Sleeping with Bread: Feeling a Little Rushed

(In a rushed, out of breath, too fast voice...) I'm having a total caffeine buzz plus there are only so many consecutive months I can go without doing some serious housework and I'm feeling like the jig is up and I really, really must do something about it so maybe I should take advantage of my caffeine buzz and do some chores around this house but I have to (want to) do my SWB post first so here goes:

After last week barely being able to force myself to write my SWB post, I was that down in the dumps I am happy to say that in the last week, I have found joy in. . .


those bloomin' jacaranda trees. Every Spring the jacarandas bloom in this town and they are so beautiful that I can't help but feel my spirit lifting. You might see one here or there and then come across a street lined up for blocks with purple trees. The lovely purple blossoms are especially welcome this year because we've had very little rain and I've not had my "the hills are alive with the sound of music" joy. When we've had lots of rain, the hills which surround me become a newborn green, lush and striking against the blue sky and white clouds. On years where there has not been enough rain, the words of the local university alma mater make more sense: "hills like tawny lions." It is an apt description and much more poetic than saying ugly brown hills. I did realize this year that I feel somewhat territorial about my town's trees. There are so many here that I think of them as belonging to my town. Recently as I've seen them scattered here and there in the neighboring towns, I've felt a little miffed. Excuse me, don't you know those trees are for me and my town?

An offset to the lift in spirit God's colorful handiwork has brought me is the sad realization I had this week while dining with a friend. . .

I have a deep, deep certainty that my children are going to feel emotionally estranged from me when they grow up. When you read the words deep, deep certainty, please know that I don't know this. It just feels like I know it. Let me explain. My friend and I were at dinner and the subject of teenagers not liking their parents came up. Her youngest is 18 and she said to me that kids work their way back to liking their parents as they grow up. This is probably a statement that is fair and somewhat accurate. But for some reason, when she said it, I had a flash. First, that I fear my children will grow up and not want to be around me, will not like me, will struggle with their feelings toward me. Next, I had another flash of why I feel that way. Of course, I cannot (actually I could but I will not) go into detail about the why of all this. Anyone with an ounce of imagination will be able to figure out the basics. I feel like I am taking something of a risk in even saying this much, but I don't think the parties involved read this. Also, it was such a strong revelation, the recognizing of this undercurrent in my parenting, a vague sense of dread I feel deep down so much of the time. It is my truest desolation this week and I just didn't want to opt for something other in this space.

The consolation in this though, is that having realized this, I can process it. Hopefully, I will be able to counter this dread certainty with some light and truth. While it is possible that my children will experience some of what I have described, it is certainly not a given and probably not very likely. (That doesn't sound as optimistic as it really does feel to me.) I am not a perfect mother. I have, in dealing with my own struggles, sometimes done things for which I need to be forgiven. But I am a good mother--or, as someone (whose blog name escapes me at the moment) recently wrote--a good enough mother.

Sleeping with Bread: the Caffeine-challenged Version

I sit and stare at the Sleeping with Bread questions.

I've got a little caffeine high going and it is hard to stop. Breathe. Reflect.

WheinsteaditfeelslikemyinsidesaregoingamillionmilesaminuteandIdon'tevenknowwhatitmeanstobreathe.

Slowly though, one thought bubbles up inside.

What caused a sense of desolation for me this week was money: the lack of, the overspending of, the years-long struggle to be a wise, disciplined steward of the generousness of God. A struggle which feels more like the proverbial "one step forward, two steps back" than the "slow and steady wins the race" turtle-like determination.

Sigh.

I breathe. Yes. That is a true desolation for me this week.

Another thought drifts to the surface, frees itself and pops.

What has give me great consolation this week is my children. The ones I complain about constantly. The ones I refer to as Wild Thing One and Wild Thing Two. The ones who wear me down, sometimes with the drip, drip, drip of the Chinese water torture, sometimes with the rushing torrent of a flash flood.

God help me, I love those kids.

My daughter has had lots of hugs for me lately. On Saturday, she kept climbing into my lap while we were at a friend's house. I asked her why I was getting all these hugs. She shrugged her shoulders, leaned in for some more cuddling and then said, "Because you bought me a hamster." She is in the midst of developmental and physical change right now. I look at her and her face looks different. Her words are different. She is really too big for me to carry, although sometimes I will lean over, put my hands under her arms, say "One, two, three!" so she will jump up at the same time I lift her up. By doing so I get enjoy--for the minute or so I can manage to carry her--her arms being wrapped around my neck, her legs around my body.

My son, as much as he resists being labeled, is in some ways the stereotypical teen. But he is so much more than that also. I forget sometimes how self-sufficient he is. I forget that if I stop and take time to explain what I am feeling, or to apologize for my rantings, he is gracious with me. He has long been a kid who wants his own space and is very adamant that his mother not touch him. I sneaked in back pats and hair rubs and sideways hugs for as long as I could. No more. I miss being able to express my love for him physically. But I know that it is more loving for me to respect his wishes in this area than to force it on him. So, I soak in his smiles, enjoy our shared interests in certain television shows and movies and remember the days when he was small enough to be held, his head resting just under my chin.


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Other Sleeping with Bread posts can be found here.

Sleeping with Bread: with Joys and D'ohs

As I approached this SWB post today, I realized that I'm in something of a mood. I'm sure hormones are a major factor in this moodiness. I told a friend today that I had thrown out the junk in the fridge because I wanted Paul to clean it. I found myself irritated with him about it and I hadn't even asked him to do it yet! That's a no win situation for him, isn't it? Then I found myself about to cry when I was watchng The Incredibles with Marley earlier. (The scene where Helen is trying is trying in vain to get Syndrome to call back the missles.) So, instead of writing a thoughtful post based on the SWB questions, I though I'd share about some of the joy in my life this week... and maybe some of the "D'oh!" moments, too.

First, the joys. I was poking around my picture boxes and found some pictures that I just love.

This is Marley about 8 months old. Looking at it six years later, I recognize something in her expression that I didn't see then. I'm sure when I took it I just thought she was making a cute, scrunched up face. Now... now I see the face that I've seen a thousand times since--her wild thing face. When she is feeling feisty and full of herself, we often are treated to that face and usually an accompanying snarl. I'm not sure that I've always appreciated that expression but I've come to know that it is the essence of my live-in-the-moment, no-holds-barred, free spirit daughter. I keep going back to this picture over and over again. I am amazed at how strongly her personality was developed back then and, in that way that all parents are, astonished at how much she has grown up.

See, all grown up (sort of) and there's that face!



Here she is about four months old. Look at those chubby legs and double chin! This from a girl who, aside from when she was born, was never above the 10 percentile in weight her first 18 months. She still managed some rolls. We had just come home from buying her that doll and I laugh when I see how big it was next to her. It also cracks me up that she and the doll are positioned the same--even their hands are held the same way. (This was probably the one and only time she wore a headband bow. I was never a big fan of them, especially the ginormous tulle ones but her daddy absolutely detested them.) She still has that doll although there are one or two above it now in her hierarchy of doll love.

I also came across pictures of He Who Wishes Not to be Mentioned, and although I will respect his desire not to have pictures shown (this week at least), I will share a story about him which brought me joy a few days ago. HWWNTBM had an assignment for English to write a letter from the point of view of a character in a story they had read in class about a teenage girl who is raped and copes with it by becoming mute. The students were to write a letter ten years from the time of the story to either the rapist, the girl's art teacher or her best friend. HWNTBM was struggling to get started and told me he didn't know what to write. These letters were to be read aloud in class and he wanted it to be good. I tried to give him some ideas of approaches he could take. Eh, he wasn't too thrilled with my suggestions. "I'm just going to start writing," he told me and that was that.

A day or two later, I asked him how the letter ended up. He shot me a sideways smile and said that it went "good." He proceeded to tell me that his letter had the girl disclosing to her former art teacher that she was a superhero. Her secret identity by day was an emotionally scarred artist. By night, though, she was a superhero who hunted rapists. I loved his approach (the teacher had offered complete creative control on the assignment) especially the superhero aspect. (I'm a superhero fan; X-men, Justice League, Batman, The Tick--I love them all.) Mostly though, I found joy in his creativity and in his pride in himself. I think an assignment like that could be difficult for a 14 year old. Putting yourself in the position of someone who's experienced something traumatic and trying to imagine what they might have to say 10 years later? I think that kind of insight is hard for a lot of people, not just a teenage boy. But HWWNTBM made it work and I felt joy in his success.

Now, a couple of D'oh moments.

I was drinking a Cherry Coke Zero last night. Paul took a sip and said that it was the real thing. No, I countered, it's diet. I picked up the can and looked. Sure enough, it was regular Cherry Coke. So, little Miss Weight Watchers had been drinking the real thing for a couple of days and hadn't realized it. D'oh! So much for my point tracking.

This next one falls into the category of Mother of the Year. Marley has been sick since yesterday. She's been running a fever and had a little bit of a cough and stomachache (no vomit, though, whoopee!) I rarely take her temperature because she fusses about it so much and all I have is a glass thermometer. I also wasn't giving her Tylenol because I've always been told that unless they are feeling really bad or the temp is pretty high, it isn't necessary. The fever is just their body working on the infection, blah, blah, blah. Well, I had to go out and run some errands, so I decided to go ahead and buy one of those ear thermometers. Marley's cheeks were red and I thought maybe I should make sure her fever wasn't too high. Well, I get out the thermometer to take her temperature (are you guessing where this is going?) and it was 104.3! Double D'oh! I gave her Tylenol immediately and she has now settled into the 102 range. Goodness, I should have my mothering license revoked.

Well, I guess those are my joys and D'ohs this week. As always, you can find links to more Sleeping with Bread here.