, because you want to be free. Forgive them because you want to be filled with love and not hate. Forgive them because you have good things to do in this world and you cannot waste your energy chasing them down (in your mind or literally keeping tabs on them).

6. Follow through. From this day forward, your words and your actions will no longer be motivated by anger or resentment. From this day forward, your actions will be motivated by love. The Dalai Lama said "the more you are motivated by love, the more fearless and free your action will be.” If you have carried a wrong with you for a long time, you may have to break the habit of acting in bitterness. Stop, before you speak or act, and ask yourself WHY you are taking a certain action or saying a certain thing - is it to hurt the other person? Is it because you doubt that they will face the consequences of their action? Are you acting/speaking in forgiveness or in resentment? When you open your mouth, remember, "words which do not give the light of Christ increase the darkness." (Mother Theresa) It might take a few times, maybe even a few months or even years, but eventually you will not have to stop yourself in this way. Eventually you will be in the habit of acting in forgiveness toward that person, and it will come naturally to you.

Forgiving is not easy. But we can do hard things. It makes us better.

I Have an Opinion Too: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

I read the Wall Street Journal article, I heard her on NPR, I read responses all over the blogoshphere, but I couldn't bring myself to read Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Until today, when I picked it up and read it cover to cover in one sitting.

Wow. Like everyone else, I have a lot of feelings about this book...

I hate parenting books. I never read them, and I strongly discourage other people (especially new parents) from reading them. I believe that the single greatest tool we have as parents is our intuition. It is the ONLY thing that will make us successful parents. And there is no faster way to quash our intuition than to start reading parenting books and looking around to see what others are doing. Parenting books are all about some "model" of parenting (Chinese parenting, attachment parenting, etc.), when in reality, successful parenting is anything but a "model."

I believe as mothers we have within ourselves all the knowledge needed to be good parents to our children - we know what we believe, we know what we want for our children, we know what values and pursuits are worthwhile, and most importantly, we know our children. No one else does, not like we do.

Amy Chua's beliefs, hopes, values, and goals are not mine. Her children are not my children. What I admire about her, and what I think many people have admired about her, is that she believed in her parenting choices and she stuck with them. She fought hard for what she believed it, and she ignored what everyone around her was doing or thought about her parenting. There's no room for peer pressure in good parenting.

And right there, I think we have a lot to learn. It is HARD to stand up for what you believe, especially when your children are involved. It is HARD not to doubt your decisions and beliefs, especially in the realm of parenting - an utterly terrifying pursuit for which we are completely unprepared when we embark on it. It is HARD to watch others make different decisions (often defensively making comments that subtly criticize our choices).

Sophia's class is full of kids who have older (some much older) siblings. I have heard several times about how Sophia wasn't allowed to play with the other girls at recess, because they were playing Hanna Montana, and she didn't know any of the words to the songs. I've listened to her trying to engage in a conversation with her best friend, who was talking about a show called iCarly, which Sophia had never heard of and felt completely ignorant about. She's asked me many times if she could watch those shows, and every time has gotten the same response "absolutely not." One time she asked "when can I watch Hannah Montana?" and I answered "Honey, by the time you can watch Hannah Montana, she won't be around anymore" (she'll be in rehab!). I've said no to sleepovers, to shoes with heels (for a five year old!), to sodas, to TV shows, to booster seats in the car... and I am completely alone in those decisions, when compared to Sophia's friends' parents.

The thing is, I don't think I'm a better parent than those parents. I am not boasting that I'm strict or chiding people who choose to let their children watch those shows. But I KNOW I am a better parent to MY CHILDREN than anyone else could be. I know what I believe and I am willing to be unpopular (with my child and my peers) to uphold my beliefs.

I agree with a lot of things that Chua said in her book. I loved

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortiture on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up.

As a first generation immigrant, I have to say, there is a LOT about Amy Chua that reminded me of my mother. A frightening amount - including lots of things that made me hate her, to be honest. But I believe in having high expectations of your kids, much, much higher expectations than they have for themselves. I believe academic achievement is vital, and I intend for my children to pursue whatever makes them happy as long as it involves at least one college degree. When I was growing up, there was no question about whether we would go to college, only a question of which graduate degree we would pursue afterward. I didn't even know (ha ha ha) until I was 23 years old and in law school that high school wasn't mandatory! I intend on making sure my children are equally ignorant. They will be taking piano lessons, whether they want to or not, and they will practice every day (though not five hours). And there will always be an expectation of respect for their elders - if I ask Sophia to do something, like set the table, I not only make her do it whether she wants to or not, but I make her do it WITH A HAPPY FACE. My children learn to eat with a fork and knife and real dishes at age two, they place napkins on their laps, and they never leave the table without asking to be excused.

But. Those "basics" are the end of my "rules" for parenting. After that, I have to improvise. Nothing that works for Sophia works for Amelia. Not only can I not be the same mother to them, it would be wrong to be the same mother to them. They need different discipline, different expectations, different rules. True we're only 5.5 years into this parenting gig, but we have never dealt with sibling rivalry in our house. And I believe it's because, despite being treated differently and parented differently, our children know that they are loved equally.

I have other beliefs about our children and parenting. I believe that there are only a very few, short years that our children get to be children. That playfulness, creativity, and ability to totally be themselves lasts only a few years before it is slowly choked away by school and other demands on their time and their little minds. And so, in a radical, purely intuitive move that I don't second guess or regret for a single second, I decided that this year the girls would do NO extra curricular activities. No soccer, no art class, no baby basketball, no computer classes after school. And I was right - Sophia comes home from school, gathers handfuls of baby blankets, tiny china dishes, and her baby dolls, and she heads out to the fort that Davis built in the backyard, and she and her sister spend all afternoon until I call them in for dinner outside playing. And it is EXACTLY what she needs right now. There is no piano drilling, math flash carding, ANYTHING that I would trade that in for.

Sophia is creative, passionate, loving, and sensitive. She is out-going and thrives on new experiences, though she's also a perfectionist and doesn't like taking chances if she might fail. I know what she needs - she needs room to be herself and freedom to be creative, she needs time with her friends but also strictly observed family rituals (like Family Night). She needs to be pushed out of her comfort zone and forced to do more than she thinks she can do.

Amelia is introverted, stubborn, sensitive, and quiet. She is a home-body and functions best with routines and order. She is funny with the most awesome dry humor. She is thirsty for knowledge and tenacious, and will keep trying until she masters something. I know what she needs - she needs constancy, routine, and her family around. She needs boundaries but I have to choose where to draw battle lines, and I do pick my battles carefully. Unlike Chua, I would never threaten something I wasn't willing to carry through with - especially not with Amelia.

Henry just needs snuggles. :)

My point is this - Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is a great book, when read as a memoir of one mother's experience parenting her two daughters. There are good parenting lessons to be learned - the virtue of truly investing time in our children (REAL time, not just shuttling them around), and the importance of learning to be flexible and learning who our children are. Reading about (or seeing) what other parents are doing is okay if it forces you to think about what you believe and want for your own children, as long as the conclusions you draw are your own.

There is no book that will tell you how to successfully or "properly" raise your children. No author, pediatrician, child psychologist, teacher or friend knows. Your mother doesn't know and neither does your great-great aunt. You are your children's only mother. And the best thing you can do for them is to learn who they are, what their strengths and weaknesses are, what they need to succeed and be happy in this world, and how to parent them. Then figure out what you believe - about early academics versus free play, about learning computer skills versus playing outdoors, about popular culture versus old-fashioned values, about piano lessons, soft drinks, happiness, scholastic achievement, creativity, vaccinating, potty training, WHATEVER - and be that parent. Do what is right for your family, regardless of what others are doing or saying. That doesn't mean don't be flexible, don't reassess if things aren't working, but it does mean be confident in your ability to know what's best for your family.

Bear With Me

Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sure reading my blog feels a little roller-coaster-ride-ish right now... death and sadness, birthday party, death and sadness, happiness. And today I'm going to touch a sad topic again, and then tomorrow is Henry's birthday party. But you know what, that's my life right now, so you're along for the ride if you read my blog :)

This afternoon was the memorial service for my friend, Bill. It's snowy today. Everything looks beautiful and peaceful and at rest, covered in a crisp white blanket of snow. But there is also ice on the roads, and driving to church I felt an edgy anxiety about my safety and other people who were sharing the roads with me. I saw homeless men sitting on stoops and worried. Walking into the church, I was painfully cold (I wasn't wearing socks under my boots! How crazy dumb!) and a little jumpy from driving. And then I saw the church grounds, as beautiful as I've ever seen them, with nothing but bird footprints in the clean snow. And inside, I was home. I love my church. Deeply, deeply love it. I can't even express in words how peaceful that place feels to me (especially when I'm there without my kids ha!)

And as we prayed, give us faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, I realized, that I have had such very conflicted feelings about death lately. Both our Violet's death and Bill's have left me feeling both profoundly sad and hopeful in an almost excited way. With Violet, I had to trudge through some pretty deep grief to feel any hope. It took almost a month - until I heard the sermon late, late on Christmas Eve, that the hope of Violet's new life and the hope of seeing her again filled me. But with Bill, news of his death came almost instantly with both sadness and a feeling that I can only describe as... envy? Bill was our mentor in the EFM class that I'm taking (and have mentioned a few times on here), and we ask BIG questions in there sometimes. When I heard that he had died, I thought "he has all the answers now." I wished I could check my email and get a note from him - signed Peace and Love to You the same as the one he sent me three days before he died - letting me in on all the secrets, telling me just how magnificent it really is.

At his memorial service, we were reminded that Earth is not our home. It's something I've been thinking about a lot the past couple of months. I want to cling so tightly to Earthly things, that when someone I love dies, I feel uneasy, because then I remember - this isn't where I want to be. I will never be fully comfortable or fulfilled on this earth. Having loved ones in Heaven just amplifies that feeling. My sight is much more clearly focused on my Heavenly home since Violet's death. I've been thankful for that new perspective I've gained through her loss. So when my friend Bill joined her, I felt a little envy that he got to go Home.

Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of living left to do on this Earth. I know exactly where I belong right now - right here in the flesh with my other three children and this world that is filled with lots of things worthy of clinging to. But at the same time I am thankful for reminders not to cling too tightly, reminders that re-set my focus.

Bill was one of the most humble, genuinely good people I have ever met, and I am also so thankful that I had the privilege of having him in my life.

The What Ifs

I know I have blogged on this topic before, but for some reason it has been on my heart lately, so maybe someone out there needs to hear it...

Someone recently asked me at what point during my pregnancy with Henry I felt "safe," considering my previous miscarriages. There were all those reassuring milestones - getting beyond 6 weeks when I had lost the other babies, seeing his little gummy bear shape on ultrasound, hearing his heart beat... then there were all those scary moments - getting my initial lab values back, not being able to find his heart beat for so long that my OB brought out the ultrasound machine, being in preterm labor at 29 weeks... but really, those weren't the things that made me feel "safe" or "scared."

The minute I saw two lines on a pregnancy test, each and every one of those six times, my heart was instantly filled with indescribable happiness and indescribable fear. At that moment, I knew, I had so much to lose. And having so much to lose is awesome - because it means you have something incredibly valuable. And the truth is, once we become mothers, we will always have so much to lose. That happiness and that fear never goes away. I knew week 7 of my pregnancy wasn't a guarantee. But I also know another year with Sophia or Amelia isn't a guarantee.

Sophia's medical condition gives her up to a 1 in 4 chance of getting malignant melanoma, and up to a 1 in 3 chance of getting another condition that is fatal in up to 95% of cases with no cure. I could spend my days thinking about what if... I can stop writing this paragraph right now and break down in agony at the thought of losing her. Or. Or I can thank God with all my might that I have been given this precious soul to love and care for, that I am allowed to feel a love so great that I cannot fathom letting it go. Because I don't have a child with melanoma or neurocutaneous melanosis. I have Sophia, alive and well and sleeping soundly after a long day of playing and swimming. That is what I am given - this day, this hour, this moment. And it is so sweet.

And so it was with Henry's pregnancy. I knew this would be our last baby. I knew that nothing on this earth compares to the anticipation and joy and hopefulness that comes with pregnancy. And I vowed to soak up every minute of it. I prayed hard that the guarded feeling around my heart would go away, so that I could totally fall in love with that gummy bear. And boy did I ever! The thing is, as painful as those losses were, I never regretted loving the babies that I lost. I never regretted feeling excited and hopeful those days and weeks that I had them. And I knew that love given to a baby would never be wasted, regardless of whether I got to keep that baby or not.

And so, I continue to forge ahead into that wonderful, terrifying land of So Much To Lose.

Summer and Joy

This is our first year of summer vacation with the kids, and as the girls are finishing the end of their preschool school year, I am finding myself filled with this happy tingle of anticipation. Normally the heat of Arkansas takes it all out of me, and I dread the long hot days ahead. But this year, as the days get warmer, I get more excited - flip flops, sprinklers, popsicles, pajama days, road trips, swimming, cucumbers, birthday parties (our little friends have a disproportionate number of summer birthdays)... and then, Kindergarten.

One of my favorite things about motherhood is the new eyes it has given me. I see every season and every holiday differently now, and it is such a JOY.

Christmases are more magical than they have ever been - a combination of the wonder of childhood Christmas with the deeper understanding of adult Christmas. Easter is more holy than it has ever been - this year in Sophia I saw the profound change that happens when you first fully realize what Jesus did for us, and I relived it myself. I've never been a big fan of Halloween (sorry) but I find myself starting to think about costumes in September and getting excited about carving jack-o-lanterns. And then there are those "little" holidays - Sophia told me the other day that she was really sad that St. Patrick's Day was so far off, because having green lemonade at Chick Fil A was her favorite thing EVER (so of course I whipped up a batch of green lemonade). I can't remember ever looking forward to 4th of July fireworks this much, but remembering how much the girls loved them last year - I can't wait!

Before I had kids, I often found myself looking ahead negatively at the season to come. Dreading the heat of summer, ice storms and Christmas shopping madness that comes with winter. But now, each season brings with it so much to look forward to.

I am counting down the days until Summer Vacation 2010 - we have a few trips planned, a couple of day camps and swimming lessons, but mostly we're looking forward to days of just sitting in the kiddie pool. Getting sticky on homemade ice cream and rinsing off in the sprinklers. The farmer's market. Taking Henry for his first swim. Spending a whole day with a pile of construction paper, some scissors, and a glue stick. Eating salads for dinner. Lemonade (green or otherwise).

And then, believe it or not, I'm already looking forward to the fall. I love the school where Sophia will be going in the fall, and rather than dreading the start of Kindergarten, I am so excited! Seeing her walk up those school steps in her little uniform, off to conquer the world, I will be so proud. This fall my brother (the one who got married last summer) and his wife will be having a baby, and I'm SO excited about that! It will be my kids' first cousin on my side of the family, and I can't wait for them to meet at Thanksgiving.

Sophia grabbed a box of red velvet cake mix at the grocery store and asked me whether she could make cupcakes by herself. I told her yes, and you would have thought she won the lottery. It's so much easier to find happiness in the small things, and to slow down and enjoy the moment, when you have little kids around.

I am so thankful for these new eyes. I'm thankful to my children for helping me remember what pure anticipation feels like. I'm thankful that I am being reminded that each day is a gift. When Sophia was a baby, I prayed all the time (and I still do) that I would be able to see the world through their eyes - that I remember what it was like to be four years old. I wanted to remember so that I could be a better mother to them, but I'm learning now that I'm the one who is truly benefiting from this new perspective. Sure, I might be a little more patient or understanding, but mostly I'm just filled with more JOY.

Building

One of my favorite things about having kids, is getting to re-live that fun and carefree time in my life. Watching them, I remember things and feelings that I had mostly forgotten - simple pleasures that used to fulfill me in ways that are hard to come by as an adult.

Things like building.

It wasn't the end-product, but the process that was so fun.

It's a good reminder for me - not only of how fun childhood was, but a reminder to live in the moment and to love the journey as much as the destination.

And that pants are optional.

Okay, maybe not.

Downsizing

I guess this post may be a little cliche nowadays - isn't everyone talking about the economy right now? But honestly, my desire to simplify goes back further than the recession... It started when I was pregnant with Sophia, and my asthma was really bad. I had several asthma attacks - and let me tell you, if you think not breathing is scary, try adding the pressure of knowing your baby isn't getting enough O2! So in an effort to eliminate ALL dust from our house, I cleaned up. I mean, I got rid of all clutter - there was not a single nic nac or picture frame left standing. Every flat surface in the house was bare, and it felt good.

Slowly, some picture frames and decorations have crept back onto the mantel, the nightstand, the bookshelves. But I still aspire to keep things as simple as I can.

I don't know if it's because my life has felt a little frantic lately, or because of the economy, but I have been feeling the same urgent need to clear the clutter in my life... a couple of months ago, I closed my facebook account, because it was cluttering my mind - it was just one more thing to check, one more pressure to keep up with, one more thing taking up space in my brain. Aaah, it felt good, like packing up those nic nacs and sending them off to a new life at the Salvation Army.

Today, I became completely enchanted with these houses, and the thought of living in a space were owning too much crap wasn't an option, where we didn't pay $500 a month just in utilities, where cleaning can't possibly take more than fifteen minutes... we are all within fifty square feet of each other - all. the. time. - anyway, so why not?

I'm just feeling a little too "owned" by our things these days - if we didn't have a TV, we wouldn't need a satellite, if we didn't have fifty sippy cups we would be forced to keep up with them better, if we didn't have so many lamps we wouldn't need to change so many light bulbs.

Now, I'm saying this while living in a 1,300 square foot bungalow. The average American house is now around 2,500 square feet - more than double the average house size in the 1950s. My house is quite a bit smaller than ALL of my friends' houses. And yet, sometimes I feel the need to downsize.

I love that I can hear my kids no matter where they are (so when Sophia asks me something and I say no, and then she turns around and asks Daddy the same thing, I can say "I heard that!") I love that we can't really go off into all of our own little parts of the house - we are usually all in the kitchen, or all in the office, or all in the living room. Lack of storage (my house was built in 1935, when, apparently, people did not own brooms and coats and luggage) has just forced us to avoid accumulating more than we need and be creative. Would I be just as happy in a two-hundred square foot house? Today, I think maybe yes.