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It has been said that “It takes a village to raise a child”, I was thinking about this on my way to the dedication/baptism of a friends 2 month old baby girl. I considered the role that we play in the lives of children other than our own. How difficult it is to raise children in this world and how important it is to have people close to us who not only love our children but also stand along side us when we make the tough decisions and help us when things go wrong. That same weekend our godson turned one year old and I was remembering his dedication ceremony when we stood alongside his parents and promised to help them raise him to fear the Lord and be a constant presence in his life.
Our children have a wonderful godmother, who although she has no children of her own, has loved mine since they were born and promised to take them and raise them in the event that anything should happen to my husband and me. What a tremendous relief to know that our children will be cared for after we are gone. Every parent worries that they will die before their little one’s are old enough to manage alone, who will watch over them at the park? Make sure that they have healthy eating habits? Help them with their homework? Teach them about dating and saving for their first car? What if we don’t have enough time to help them grow into confident adults? Will they have successful relationships and find the right career?
The truth is, we have no control of how long we will be with our children, we therefore have to make use of the time we have. Spend time with them and pour our experience and knowledge into them in order to give them all the information they might need to make those decisions later in life. It is also very important to surround our children with good adult role models to help pick up where we leave off. If it does in fact take a village to raise our children, we need to ensure that they have access to lots of reliable help. That means, friends, family, church, neighbours whoever is in your life that love your children and desire the best for them. It’s the only way to ensure that they are well cared for later on.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Underwear As Outerwear
Droopy pants, bra straps, messy layers, ripped jeans, shades of black, cheeky slogans, light up shoes, mismatched retro, underwear worn as outerwear…
There’s something unique about every generations choice of clothing style. As I search through the racks for a suitable pair of pants for my 6 year old, he emphatically reminds me that they must be “cool clothes”… nothing “uncool” will be accepted.
So what exactly does “cool” look like? How will I know? What is the difference between 6 year old cool and 30+ year old cool?
I distinctly remember explaining to my Mother why I needed a large package of safety pins to pin my pant legs from ankle to knee, or shopping for the perfect panty hose to wear under my cut off jean shorts. I cringe when I think of the army boots I bought from the surplus store to wear with black tights and a short skirt. I’m sure it seems odd to the youth of today, but I promise you, there was a time when that defined “cool”.
So why do children cave to the pressure? Do they really think that it looks good, or do they just want to fit in with their peers as the sociologists would tell us? And when will a generation come along that chooses a style less ridiculous than their parents generation? Will we ever look to our youth and see the logic of their style choices? Or is that part of aging, the loss of all fashion sense?
Well I’m not sure but I can tell you, I will never be caught walking down the street with my underwear on the outside of my outfit…call me crazy!
There’s something unique about every generations choice of clothing style. As I search through the racks for a suitable pair of pants for my 6 year old, he emphatically reminds me that they must be “cool clothes”… nothing “uncool” will be accepted.
So what exactly does “cool” look like? How will I know? What is the difference between 6 year old cool and 30+ year old cool?
I distinctly remember explaining to my Mother why I needed a large package of safety pins to pin my pant legs from ankle to knee, or shopping for the perfect panty hose to wear under my cut off jean shorts. I cringe when I think of the army boots I bought from the surplus store to wear with black tights and a short skirt. I’m sure it seems odd to the youth of today, but I promise you, there was a time when that defined “cool”.
So why do children cave to the pressure? Do they really think that it looks good, or do they just want to fit in with their peers as the sociologists would tell us? And when will a generation come along that chooses a style less ridiculous than their parents generation? Will we ever look to our youth and see the logic of their style choices? Or is that part of aging, the loss of all fashion sense?
Well I’m not sure but I can tell you, I will never be caught walking down the street with my underwear on the outside of my outfit…call me crazy!
When Mom Gets Sick
In the life of a mother there just never seems to be enough hours in the day for all the responsibilities associated with the title “Mom”. How could 24 hours be enough time for groceries, banking, entertaining the children, homework, supervising chores, tidying the house, meals, dishes, bath time, night-time, laundry…the list is endless!
Somehow, we manage not only to do all those things for our families, but if we’re lucky we find the time for ourselves. And then the unthinkable happens…Mom gets sick!
Although most people rest when they are sick, it is more difficult for Moms. There is no resting when you are a mother. Although Dad and Grandma will lend a hand, there’s just no substitute. The house often doesn’t run properly if Mom isn’t at the helm.
So as I sit here on my sofa on week 2 of my bout with pneumonia, contemplating what to make for dinner and why there’s so much laundry to do, I realize that something has to give. My long “to-do” list will not get done today. I only have so much energy so I have no choice but to prioritize my day. What absolutely MUST get done, what SHOULD get done, and what jobs can I leave until tomorrow or later in the week?
So, the childen will get lunch, I will read books with my son for homework and I will snuggle with my daughter before naptime because the laundry can wait until tomorrow.
Somehow, we manage not only to do all those things for our families, but if we’re lucky we find the time for ourselves. And then the unthinkable happens…Mom gets sick!
Although most people rest when they are sick, it is more difficult for Moms. There is no resting when you are a mother. Although Dad and Grandma will lend a hand, there’s just no substitute. The house often doesn’t run properly if Mom isn’t at the helm.
So as I sit here on my sofa on week 2 of my bout with pneumonia, contemplating what to make for dinner and why there’s so much laundry to do, I realize that something has to give. My long “to-do” list will not get done today. I only have so much energy so I have no choice but to prioritize my day. What absolutely MUST get done, what SHOULD get done, and what jobs can I leave until tomorrow or later in the week?
So, the childen will get lunch, I will read books with my son for homework and I will snuggle with my daughter before naptime because the laundry can wait until tomorrow.
Getting Back to Nature
This past summer, my husband and I took our children camping in an attempt to spend an adventurous, exciting 3 days getting back to nature, enjoying the beautiful beach and making s’mores on a campfire; while at the same time, teaching our children to appreciate the simple beauty of creation. Well, that was the plan.
As I lay in the tent listening to the rain pouring down around me wondering if the tent fly would indeed keep the water off our pillows, I couldn’t help making a mental list of all the things we were supposed to be doing on our fun family weekend. I wasn’t supposed to be drying clothes by the fire or stringing tarps up in the trees to keep the children dry. What about the nature walks and swimming at the beach? What about the sunny stroll through the tourist traps eating funnel cake with ice cream? What a miserable failure this vacation had turned out to be!
But as I listened to my 2 year old squeal with delight to the loud droplets of rain on the makeshift shelter and watched my son searching for worms to put in his bug basket for further examination, I realized that this is exactly what people mean when they say they want to “get back to nature”.
After all, this is what we wanted right? To get away from the high-tech hustle and bustle of everyday, to sit and do nothing, nowhere to go, nothing to do but warm our camping chairs, drink a cup of coffee and take in the harmonious sounds of nature all around us.
With our electronic-video game-online shopping-drive thru-paper cup-lifestyle; I realized that I’d almost missed the opportunity to watch trees sway as they buffered the rain above us causing the heavy downpour to fall lightly all around us. I’d been so busy complaining about a small furry friend stealing our hotdog buns in the night that I had almost missed the magical brush with wildlife which was so exciting to my 5 year old son as he followed clues to which animal might have left the muddy paw prints on our picnic table.
Canada has so much to offer in the way of simple elegance and raw beauty that if we just take some time away from executing the perfectly planned high-tech outdoor vacation, that actually insulates us from the outdoors; and take a few moments to appreciate the earth in all her rainy, muddy, bug-filled, creature crawly splendor, we’ll find the true beauty of the world around us.
So I have a suggestion for the next time you decide to “get back to nature”, leave the laptop and mp3 player at home, pack the bare essentials and find a nice conservation area to pitch a tent for a couple of days. Park yourself in the middle of a forest or beside a waterfall and spend some time doing nothing but breathing in the essence of nature and carefully allowing yourself to become a part of all it’s beauty. You won’t regret the time you spend with your family exploring the earth and all that it has to offer. Just don’t forget to pick up your trash and safely put out the campfire before you leave, because there’s a generation to come who will want to follow in your footsteps.
As I lay in the tent listening to the rain pouring down around me wondering if the tent fly would indeed keep the water off our pillows, I couldn’t help making a mental list of all the things we were supposed to be doing on our fun family weekend. I wasn’t supposed to be drying clothes by the fire or stringing tarps up in the trees to keep the children dry. What about the nature walks and swimming at the beach? What about the sunny stroll through the tourist traps eating funnel cake with ice cream? What a miserable failure this vacation had turned out to be!
But as I listened to my 2 year old squeal with delight to the loud droplets of rain on the makeshift shelter and watched my son searching for worms to put in his bug basket for further examination, I realized that this is exactly what people mean when they say they want to “get back to nature”.
After all, this is what we wanted right? To get away from the high-tech hustle and bustle of everyday, to sit and do nothing, nowhere to go, nothing to do but warm our camping chairs, drink a cup of coffee and take in the harmonious sounds of nature all around us.
With our electronic-video game-online shopping-drive thru-paper cup-lifestyle; I realized that I’d almost missed the opportunity to watch trees sway as they buffered the rain above us causing the heavy downpour to fall lightly all around us. I’d been so busy complaining about a small furry friend stealing our hotdog buns in the night that I had almost missed the magical brush with wildlife which was so exciting to my 5 year old son as he followed clues to which animal might have left the muddy paw prints on our picnic table.
Canada has so much to offer in the way of simple elegance and raw beauty that if we just take some time away from executing the perfectly planned high-tech outdoor vacation, that actually insulates us from the outdoors; and take a few moments to appreciate the earth in all her rainy, muddy, bug-filled, creature crawly splendor, we’ll find the true beauty of the world around us.
So I have a suggestion for the next time you decide to “get back to nature”, leave the laptop and mp3 player at home, pack the bare essentials and find a nice conservation area to pitch a tent for a couple of days. Park yourself in the middle of a forest or beside a waterfall and spend some time doing nothing but breathing in the essence of nature and carefully allowing yourself to become a part of all it’s beauty. You won’t regret the time you spend with your family exploring the earth and all that it has to offer. Just don’t forget to pick up your trash and safely put out the campfire before you leave, because there’s a generation to come who will want to follow in your footsteps.
Grade One
It strikes me as I am wading through the piles of brightly coloured lunch boxes and backpacks of various shapes and sizes, looking for the perfect back-to-school paraphernalia; that before I know it, my firstborn will be heading off into the world. He will leave for grade one with little thought to his teary-eyed mother, who will no doubt spend the entire day wallowing in the fading memories of every milestone he has surpassed thus far in his short yet energetic life.
Which new phase has troubled me the most? It's hard to say, maybe when he gave up nursing or didn't need any help holding the bottle of milk. Perhaps it was the day he started crawling and crossed the room and quickly ripped all the leaves off my tropical plant was the hardest. Then there was his first day of nursery school when he only cried for a few minutes and then quickly adapted to the sights and sounds of the daycare environment.
It's hard to say which milestone was the most difficult for Mommy, although I distinctly remember the pain of putting away his tiny running shoes and crib and buying sippy cups and a convertible carseat. Has it been 6 years since I counted his fingers and toes in the delivery room? How did the minutes turn into weeks and years without my noticing? How will I make it through the next 12 years before he goes to college? Am I the only one who feels like the next decade is a runaway train and I'm barely hanging on? Does anyone else burst into tears while viewing phone commercials involving college students leaving home?
So between 8:30am and 3:00pm between Monday to Friday I will be a mother of one again...wondering if he's ok; are the other kids being nice to him? Is he eating his lunch? Is he having fun? Does he miss staying home with Mommy? Has he learned any bad words today? Is the teacher compassionate, does she understand his quirky nature? Will he learn to love reading? Have we done a good job preparing him for this time in his life? What have we forgotten to teach him? Will he be forever damaged because he can read a book but can't really tell time proficiently?
I realize that I am over-reacting, and surely I'm not the first mother to see grade one as the beginning of the end. My rational side says there are a million more milestones on the horizon that will be equally exciting and emotional for us both. The school age years will blend into the teeny-bopper phase and then the tumultuous teens, which I'm told is more painful and rewarding than any valley I have passed through thus far.
And so I reach up and pluck a Batman lunch box off the shelf and put it into a Spiderman backpack and head to the grocery section for a box of fruit-by-the-foot, because after all...he's only six and it's only grade one.
Which new phase has troubled me the most? It's hard to say, maybe when he gave up nursing or didn't need any help holding the bottle of milk. Perhaps it was the day he started crawling and crossed the room and quickly ripped all the leaves off my tropical plant was the hardest. Then there was his first day of nursery school when he only cried for a few minutes and then quickly adapted to the sights and sounds of the daycare environment.
It's hard to say which milestone was the most difficult for Mommy, although I distinctly remember the pain of putting away his tiny running shoes and crib and buying sippy cups and a convertible carseat. Has it been 6 years since I counted his fingers and toes in the delivery room? How did the minutes turn into weeks and years without my noticing? How will I make it through the next 12 years before he goes to college? Am I the only one who feels like the next decade is a runaway train and I'm barely hanging on? Does anyone else burst into tears while viewing phone commercials involving college students leaving home?
So between 8:30am and 3:00pm between Monday to Friday I will be a mother of one again...wondering if he's ok; are the other kids being nice to him? Is he eating his lunch? Is he having fun? Does he miss staying home with Mommy? Has he learned any bad words today? Is the teacher compassionate, does she understand his quirky nature? Will he learn to love reading? Have we done a good job preparing him for this time in his life? What have we forgotten to teach him? Will he be forever damaged because he can read a book but can't really tell time proficiently?
I realize that I am over-reacting, and surely I'm not the first mother to see grade one as the beginning of the end. My rational side says there are a million more milestones on the horizon that will be equally exciting and emotional for us both. The school age years will blend into the teeny-bopper phase and then the tumultuous teens, which I'm told is more painful and rewarding than any valley I have passed through thus far.
And so I reach up and pluck a Batman lunch box off the shelf and put it into a Spiderman backpack and head to the grocery section for a box of fruit-by-the-foot, because after all...he's only six and it's only grade one.
Mother's Day
This past Mother’s Day, after the day at an amusement park, my husband and two small children took me out for dinner to celebrate. Despite my exhausted and longing for home, we went to a nearby restaurant to have a “real family meal”, as I try to never discourage thoughtful gestures.
After asking for a booth as far away from the other diners as possible “just in case” the children were loud, as children aged 2 and 5 tend to be, we settled in and began to examine the menu. Normally we try to pick food that can be eaten quickly and will taste good when re-heated in the event that we need to cut the evening short and get the children home. This time, we thought the children would be calm and accommodating since we had just spent a fortune on season’s passes and I had sacrificed my Mother’s Day to do something geared to the children. As is common with children, the depth of my “sacrifice” went unnoticed and the children did what children do and I quickly remembered why we usually go to a restaurant with a playground. Simply stated, chaos ensued.
Somewhere between picking my daughters socks up off the floor and reminding my son for the 10th time that he can’t eat his dinner underneath the table, I noticed an older couple at the table beside us. Normally I try to avoid eye contact when my children are being difficult because you never know if people are looking at you with pity or understanding because they empathize with the plight of a mother with small children in public. In any case this time I looked and what I saw surprised me greatly, the older gentleman had a huge smile on his face and the lady holding his hand across the table had tears in her eyes as she too smiled at the scene unfolding at our table.
Now it is not uncommon for tears to be present in this situation, but they are usually mine, so it was very interesting to me that a total stranger was staring, as my children took turns throwing forks at each other and touching the head of the man seated in the adjoining booth. I smiled and shrugged at the woman hoping that she would not judge me based on the behaviour of two children hopped up on sugar awake past their bedtime. She leaned over to me then and said the most surprising thing, she said “this is the best time of your life as a mother; enjoy them now while you can, even when they frustrate you, I wish I could go back!”
To be fair I have heard many a mother of grown children tell me that they wish they had enjoyed their kids more when they were small, but something in the face of this older mother struck me and inspired me to listen further to her sage advice. Maybe it was the tears, maybe it was the way her husband lovingly clutched her hand in a sort of honouring way, I’m not sure but I knew she was worth listening to and so I did.
She went on to say that her children were all grown up and they had children of their own now, and she advised them the same, to enjoy the craziness and the difficult behaviour of their young treasures. This woman had received that advice a long time ago and had tried her best to do so the entire time they were raising their children, holding tightly to those cherished memories now that the nest was empty and memories are vital.
As our meal arrived, I thanked the woman for her encouraging words, pulled my two year old down from the windowsill, reminded my son that feet do not go on the table and quietly contemplated my outlook on being a Mom. Was I really enjoying my children? Did I spend too much energy stressing about the little things and nagging them about age-appropriate childish behaviour? When I am older and my children have families of their own, will I have memories that bring me to tears of joy or tears of regret at wasted moments and opportunities lost?
Since that day I have come to understand that the couple looked on my family with longing and tears born of happy memories. They could see us struggling and imparted to us the most wonderfully encouraging reminder, life is short and our children are ours only for a brief time period and then they will move on as is the normal way of life. This is the time that we need to cherish and make an effort to enjoy whether things are going as we had planned or not.
So I will cheerfully clean the sidewalk chalk off the television, wash the peanut butter out of the cat’s fur and rescue family photos from the guinea pigs cage, because I know that one day when my husband and I are sitting alone on Mother’s Day, those memories will be the most important part of our meal.
After asking for a booth as far away from the other diners as possible “just in case” the children were loud, as children aged 2 and 5 tend to be, we settled in and began to examine the menu. Normally we try to pick food that can be eaten quickly and will taste good when re-heated in the event that we need to cut the evening short and get the children home. This time, we thought the children would be calm and accommodating since we had just spent a fortune on season’s passes and I had sacrificed my Mother’s Day to do something geared to the children. As is common with children, the depth of my “sacrifice” went unnoticed and the children did what children do and I quickly remembered why we usually go to a restaurant with a playground. Simply stated, chaos ensued.
Somewhere between picking my daughters socks up off the floor and reminding my son for the 10th time that he can’t eat his dinner underneath the table, I noticed an older couple at the table beside us. Normally I try to avoid eye contact when my children are being difficult because you never know if people are looking at you with pity or understanding because they empathize with the plight of a mother with small children in public. In any case this time I looked and what I saw surprised me greatly, the older gentleman had a huge smile on his face and the lady holding his hand across the table had tears in her eyes as she too smiled at the scene unfolding at our table.
Now it is not uncommon for tears to be present in this situation, but they are usually mine, so it was very interesting to me that a total stranger was staring, as my children took turns throwing forks at each other and touching the head of the man seated in the adjoining booth. I smiled and shrugged at the woman hoping that she would not judge me based on the behaviour of two children hopped up on sugar awake past their bedtime. She leaned over to me then and said the most surprising thing, she said “this is the best time of your life as a mother; enjoy them now while you can, even when they frustrate you, I wish I could go back!”
To be fair I have heard many a mother of grown children tell me that they wish they had enjoyed their kids more when they were small, but something in the face of this older mother struck me and inspired me to listen further to her sage advice. Maybe it was the tears, maybe it was the way her husband lovingly clutched her hand in a sort of honouring way, I’m not sure but I knew she was worth listening to and so I did.
She went on to say that her children were all grown up and they had children of their own now, and she advised them the same, to enjoy the craziness and the difficult behaviour of their young treasures. This woman had received that advice a long time ago and had tried her best to do so the entire time they were raising their children, holding tightly to those cherished memories now that the nest was empty and memories are vital.
As our meal arrived, I thanked the woman for her encouraging words, pulled my two year old down from the windowsill, reminded my son that feet do not go on the table and quietly contemplated my outlook on being a Mom. Was I really enjoying my children? Did I spend too much energy stressing about the little things and nagging them about age-appropriate childish behaviour? When I am older and my children have families of their own, will I have memories that bring me to tears of joy or tears of regret at wasted moments and opportunities lost?
Since that day I have come to understand that the couple looked on my family with longing and tears born of happy memories. They could see us struggling and imparted to us the most wonderfully encouraging reminder, life is short and our children are ours only for a brief time period and then they will move on as is the normal way of life. This is the time that we need to cherish and make an effort to enjoy whether things are going as we had planned or not.
So I will cheerfully clean the sidewalk chalk off the television, wash the peanut butter out of the cat’s fur and rescue family photos from the guinea pigs cage, because I know that one day when my husband and I are sitting alone on Mother’s Day, those memories will be the most important part of our meal.
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