October 14, 2005
It's All Greek to Me
A few weeks ago, my sister-in-law commented, mentioning something about the "Chabahs." I made a mental note to ask my brother to interpret next time we talked. He called me soon after, while sitting on his deck, imbibing a delicious red. He told me she was referring to some sandals that she bought online by clicking on "Day by Day" by Chris Muir and then clicking on the Blogad for Chabah sandals beneath the day's strip.
So, I clicked through, too . I purchased three pairs of the cutest sandals with the coolest names:
My selections:
Artemis
Atalanta
Athena
(All pics from the Chabah website.)
They arrived today. They are just as cute on my feet, and quite comfy with the woven grass and linen tops. I appreciate the foam soles for slight support and strength of the sandal. Thanks, Damien :D
In other Greek related news, I had purchased the first three of Mary Pope Osborne's retelling of The Odyssey for children for C last week at the local elementary school book fair. That was all they had. I had high hopes she would enjoy them as she picked them out herself. I tucked her in with a kiss, prayers, and after her regular night time reading. The next morning when I went down to awaken her, she sat straight up and told me how she had continued reading after I turned out her lamp (via booklight). "I read the whole thing, mom!" To know that she so enjoyed reading something far outweighed her subversiveness, so I immediately ordered the remaining three of the series from Amazon. They arrived today. She was thrilled and placed them on her bed. Next to her booklight.
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Those are SO cute... Let us know how they wear day by day...
Sorry... [giggle]
by
pam on October 15, 2005 09:03 AM
Those are adorable!
by
Sally on October 15, 2005 10:42 AM
They are cute, aren't they?
I will let you know. I wore the Artemis today with some yoga pants. It felt as if I were barefoot. :D I always choose shoes that I can either slide off or kick off. O.K. So maybe not always, but nine times out of ten :D
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Rae on October 15, 2005 11:38 AM
they are so great! they have worn out quickly, probably cuz i wear them every day! but they are extremely comfy and worth the money!
cant wait to see you at thanksgiving, rae!
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Ann [the sister-in-law!] on October 17, 2005 01:38 PM
Such cute shoes! Nice picks. Hope they stay comfy.
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danielle on October 18, 2005 03:52 PM
Ladies and Gentlemen (Drum roll, please!): The Sister-in-Law :D
I wondered how long they would last, but still, for the price? Worth it :D
Can't wait to see you, either :D
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Rae on October 18, 2005 03:54 PM
Ladies and Gentlemen (Drum roll, please!): The Sister-in-Law :D
I wondered how long they would last, but still, for the price? Worth it :D
Can't wait to see you, either :D
by
Rae on October 18, 2005 03:54 PM
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July 15, 2005
Home again
Finally, all of my daughters in one place. E and A came down from the mountain today, literally, and are home for the rest of the summer. I think.
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So glad they are home. All tan and tired with new insights, friends and experiences.
by
R on July 15, 2005 10:04 PM
This made me grin. Sometimes those almost unintentional one-liner asides are the very best comments of all. :)
by
Cindy on July 16, 2005 10:22 AM
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June 14, 2005
Team Player
After her last set this morning, A's swim team coach took her aside and asked her to be a team captain.
On the way home, A said to me that she realized that she needed to be more encouraging to those she previously dismissed as slacking bootlickers, "you know, mom, be more of a leader because leaders not only encourage people, they do what they expect others to do."
I am so proud to know this kid.
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Of all my nieces I have the most memories of A she is such a sweet girl and bright to boot!! I love her bright eyes and honest smile. To me she will always be my little watermelon!!!
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Sally on June 15, 2005 02:21 AM
I am proud of A also. She will make a wonderful captain.
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Holly on June 15, 2005 04:16 AM
That is a great kid. She truly gives me joy.
by
r on June 20, 2005 07:30 PM
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June 01, 2005
My little flower
Today we purchased Gazanias (a South African plant), Verbena (Plum Magic and Aztec Red), Giant White Bacopa, and Salvia (Red Hot Sally and Vista Purple) to plant this evening. C was feeling a little blue, and after talking for a bit, we decided that going to the nursery, selecting perinials (we are awaiting the blooming of our Gerbera Daisies and Black-Eyed Susans) would be just the thing. We have savory planted in the front of the bed. I love to catch the scent of it when the water hits it, or when I weed and break a leaf and later find the subtle mint smell on my hands.
C wanted a rose, too, so we loaded up our purchases and drove home with the wind blowing against our faces from the rolled-down windows.
We arrived home hungry for lunch and decided to plant later this afternoon, perhaps in the early evening, when the heat of the day is subsiding, in the soft light and quieting sounds of children finishing up their business of the day- playing.
Last night we watched Fly Away Home at her request. She and I lay curled up together on the futon in the family room, quietly watching, with intermittent laughter. She commented on how much she loved the song (as I have before mentioned), so with the convenience of wireless and a laptop, I downloaded it in a snap.
I so love this tenderhearted little girl.
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I do so love flowers in the summer. I love the wonderful smell of honeysuckle just after it rains. What a wonderful smell!!!! I have been tending to my own garden which I might add is alot harder than my grandmother made it look. But well worth the effort in the end!
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Sally on June 1, 2005 11:16 PM
I planted a small herb garden last weekend. It's nice to go outside and get what I need for dinner :)
by
Ith on June 3, 2005 12:31 AM
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March 12, 2005
Sporty Girl
My little C has always taken herself so seriously. She is so passionate. Her eyes flash anger as quickly as they brighten with laughter. As a baby, she didn't give her glorious, illuminating smile away to just anyone. She was highly selective of whom she allowed to enter her world, but once someone was allowed in, she practially smothered with affection and fierce loyalty.
From a young age, C has demonstrated natural athletic ability, especially sports of the hand/eye coordination variety. She has also expressed an interest in being involved in recreational activities other than swim team, so she plays soccer in the fall and this year has added softball. Because she is so physical, people have, in all innocence and good intentions, called her a tomboy. This is a misnomer. C loves lacquered nails, high heels, purses, make-up, jewelry, elaborate and ornate girly things. She just also happens to not give a rip about her clothes and prefers jeans to chinos, denim skirts to dresses, and shorts to anything else. The easier the shoes come off, the happier she is. She cares not for dusty toes, dirty hands, and smudged cheeks. The fact that the seat of her cutoffs is coated with a mixture of grass stains, today's lunch, chalk dust, and something completely unidentifiable doesn't faze her a bit. The second time someone called her a tomboy, we got proactive and came up with something better: Sporty Girl.
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She was the best goalie on her soccer team last year. During a game, she was focused, but could also laugh with a teammate in a lighter moment. However, if she missed a ball, it took everything we had to help her remember the six others she had blocked. When she plays piano, it must be a perfect execution of the piece or she sees herself as a complete failure. In swimming for the Summer Games or in her league conference she must be first or she kicks herself all the way to the locker room. She cannot see improvement of times and places from the previous year or even meet as accomplishments. She lives very much in the moment and quickly forgets what isn't right before her eyes.
This morning during an individual piano competition C played two pieces that she has worked hard to master. She made one mistake in the first, and none in the second. After playing, she bowed and stomped over to the seat next to me. I made a very small and discreet attempt to let her know she played very well, but she sensed it was coming and moved to the next chair over. After all the other students had completed their performances, the judges handed each child a certificate. C received the highest score and rating a child can receive. Still, she wasn't pleased with her playing.
The drive home gave her ample brooding time. It didn't take long for the dark clouds to pass. As soon as we were home, the required accoutrements discarded to the laundry basket, jeans and t-shirt donned and appropriately decorated with snack material, the mistakes were forgotten.
To impart to her to be prepared; to do her best; to be humble in accepting help; to be honest in evaluating her effort and to accept the outcome, not with smugness or complacency, but with the satisfaction that comes from hard work and playing hard, this is our challenge in rearing our strong, smart, talented, lovely, loyal, impetuous C.
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March 08, 2005
A Firm Foundation
When I held my baby girl for the first time almost fourteen years ago, I made many promises to us. I guaranteed her that I wouldn't be anything like my own mother. Because, I mean, all those difficulties had to be inherently my mother's fault, right? Sure I was disrespectful on occasion, but didn't she provoke it by her lack of understanding and constant dismissal of me? Also, my girl would have her father, an honorable, principled man; something I lacked.
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I also committed to making my best attempts at respecting her thoughts and opinions, to be considerate of her suggestions. I knew these issues would present themselves when she was far older than a mere 15 minutes post-delivery. The early end I was confident I could handle: breast-feeding, diapering, reading, singing, playing, stimulating those delicate synapses to connect. It was physically exhausting at times, but I was sure of her love, desire, and loyalty to me.
Well, she is cashing in on those promises. Everyday. Sometimes hourly. Let me just say, it isn't for the cowardly. I screw-up. I am prideful. I yell. I get sarcastic. I am tired. I am impatient. I get frustrated. I need a dictionary because I think we are speaking the same language, but when she repeats back to me what I have said, something is getting lost in the translation.
This girl is brilliant and talented and beautiful and resourceful and kind. I couldn't, I wouldn't ask for anyone else. I love her creativity; her sense of propriety; her desire to help; her sense of justice. If we were adults, I would latch onto her friendship and not let go. I would accommodate her eccentricites and chalk it up to her uniqueness. Why do I struggle so to do it when she is my adolescent child?
Last night I was attempting to show her the steps for one of the dance movements in the play. She immediately bristled and resisted. Instead of forcing it, I looked around for someone else, a woman I had observed to be kind, and competent. I then said that I needed a bit of help, too, and followed along. I wasn't allowed to make one suggestion. Only to observe and be a part of learning with her.
Today, she had to pass-up an opportunity to babysit because of her commitment to swim team. There was a misunderstanding between the neighbor and E as to what time the neighbor needed to return home. I settled it and it left her unable to sit. The stocks would have been more pleasant compared to the accusations that flew my direction. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I caved. I yelled. I told her I was tired of her treating me like a traitor. I explained that there was a miscommunication and her method wouldn't have worked out. I mentioned that I typically try to let her sit whenever she can, this time just wouldn't work. Next my arrangements for car pooling to swim team were challenged. I am sure the neighbors could hear every word, even though we were in the basement hurling words like shots, hoping each would land far and hard.
She is now gone to swim team. I couldn't handle sending her off without finding a kinder voice. There was no time to resolve it the right way, so I deferred in several small ways, finally telling her that I loved her and wanted her to have a good swim. I think she muttered thanks and walked through the door.
I just can't screw this up. Usually I am quite confident in my parenting, but this whole hormonal, growing-up thing is really shaking my resolve.
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This _is_ the hard time. But as my experience with my older ones shows, even though much more limited, it is the perseverance of the values you have taught her that survives as you both come out the other end. You do have to stick to your guns. Any inconsistency now would make your life much more difficult. From this outsider's viewpoint, you sure seem to be heading them in the right direction.
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Greg on March 8, 2005 05:08 PM
Sounds like normal Mom daughter stuff to me. I am not a mom or a daughter so my credibility on the subject...well...there isn't any but I don't know of a Mom or daughter I haven't heard that story from.
The healthy ones I know also know that no matter how much yelling or friction...there was never a question about love. You told her you loved her and you are seeking to do your very best. She won't forget that.
Take that for what it's worth.
In Him and a confirmed bachelor who is probably wrong,
Randy
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Randy on March 8, 2005 07:21 PM
Oh Rae,
I do not have words of wisdom (how can I?), only sincere compassion. Fighting to control my toungue with my children is one of the hardest things I struggle with. I tend to be very sarcastic and sometimes demeaning. The only thing I know what to do is to say to W, "We will always work it out.". Kris has trained me well.
PS. Because of financial difficulties and saving to go back to the Mid-West in the Fall we can not go skiing. Sorry I didn't get back with you sooner, Little K has been sick with strep for the past four days. Finally, on Monday she was gifted a shot of penicillan and has improved. She is talking non-stop.
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Amy on March 9, 2005 12:44 PM
This is a you spot it-you got it deal. Totally normal. Although like I hope for, I think she will be smarter and tougher and more principled than you are (or me). Sort of like you with gas on the flames. If that bugs you it really shouldn't. That thought should be the greatest of compliments to your work. This kid is smart. And just like any adolescent she will look for inconsistencies and chinks in your armor. It will be fine in the end.
by
R on March 9, 2005 07:26 PM
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February 19, 2005
This Date in History
So, after concluding that the cinnamon rolls would, indeed, not be edible (bless their hearts- they really didn't want me to feel badly), we loaded up and went and got doughnuts at the supermarket, then came home and painted fingernails.
C could see that I was really disappointed that her Birthday Breakfast (tradition) had not quite materialized. She came and hugged me tight around my waist and said, "Mom, it's O.K. No big deal. I love you even though the cinnabons are cinnaburnts"- with a big grin. I couldn't help but reciprocate. This little girl who can see the glass as half-full, find something to laugh about, enamored of insects and gentleness toward every creature, my life is so blessed because of you. Thank you.
But! Mama ain't gonna mess up the Shrimp Alfredo. And that's a promise.
Happy Birthday, C. Mama loves you.
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January 28, 2005
Tender Heart
Yesterday the gray sky dominated the morning and afternoon. An early morning rain had already quenched this desert's thirst and a light sprinkling continued throughout the day. After school, I loaded the two younger girls into the van to do a few errands.
On our way home, I took Main. I sometimes prefer the color and comfort of the buildings and people rather than the destination speeders of the highway. As we drove along, Performance Today going in the background, C pointed out something in the middle of the road. She thought it to be trash. I recognized the crumpled form of a yellow tabby. Before I even considered the consequences, I uttered a low and sad ooohhhhhhh.
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C questioned my response. I told her that it wasn't refuse, but a small cat. Her brow wrinkled. I continued driving. About five minutes passed when a quiet sob slipped out of her. I looked over and then touched her arm. She broke down, weeping. I asked her what was so upsetting. She said she felt so sorry for the cat. I held her hand and continued driving while she cried. I asked her what about the cat's death made affected her so strongly. She told me that she didn't understand why people just dumped animals. It was wrong. I explained that perhaps the cat did have a home and was out. She said it was "just so sad" and that she would like to have given it a home and loved it, taken care of it. So, with that information, I rephrased her statement into a question: "Being with people who love you is important to you, isn't it?" Her tear-stained face nodded. "So, the thought of the cat being alone is upsetting to you?" "Yes," she choke out. I reaffirmed how much we loved her and how much I appreciated her compassionate nature and her desire to help all God's creatures who are in need.
She continued to cry quietly. After I pulled into the drive way, I leaned over and hugged her and told her that I loved her so very much. C held onto me for awhile. I heard her breathing begin to slow, and when a final cleansing sigh expelled the grief she had felt, she let go and said, "Thanks, mom. I love you, too."
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Hmmm... wonder where -or from whom- C acquired her tender heart? ;)
by
pam on January 28, 2005 12:08 PM
Boy, do I empathize with her.
(cried more than a few times myself over dead pets on the freeway)
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Ith on January 28, 2005 12:09 PM
I was just like C too. I wanted to be a veterinarian, but then I found out that they sometimes have to kill animals at the owners request, and I just didn't think I could do that. Every time I have to drive over road kill I cringe, and sometimes get sick to my stomach--death is always sad--it is a result of the fall, not how God intended things to be....just thinking out loud here. I like the way you handled that with her, it was very tender.
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Joyella on January 28, 2005 09:16 PM
Interesting, Joyella. Our second oldest wants to be a vet, but we have already begun to try to strengthen her for the ethunasia of animals (explaining it is better to put an animal out of its misery than to let it suffer). She a very strong J and I think it bothers her a bit, but she can justify the need. C is a P and an extreme F, so her little heart is typically full of empathy for every creature.
Ith- me, too. I find it so hard to see a dog wandering down the street and obviously looking around for a certain something or someone.
Pam- Awww, thanks. That was a great compliment and so kind of you.
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Rae on January 29, 2005 12:47 PM
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January 22, 2005
No Way....
So, last evening when the girls and I arrived home from visiting with a neighbor, R teasingly greeted us with, "I know something you don't; it's on the answering machine." E and I exchanged hopeful, knowing looks and raced downstairs.
I had resigned myself to not having received a part in Oliver! and had actually been relieved. It would take so much time out of my already tight schedule, learning lines, and the, ummm, dancing. I was positive my E would get something though, so this call wasn't surprising. When the voice on the line introduced herself as the stage manager of the production and started by congratulating both of us, I was surprised. She continued by telling me that I had been cast as part of an adult ensemble, and E was cast as Bet, " a 13 year-old lass in Fagin's establisment who idolizes Nancy."
I am so excited for E. She dreams of being an actress one day, and I do mean literally dreams of auditions and filming and performing. It seems there hasn't been a play she's auditioned for in which she hasn't landed the lead female role. In this case, it's the only role for which about 35 other young gals tried to get. I only did this because she asked me to, and I recall reading somewhere recently that when your adolescent child invites you into their world, you should accept and enter.
Now, about that ensemble. I do hope it is singing only. The 20 minute dance routine the other night knocked me out for two days. Of course, I can now do the number perfectly, but who cares? Let's just say that I now have a whole lot more respect for dancers.
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Who will buy my sweet red roses? Two blooms for a penny?
Congratulations!
In fifth grade I tried out to sing the above part for a little solo in chorus. I didn't get it. The girl who did, continued to get all the parts for the rest of our educational careers--she was really good, and I am mediocre. Anyway, I still sang with the chorus, I really like Oliver, it's a fun one.
Go break a leg.
Any milk today mistress...?
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joyella on January 23, 2005 11:52 AM
Congratulations to you both! Wow, how exciting for you to be in this together....this is a memory you will cherish forever. Break a leg!
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texasbug on January 23, 2005 08:16 PM
I think it will be great fun to do this play specifically (and to watch it) and to do this with E.
Thanks, ladies :D
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Rae on January 24, 2005 05:09 PM
WOW RAE! I WISH I COULD BE THERE! YOU BOTH WILL BE GREAT. TELL "E" I SAID CONGRATS!
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sally on January 26, 2005 08:25 AM
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January 19, 2005
Priceless
Time is a big deal to me. Not arriving somewhere on time. No. Those that know me well, know that ummm, that isn't very important to me. I am talking about the spectrum of time. More and more I am aware of how little of it I have left with E. There are times that she infuriates me. She can be persistent and so particular, but the detail in her artwork and her literature is amazingly detailed. She can argue and disagree with 100% of what I say, but she will never and has never lied to me. She can procrastinate with the best, but she knows how to have a good time. She is messy and we all know not to send her to find anything for us, but her penmanship is beautifully neat and she knows exactly where all of her things are. She is very private, but the most loyal friend or relative anyone of us could dare hope for.
I love this messy, laid-back, honest, creative girl who knows how to have fun and how to love. While I can't wait for her to be the adult she so wants to be, I just want to somehow freeze the really good moments; the ones that feed us both for a few days, or even weeks. Then hormones fluctuate; I embarrass her; a friend lets her down; she disrespects me; I disrespect her and we start all over again.
So many people compare life to a roller coaster. I prefer the see-saw, or teeter-totter as some are more familiar. Remember how much fun you would have going up and down, tallking as you rose into the air and then sailed down? Sometimes the person who was landing would really push it into the ground and you would get this little lift at the top. Sometimes a real jerk would jump off and let you fall on your back, all the while thinking himself very funny. Or maybe you were wearing a sundress or shorts and got a splinter in the back of your leg or burned your hands on the handles and so let your fingers alight just enough to hold on. Many days we would load up each end with six kids and watch the bend and secretly hope it would crack. The soothing rythmn of your feet swinging and landing, and pushing off again somehow made going back into a classroom or home more bearable.
"Teach us to count the days.
Teach us to make the days count.
Lead us in better ways
Somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much
Life means so much
Life means so much."
(Chris Rice, Life Means So Much).
I pray that I am not penny-wise and pound foolish in these last years. She is a gift immeasurably valuable and too costly to afford to lose.
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Rae...I can so relate! My only daughter is a senior in high school now. She is also a complex bundle of so many things, but I adore her and the feeling is mutual. I too want to freeze those precious moments.
Also, I love that Chris Rice song. He's written some great ones!
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Cindy Swanson on January 19, 2005 05:52 AM
Hey Rae! Just lettin you know that it is possible to have a wonderful mother and grown-up-daughter relationship! Me and my mom have gotten so much closer since I've left the house. And as close as you and E are, I predict a wonderful future!!
I'm glad that you are who you are, and that you will someday be my sister-in-law!! Love you!
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Ann on January 19, 2005 05:33 PM
When my kids were young, I never understood the phrase "they grow up before you know it." Now that my son just turned 15, I know exactly what they mean. So you are right Rae, we have to enjoy the ups and try to laugh at the downs, even if they hurt and leave splinters. I agree with Ann, too, because I have developed a wonderful relationship with my mom. But only I after I realized I wasn't the center of the universe and she wasn't an ignoramus. :D
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Mrs.E on January 20, 2005 08:25 AM
Cindy- I am hoping that that thing that happens to people as they get older- you know where they seem to only remember all the good times- happens to me :D
Ann- thank you. I think we will be, but sometimes I can get distracted by the "here and now." :D
Mrs. E- while my mom and I have had a lot of difficult issues to examine, wait- while I have examined them ;), we are far better now than we have been. I confess that while the list isn't long, there are some things that she advised me about that have been correct. :D
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Rae on January 20, 2005 09:59 AM
Rae, I'm new. Sorry to say something so relatively insensitive...
I guess I ought go back and read your archives!!
I have yet to meet a single person who didn't have issues - especially when it comes to family members. I've got a good share of that market with step-family issues. And I know how hard it can be to break the cycle of bad parenting because I had a pretty rough early childhood. Anyway, thanks for reminding me that I'm blessed because my mom isn't part of my problem.
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Mrs.E on January 20, 2005 03:37 PM
Mrs. E- no worries. I didn't think your comment insensitive at all :D
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Rae on January 20, 2005 04:19 PM
Thanks for understanding, Rae.
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Mrs.E on January 22, 2005 03:06 PM
Rae, as my older daughter and I approach our shared birthday next week, and I prepare to celebrate our eleventh year together, this post really strikes home. Well done. Well done. :::typed with a lump in my throat:::
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Cindy on January 22, 2005 09:00 PM
Ahhhh, Cindy...thanks :D
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Rae on January 25, 2005 12:32 AM
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January 07, 2005
Jester of Flaxen
Eleven years ago yesterday, A was born. She was my second daughter and the first child I delievered by natural childbirth. No drugs; no nothin'. It was one of the most empowering experiences I have ever had. It wasn't easy. I recall riding down the elevator with two rent-a-cops. It was obvious I was in labor and their discomfort was unnerving me. When I walked out of the elevator I told myself that if I was a 2, I was getting an epidural. Immediately. After checking in with the nurses and one of them checking me (literally) and telling me that I was an 8, I was relieved and excited. Then transition began and the relief wouldn't come until I delievered that 8 pound 14 1/2 little girl sunny-side-up into the world at 7:29 a.m. R would kiss my temple, damp with the sweat of a woman's work and after cutting the cord of his progeny, place a kiss on her cheeks fat with the nourishment of the only perfect place her mother and father would ever be able to provide her.
Yesterday, at 7:28 in the morning, I crept across the hall to her room and crawled into bed with her. She welcomed me with a sleepy smile and scooted over. I whispered happy birthday through her blonde curly hair into her ear. Too fast, I thought to myself. Then we both fell back to sleep.
There have been many times that I wish I could just slip her into my pocket to keep her from the unkind words of a "friend" or free from the sting of a wasp. Anytime she cries, her forehead and cheeks blotch and the tears draw pink track lines down her heart-shaped face. I sweep her up in my embrace and hug her tight until she calms. But when she laughs, it is contagious and infects every cell of my body with a joy that finds no words to describe it.
She plans on being a vet, marrying a vet, having two children and ten dogs. She will be a stunningly beautiful woman, with a heart big enough to hold the world, brains enough to move it, and strength enough to carry it.
Her heart is so generous, and I am so blessed to have a place in it. I am proud to know her and to know that she is my girl. I love you, baby. Happy Birthday.
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Reading about the depth of love for your girls always brings tears to my eyes. It is so nice to read about how much you cherish them. It makes me anticipate the birth of Ella all the more. It reminds me to look upon my children and appreciate every detail, even the not so pleasant ones :)
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Kadi on January 8, 2005 09:10 AM
Oh, Kadi. Thank you so very much. It is amazing the love that can be drawn from my sometimes stingy soul by these children. They spur me to greater heights and deeper things of God.
You, too, are a wonderful mother. I am so glad that Ella is on the way for you (and M, too). :D
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Rae on January 8, 2005 11:56 AM
I hope "A" knows how very much I love her and hope that she lives out all of her dreams and wishes for herself. I can't believe it has been 11 years!!! The time..... How I miss all of you and wish i could be there for all of the family moments. Tell "A" that I will always remember her no matter how old she gets as "Abcadiffles" if that is how its spelled! All my love. HAppy late birthday "A" --Sally
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Sally on January 9, 2005 02:04 PM
It is true. When A laughs we all do. She laughs with her whole being.
Sorry we didn't get the card sent. There wasn't a stamp in the house.
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Amy Jo on January 10, 2005 07:13 AM
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January 03, 2005
Me or Them?
Driving home from a bit of retail therapy for us girls, this song came on that I had heard a couple of weeks ago. The girls were quiet and contented, so I turned it up and sang along to the chorus. Previous confession of disinterest in pop music will show just how behind I may be, but I googled the lyrics tonight and found out it is "Daughters" by John Mayer.
My childhood prompted me to greater parenting than I received. The ironic thing is that my mother feels herself to have been a better mother than she had. Yesterday after a "discussion" with E, I realized that she knows no other mothering with which to compare mine. It is the nature of humanity to desire to improve upon what was given. At first I was offended at the thought of her possible desire to parent differently than I have her. I mean, I work hard at this mothering thing. It sometimes kicks my ass and it definitely wears me out, but I know they are getting it better than I had it. And, that is the standard, after all.
Isn't it?
Maybe the mother I chose to be is more a mother to me and what the little girl wanted rather than what my girls need. Am I striving to be the mother that E, A, C, and K need rather than the one I comfort myself with being? I think the real truth of my parenting will bleed through the heart of each girl in the mothering of her own children. Sometimes, I stop in the middle of something with them and think, In twenty years, when I am the grandmother, will I be pleased or pained when I witness my daughters responding like this to their children? And will I be big enough to let the successes be their own and claim their failures as an opportunity to say I am sorry for not modeling better parenting?
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I think most of us try and do the best we can with what we have. How are we really able to judge the job we are doing as we can never get into someone else's head? You probably are trying to be the bewst mother you can, using your past and what you needed but didn't get as a barometer, as well as trying to hear your children.
I do hope my children are better parents than I am, and that their children are better than they are; it isn't a matter of failure, it is a matter of proggression towards the best.
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Rachel Ann on January 3, 2005 01:29 AM
Rae, Despite what you think of yourself, you are a wonderful mother and role model for all of your children. I have had the pleasure of wittnessing it first hand. You take great pride in watching them seceed in all they do. Where do you think they get some of that talent? From learning from their mom and dad who are wonderful Christian parents who care and love for their children in such a way that I could only hope to be half the mother that you are. I try and I hope that is enough. Being a mother is the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my entire life and hope that my children feel that I am doing a good job. xoxo
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Sally on January 4, 2005 04:13 PM
They say that we suffer the first half of our lives for our parents and the second half for our children. The beauty is in knowing that it's a circle - and the prayer is in hoping that it go unbroken.
But, then, hell, what do I know? I just raise dogs.
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Dan on January 4, 2005 05:43 PM
Yes, Rachel, I do hope my children are better than I am. I was confessing that I do hope I can accept that as good instead of insulting.
Sally, thank you :D
Dan, sometimes the circle needs to be broken, and hopefully, I ripped mine apart and started a whole new one ;) Hey, dogs need to be trained properly, too.
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Rae on January 5, 2005 09:18 AM
I'd disagree, Rae, you can't break the "circle" as I mean it. If I read between the lines here, you broke a "pattern." That's usually a wonderful thing, not because it breaks the circle, but because it strengthens and improves it.
Likely you developed a consciousness about parenting that didn't exist in your family line. Some familes are still generations away, or maybe will never even realize that accomplishment. It's significant. You should be proud. And you can be proud while being angry, confused and or sad, so shush!
Now, me, I "broke" my circle because I didn't want it perpetuated and I'm cool with that. Be cool with your own bad self, girl! See ya around.
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Dan on January 5, 2005 05:32 PM
I think I better understand your thought now, Dan. Thanks for the clarification.
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Rae on January 5, 2005 09:38 PM
Rae, My therapist said that ALL parents screw up their kids but just to varying degrees. We can aim to screw our own kids up less than we ourselves were. hmmm, not such an encouraging thought. Well, I think I had a pretty good childhood, but there is still damage, perhaps that is why I made a bad choice in husband, or became so co-dependent of him. I am just saying we can only pray that God gives us the wisdom to do our best and the grace to be forgiven when we don't. (Parenting is THE hardest job ever, and that is why Oprah ISN'T EVERY woman.)
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Joyella on January 6, 2005 08:27 AM
So here are some of the thoughts I had about the same song, "Daughters" : http://marriedwithoutahusband.blogspot.com/2004/12/fathers-be-good-to-your-daughters.html
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joyella on January 6, 2005 08:35 AM
Joyella- I posted my thoughts on your thoughts over on your blog.
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Rae on January 6, 2005 09:24 PM
I know it is late, but I had to comment on this one. Yes, I cry at everything lately (pregnancy does a number on the horomones), but this song makes me weep everytime I hear it. All we can do is give our children our love and guidance, and let God do the rest. As long as you do that, you will not regret your pareting choices. It is evident that you parent with an enormous amount of love. If they choose to parent differently, it just means that they are doing what they feel is best for their kids. Your grandchildren may be extremely different in nature than your kids. They may need a different kind of parenting. I know mine are very different from the child I was. But I still respect my mother's method of parenting, and love her for it.
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Kadi on January 8, 2005 09:19 AM
I agree, Kadi. This whole parenting this is the most sanctifying thing I think that could ever be required of me.
And it is never too late for you to comment. I always welcome your thoughts :D
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Rae on January 8, 2005 12:06 PM
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November 24, 2004
The Jackpot
You know my children are very deprived. This week they have been feasting on white bread, sugary cereal, and computer games. Who needs the lottery when you have IronKids®, Fruit Loops®, and Barbie®?
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October 27, 2004
Oh What A Beautiful Morning
While driving to retrieve our chocolate lab who had her ACL replaced yesterday (A and I watched her surgery and a spay), A said, "The wind sounds very angry today. This morning it was tearing around the corners of the house, pulling at the windows and doors and demanding entrance to our warm cozy home. I am glad it couldn't get in." I love her way with words and that she so freely shares her thoughts with us.
Me, too, A. Me, too.
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ACL replacement! i've seen this ruin a guys career. how long will she be on the disabled list? i hope she'll be ready for next season.
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nick on October 29, 2004 01:44 PM
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October 01, 2004
My fettered heart
In honoring my daughter's privacy, I won't give specific details, but suffice it to say that something very unusual for her age has developed and we are uncertain as to what it is and what could have caused or is causing it. It could be minor. Nothing really; something that could go away on its own and will be forgotten in the everyday habits of life; remembered only casually in late night conversations as "that time we thought....." Then again, it could be really bad; something that we will never forget.
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This is the hardest part of parenting: the unexpected. I knew that I would have a baby awakening every two hours to nurse. I knew that diapers would be disgusting; that there would be scraped knees and perhaps a broken arm; an occasional stitch. I knew that they would both fight with one another and fiercely defend each other against outsiders. I knew that they would want to play before working; that they would go out to the van dressed in Sunday best only to be detoured by the inviting mud puddle. I knew that friends would let them down; I knew they would challenge my authority and my opinions and make me prove myself respectable before they would respect me. I know that their hearts may break in love; that they might receive a less than admirable grade on a college exam; that their major will change with the wind; that they will love passionately and be loved in reciporcal manner. These things the heart of a mother envisions. The thought of disease or disablement never come into her secret room. They are banned at the door and relegated to the room marked "Never." Oh, I may have contemplated my own reaction when comforting a friend but you just don't know until it is you waiting for a phone call; for test results; for finality; for answers.
I have had these thoughts the last few days of living life in reverse- undancing our steps of life together; the earth raining rather than the clouds; our bodies moving in that funny rewind style; food being unconsummed. It culminates in her being delivered back into my body and to my womb where she is safe and always comfortable. Perhaps even divided back to ovum and sperm so that the thought of her existence is tucked neatly and secretly away in our bodies, undiscernable to anyone but her father and I.
I should be receiving a phone call this afternoon. Friday meant school, Spanish, piano lessons. Today it means: call...call...call...call.
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Ah, a mother's loving heart. [Start Fond Rememberance]
When I was 8 years old, I discovered a rather painful growth under my left ear. It was more then just an annoyance, it was the source of a crippling pain whenever I participated in something physically demanding (running, jogging, soccer, etc.)
We went to doctor after doctor and received no real answers to the problem. ("Its a swollen gland, give it 'some time' and it will go away on its own.") It was not until 5 years later that one doctor suggested that I undergo surgery to remove this mysterious "thing" in my neck. (Of course, we researched this solution until we realized it was indeed a last but necessary resort)
So at the age of 13, I went under the knife (I, of course was unafraid of death, as I was ignorant of danger. My parents were not as unwise.)
After SIX hours of surgery, I left the operating room and it was revealed that this mass of nastiness was indeed a cancer, and was removed from my body.
I don't know how Mom was able to stay so sane. Her baby was seriously ill, and just underwent major surgery. She spent every night at my side in the hospital, sleeping on a glorified, yet uncomfortable, easy chair for almost a week. As the days went on, it was clear I was going to be alright, but it was a mother's love (even when I didn't want it) which made a big difference.
Bless your mother's heart, Rae. Together, you and your daughter will make it throught this trial and tribulation.
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Jeremy on October 1, 2004 12:19 PM
I was 14 when my aunt died of Leukemia. At age 16 - I was in a "health" class. We were to call a local hospital's Answer phone line. We had been given a list of diseases, colds, etc. and we had to select a few to listen to and write up summaries - symptoms, causes, possible cures.
Simply because I'd already done much research on Leukemia, I hit that one. Surprisingly, at that point, I had some of the symptoms.
I worried and wondered for days. I resolved I wouldn't tell my parents. I figured it would have devastated my mother and my father wouldn't have kept that a secret from her.
She could tell something was wrong, but I wouldn't tell her. Many tears and shouts. I finally told her. Turned out not to be Leukemia but simply coincidence. Phew.
In junior high I knew a girl who had a lump. She was fairly well endowed even at that age. I think she was told to put a heating pad on it for so long each day. Before biopsies, I guess. It simply went away, from what I remember.
My prayers are going up for your family that all is well.
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GrumpyBunny on October 1, 2004 01:17 PM
Wow- Jeremy! What a story! What a blessing to have such an advocating mother. Thanks also for your thoughts and prayers.
GB- I diagnose myself as having something everytime I have a headache :) But, when you really do face the real possibilty, it is so much more frigthening....
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Rae on October 1, 2004 01:52 PM
oops- GB, meant to thank you also for your prayers :0
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Rae on October 1, 2004 01:54 PM
Praying for my darling goddaughter and my dearest friend also.
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Kris on October 1, 2004 09:23 PM
Hi Rae. You all have my prayers big time. You express a reflection of God's heart that is very beautiful even in times of distress. Thanks for "bearing His Image" in a way that turns the painful events in this world into symbols of His guiding love.
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Randy on October 2, 2004 08:14 AM
Just please tell me that onw of my nieces (which ever one it might be) will be alright.... Rae...I don't know what to say, just please God let her be okay. I love you all very much!
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Sally on October 3, 2004 06:09 PM
Praying from here.
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Eduardo on October 4, 2004 07:28 AM
Oh, Rae, I'm so sorry to hear what you're dealing with right now. I am sending up every prayer for comfort and health I can think of for you and your daughter. I pray you soon have good news to share.
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Alisha on October 5, 2004 10:51 PM
Holding your family in pray, Rae. Hope everything's okay!
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pam on October 6, 2004 06:05 AM
Thank you everyone. We are still in a state of not knowing enough specifics, but that will hopefully change soon.
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Rae on October 6, 2004 11:00 AM
I'll be praying for your daughter.
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Ith on October 7, 2004 01:52 PM
Thank you, Ith :) Hey! I have missed you (and just to let you know, I finally got to a Sephora, and....I was like a kid in a candy store :)
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Rae on October 7, 2004 09:12 PM
You may get to see me in person soon :)
I knew you'd adore Sephora!
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Ith on October 11, 2004 07:11 PM
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September 25, 2004
Missing Piece
It has now been nine days since I have seen the eyes of my daughters; smelled the sweetness of them; felt their hair on my fingertips; heard their laugh; seen them smile; watched them sleep.
It has been an eternity since I have seen the blue in R's eyes; watched his body move through time and space; felt the strength of it against my own; caught his brow in thought; watched him shave and dress; smelled his presence near me; felt my soul comforted by his very existence. A piece of the puzzle is missing and will be complete only when gently placed in the space created uniquely for it.
I am returning soon my loves.
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Missin' you.
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R on September 26, 2004 10:42 AM
Just now listening to it, you know-Little Feat Time Loves a Hero from 1977. The song that we both know: "Missin' You" by Paul Barrere. Especially tough today with the news of Phyliss' untimely death and you not here to truly share and pray. I miss my best friend.
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R on September 26, 2004 01:39 PM
You introduced me to that song, R., as you have also done with so many good things. I missed being with you today, too, my love.
Soon....
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Rae on September 26, 2004 06:36 PM
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September 15, 2004
Artist in Residence
E's portrait (and caricature [her personal favorite style]) of Julius Caesar. Today is the 2048 1/2 year anniversary of his death by his best friend and five other senators.
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Love it!
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Randy on September 15, 2004 08:19 PM
Good job on the feet and sandals! Reminds me of the Rocky/Bullwinkle show!
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GrumpyBunny on September 16, 2004 09:08 AM
You know, GB, I noticed the feet and sandals myself right away. She is very good with detail.
She does this cartoon called "Lola and Jimmy" and will surprise us occasionally with a new strip. I keep trying to convince her to allow me to put it on my blog, but.....
Thanks, Randy :)
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Rae on September 16, 2004 10:19 AM
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August 31, 2004
Privileged Obligation?
Since we have lived in this county, R has been called to jury duty twice. Both times he was released due to a settlement. Guess who now has been called? That's right, in two days times, unless there is an agreement between the parties, I will be presenting myself before the prosecuting and defending attorneys as part of a jury pool at the county courthouse.
When my girls asked me why I had to do this (or face fines and jail time), I explained to them my privilege and duty as a citizen in this great country. They questioned the relationship between privilege and obligation. I had to take a moment to think. We go into American history next year, although through our reading and their personal perusal, they are familiar with the context of the Revolutionary War. I told them of King George III, of taxation without representation, of false accusations supported and people executed or punished simply by word of another without evidence.
Typically it isn't hard for me to come up with comparative explanations, but I am struggling to do so with this one. Any ideas?
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I'm not scholarly enough to be of much assistance, I'm afraid -- however, I saw bits and pieces of a show on The History Channel around the 4th of July that explained that the whole "Taxation Without Representation" was pretty much bunk.
I told my boys that a "Government OF the people, BY the people and FOR the people" sometimes means that you have to do things like jury duty to make sure it still IS "OF the people."
Sorry, I'm not much help. But I'm a hella good researcher. If you'd like, I can see what I might be able to dig up!
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Emma on August 31, 2004 10:27 AM
While the example is not precisely flawless, I think a good idea (and a good lesson, too) would be to explain an activity that is both a duty and a privilege by comparing it to our commitment as Christians to financially support our church (be it by offerings, tithes, whatever).
We, as God's people, are called to support our churches, as Paul states so well in his letters (especially 2 Corinthians and 1 Thessalonians). It is clearly our duty as a Christians, since it is the will of God that we might do so. But then, how could a church, which is the Body of He who owns everything including the wealth of the world, need our support? That is, because God granted us this duty not as a burden, but as a privilege. Is by way of this privilege, that our humblest monies will never become a pittance in God's kingdom, and that's why the offering is, or should be, part of the Christian worship.
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Eduardo on August 31, 2004 12:26 PM
When my girls asked me why I had to do this (or face fines and jail time), I explained to them my privilege and duty as a citizen in this great country. They questioned the relationship between privilege and obligation.
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LarryConley on August 31, 2004 04:59 PM
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Giuliani 2012
You know, if Rudy decides to run for President, I know two young women whose political hearts he captured last night......
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He did a great job didn't he? Had me laughing and then all serious. Then laughing...laughing again...then all serious. Full of humor and good content.
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Randy on August 31, 2004 02:04 PM
Be interesting.. If Bush wins no one on his cabinet will be electable (sorry Dr Rice ) due to the venom that will be heaped on them.
If terrorism is still a large issue.. I'd love to see Lisa Beamer as his running mate.
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LarryConley on August 31, 2004 08:00 PM
Rudy was awesome. I was thinking about what a great President he would be also, but I wonder how old he is? And why 2012 instead of 2008? Wouldn't it be wild if it was Rudy agains't Hillary in 2008(or 2012)! I wouldn't be surprised.
I enjoyed the Conv last night, with the exception of the Bush daughters...
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Kris on September 1, 2004 06:51 AM
2012 because that is when E will be old enough to vote.
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Rae on September 1, 2004 02:00 PM
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August 29, 2004
A rose by any other name
Tonight as I watched C holding her friend's hand while running across the street, I began to think of how beautiful her name is. They hugged goodbye and I saw the light from the street lamp catch her hair. I was holding K and thinking of how much I love them. My mind was saying C's name over and over,meditating on the beauty of it and when she got back to the porch she said, "Yes, mommy?" The lovely sound had made its way out of my head and slipped across my lips without my realizing it. I smiled asking her if I have ever told her how gorgeous her name is? She smiled shyly and pleased.
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July 22, 2004
No Regrets
Kadi elicited this response from me in the comments section of this post:
Yes, there are times when I briefly miss my newborn greedily nuzzling my breast or the smell of their downy heads. I miss the house being so still by 9 p.m. each night that all you can hear is their tick-tocking respirations clocking the passing of another day. I miss the little lisps. And naptime. I definitely miss nap time.
But, I really do enjoy having philosophical and theological discussions with my older children now, too. I love that they have the ability now to tell me exactly (though I sometimes don't want to hear it) what is bugging them. I relish helping them gain problem solving skills and sharing a chick flick (appropriately reviewed and selected, of course) and a good book together. I like baking with them and watching them present a meal to their daddy in mock of their future husband. I love seeing the pride in R's eyes as they reach the touch pad of a lane after swimming their fastest time (and also seeing their confidence soar because of his approval). I am enamoured of their coming moral strength and how it weaves itself so wholly into their physical beauty, as well. I am thankful for the accountability they bring to me as my Christian sisters.
I will never regret having born my children. It is at times an exhausting and daunting task, but it seems to be that all the great accomplishments in this life are so. Climbing Everest; participating in the Olympics; going through Boot Camp; getting a degree; raising a family.
It is hard, Kadi, and it is the most tiring thing I have ever done, but so worth it that it brings no regret and there's not much else in life about which I can say that.
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Thanks Rae,
Now you made me get all choked up.
-Super
by
Superhero on July 23, 2004 11:39 AM
Ya' know what. I have been so wrapped up in the day to day turmoil, that I really have not given much thought to what the future holds. Sure, I see families with older kids all the time. But it seems like an eternity beofre I will have the same. I've never stopped to imagine the times yet to come. Thanks for the little glimpse into the future, and the encouragement to carry on!! (And thanks for the cathartic cry too! I needed that.) :)
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Kadi Prescott on July 23, 2004 05:41 PM
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July 12, 2004
Absolutely Absolutes
When a child of mine tells a lie, they are severely punished. R and I decided long ago that would be the consequence to telling untruths. Only one of our four children has struggled with fabricating.
I recall the first time I realized she had lied. I took her aside and asked her to spank me because lying hurts everyone. Extreme? Yes. Effective? Temporarily. The second time, I asked her if God ever lied. No, she replied. I asked her how she would feel if she strived to please God her whole life and when she died, God told her it was all a lie and her efforts were in vain and she was sent to hell. Extreme? Yes. Appropriate? I thought so at the time. Effective? Not enough.
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So the third time we came around the same corner, it involved her sister; a "she said/she said." Only mama knew what happened, because mama heard it all go down. Employing Solomon's wisdom, we took both daughters in our bedroom and told them that since we couldn't discern who was speaking truth and who was speaking lies, we were going to spank them both. In front of each other. Now, of course we weren't really going to spank the innocent child. We knew the lying child well enough to know she couldn't live with herself if she allowed that to happen. We knew the effectiveness of seeing your sister unjustly accused and sentenced. This lying child is a "J" in the Briggs-Meyers personality test. Unjust accusations are intolerable for her to bear.
Sure enough, as we commanded the innocent to receive her spanking, the lying child asked us to stop. Feigning ignorance, we asked why. Nothing, she said. So we proceeded. "Wait! Stop!" she cried. "Yes?" "Ummm, I....." Nothing was confirmed, so we continued. The interruptions also continued until we told her that if she couldn't tell us why we shouldn't spank this child, not to stop commencement of spanking her. Finally, she tearfully exploded with "I did it. It was me. I am so sorry. I am sorry that I almost allowed you to get a spanking. I am so sorry that I lied." Obviously, the innocent was quite relieved. The innocent is an "SP" on Briggs-Meyers, so she is one of the most merciful persons I have ever encountered. She looked at her sister, told her she loved her and forgave her.
After a sweet administration of hugs, innocent was sent forth to her bed. Turning to the confessed child, we asked her if she felt her lying deserved to be punished? "Yes." Did she think us unjust in administering a spanking for the lying? "No." I took her onto my lap and stroked her hair and told her that nothing she could ever do would make me not love her. "In fact, I love you so much, I won't let you become a liar." R seconded my thoughts and added a few of his own. She received her just punishment and has never lied to me again.
I consider myself a very good judge of character. I am also extremely merciful like my daughter. Rules are to be formed to shape the situation, not to be hard and immoveable. Or we like to think that. But in reality, there are rules that aren't to be broken and are in place for protection and to allow liberty. It seems that we Americans wrestle with accepting rules. They are so inhibiting, we whine. They are restricting, we cry. They don't allow creativity, we groan. I cannot deny myself having uttered those words, having echoed those thoughts. But when I send my daughters out to play, I expect a bike helmet on those heads. I expect stopping at the corners, moving to the side when cars come down the street. Coming when I call is not arguable. I have told my daughters that I will do my absolute best to rear them with understanding, compassion, and firmness but on certain things I will not bend. There are appropriate times for discussion in an effort to create understanding. I have explained that I must do what I believe to be right in protecting them, shaping them, and guiding them because at the end of the day, I need to sleep with a clean conscience. And at the end of my life I will stand before Our Creator and I need to be able to tell Him that I did my level best with what He entrusted to me.
I don't know that they can fully understand this until their own wombs are full of the wiggling life resulting from the blessing of their passion and prayers; until they hold the child that they delivered from their own body hot and wet from the bath of a mother's labor, her protective waters, her very blood; until they see said children fattened on the milk of their breasts; until the child whom they have so lovingly provided for defies them for the first time. In that moment, they will truly know that rules are good, beneficial, acceptable and truly liberating.
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Children lie because they are affarid .I try to deal with the fear rather than the lie itself. As they get older, I am careful not to ask unnecessary questions where they are forced to lie.It is not so much about policing lieing as it is about establishing trust. I ask myself, "What do they need from me?"
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Brando on July 12, 2004 04:30 AM
Brando, to some extent that works. However, everyone comes to points in their lives where they are afraid to tell the truth, perhaps to their spouse or maybe to their boss. Without experience doing the right thing, what are the chances of not lying in those situations?
Character is not something that materializes when needed; it is intentionally built brick by brick.
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King of Fools on July 12, 2004 07:27 AM
Now I can relate to this. As a result of my cultural upbringing (Hispanic Catolic raising, very traditional), it is very easy to start lying.
A lot of the lying comes from fear of confrontation. So, to avoid the showdown, we lie. But I think this is cowardice.
I learned not to lie the hard way. When I was 23, I was fed up with my life which was a total fabrication in so many levels. I told the LORD "I don't want to keep wearing masks, fabricating, lying and deceiving my whole life!". And He helped me.
Now, sincerity is a spiritual discipline for me, and I plan to instill fear of lying and fear of God in my children, so that they could avoid being liars as I once was.
For Brando: Children lie out of fear? Granted. Then:
1) Deal with their fears lovingly _and_ with the lying, lovingly and justly;
2) Make the consequences of lying more fearful than most things in the life; and
3) Make your children strong so that they could withstand their fear and their sources.
I reckon that the points above are not necessarily attainable; but at least you have to give it a try.
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Eduardo on July 12, 2004 07:36 AM
Brando~
I agree and we are usually able to discern what the fear is. For the lying child it was disappointing her parents. She was so disappointed in herself that she thought we would be also. Once we established that lying is far more disappointing than the actual thing being lied about, she understood.
I am also personally familiar with lying from fear as I did it often with my mother concerning my stepfather. I was told not to tell her anything that was happening or I would "pay." So, once again, it is also wise to talk and to dig deeper for understanding, but there must come a time when punishment is necessary.
I didn't go into that part, but I do think that it is wise to not ask your child questions that give them opportunity to lie; however, this particular child needed to have the opportunity to tell the truth when asked. Not everyone will know her like we do. We want her to understand while we sometimes make the wrong decisions and that is disappointing, lying is devastating. She needed to learn to accept responsibility for her actions, however fearful she may be, and that lying is not an option.
I will say that I think there are times when lying is acceptable. If someone broke into my home and asked where the children were, I would lie and tell them they were visiting a family member. If I had to provide harbor for those being persecuted, I would lie (ala Corrie Ten Boom). That is something that I will discuss with my daughters as they grow older and begin to understand things from a deeper level.
King- yes, perfectly said, too. Talk is good and can be efective, but there are times when it is also beneficial to lovingly adminster punishment in order to instill understanding of the severity of the misdeed. My husband has employees who lie to him everyday. They are stuck in the lower level positions or regularly fired. This is not the life we desire for our children.
Eduardo- that was a lovely testimony. Thank you for sharing it :) I am curious as to how you feel your specific upbringing influenced you to lie; that is, how being a Hispanic Catholic made you more likely to lie than not.
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Rae on July 12, 2004 10:12 AM
Rae: Thanks, ma'am. Well, the problem with *cultural* Hispanic Catholicism (note the emphasis) is that it is, in so many levels, not only a religion, but a whole system of being human. God is a distant, foreign, cruel and authoritarian overlord, and He is to be approached only by the intercession of the Virgin Mary and the saints, who "appease" Him to do what we pray.
Therefore, we need to avoid confrontation. People in authority are very authoritarian here; that's why in so many Hispanic cultures, beating wives is almost a part of the cultural landscape. People in submission are servile, and try to get what they want by cunning, trading, etc., anything, but in the back of the overlords.
Furthermore, a part of what used to be mainstream Catholic moral theology was that you could use the "mental reservation" when you're asked a question, and you would not sin.
For example, let's say that all of a sudden, Miss Impressionable is about to become a nun. She enters into talks with the prioress of the convent, and then she decides to apply for entrance; then she becomes already a novice, taking some vows.
Miss Impressionable's parents notice the behavioral changes of her that arise from her condition, but they don't know what's happening to her, so they ask her: "What's going on? Are you a nun or what!" And Miss Impressionable says, "No, I am not" ... and she completes in her mind, "No, I am not... in the papers. But I already made my applications, and the convent sisters already treat me like one of them."
Under the traditional Roman Catholic moral theology, this is not lying and the person is not committing a sin. I leave the discernment of such behavior as an exercise to you.
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Eduardo on July 12, 2004 11:16 AM
Rae: I'll try my hand at some links just to provide more illustration:
The Catholic Encyclopaedia
Star Bible
The latter is more "titillating", but illustrate that mental reservation is effectively a lie.
by
Eduardo on July 12, 2004 05:14 PM
Wow. You and your husband are great parents!
My brother (5 yrs younger) always struggled with lying. I remember when he was about 6 or 7. If you asked him if he was lying, he'd say, I'm not lying, with his mouth open so wide to avoid grinning about it.
I think he still struggles with it. More with The Mominator than with Dad and me. Like Eduardo said - to avoid confrontation. 'Cuz that's what it would be with her. And lectures.
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GrumpyBunny on July 13, 2004 07:17 AM
Brando-IMO you have 30% truths and 70% horse pucky there. Small people and big people like us lie for a myriad of reasons but for only one cause. Sin. We are not perfect and we all stumble. Lying is just another way to do it.
by
R on July 14, 2004 09:25 PM
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May 24, 2004
Four Candles on Her Cake, Five Hearts Wrapped Up for Her
When R and I decided to have our last child, there were times I thought I was nuts. Everyone was physically able and trained to clean themselves and get their own drink and here I was starting all over again. But, I wanted to be pregnant one last time. I wanted to deliver (with a full epidural catheter stuck in my spinal column, too) one last time. I wanted to feel my breasts swell with life giving substance and sustain and grow one last child on the milk of my body. It was a delightful pregnancy and once that epidural was loaded, a perfect labor and delivery.
As we tossed around names, the fourth daughter that we conceived grew fat and healthy in the utopia of my womb. I liked Emma, R did not. He likes strong, but classic feminine names and he felt that Emma wasn't the person wiggling in my body. So, one spring evening, after children were in bed, R and I were outside. I suggested a name. His eyes lit up. "Yes, that's the name." After presenting it to the parents and the children, we all agreed. Her name means "pure one" in Greek, and that she is. She came out and immediately captured our hearts. She is sweet, thoughtful, witty, sensitive, and kind. I have frequently said that she was the perfect way to close the show. Thanks, God, for the last act.
Happy Birthday, K, from us all. We love you so very much.
To the tune of "Be Thou My Vision:"
She is so very small, Lord,
There's not much she can do.
Keep her as she grows, Lord;
May she grow in You.
She is so very small, Lord.
Only You truly know
Who she's becoming.
Lord, keep this little soul.
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say Happy Birthday!!!!! from us to her.
Ohhh and Thank you so much for lunch the other day, that was goodddddd!!!!!
by
virginia on May 24, 2004 11:53 AM
Happy Birthday to my sweet little goddaughter. Oh, and my small man Jonathan (ahem) says Happy Birthday to her too.
by
kujo on May 25, 2004 05:03 PM
I just read this today. Your daughter's name must be similar to mine. Mine means the same thing. What a wonderful outlook you have on pregnancy and childrearing. Oh and Amen to the epidural standpoint. I just love modern medicine!!!
by
Kadi Prescott on July 20, 2004 02:54 PM
Me, to, Kadi! I delievered two of my four au naturale and it wasn't easy, but I was just too tired and wanted the delivery to be about the baby, not me, so we went that route. I needed an epidural with E, my first, as she took sooooo dang long to get here, I just couldn't relax enough to let my body do any effectual work.
Her name is similar, to yours Kadi :)
P.S. Thanks for the kind words:)
by
Rae on July 20, 2004 06:01 PM
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May 13, 2004
A Chip Off the Old Book, er, Block
My sweet, intelligent, bookworm, E, has started her own blog discussing and reviewing books.
Have You Read This One?
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"To put it simply..."
Cute.
by
Patrick on May 13, 2004 12:23 AM
she is so cute, i went and I like it, maybe she doesn't have to swimm and start being a writer, yeah! R would love me for that!!!
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virginia on May 13, 2004 09:55 AM
Yes, Flaca, he would love that, my wonderful Stoic/Spartan husband :) "She can do both..."
by
Rae on May 13, 2004 10:43 AM
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December 22, 2003
I remember when E was
I remember when E was in ballet back East. She is so graceful. She is very
slender and long-legged. Someone once said of her, "That girl doesn't walk
anywhere. She floats." She had her recital costume on with her hair up and a
beautiful peach rose pinned behind her left ear. Her tutu was long, almost to
her ankles. I was ticked to have to pay $200 at the end of December for her
costumes (Christmas, several birthday's, property tax helped the frustration
along). But, seeing her performance in June was simply exhilarating. She was
perfect! One raining March Midwest evening (how I miss those!), E ran out to the
car after lessons carrying a tape of her music. She was to practice to it
several times a week. I popped it into the tape deck in the van. I was surprised
to hear Counting Crows Colorblind. I mean, I was expecting Schumann, Chopin, or
something classical. She enjoyed dancing and that was all that mattered, even if
I was less than thrilled about the choice of music. This week C accidentally
broke the CD player that we keep in the kitchen. This is truly a tragedy for me.
I cannot do anything in my kitchen without music. What I am listening to
influences what I cook and what I am cooking chooses what I listen to. I have
been forced to dig out the basket of tapes. At A's request, I was making
homemade Sloppy Joes. I decided that Patsy Cline would be a good choice, but
alas couldn't find the tape. Rifling around a bit longer, I found some generic
tape that said our last name on it. Curious, I placed it in the deck and pushed
play. It took about 15 seconds for the tape to find the beginning and then it
began to play the longing beginning to Colorblind. I stopped for a moment and
listened. I love the song. I love the music, but it is so sad. It made me miss
home. It made me miss things that I know and that know me. It made me recall E
dancing so beautifully that June evening.
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Sorry that i am a bit of topic here.
I am looking for technical writer who is compute savvy.
I like how you put your words together. If you are interested could you email me your rates.
by
Nose on July 12, 2004 11:09 PM
Moving is indeed difficult. We don't really want to settle in at the new place because we don't want to accept that this is now "home". I cannot imagine being an Israelite living in exile and knowing that I would die in exile. And yet God told them to plant trees, have children, tend the garden; to live where they were at. I feel for you my friend. I know exactly what you are feeling. I hated living in Vancouver. I missed America, I missed midwestern thunderstorms, and I missed four distinct seasons. I missed familiarity. New church, new friends, new geography, new weather...everything new. But it won't always be new. Time will heal that as you well know. And one of these days when you move, if you move again, you will probably miss some of the things from CC. Imagine that!
by
kujo on March 19, 2005 11:17 AM
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