After having sung the boys their bedtime song and kissed them goodnight, I headed down the hall toward my daughter's room. As I entered I could hear the soft sound of her muffled cry.
That is when my 10 year old daughter told me that she had said "two bad words" that day. I smiled at this petite little broken angel and asked what she had said.
"Bitch...."
"Well, do you know what that means?" I asked trying to keep a straight face.
"No," she replied.
I explained that it was a female dog and people used that word in an ugly way. I asked her what else she said. In a meek little voice she looked at me and innocently said, "f@&k".
"Oh!" Well, that is an ugly term for something very beautiful between a married man and his wife I answered...totally shocked and taken aback by the look on her face."
"It is probably better that we don't use those words."
Then it happened...."but I am proud of you" Her eyes glistened as they filled with tears. "I am proud of you because you knew in your heart that you had done something that wasn't right and you told me the truth. Your spirit was speaking to you"
I think we both learned something that night.
Children grow and the challenges they face become grander then saying "bad" words. As a mother, our tests are learning when to listen so we can hear the pain behind the challenges our children are facing and help them learn the lessons of their trials. We cannot always protect them from the hurts, but we can help guide them if our words do not add to the pain.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Me- Dancing In the Azaleas
I am product of a different time. A time when there were no video games to hold our interests…our own imagination had to capture us and transport us to places unknown.
I am a product of a time when kids came home from school, completed their homework, participated in sports, took dance, OR played with the neighborhood kids…WHAT? Yes, we played! There was no pre-planned scheduled, rule following, adult planned activities.
Azalea bushes became hideouts for the cowboys and Indians. The following day, those same azaleas were a dream- land where pixies danced and played.
Elvis Presley would play on the stereo while we, the neighborhood gaggle of kids, would line up in the living room to dance to Viva Las Vegas. We were the definition of line dancing.
My life today is a direct result of the days spent dancing and playing in the azaleas. It is forever linked to the lines formed in the living room as Elvis sang and we played. It is forged in clarity because it was developed in creativity.
I am a product of a time when kids came home from school, completed their homework, participated in sports, took dance, OR played with the neighborhood kids…WHAT? Yes, we played! There was no pre-planned scheduled, rule following, adult planned activities.
Azalea bushes became hideouts for the cowboys and Indians. The following day, those same azaleas were a dream- land where pixies danced and played.
Elvis Presley would play on the stereo while we, the neighborhood gaggle of kids, would line up in the living room to dance to Viva Las Vegas. We were the definition of line dancing.
My life today is a direct result of the days spent dancing and playing in the azaleas. It is forever linked to the lines formed in the living room as Elvis sang and we played. It is forged in clarity because it was developed in creativity.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Mayhem-Smile When You Can See The Carpet
When my children were small, we used to sing a song to the tune of “High Ho, High Ho it’s off to work we go.” WE would sing, “Pick up our toys and put them all away. It’s time for them to go to sleep and play another day!” As my children got older they would sing the song and pick up the toys themselves.
Time passed, the song disappeared, the toys changed to clothes, electronics, make-up, shoes, musical instruments…and things didn’t seem to get “picked up” anymore.
Before long, there was a distinction in how picked-up a room was. There was “kid” clean and “mama” clean. Kid clean meant there was at least a walk way from the door to the closet and the bed had enough space for one person to curl up and find a nesting position. This was the kind of clean that required me to keep the doors closed in order to maintain my sanity.
Once a month, the children were required to mama-clean their rooms. Of course this always came with rolled eyes and groans and moans. The translation for mama-clean meant throwing away trash, picking up clothes, vacuuming, and putting all miscellaneous items in some type of order. For that one day, I was able to walk down the hall and enjoy the sunshine as it poured in through the windows and into my home.
To weary moms everywhere…let me offer these simple words…don’t look under the beds or open the closest doors. Enjoy the illusion that mama clean DOES exist. Allow yourself the momentary glance at your children’s floors and remember the saying “out of site, out of mind” or “pick your battles”. The truth of the matter is…it’s just stuff. The day will come when their stuff will be gone and your house will be as clean as you like. The day will come when they will keep their house the way they want and they too, will close their children’s doors and have mama-clean days. The truth is…teach them to respect your space…you in turn respect theirs…and if they try and give you that one clean day a month, smile when you can see the carpet.
Time passed, the song disappeared, the toys changed to clothes, electronics, make-up, shoes, musical instruments…and things didn’t seem to get “picked up” anymore.
Before long, there was a distinction in how picked-up a room was. There was “kid” clean and “mama” clean. Kid clean meant there was at least a walk way from the door to the closet and the bed had enough space for one person to curl up and find a nesting position. This was the kind of clean that required me to keep the doors closed in order to maintain my sanity.
Once a month, the children were required to mama-clean their rooms. Of course this always came with rolled eyes and groans and moans. The translation for mama-clean meant throwing away trash, picking up clothes, vacuuming, and putting all miscellaneous items in some type of order. For that one day, I was able to walk down the hall and enjoy the sunshine as it poured in through the windows and into my home.
To weary moms everywhere…let me offer these simple words…don’t look under the beds or open the closest doors. Enjoy the illusion that mama clean DOES exist. Allow yourself the momentary glance at your children’s floors and remember the saying “out of site, out of mind” or “pick your battles”. The truth of the matter is…it’s just stuff. The day will come when their stuff will be gone and your house will be as clean as you like. The day will come when they will keep their house the way they want and they too, will close their children’s doors and have mama-clean days. The truth is…teach them to respect your space…you in turn respect theirs…and if they try and give you that one clean day a month, smile when you can see the carpet.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Motherhood- "Mom, Please Walk Behind Me"
My son, Foster, was in middle school (that all knowing age…where the kids know everything, and mothers suddenly become stupid in the eyes of their children).
Such was the case on this particular morning. As a stay-at-home mom, I drove my children to school each morning, waving at them and wishing them a “good day” as they departed into the world of teenage melodrama. This day, however, instead of pulling up to the curb and watching Foster hop out of the car and disappear into the world of which I was not invited, I parked the car to help him carry in his science fair project. As I pulled the tailgate open to assist in removing his monstrosity of a project, he looked at me and said, “Mom, when we get inside, please walk behind me.”
“Walk behind him” I thought to myself….oh I think not! I brought this boy into the world, and it was my belief he was getting a little too “proud” for his britches. I simply smiled a sweet motherly smile and said nothing. Once inside, I allowed him to get about two classrooms ahead before I called out, “Foster, sweetie, where is it we are going with this? By the way, you look really cute today!”
About a month later, he had another project due for a reading class. As we got out of the car to go inside, he looked at me….I looked at him….and we proceeded to walk in together.
Sometimes, a lesson learned is orchestrated not by shouts or threats but found in diminutive smiles or gestures. Sometimes, not saying something says more than any words ever could. Never again was I asked to “walk behind” my son. Never again did he act as though I was less than his mom. Never again did this lesson have to be taught. Oh, my job wasn’t over, this was but one lesson with one child in one moment of a lifetime of moments and a lifetime of lessons….but then again, that’s what motherhood is all about.
Such was the case on this particular morning. As a stay-at-home mom, I drove my children to school each morning, waving at them and wishing them a “good day” as they departed into the world of teenage melodrama. This day, however, instead of pulling up to the curb and watching Foster hop out of the car and disappear into the world of which I was not invited, I parked the car to help him carry in his science fair project. As I pulled the tailgate open to assist in removing his monstrosity of a project, he looked at me and said, “Mom, when we get inside, please walk behind me.”
“Walk behind him” I thought to myself….oh I think not! I brought this boy into the world, and it was my belief he was getting a little too “proud” for his britches. I simply smiled a sweet motherly smile and said nothing. Once inside, I allowed him to get about two classrooms ahead before I called out, “Foster, sweetie, where is it we are going with this? By the way, you look really cute today!”
About a month later, he had another project due for a reading class. As we got out of the car to go inside, he looked at me….I looked at him….and we proceeded to walk in together.
Sometimes, a lesson learned is orchestrated not by shouts or threats but found in diminutive smiles or gestures. Sometimes, not saying something says more than any words ever could. Never again was I asked to “walk behind” my son. Never again did he act as though I was less than his mom. Never again did this lesson have to be taught. Oh, my job wasn’t over, this was but one lesson with one child in one moment of a lifetime of moments and a lifetime of lessons….but then again, that’s what motherhood is all about.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Me- Times May Change...
It has been said that times may change, but people don't. I believe this to be a true statement.
Curiosity for example. Children throughout history have tried to discover where their parents have hidden Christmas presents prior to Christmas morning! Kids throughout history long for that "one" special gift...the HOT item of the season. They are drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
Such was the Christmas of 1973. North Augusta, South Carolina was like any other medium sized southern town. The churches had been filled on Christmas Eve for candle-light services; carolers could be heard singing in various neighborhoods; streets were aglow with the annual decorations, and kids were anxiously awaiting the gift feeding frenzy which would happen the following morning
White Christmas's were not something the folks of North Augusta were used to. My father however, having grown up in Pennsylvania, was accustomed to the white powder that would show up every year during the winter months. On this particular Christmas morning, he found himself looking out the window at a street filled with children wrapped in scarves, mittens and warm winter coats. He told me it reminded him of his days as a child when they would take their new Christmas sleds and race down the hills.
For here we were, 9 kids strong (me, my sister, and our neighbors the McDonald's and the Duane's), racing down and around the asphalt covered street on our new Christmas skateboards!
Yes, times may change....but the essence of human nature...curiousity, excitement, adventure, friendships, fear, laughter, love...these are the things that ground us; connect us. Be it sleds or skateboards.
Curiosity for example. Children throughout history have tried to discover where their parents have hidden Christmas presents prior to Christmas morning! Kids throughout history long for that "one" special gift...the HOT item of the season. They are drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
Such was the Christmas of 1973. North Augusta, South Carolina was like any other medium sized southern town. The churches had been filled on Christmas Eve for candle-light services; carolers could be heard singing in various neighborhoods; streets were aglow with the annual decorations, and kids were anxiously awaiting the gift feeding frenzy which would happen the following morning
White Christmas's were not something the folks of North Augusta were used to. My father however, having grown up in Pennsylvania, was accustomed to the white powder that would show up every year during the winter months. On this particular Christmas morning, he found himself looking out the window at a street filled with children wrapped in scarves, mittens and warm winter coats. He told me it reminded him of his days as a child when they would take their new Christmas sleds and race down the hills.
For here we were, 9 kids strong (me, my sister, and our neighbors the McDonald's and the Duane's), racing down and around the asphalt covered street on our new Christmas skateboards!
Yes, times may change....but the essence of human nature...curiousity, excitement, adventure, friendships, fear, laughter, love...these are the things that ground us; connect us. Be it sleds or skateboards.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Mayhem- Have you noticed....laundry?
Have you ever noticed that just when you thought all the laundry was finished...it wasn't?
Have you ever noticed that dirty clothes will lie on the floor, just inches from the hamper...not in it, just near it , or on it? When you ask your children why they didn't put their clothes "in" the hamper they look at you like you are from a another planet?
Have you ever noticed when you take the time to wash, fold, and iron your children's clothes, they find the time to stack them in the corner or stuff them so tightly in the draw even the wrinkles have wrinkles?
Have you ever noticed that no one ever notices when you have everything clean, but always notice when that "one" item they want to wear isn't?
Have you ever noticed that the dryer always seems to eat at least one sock leaving one to stay unmatched forever?
Because I have noticed many things after many years of many loads of laundry.... allow me to suggest:
Baskets not hampers...there are no lids,
Hangers for everything but undergarments...just makes life easier,
and
White socks...keeps the matches to a minimum.
Have you ever noticed that dirty clothes will lie on the floor, just inches from the hamper...not in it, just near it , or on it? When you ask your children why they didn't put their clothes "in" the hamper they look at you like you are from a another planet?
Have you ever noticed when you take the time to wash, fold, and iron your children's clothes, they find the time to stack them in the corner or stuff them so tightly in the draw even the wrinkles have wrinkles?
Have you ever noticed that no one ever notices when you have everything clean, but always notice when that "one" item they want to wear isn't?
Have you ever noticed that the dryer always seems to eat at least one sock leaving one to stay unmatched forever?
Because I have noticed many things after many years of many loads of laundry.... allow me to suggest:
Baskets not hampers...there are no lids,
Hangers for everything but undergarments...just makes life easier,
and
White socks...keeps the matches to a minimum.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Motherhood-Mine No More
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