I thought this post was going to be about practicing patience with my children. There's been a lot of that going on in our house. Between the refusing to nap, the occasional fights over toys and all the other pitfalls of being a two children household; patience is in high demand in our house. But as I thought about it the person who I really need to practice patience with is myself.
I promised myself I would write more, and yet I find myself wasting more time worrying about having no time to write then actually writing. Then when I do write, I find that everything sucks. No, seriously I've got three essays going and you're just going to have to trust me when I say, "they suck". They don't suck beyond repair, mind you, but they do suck. My inner critic is working over time these days and mostly what she lacks is the patience to let me actually take the time to get things written. To her I say, 'slow down. These things take time. As long as I'm writing something, I'm winning the battle... so back off."
I promised myself I would excercise more patience with my kids. But, as I mentioned above I think the true test is can I be patient with myself when I forget to exercise said patience? After all, just as my kids are exploring the world for the first time and everything is new to them, so is being a parent new to me. How can I possibly know how I will react the first time anything happens , or for that matter how I'll react the gazillionth time something happens? It's all new.
To my inner mommy critic I say, 'slow down. You can only take this Mommy thing one day at a time. Kids are resilant and you'll all bounce back from a bad day. And the good days will carry you a long long way. Be patient with yourself, you are a good mommy'
I promised myself I would figure out (with many discussions involving my husband) our family economics, and where I want to go next in my career, and where to buy a house, and how to find time to organize the chaos that is my desk at home, and... and on and on goes the lists in my head at night when ( or is it why?) I cannot sleep. To the inner obssessor I say, "relax, slow down. Remember you are a Mommy of two, you are a wife, you are working a day job, you are running a show ,you are keeping a house running and you are struggling writer. Be patient, all these things will work out in time, they always do. Trust yourself, your love, and the universe. Give your mind a little quiet and peace"
Practicing patience is simply that "PRACTICING"
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
how to beat cabin fever
Sunday arrived in our fair household this weekend and I found myself telling Noah "no" for the umteeth time. As I watched his face crumble in disappointment yet again, I knew it was time to do something, anything. So, we decided it was time to get out of the house.If you know our house you know it's small and getting smaller with each passing winter day each additional toy, rock, sticker,or any of the other treasures so vitally important to an almost three year old boy. (Luckily, the one year old has yet to begin to amass any collections of her own, yet)The endless rainy days, combined with runny noses and nap times that refuse to be coordinated, end up leading to too many days that go by without a good dose of fresh air. Sunday we changed all that.
We loaded up the car, two kids, kidpack, boots, extra pants, diapers, camera, snacks, toys for the ride, clean socks -and this was just for a trip across town! "We are going on adventure" we tell Noah. "Where are we going?" he asks time and time again. A question that can grate on one's nerves after awhile, but just knowing we were heading for an outdoor location gave me the patience to hang on. "Somewhere to run,"I answer. This ,of course, leads Noah to the conclusion that we are headed for a race. It took me awhile to connect the dots, (Mom's are awfully slow some days.) When he mentioned a race I asked, "a car race?" "Noooo... a running race" ahhh, I see.
Finally we reached our destination Tryon Creek State Park. A lovely day use park near Lewis and Clark College. A place with trees and trails and, as Noah pointed out, "more mud!"
it was perfect. Noah got to run, splash, touch and explore. Lucy got a nap in the fresh air and Mommy and Daddy got some much needed exercise and an oportunity to enjoy the company of each other and their children once again. It was just what the doctor ordered.In 
addition to getting outside I also had an opportunity to practice the art of swallowing my fears and letting go. Ssomething they neglect to tell you about when you have babies- that from the minute you give birth to them you are learning how to help them to be people on their own, and that in order to do this you've got to let go a little more each day. This includes letting your child run a little ahead of you without stopping him with every three feet, letting him walk up the steep hill on his own (and sighing, just a little, when he reaches for your hand). You let him run ahead to the bridge trying not to envision it breaking and crashing into the raging river (okay, it's just a creek) below. These are all things you do. 
And with each leap ahead your heart is joyous to watch your child grow and become more and more independent. Your heart also breaks a teeny tiny bit to know that this moment will never come again... And then you embrace the joy, racing on to catch up with the child jumping into his umpteeth mud puddle and you know it's a good good day.
addition to getting outside I also had an opportunity to practice the art of swallowing my fears and letting go. Ssomething they neglect to tell you about when you have babies- that from the minute you give birth to them you are learning how to help them to be people on their own, and that in order to do this you've got to let go a little more each day. This includes letting your child run a little ahead of you without stopping him with every three feet, letting him walk up the steep hill on his own (and sighing, just a little, when he reaches for your hand). You let him run ahead to the bridge trying not to envision it breaking and crashing into the raging river (okay, it's just a creek) below. These are all things you do. 
And with each leap ahead your heart is joyous to watch your child grow and become more and more independent. Your heart also breaks a teeny tiny bit to know that this moment will never come again... And then you embrace the joy, racing on to catch up with the child jumping into his umpteeth mud puddle and you know it's a good good day.Saturday, February 2, 2008
Evel Knievel and me
Evel Knievel and me
When I was a kid all the boys in my neighborhood wanted to be Evel, and I mean all the boys. I remember one summer when 3 boys bruised, sprained, broke or otherwise busted up some body part trying to be the one to jump over something like 6 (or was it 16) garbage cans lined up on my street. It was wild and crazy. We were smart enough to know we shouldn't tell our folks why we were taking the garbage cans down the street, but not smart enough to not do it in front of Hazel's house.
Hazel was a the neighborhood recluse which, of course, led us all to call her a witch and play nasy tricks on her whenever we could. She was always watching from her window, with one hand on the phone to dial someone's parents to report the latest misdeed. When she did venture out it was always with too much perfume and a look of pure disdain. My mother always made me buy a box of Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies from my order for Hazel and then take them to her. I'd always ring the bell and thrust them into her hands quickly and run. Everytime I sit next to an older woman on the bus with crooked lipstick and too much perfume I think of Hazel and Evel Knievel.
In addition to the garbage can fiascos there was the time all the boys went to Donny Putz's house (true last name, poor kid) one evening to watch one of Evel's jumps on tv. No girls allowed, I was miffed, not that I really cared but I sensed a shift beginning to occur. It may have been the beginning of the end for hanging out together, boys and girls, without the weirdness of budding breasts and crackling voices. So, the boys were at Donny's and the girls were at Erin Humpel's (again, poor kid) house. I wanted to watch the jump, Erin and Michelle wanted to put on music and dance. Without warning the lights went out and the record player ground to a halt right in the middle of some 70's dance song.Everyone, boys and girls, gravitated to Donny's front yard.
We loved Donny's house, his mom was often working and left her cigarettes and cash just laying about. Easy pickin's for quick hands. The cigarettes were mostly for posturing in the school yard ( I wouldn't actually light one until the following summer) and I don't know about anyone else but I spent my ill-gotten gains on Charlie's Angels trading cards, you know the ones with the bad gum that you just threw away.
I don't remember what caused the blackout, although one theory was that Hazel hexed the power so we couldn't see Evel jump. I just remember thinking how weird it was that we were suddenly boys AND girls and not just the gang. By the end of the summer Michelle and James were going steady and Matthew and Erin made out in Donny's basement. I hung on the sidelines desperate to go steady, and yet equally relieved to still be able to just hang out at Donny's house without worries. The following summer Donny would kiss me and things were never the same.
Rest in peace Evel.
When I was a kid all the boys in my neighborhood wanted to be Evel, and I mean all the boys. I remember one summer when 3 boys bruised, sprained, broke or otherwise busted up some body part trying to be the one to jump over something like 6 (or was it 16) garbage cans lined up on my street. It was wild and crazy. We were smart enough to know we shouldn't tell our folks why we were taking the garbage cans down the street, but not smart enough to not do it in front of Hazel's house.
Hazel was a the neighborhood recluse which, of course, led us all to call her a witch and play nasy tricks on her whenever we could. She was always watching from her window, with one hand on the phone to dial someone's parents to report the latest misdeed. When she did venture out it was always with too much perfume and a look of pure disdain. My mother always made me buy a box of Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies from my order for Hazel and then take them to her. I'd always ring the bell and thrust them into her hands quickly and run. Everytime I sit next to an older woman on the bus with crooked lipstick and too much perfume I think of Hazel and Evel Knievel.
In addition to the garbage can fiascos there was the time all the boys went to Donny Putz's house (true last name, poor kid) one evening to watch one of Evel's jumps on tv. No girls allowed, I was miffed, not that I really cared but I sensed a shift beginning to occur. It may have been the beginning of the end for hanging out together, boys and girls, without the weirdness of budding breasts and crackling voices. So, the boys were at Donny's and the girls were at Erin Humpel's (again, poor kid) house. I wanted to watch the jump, Erin and Michelle wanted to put on music and dance. Without warning the lights went out and the record player ground to a halt right in the middle of some 70's dance song.Everyone, boys and girls, gravitated to Donny's front yard.
We loved Donny's house, his mom was often working and left her cigarettes and cash just laying about. Easy pickin's for quick hands. The cigarettes were mostly for posturing in the school yard ( I wouldn't actually light one until the following summer) and I don't know about anyone else but I spent my ill-gotten gains on Charlie's Angels trading cards, you know the ones with the bad gum that you just threw away.
I don't remember what caused the blackout, although one theory was that Hazel hexed the power so we couldn't see Evel jump. I just remember thinking how weird it was that we were suddenly boys AND girls and not just the gang. By the end of the summer Michelle and James were going steady and Matthew and Erin made out in Donny's basement. I hung on the sidelines desperate to go steady, and yet equally relieved to still be able to just hang out at Donny's house without worries. The following summer Donny would kiss me and things were never the same.
Rest in peace Evel.
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