motherhood and all that jazz

So you may know that my mom and I don't usually see eye to eye.  She's an interesting person, filled with lots of good blessings.  Maybe we are just a little too much like two sides of the same coin?  I don't know.  I spent years in college psych classes having teachers inform me that I needed to figure this "core relationship" out.  At that point, I was more interested in keeping some good distance between us - to avoid conflict, hurt and a huge amount of annoyance. 

But now, I'm older and I've got my own two little slices of me.  And hanging out with lots of other moms, I feel myself sliding into intermittent fits of jealousy at hearing how one mom or another can call up her mother, rely on her to help out, or just hang out with her on a routine basis.  I can't.  And that's okay too.  My mother is busy with working, and politics (not my flavor, but very involved), and church (ditto previous sentiment) and whatever else fits her fancy.  I can't be part of those groups she's in.  And I want to give her that space.  She chooses to have more distance between us.  Okay.  I can intellectualize all this for myself, and what it means for my life.  But I do mourn over the sweet relationship between Grandmother and grandchild that my own kids are missing out on.  That part sucks.  Royally.  And I don't know that I'll ever get over that. 

But the part of all this that I can be absolutely thankful for (and amazed by) is the presence of my mother-in-law in our lives.  She lives all the way down in Arizona, and we have more contact with her during the year (and even week to week) than with my own parents who live twenty-five minutes from our house.  She is an amazing woman, who I thought I had appreciated during the years we spent getting to know each other before my husband and I had kids.  But now, I feel like she is a mentor mom to me.  Someone who has this amazing ability to make anyone who she's around feel comfortable and loved.  I hope that someday, I can be half the mom and grandmother she is.  I'll live a lot closer as a grandma, unless my own kids move down south (heat and I don't mix well).  But that's far from the point.

So this mother's day, while I'm celebrating how much I have changed through motherhood, and the life I share with my husband, I'll be pulled in two other directions as well.  I'll be thinking of all my sister-friends who have difficult or lost relationships with their own mothers - those who have mothers like mine with miles of emotional distance between them and those with mothers who have passed from this world with light years between what was and what is today, and everyone in between.  And I will be thankful down to my soul that I can spend so much of my life with the mother who nurtured and guided my husband to be the wonderful man (and father) he is.  And I hope she understands at least a little bit of how amazing and important a person she is to us, and especially to me.  Thanks D!  Here's your cyber hug!  Can't wait to hug you in person this summer!

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

feeling a little Job-ish today

as a kid, i attended school at the same Catholic church my family worshiped at each week.  i loved the cocoon of close-knit families i grew up with there, even though i failed to learn much about making new friends (who needs to?) or welcoming those who differ from you. 

spending so much time in what is basically church with a little reading, writing and arithmetic gave me a great deal of time with the big book of God.  and being a Catholic sanctuary of learning meant that a great deal of focus was placed on "offering pain up to God."  now i haven't studied all kinds of Catholics, but that is a strong message passed on to me.  instead of the secular message of "suck it up" i had it turned into a path towards martyrdom. 

the great, high holy saint (sarcastic font used here) of martyrs is by far Job.  (pronounced Jobe for anyone unfamiliar with my spiritual patron saint)  the book of Job is really a good read if you'd like to try it out, but to sum up Job's life: he had it all.  a great family, wealth, power, a strong faith, did all he could to honor God and all that.  bad stuff happened to him.  his family members died.  his wealth disappeared.  he was covered in sores.  people turned away from him.  he still praised God. 

now i've had a few trying times in my life, but never in any great magnitude.  mostly just times i've had a bad case of "feeling bad for myself-itis".  health problems that require moderate treatments.  irritating but not evil family issues.  loss of people i've loved, but had a lifetime of loving memories to carry me along after their passing.

this past month or so feels like a long laundry list of Job-ness. 

the winter here in Minnesota has dragged on so long, i sometimes wonder if i'm not actually trapped in the movie "Groundhog Day" and instead of reliving one day over and over, maybe i'm just reliving a month or two - again and again. 

we've saved up/ paid off bills just in time to realize we need to spend a good chunk on a newly discovered repair on our minivan (if i haven't described my love/hate relationship with this vehicle, i should say i love to drive it fast and hate when it blends into the 10 other gold minivans in a parking lot). 

i've had a minor health issue, that doesn't require surgery but has dragged on since the fall.  it's not something i talk about because it is "indelicate" and is slowly driving me insane.  quite literally. 

and little things that i've planned out have inconveniently been cancelled or rescheduled because of colds, coughs, and all around not funness.  (again and again and again...)

now i've gotta point out that none of the above listed events or issues has caused me to be shunned from society (though rescheduling the daughter's birthday party for illness put a serious damper on the chaos we had anticipated) or otherwise caused me to re-evaluate my life goals.

i try my best to be patient.  outwardly, i think i do a decent job not showing it too blatantly that i want things to go faster or more my way.  as an adult (in most ways), i understand that life is filled with moments when deep breathing and supreme self-control are required.  but this last week is surely a test to my spirit.

my darling daughter is 3 years old.  she has always been, in utero and hence forth, a firecracker.  she acts shy when it garners her added attention, and talks ears off to keep a good situation going - especially with grandparents.  she is very much NOT like me, which causes me some concern as to how i should parent her since i really have little to no idea what the poo is going on in her little, curly head.  but in ONE way, she is very much like me.  she doesn't sleep well.  or i should say, very long.


to those who are parents of children who fall asleep at 7pm and remain in that state until 8am, go screw yourselves.  you have hit the genetic jackpot and i don't want to hear anything about how it was all found in a parenting book requiring hours of infant-crying-to-sleep nights.  no amount of training will cause a child to sleep that long if it wasn't in their makeup.  my kids and i, and in some ways my husband, have a different sleep style.  right now, my daughter falls asleep pretty well, and only on occasion, wakes during the night for a good cry and then goes back to sleep.  she does wake up right about the same time my husband's alarm clock goes off (her room is a slight bit down the hall from our's, with both doors closed and her fan running).  this usually means she's up by 5:45ish. 

i have been staying up late, as of late.  ha ha.  truly.  it's not too strange to see my bedside lamp still on and me still reading at 12:30 or so.  so i didn't stress out monday night when i sat in the little lady's room as she was falling asleep, and knew i'd fall asleep for a bit too.  i woke up about 45 minutes later, to the sound of sweet husband walking in the door after a music rehearsal.  i was excited to talk to an actual grown up, so i started to get myself up off the floor.  my left leg was TOTALLY asleep.  leg, foot, the whole shabang.  there was a 2second pause when i thought, i should let it "wake up" a bit.  naw.  i wanna get out of here! 

i stood up, heard a gross Pop!/Snap! sound from my numb foot and then fell straight back on the floor.  i took out daughter's dolly umbrella stroller (i guess i weigh a bit more than a plastic doll) and then tried to crawl out of her room.  as soon as i made it to her doorway, the pain arrived.  i thought for sure i must have a bone sticking out of my skin because it felt like i had a burning hot dagger jabbing into my foot.  i made it to the couch somehow, and totally freaked out my husband by sobbing uncontrollably.  (thanks, sweetie, for trying to calmly assess my condition :) )

after a wait for my sister to arrive to guard the solidly sleeping kiddos, we trecked to the E.R. and had that date night we've been shooting for.  free child care, cable comedy shows, an attentive staff, and strong pain killers.

the Job part of this complaint-fest is that i am now, because of my impatience, bound to using crutches and hobbling around with a now disgustingly bruised and swollen foot.  if they had given me a crash helmet and pads, i would've felt better about using the crutches (i'm pretty graceless).  i am missing out on some beautiful walking - hiking weather that has FINALLY graced our landscape.  i am trapped in a land of inconvenience and irritation.  nothing deadly (thankfully). 

and i have to say, that i am, for the most part, thankful (even while irritated) that i have this happening right now.  my kids are pretty self-sufficient, i can order groceries (LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Cobornsdelivers.com), i can still drive (what freedom!), and i have a new appreciation for how difficult getting around must be for those who are resigned to this situation for longer than the 2 weeks or a bit more that i have stuck myself in.  and i know that it is completely MY FAULT.  humbling.  shameful.  irritating.  and thankful that i have the luxury to stay home and recover.  my life isn't dependent on me making it somehow to a job.  my home is safe for me to hang out in.  i can sit on the front step and keep an eye on my kids so they can still drink in the spring air, soaking in some good, cold puddle water along the way.  my land won't rumble, my air is safe to breathe, no bullets will fly, all i know are safe and are healthy - and if not healthy, under the care of good doctors with great integrity.


so today and every day, i offer my irritations/pain/annoyances up to God as a gift of thankfulness for being present here in this life.  there needs to be some repayment for all these blessings i enjoy.  and if this is it for now, i have received the best deal in the world. 

thankful for today! 

Grace in a land of Fear and Fury

I've been thinking a lot lately about what might be wrong with the way we, as citizens of the United States, see the world. I mean, there are plenty of examples of "what not to do" going on right now. Terry Jones' actions set off a new wave of anger and hatred toward Americans. The fear and subsequent bigotry toward those of the Muslim faith show in a million small and large ways, as in the calamity over the Islamic Community Center planned for Manhattan.

Reading yesterday's Pioneer Press Editorial section gave me a moment of pause. I read the submission by Mr. Tom Meek, "What I learned from the Dayton's bombing." Now this was a bombing in the department store Dayton's back in 1970. I wasn't born yet, and don't remember ever learning anything about this or any other types of "homeland terror" during my childhood. Especially here in Minnesota, known as the Nice state (we're just that passionate) it doesn't seem possible that a person could set off a bomb that would surely harm innocent people. I mean, good Minnesotan just don't DO that stuff. And not in a beloved Dayton's store, either. But I digress.

Reading the article brought forth something else to think about, other than, 'Yes, people in Minnesota CAN make that choice.' Mr. Meek's mother was right next to the detonated bomb, and was subsequently severely injured. She never fully recovered, and yet spent the rest of her life working to help the plight of those who set off the bomb. 'What?' Yes, she understood that the people who set off the bomb were doing so in retaliation to circumstances caused by greater forces than mere people. She saw the truth in the frustration and anger behind the creation and use of the bomb. And she knew that she had a choice in how to react to her own, newly altered place in that situation. She showed an amazing sense of grace, and the love of God for herself, her family and those who caused her life to change so drastically.

Places all over the world are dealing with groups of people who are frustrated and angry; generally over many lifetimes of not getting enough of their basic needs met to feel stable. These groups cause chaos and fear through bombs and attacks on innocent people. For many years, many decades really, our nation (and many more) have retaliated by focusing their counterattacks against those who are rising up. But I wonder if it wouldn't be more effective to focus a counterattack against those who are causing the frustration and anger in the first place? I mean, as a mother, I can see a child being naughty/making a poor choice, and I can focus my discipline against that inappropriate act. This may change the situation for a moment or more, but unless I figure out why the child is making this choice (that they surely know will get them into trouble) then I will be forced to repeat the battle again and again and again.

But if I realize that the child is hungry or tired or sick or bored, I can offer new opportunities for the child to meet those needs in a more appropriate manner.

I fully understand that adults who choose terroristic acts are far from those of a child. But are the influences behind terroristic groups that complex? It doesn't seem to be the case in those I've seen so far.

I pray that those who act out in fits of anger and frustration who spread terror and pain are somehow touched with the love of God (under whatever umbrella is available to them) and that their needs are met. And I pray for all those working toward ending those acts of terror, who rely on the direction of those in power far from the areas being attacked. I pray that more people can share in the grace that Mrs. Meek lived. That more people can see the humanity behind the terror; the struggles of all people to have food, shelter, safety, love and dignity.

There is never an acceptable act of terror. There is never an acceptable act that causes pain, harm and death. There is never an acceptable excuse for choosing to commit those acts, but there is always a place for understanding, empathy and sympathy for our fellow human beings, which we all, imperfectly are.