Real Mother's Day - Let's be Honest with Each Other

Disclaimer: Not actually my kid.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. According to the History channel - this holiday was originally created by one Ann Reeves Jarvis "in order to teach women proper child-care techniques and sanitation methods." Sounds like a Hallmark Card to me! Jarvis's daugher, Anna, was actually the one responsible for the propagation of the day but never intended it to become commercialized. She actually fought against it becoming a "Hallmark holiday" and died broke and in a sanitarium. Happy Mother's Day!

Like many "holidays" that card purveyors and retailers like to helpfully "remind" us of on a yearly basis (because what else is going on in May that we would need flowers and cards for - honestly), Mother's Day is one of those days that, for me, never lives up to any kind of expectation that I might have. Usually I keep these feelings and sensibilities under wraps and feel silly that I have some kind of secret entitlement to  special treatment and pampering on a day that is arbitrary at best. I try to tamp down any creeping expectations that suddenly possess me and remind myself that I shouldn't need an isolated day to be "honored" for being a mother.

But let's be honest....being a mom is hard work much of the time and if we're given a reason to hope for some appreciation, then I, for one, welcome the occasion. But real Mother's Day is invariably imperfect. Little people don't realize or care that it is Mother's Day. They will still need diaper changes, they will probably fight/argue/not share with their siblings and even if you remind them that "All Mommy really wants is for one day that you would not scream/fight/argue/mess or ask for milk/juice/liquid one more time" - they will still do and ask for all of those things and you will still probably be the one who will change the diaper, get the juice, and break up the fight. So we need to let go of those (maybe artificially) created expectations that somehow our kids are going to change dramatically for one day and be perfect angels who are perfectly dressed and behaved and will be thoughtful and gracious. They may have moments of those qualities but it will (most likely) not be perfect - like most of life - and it just has to be something we're ok with.

My kids brought me their school-created projects home yesterday and despite the fact that I told them that Mother's Day is Sunday and did they want to wait to give me presents - they insisted that I open them immediately. My daughter insisted that she go so far as to unwrap my present - "because I like to unwrap things, Mommy." Both my husband and I reminded her that it wasn't exactly kosher to unwrap someone else's present, but she proceeded anyway. As expected, the unwrapping produced a crafty picture frame of daughter looking like she's up to something. Eldest son's present involved a drawing on a cd that I can now adhere to my fridge and has a handy clothespin glued onto it for me to "clip" things to. But 3 yo and 13 month old will probably let the day pass unremarked upon unless they are coached by the older ones or the husband to say "Happy Mother's Day" which will mean about as much to them as "Happy Dinosaurs are Landing in a Shiny Silver Spaceship Day!" - he actually might be more impressed/excited by the dinosaurs.

So moms of littles who might be reading this - someday they will get bigger - they will make cute and artsy/crafty picture frames or cds that you can stick on your fridge. They will grow into some kind of understanding that they appreciate mom. They may still unwrap your present for you - but they will have a present. Just also remember that this is not a spontaneous outpouring of appreciation but a school-generated project - most often by teachers who are mothers and understand that it's nice for our kids to do something for us and gosh we need something to do at school it's spring and these kids are bouncing off the desks - arts and crafts to the rescue!! (I appreciate those teachers for my perfunctory gifts no matter what the motivation).

So happy real Mother's Day! I wish you a day of instruction in child-rearing and sanitation - which actually is not a bad actualization of the day. Odds are you will spend the day instructing your children, learning additional child-rearing skills and sanitizing something.

Mother's Day for most of us is probably going to look and feel much less like this picture:

And a whole lot more like this one. :)
















So hooray for Mother's Day! Discard your visualizations of brunch, breakfast in bed and pampering that should in reality be able to happen on any old day and embrace the reality that it's probably going to be a pretty ordinary Sunday - except your husband may convince your children to be *slightly* more charming and well-behaved. Primarily I'm going to allow myself to ignore the dishes and laundry for a day.

My Desires for you Oh my Child....Dear Child...

My desires for you oh my child....dear child....

are not so many that I thinketh them unreasonable and yet the reasonableness of these desires is called into question on a daily...no, nary, thrice daily basis....verily unto the nth time my desires are cast unto the ground and scattered like so much dirty laundry upon your floor.

I desire that you should say unto me "Mother! Oh dearest mother! I have a plentiful amount of clothing to wear in my drawer and the sight of said clothing pleases me so. It is apparent how much labor you have put into the cleaning, sorting and folding of mine clothing and so I shall show it the greatest respect and not crumple it up and cast it upon the floor to be trampled by myself and  my siblings. I would not dream, oh Mother, to throw these beautiful and clean garments upon the floor in order to play with my Barbies or trucks or superheroes (as may be) in the empty space left therein. For if I were to do that, oh dearest Mother, I know that the clean and unclean clothing will mix and you would be unable to discern the clean clothes from the dirty ones and the clean would be needlessly washed with the dirty."

It is my desire that you should say these things, and yet you do not say them, nor even imply them.

I desire that  you should say unto me "Mother! Oh dearest mother! I am overabundently happy with my playthings and with the company of mine siblings! My playthings give me constant delight and occupation; additionally I desire no more playthings such that even should a shiny new catalog arrive in the mail, or should I happen to catch you browsing items on the internet, or even should I accompany you on a trip to Walmart - the land of many new and shiny things - a whimper of request or desire shall not pass mine lips as I am not in need of additional plastic molded into various incarnations of characters that I have viewed upon the television. And of mine siblings, they are never troubling to me and we are only of constant accord and harmony in all things and at all times. The quiet and tranquility and harmony that we create as a group of children is the envy of every respectable monastic establishment the world over."

It is my desire that you should say these things, and yet, again, you do not say them, nor even imply them.

I desire that you should say to me "Mother! Oh dearest mother! The food and drink that you have given me unto this day are nourishing and sufficient! Your skill and care in the preparation of my excellent repast have been duly noted and appreciated by me and mine siblings. I would not dare suggest that you prepare additional food more to my liking because nothing could be more tasty and satisfying that what you have prepared this evening. I shall clean my plate with alacrity, but not too much haste that I shall make my stomach have pains. I shall take my plate to the sink, wash it, put it away and express my sincere thanks to you for the delightful meal I have received."

Alas, it is my desire that you should say these things...but you do not say them, nor even imply them.

I have these desires, oh my children, that you and I may live in peace together and that I shall not be able to count into double digits the number of gray hairs now gracing mine head. Assuredly you have blessed me with these hairs, lacking in pigmentation as they are, and my desires are as fruitless as the refrigerator after you have come home from school and ransacked it, as is your way.

(inspired in part by the classic article that never ceases to amuse me). Have a blessed day and may your children express your deepest desires in equally eloquent language.

Slowing Down

A beautiful fall day today prompted me to ask two year old

"Do you want to ride your bike?"

"Yes" he replied sweetly and then informed me "No, I want to just walk"


"No bike? Are you sure?"


I had just found the bike helmet that belonged to his older brother and hopefully tried it on his head to see if it would fit. It was comically large on two year old's head.


"Just a walk, mommy. No bike."


So putting baby in the stroller and grabbing a library book that needed to be returned, we set off to walk to the library (which is delightfully in walking distance for pleasant days such as this).


The thing I did differently today was that I just enjoyed the walk. I didn't try to rush or walk fast or worry about what might happen or what would happen later in the day. I just walked, with my two little boys. This was something that I used to do with the older ones several years ago before life got crazy.


I stopped while two year old grabbed a stick to play with - a sword of course, or maybe a gun.


I stopped to show him a rabbit who was trying to conceal itself in the grass. Delightful to him of course.


I stopped to show him how the leaves were falling off the tree - explained about fall and trees and leaves.


I stopped when he saw dandelions and showed him how to blow the fluff off of the white ones. He did this excitedly several times. And now I will forever have a beautiful image in my head of my little boy blowing away the dandelion fluff.


We got to the library, turned in the book, picked up a few things and walked back.


We stopped when he found more dandelions.


We stopped to see if the bunny was still there.


I showed him the bean pods that fell from one of the trees, how they made a rattling sound and how to crack them open to see the beans inside.


I showed him a pine cone and he brought it with us for a while.


Then close to home we found some sand on the sidewalk where there is some construction going on. I picked up some sand to show him and he spent the next ten minutes pouring it out of his hand and tossing it.


We had a lovely walk. It was most lovely because I just let myself relax, be present and not worry about anything. Something I should do more often.


I think we forget sometimes, or at least I do, how naturally kids and the outdoors go together. I thought today about how everything outside is very forgiving of children. Pulled leaves and grass grow back. Tree bark is tough and durable, sticks are meant to be played with a broken. A severe contrast to inside where many things can be broken, overused or ruined.

I also thought about something that I read that G.K. Chesterton wrote about how as adults we become jaded by sin and so we constantly seek novelty because things no longer impress us. We no longer delight in things like the sunrise and sunset and the changing of the seasons because our sins make us cranky and old. He remarked, if I remember right, that God has a very childlike delight in repetition - since the sun does rise and fall everyday, things follow a certain repetitious pattern.

Slowing down felt good - not worrying makes life much more tolerable. Taking walks will definitely be happening more often for baby, two year old and me.

The Green Thing

There's been a post I've seen cropping up in my Facebook feed recently, you may have seen it: 

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the older woman, that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.

The woman apologized and explained, "We didn't have

this green thing back in my earlier days."

The young clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment f
or future generations."

She was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were truely recycled.

But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, that we reused for numerous things, most memorable besides household garbage bags, was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our schoolbooks. This was to ensure that public property, (the books provided for our use by the school) was not defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bags.

But too bad we didn't do the green thing back then.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that young lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smartass young person.

We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to piss us off.

O.k., so apart from being scolded for "misunderstanding" my elders and the wonderful things they used to do, has anyone else had the feeling that this post is just a lot of "back in my day..." sort of talk? 

 

Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so. This article that appeared in the Vancouver Sun  deconstructed this story to point out that many of the things that the writer touts as being something "green" that the older generation did that was infinitely superior to our way of life and thinking was actually something that was invented or promoted by the very oldsters who are complaining about young people these days. 

 

The other thing I couldn't help but think about when I read this story was that the generation who is on the defensive here as not being "green" was in fact responsible for some pretty cruddy and not-at-all green things. I'm thinking specifically of the post war generation who developed and permitted the use of DDT and allowed companies like DuPont and Monsanto to usher in the Pesticide Era in the 1950s. Agriculture would not look the way it does today if it weren't for people like Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz under Richard Nixon who dramatically changed the landscape of American Agriculture from 1971 forward. 

 

The way things are today is a consequence of the innovations of previous generations who bought into Dupont's slogan from 1935 "Better Living Through Chemistry" and all of those chemicals are now creating toxic load on our bodies and in the environment. 

 

The generation who proudly tells us they were green before green was cool were the ones who ushered in the Supermarket (which presumably this woman was shopping in) that necessitated the widespread use of paper and plastic bags. Theirs was the generation that embraced TV dinners and disconnection from family farms in favor of convenience and "better living." 

 

I'm not going to go so far as to say that I'm terribly good at being "green." I don't use cloth diapers, though sometimes feel as though I should. I don't hang my wash to dry on a line, though many of the people in my community do. I just think that this story is one that is the older generation looking back and saying - look how wonderful we were, you young people are so wasteful and have no idea when you talk about being green. 

 

I honestly wish that the post war generation had reconsidered DDT and pesticide use, had rejected chemical birth control and had not brought into being some of the "conveniences" we have today. 

 

Don't get me wrong, I have a deep respect for my elders and their values and their contributions to the world - I just don't think this story considers the issue beyond making older Americans feel like they've got one up on the youngsters. 

 

I think we all can be more honest with ourselves than that.

Friday thoughts

Well everyone, we survived another week of life, isn't it grand?


There hasn't been much to blog about in the household this week. It's been one of those average, unremarkable weeks which can be both good and bad.

I could bore you with the details of reorganizing the clothes in my tiny bedroom, but I won't.

I did find Simcha Fischer's article over on the National Catholic register this week interesting, though. The article is titled "This Isn't Really Who I Am!" and talks about how she sort of keeps making excuses about how she is not really herself because of the life circumstances she finds herself in.

"This is my life, and this is me, living it.  It's time to give up for good the idea that there is some other, calmer me waiting in the wings to deal with some other, calmer existence that may or may not come about"

I find myself falling prey to this same mentality almost constantly.

"It's a pretty common mental trap to fall into -- clinging to the notion that we're just getting through this rough patch right now, but that our real life lies waiting for us in the future, and our real selves are the ones who have to deal with that real life.  The trap says:  This, just now?  This is temporary.  This is a glitch, and we need to cut ourselves some slack until our real lives start again."

I believe I have been doing this very thing ever since graduating college. Once the predictable ebb and flow of school years fades away, I think it becomes difficult to reconcile the idea that life is just an unpredictable jumble of days that do not follow a set plan or are dictated by the seasons of the year.

Since becoming a parent especially it's easy to fall into the trap. Once the kids are older, I'll be more like myself. Once the kids are out of the house, things will be more normal. But then I have to stop and think about all of the life circumstances that could happen between now and then and have to consider that, as Mrs. Fischer relates, I have to accept that this is my real life. Projecting our real lives into the future undermines any efficacy we have in the present moment.

On the other hand, I also think it's necessary for parents to project their thoughts into a quieter, if not realistic future some days and to believe that their kids will not always be afraid of the dark, will be potty trained, will not find it necessary to cover the kitchen floor with flour if they happen to find an open bag lying around unsupervised. We have to have these thoughts because the idea of living with pint sized crazy people indefinitely is not bearable. We have to have moments where we buy into the idea that maybe someday we'll have time for more of the things that we find interesting and entertaining - maybe even to go into that antique shop and browse without worry that someone will touch something irreplaceable and the proprietor will despise you for it.

We have to believe these things - else we go mad. So, yes, I accept that this current situation is my real life but I refuse to believe that it is not a season of my life, and, like everyone, I enjoy some seasons more than others.

Ultimately, she ties her thoughts in the article back to the fact that we live in an imperfect world and that the perfect real life we imagine we're missing out on doesn't actually exist and will always be tainted by original sin (good point). It just got me thinking about why we might have the tendency to deny our current situation as being our "real life." I think it's because some days as a mom and a parent you just have to say - this IS temporary, it WILL get better - otherwise we might all just give up and go down with the ship.

Me, I'll be dreaming and that will keep us away from the iceburgs.

Too little butter, too much bread

Today's theraputic blogging session has been brought to you by this quote from Lord of the Rings. Lately I have felt spread too thin. There are four of them and one of me and many days if I could clone myself I would in a heartbeat. I realize that there are the ethical ramifications of cloning to be considered and there's no guarantee that my clone would behave as I would wish her too (you know, being a creature in possession of free will and all that rubbish). **Side note, I particularly enjoy the word rubbish and feel I should use it more often.**


It's worse on the weekends and now that it is Monday and the older ones are off to school I can decompress.

Still breathing, that's good.

My prayer at the moment is that I could experience the miracle of the multiplication of the butter so that I have enough to spread to everyone. :) Maybe that's what grace is, though, a multiplication of the butter. Hmmm, is the metaphor getting spread too thin? One toast to rule them all...okay nevermind, lol.

Other thoughts for today....

My favorite thing after school when the kids come home, if I've managed to do quite a bit of tidying in the house is my eldest son's reaction.


"Wow, Mom, you did a lot today!"


Totally validating of all the work I put into cleaning up.


My other favorite quote from him recently: "You're driving everyone ridiculous!"


Also, upon announcing that I was leaving their grandparent's house and was ready to head home, the two year old says: "By yourself?" (clearly he wanted to stay there and was perfectly fine with me heading home all on my own).

Book Club Selection of the Month: 

I always enjoy being around books and it is a (not-so-secret) desire of mine to someday run a used bookstore. It's sort of a pipe dream with no real plan to make it happen, but it's fun to dream. But I do attend my library's monthly book club and that has been a great experience and way to find out about/read books that I might not pick up otherwise.

This month's selection is definitely one of those that I would not have necessarily picked up on my own.

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand - who evidently was the author of "Seabiscuit."

 Book club is tonight and I'm only about half-way through the book. It's not a fast read, but it is an interesting book.

It tells the story of a young man named Louis Zamperini who starts out as an olympic track star and winds up in the Pacific theater in the air force during WWII.

The prologue of the book gives it away that eventually his plane will crash and he will be trying to survive in the ocean on a raft.

I think if you enjoy true stories, or historical stories then you would enjoy this book. Also, if you like survival stories a la "I Shouldn't Be Alive." (Which, by the way, I watched a lot of while I was in the hospital with my PE last year - totally made me feel better since the people on the show were going through a lot worse than I was - hurrah for schadenfreude).

I will let you know how I feel about it once I'm finished (if I finish).

The grass is brown, no matter which side of the fence you're on.

I'm having one of those mornings....kind of feels like sometimes every morning is "one of those" mornings. This is life, no? 

After I decided on a title for this post, I remembered that I had read an article from back in April that one of my friends posted on Facebook  (I think it was my friend from over at the Percolating Petals blog but I am not certain of that). It was written by Fr. Robert Barron and the perspective that he gives is a really good one no matter what your vocation or state in life. He discusses in the article how those in the priesthood idealize married life and vice versa. He writes of his idealized vision of marriage: 

"I thought of how nice it would be to be wrapped up in my imaginary wife’s arms, being protected from the rough and cold world outside. I thought about how great it would be to live with a best friend, and the possibility of creating new life together. I thought about growing old with a woman who promised to love me unconditionally all the days of her life. And then I would sigh and feel sorry for myself."

A fellow priest informed him that the grass is brown on both side of the fence.

 "In other words, whatever vocation you are called to, the cross is there."

 

That is pretty profound to me. I had almost decided to write a post today about what I will call "teenager envy." This is a condition specific to mothers with small children who have a certain envy of mothers with teenagers (and older children in general). 

 

The five year old has lately decided that the night is perilous and fraught with terror and thusly refuses to fall asleep if I am not there with her. Then there is the waking up at 1:30 am and 6 am. You would think that it would be the 5 month old waking me up, but this would not be true. 

So my teenager envy comes from two ideas: firstly, teenagers sleep, a lot, and sleep in on weekends like normal people - they are not under the impression that they will be "missing out on something" should they fall asleep. They have no desire to be in your bed with you (hopefully) for any reason. 

secondly, privacy is back on the table. Your teenager does not want to accompany you on your trips to the little mommy's room. And when they need to use the facilities, they can do so by themselves, without assistance or creating additional mess. 

But then I have to snap back to reality, because I coach teenagers and I have friends with teenagers. 

They're moody, they don't want to spend time with you, you are some form of insignificant life who is not worthy of their attention and your sole function in their life is to be a kill-joy. I realize this is not all teenagers but I'm not going to idealize them too much either. 

Parenting is hard, marriage is hard, the single life is hard, the priesthood is hard, being a cloistered nun (I'm sure) is hard - though that is the other lifestyle I idealize more than I should. 

Whatever vocation you choose, the cross is there. 

The grass is brown on both sides of the ever-loving fence. Nobody is free from their own cross. My cross is not theirs and theirs is not mine. I've been given grace to carry my cross specifically and there are many days I know I would fail miserably without it. 

Something else I read recently speaks to that, though. We're supposed to fail. No one does things perfectly and we're imperfect creatures. So I'm letting go of the rosy glasses and the idea the someone out there has it so much better than I do somehow. 

We all have crosses. I just need to remember that, carry mine and soldier on.