Grace in parenting in public

Recently I heard an older friend comment about how she wishes she would not have been so hard on her children for the sake of her own pride. As soon as she said the comment and started to go on to explain it I was already throwing up defenses and bristling. Why? Because it was already striking a cord and I darn well knew it. Her point was that so often she would be harder on her children in public to keep up the appearance that she was in fact a good mother who could control her children. Inside my head a tiny voice was croaking out "but so many kids are monsters these days, and you must be an example of an effective disciplinarian..." And that last word almost made me gasp. Really? Disciplinarian Court? For crying out loud your kid is only two. And yet how much more likely am I to say oh "no no" over and over again and say it loudly and pompously for other parents to hear. Or even the flip side of it, how often do I try to push her to do things she doesn't want to do just to show off my effective parenting skills? Case in point: 'Can you wave goodbye/hello?' It should be a clue to me that my poor child is already affixed to my leg like some panty-hose that she just might not be feeling like talking to this particular stranger for whatever reason but oh no I want to show that yes, I am teaching my baby to communicate and be polite.

So how to I resist this pressure to perform and show how good at this thing that actually scares the bejesus out of me? How do I have grace for myself and just trust that, guess what, hardly any new mommy has it together and if she thinks she does ha! She'll splat soon enough. Maybe it's a start to call a spade a spade and admit to myself when my veiled attempts and displaying good parenting are actually prideful moments of showing off. And I have a feeling the only 'parenting award' that really matters is that precious little face smiling up at me. 

An Award I can't spell or pronounce.

Thanks to Zeemaid at In the mommy trenches for this award, though I'm not entirely sure I deserve it. See point number three: when you discover the clear purpose for this blog, would you let me know? Raise your hand if you have fostered any more well rounded beliefs on social, political, economic, the arts culture and science and beliefs... wait, what the heck are these you say? I'm too busy chasing this rug-rat? I pop my head above ground just enough to notice the economy is already in the toilet, the political arena while interesting is like being back in high school, by arts do you mean when the toddler just grabbed the crayon and redecorated the living room and science and beliefs: Oh gimme a freaking break already I am doing good to remember my own blasted name. If that describes you well then my friend you have come to the right place. And as you can see I still shamelessly post the award because it's mine. I love shiny objects. 

And geeze does this have so many rules. I feel compelled to follow them for some reason instead of breaking them like I sometimes do. I think it's because it seems all esoteric and etheral I mean just look at those cool bandy thingys around the world? And that nifty God-hand? I digress.

What has my blog accomplished? (Other than this post putting you to sleep?) Well I did once post a thank you card link where you can send notes to soilders. Because hey, it would suck to be in a hot desert so far away from home AND be shot at all the freaking time. I did a post about Breast Cancer being a big fat Poopy Head and made an award out of it. Feel free to post that award too. And I did have one post about the economy: Parent's Bailout (which I'm still waiting for by the way, ahem government snoops listening in.)

Now for the hard part, picking people to bless (hopefully not annoy) with this. Cause honestly all the sites I go to have so much good on them but I'm getting tired so I'm going to make it short. 

Fourfold Mom: I just love her posts on Gracie so much, each one teaches me more than I thought possible. 

Bobeesah: Ok, I know she's my BFF and I pick her for everything but maybe she is my BFF because she totally rocks! And I swear she has the coolest most useful posts sometime. Like about how to pack for an airplane ride with a toddler: brillant!

Outside voice.... ok ok... Inktopia: (Can you tell I don't deal w/change well... I just loved the name outside voice, but bygones.) This is a seriously smart and sassy site that cracks me up so bad I sometimes fart. (Wait a second you say, you always fart, I know because you are stupid enough to post about it. Ok, you got me. But seriously, it's funny.)

This Award is presented to bloggers who display consistency in any one (or a combination) of these conditions:

1. The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervades amongst different cultures and beliefs.

2. The blog contents inspire; strives to encourage and offers solutions.

3. There is a clear purpose to the blog; one that fosters a better understanding of Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Culture and Sciences and Beliefs.

4. The Blog is refreshing and creative.

5. The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

The Blogger who receives this award will need to perform the following steps:

1. Create a Post with a mention and link to the person who presented the Noblesse Oblige Award.

2. The Blogger must display the Award in any location on their blog.

3. The Award conditions must be displayed in the post.

4. Write a short article about what their blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older posts to support.

5. The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions.

Ashes and worry

I went to my first Ash Wednesday service last night. It was beautiful. I'm not entirely sure I do so well with new things though, as I've been worried that I screwed up communion. (Oh drat, I'm not supposed to..) By that I mean we were supposed to dip the bread into the cup and I was nervous about actually dropping my piece into the cup and hence ensuring that all the poor saps after me would have soggy bread grape juice so I just barely dipped my piece. 

The ash part though was very intriguing. I thought it would feel more odd to have ashes on my forehead but instead it was oddly soothing. Like having Head On rubbed on you. (I swear that stuff works, no they aren't paying me for this post). I could finally think for a change, it was like all the clutter of worry of my life was cleared out. So for Lent I have decided to give up worry. No seriously. I've already back-slidden once today but hubby was quick to check me on it. He is ecstatic that I've chosen worry to give up. When I go on one of my worry tirades he calls it "terror land." He's right. I am a first class worrier. Even the insanely odd things, like what if when she's running with a stick and then falls and pokes her eye out? Constantly run through my head. So for this season at least I am going to try and get a ticket out of Terror Land and be a normal person. Wish me luck.

The comment pickle.

Bleepity bleep bleep da doop doop. So when I was fiddling around with my site trying to make it more green (if that were possible) I inadvertently changed the setting on it to where I had to go in and click each blasted comment. Which meant two things: 1. more work for me and b. made me feel unloved because I don't always sign in sometimes I just stop by my site and I would think: WAHHH noone loves me, noone is commenting. When you were. My bad. 

And on a side note, is it just me or are allergies like really bad all the freaking time now? It seriously makes me wonder if the trees are out to get us like in the movie The Happening. 

So. Comment away so I can see if I fixed it (I think I did). 

Learning to walk again

My ankle is doing much better though it is amazes me how long it has taken. Apparently if you roll your ankle bad enough it takes longer to heal than a broken bone. I finally ran the other day (at therapy) and though it was a little scary it felt safer with people there by my side who get people back to walking (or running) on a daily basis. I still understand why my Dad used to call his Lucifer, because man alive do they stretch you. 

At the place I've been doing rehab there is this "mobility garden" and a few weeks ago I graduated to it. What was neat was I had been staring out the window at it during each session and wondering, when do I get to do that? I mused to myself that it would probably be the graduation session and it practically was. While I still have one more to go, mostly I am back to normal. What was nice about the garden was it was a tangible goal to look at. Yes. I can do that. Ramp? No problem. Curvy area with some rocks? Let me at it! And so the conversation went in my head. It was even more satisfying to actually be doing it. The second time we even busted out of the garden and went walking on the actual street area without any ankle brace. Talk about living dangerously. 

I asked my therapist if she had ever helped someone learn to walk again and she said yeah, sort of nonchalantly like it was no big deal. So I asked if there were ever like miracle cases and her eyes kind of glistened and she said that there were some that were very satisfying because it seemed like they would never make it out here (to the garden) and then they did. 

It has been a little humbling going in each week when others are wheel-chair bound and in a dire situation and I just have my little rolled ankle. Yet it's also a hopeful place because maybe just maybe someone will learn how to walk all over again and get to take a stroll out on the mobility garden with a big silly grin on their face. 

What's up foo?

So Kaiya as at her imitating stage. Just about anything we do or say she mimics, which is a little scary and terribly endearing. When her daddio gets ready in the morning she wants to do just what he does. Put on deodorant. Put on cologne. If only she could figure out how to pee standing up like he does (I wonder what being raised by a boy is doing to her)  and on and on. What is equally fascinating to me is the little traits she has that are all her own, completely unique to her. Her shoulder-scrunching thing is still the main way she lets it be known, hey this is cool. She also will stick out her gut I guess to kind of express, what's up y'all? Now it seems she is getting down combinations of things, like sentences and words/sign language (some of it is made up, cause, eh? why not?) and the freaky thing is we are like, hey she can actually communicate! Of course it's not like she can tell you her thoughts on the economy but it's like she's not so much a baby and more this tiny person with her very own WILL. Which of course I knew would happen someday I just didn't think would happen so soon. And most of what she's been doing she's been doing a while, but now she is sort of putting it all together to speak. 

Suffice it to say that I love that she is her own little person. It's scary though, letting her out a bit at a time, like she is a balloon who will all too soon float away. I know, I know, she's only two for crying out loud. 

Plans schmlans!

You know that verse in the bible that says "I know the plans I have for you"? Well I'm glad someone does. Sometimes it seems like we are stepping through a minefield what with a toddler running around and two young people still getting to know each other and get a handle on their careers (or lack of) and still manage to find some balance in all the craziness. It seems like if you were trying to tip-toe through a mine field you would not be the best person to decide which way to step. And neither would the other poor sap beside you. (STICK WITH THE ANALOGY PEOPLE (Ahem, Dennis)- I am not calling my spouse a poor sap. I want you to picture two little army guys.) Nope, the person from above would obviously have the best view. Yet why when I have a problem or a decision to make do I ask myself first or turn to the poor sap beside me? Yes, Someone knows the plans and I'm glad it's not me. I would have lost them already. 

Moo says the cow, but what does an emu say?

My dear sweet parents gave us a much needed break from the holy-i'm tooth!-terror so hubby could catch up on cleaning and rest and I could catch up on studying. These are some of the fabulous pictures they took from their day at the rodeo. How fun is that? Mostly they are of her petting various animals. We are amazed at how quickly she is learning. The other day she announced "cow!" when Hub was driving around and he was just thinking she was playing or being silly but he looked over and sure enough there was a field with cows in it.

Oh to be two again

Two. It is adorable when she says it, because it has this high pitched and yet slightly Southern drawl to it. Like: Tooooth! And I can't believe that my baby is two. We will be celebrating her birthday in the same place we did last year, our local park that we love so much. I am maybe going to put a bit more effort in than last year but not much mind you. The theme is Karate Girl and she already has a shirt for it. (My one splurge this month.)
It's all craziness and last-minute thrown togetherness and I am entirely looking forward to it. Though it will be my one break for the day and then it is sadly back to study study study.
I still can't believe she is here sometimes. And so big. We are losing count of the words she can say. I started to seriously worry when I saw Allison's post at Allison Says about language and that she was supposed to be saying 150 words at least. I counted and she only says 60. Apparently my kid is the ultimate procrastinator like her mama because she now says like 300 I think. And complete sentences. She runs. Hub was telling me how before she was born he used to imagine her running and now he can't believe she actually is. I swear people, just around the corner is her standing in the white dress. Ok, so maybe that's a little too far away but the looks she gives me, the seriously sophisticated ones, they kill me.
Her upper lip curls down on one half and up on the other. It kills me. Where does she learn to do something like that? I have this running theory that babies aren’t just created in the womb but that their little spirits are grown in Heaven and then they are given a body when it’s ready. You can feel free to debate me all you want, I don’t care. It’s not like anyone actually knows what goes on in Heaven so ha! And Plflfpfft!
She is here. And I am so grateful for this beautiful gift of love named Kaiya.

Seriously people HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

OK so here is Court's brief history of Valentine's. Let's see my first "boyfriend" whom I happened to be going out with when a Valentine's was coming up and was so excited that I was finally going to get a Valentines besides the pity ones or the ones where the kids brought them for everyone but my boyfriend ended up calling in sick to school that day. I still to this day think he just didn't want to buy me anything. He's married to one of my best friends in the world and I seriously hope they get the baby they want so badly for the big V-day. I'm all about the love. And pro-creating.
So a few more agonizing years of high school later, one of which I had to watch the one I thought I loved doting on his girlfriend on the then dreaded V-day and while ironically listening to a band play "I hate Valentine's Day' song. And right then I decided to hate it with all of my being. I mean, it was simpler than being lonely.
Skip forward a few years when I was quite a bit more mature and on a huge "it's just Jesus and me" kick (how I was coping with single-hood at the time.) I decided to... wait for it... go on a date with Jesus. Yup. That's right. Just a silly girl walking down the street (by herself) in a mini skirt. OK, maybe the mini skirt was a bit much I admit but I was rebelling against my Baptist roots. (That and did you know it's 95 degrees in Texas in F-E-B---ah-I-give-up?) No but seriously, it was sweet. I went to my favorite spot and watched water, I love watching water and it was like this little tender moment you know, when you're all nineteen and still young enough to think you can actually change the world.
Skip ahead a few more years and I'm drenched in work and too busy for my own life let alone fitting someone else into it. I emerge one year, completely having forgotten it was Valentine's, and am amazed at how many gosh-darn couples are out. And even sadder, that the median age is something I was actually surpassing. Yikes. Maybe I should get on this one. Then someone I love dearly tells me I need to hurry up and get married and after being mad at them a while I realize, yup. I do. So the quest begins.
We met online. (gasp, how weird, I know.) Hub owes his chance to the movie Must Love Dogs. You see, there are weirdos online. And so after creepy guy number two (as in I was seriously freaked out I would end up in a trunk as the car was being pushed into the river) I decided to go to the site and delete my account for good. But just before that I watched the movie, which is about online dating, and one of the characters told the main one that she had to date the creepies to get to the good one. So I thought, huh, maybe that's true and I checked my account. And there was this well-written, articulate, but most importantly spelled correctly and no blatant sexual innuendos email. We started emailing back and forth and then we met at a coffee shop. (How I still love that coffee shop.) It was a bit of a whirlwind the next few months and we were having a blast. So our first Valentine's we had everything planned out, we were going to meet at this little book-shop place (the same place I had ended up at by accident before when I was in my work-stupor and didn't realize it was V-day) and we were going to paint a canvas together while we talked. Life had different plans as Hub's truck broke down-- wouldn't you know??-- right in front of a ... diamond store.
We went in. I kept glaring at him suspiciously to see if he had actually planned all this. And he grinned like a kid and announced to the sales gal that we were there to pick out a wedding ring. I had to go to the bathroom. So I go to the hall and there is only one and someone is in it. I wait. And wait. Fifteen long minutes later I am still waiting when this very large unusual person walks out. And behind um, I think it was a him, was this horrid smell the likes of which I have never before nor since smelled. By now I was about to pee my pants so I stuffed my face in my shirt and went in. When I came back, about twenty minutes later now, Hub had a very worried look. He asked if everything was alright and I nodded. (He later told me he was seriously worried I was having cold feet even though we had had a couple of casual conversations about marriage and it seemed we were on the same page at least. I then told him why it took so long and he died laughing.) So we sat. On our first Valentine's and looked at pretty rings.
I am now, decidedly, back in the Valentine's day camp.
This Valentine's we had a little mix-up with our childcare situation but then this girl approached Hub as he was carrying baby and getting movies (our back-up plan) and asked if he needed a baby sitter. So. Ironically they are friends of friends and so suddenly we get to have a romantic date after all rather than trying to squeeze some romance into the end of a very long day. I seriously can't wait to spend the rest of my life with this man.

Smell of make-up

I love the way make up smells. Well most of it. Some of it smells like armpit and I’m not sure why. I would think if you are marketing something for people to put on their face you would try and avoid an armpit-flavored sent but then I’m not in their line of business so what do I know? I was thinking recently about why I love the smell, or maybe just about smells in general. I heard that smell is one of those things that links directly to your brain. Like all the other sense have to go through some kind of processing equipment before they make it to the brain, but not your sniffer. It’s got an expressway right to your central hub. Which is perhaps, at least for me, why so many of my memories ‘scented.’ And make-up reminds me of my mother, getting ready for church. Or my sister playing around with me like a good big sister (she really was good at that. I mean geeze I was EIGHT years younger than her why didn’t she tell me to get lost?) Now when I smell it I think about playing with Kaiya, though daddy has set restrictions on that. Still, in her little drawer is a brush and sponge and her favorite thing to do is pick up the sponge and mimic mommy. It scares the heck out of me how much she watches everything I do.
Another smell that snaps me to every time I smell it is the crisp scent of apple. How I love that smell. I think, primarily, because we went to an orchid when I was young and it was a happy, fun day for me. Then there’s the smell of popcorn which brings to mind the many movies and wonderful people alongside me during them.

Let the games begin!

Join us in the ring today for another morning of action packed adventure. In this corner, wearing purple trunks and her snazzy new karate girl shirt is Kaiya. Weighing in at 24 pounds and standing at just over two feet this little fighter specializes in the stiff upper cut followed by a push-off technique. If she is really pissed she might flail on the ground like a fish out of water. In the other corner is her entire Sunday School class. Never fear though, our little Kaiya is a chip of her mom’s old block and can hold her own for sure. The games begin when the last parent drops off their kid and don’t end until the preacher finally shuts up. On extra holy days you may come to pick up your little one and find the frazzled teachers underneath a pile of toddlers who are trying to bite, hit, scratch and kick their way to independence. This teacher in particular is at least glad there is one child she can scream at, since it’s her own, and oh does she scream. And put her in time out. The others look on with wide eyes as my child has just punched one kid, taken another kid’s toy, has a snatch of hair from the daintiest kid (of course) clutched in her little hand and still glaring at me defiantly. So, ding ding ding, let the games begin!

Won't you get me a glass of water?

So Hubby is better at serving than I think I am. I think it stems from him serving me in the way I want to be served rather than in the way he wants to be served. I often try to do things for him but have a hard time stepping outside of myself to see what he would actually want and not just give him what I think he wants (which, conveniently enough for me- is usually what I want… er… I’m working on this y’all.) I don’t think I ever realized just how incredibly selfish I can be until I got married. Maybe it’s because it’s the one sort of relationship that is just everywhere, you know? It’s not like you can really compartmentalize it because it goes in just about every blasted little box. I remember years ago hearing the lead singer for Waterdeep talk about how he was learning how selfish he truly was now that he was married and I thought: nah, it'll be like it is in the movies. Cue the violins and chock full of flowers. The truth is though, as hard as it is, I truly do love him more each day. Because the more I know him the more I love him truly, as he actually is rather than my image of him. I don't know if I'm making any sense or not but what with Valentine's day coming up I've been overloading on the chick flicks (research, I say) and pondering relationships in general. Here's the thing I wonder: how come we are so focused on romantic relationships? I mean I absolutely love it when a story-line focuses on platonic friends more than romantic tension. Of course ring ring, kettle this is pot and you are might black my friend. I focus on the romantic stuff probably an inordinate amount of time, and if you think about it that really just is a small part of the marriage relationship anyway. Alas, I digress into rambles. All this to say, the point I started out with, I think my husband's way of serving me truly strikes at the heart of learning to love others well. Loving them in the way they want to be loved rather than I want to be loved is the crux. Maybe it's a project I'll work on in the next decade and by the time I'm forty I can move onto something more advanced, eh?

BBFF: Best blog friends forever!

Recently someone posted about why she blogs (and I was going to give her some linky love, but alas I have slept since then and now forgotten just who it was that made the post so if it was you let me know so I can link to you) and how she has developed relationships from her small following of bloggy friends and it got me thinking about why I blog and my relationship with writing. It’s hard not to dream big, to want the huge following and the book, radio, hey-dream-bigger-movie! deals. Though I don’t know how realistic that truly is. To be honest, I’m a little surprised anyone would read the drivel I put on here. It feels like we’re in middle school, passing fantastically long notes that are folded up in a little box or a heart and written in different colors. Trying to make each other laugh, trying to cheer each other up, or just sharing random thoughts to see the look of ink on crisp, clean paper. Or in this case, the look of type-face on bold colors right in front of our very faces. And maybe that is just what we are doing. So? To connect with others is probably one of my most important things, because it helps me grow and become a better person but it also helps me learn who I am. Call me crazy but I could have sworn this whole adult thing would have been easier. It sometimes seems like the teenage years merely extended with perhaps slightly more mature hormones but oh how the hormones still rage. Still, the whole ordeal was easier to get through with a gaggle of your peers beside you. So maybe the same is true with parenting, and being married, having to work and juggle it with wanting to be home with your little one and any other of the myriad of problems we face each day. When I click open someone’s blog and they write about something that I’m going through right then I get all choked up and emotional because I think: oh see, now I knew the universe revolved around me and here is proof! No seriously, even just seeing that someone else feels similar to me is deeply comforting because I feel connected and not like I’m zipping off by myself out into the stratosphere of nowhere. What does blogging mean to you?

Tip-toe into mommy's heart

How does she do it so easily? How does she woo me so naturally? Love me so tenderly and richly? This thing that I find so hard, that I sweat over, work at and struggle for she just does. Perhaps we are better at loving when we don’t try so hard to do it. All she did was bring me a piece of cheese but it was the little shrug of her shoulder combined with the silly grin and this fantastically blue twinkle in her eye. And she had me. Then she tip toed (for the first time) away from me. So it is, often it seems, that this little person rips out my heart, adds a little to it, and then puts it back. But it's better for it, like metal that has been hardened in fire and smoothed down to perfection. Perhaps that truly is what this life is about, rubbing out our hard bits one by one through love. I sure hope so. When I look into my daughter's perfect heart-shaped face it stretches out my heart a bit more, to make room for this dear little one who fits so perfectly.

F-E-B-R-U-A-R-Y

So there is this guy from work who has given me the nickname "February." Because, just about every day in the big F month I had to pause when writing a date down on something to ask him how to spell it. What with spell checker and all, who can really blame me? It's like I have a mental block on the word and it is almost painful to spell it. I really just want to spell it this way: Febuary. Seriously. What is wrong with that? My way is sooo much better.
As it so happened my daughter ended up being born in this very same, difficult to spell, month. I remember sitting in the hospital bed filling out her birth certificate and asking my husband how to spell it. When I came back to work after maternity leave and told my friend the story he rolled and muttered: maybe now you'll spell it right.
Nope. Wouldn't count on it. There is this beautiful thing called typing and spell checker. If only I could implant it in my brain.

Soul searching

Recently, I have been trying to grow. Ok, maybe I've just been trying to survive. I have posted about some of my attempts at distracting myself by learning about my cats and learning about my food but it boils down to I think I'm at one of those changing seasons. I once read that people's personalities change every six months or so, in increments. No idea if that is true or not but it haunts me. I mean geeze, how different am I from when I was twenty? Or ten? What I hope my thirties bring. As this is my last year of being in a twenty, though I reserve the right to come back and delete this and lie about my age later, I am thinking more and more about what the big threes will bring.
I am hoping perspective. And the in-the-trenches kind. By that I mean I am a big picture person and so when times are hard it's difficult to see why they are hard. So often I look back and think, huh, so that is what was going on. How nice it would be to just calm down in the midst of trials and think: you will get through this, and some day you may even know why it is so hard right now. I think I also don't deal so well with change and these last few years have been a whirlwind so it feels in some ways like there's catching up to do. Like I could spend a few weeks on a porch swing with some lemonade, my hand in my husband's and watching my daughter tear around a huge, safe yard. Alas, it is study crunch time so I will have to wait a bit longer for that vision.
What are your thoughts on this? How do you gain perspective in the midst of things?