Yesterday was a hard day. Exhausting. Son1's biology class started yesterday, a full week before his other classes. A parent was required to attend the first hour of the three-hour class, and that meant Herman had to go too.That was the beginning of Herman's hard day, in which he was dragged from pillar to post, as my mother would have said. To biology class. To Costco. To the doctor for shots. And then in the evening back up to school with all his brothers for a lengthy orientation. And finally...home for bed.
Late last night after the Herms was asleep, I sat out on the front steps with the husband and the dog...and I needed a blanket. It was like a New England summer night, and this summer has needed a lot more of those. I have experienced many hot summers, all memorable for their own hideous brand of oppressiveness...but this one I will never forget. It is, after all, Son4's first summer, but also the heat felt like a living metaphor.
There has just been so much misery this summer. Sons 2&3 have been out of sorts that this particular summer hasn't been very fun. No beach. Few trips to the pool. That sort of thing. The baby has made many things impossible, but at the same time it's not as if we've been sitting home doing nothing. I wish. Adding to the mix is the fact that lots of long-brewing issues have sort of reached their apex this summer. And then the husband has had deadline after deadline, which is a relief in one way after months with not enough work, but draining for him and makes all of life feel like a pressure cooker. One household item after another has broken. We lived for two weeks without the use of our kitchen sink and dishwasher due to a major plumbing issue, only to find out soon after that we also need a new dishwasher. And let me not forget the invasion of mealy worms (and moths), which arrived months ago in a bag of jasmine rice and flourished in my pantry until I figured out what was going on.
Through it all, the heat bore down on me like some malevolent force; at times it reminded me of being in labor, that sort of inescapable anguish. All you can do is endure.
It is unfortunate how much this summer's oppressive heat felt like a metaphor for life the past few years, but there you have it. It did.
But last night's cool air felt like a baptism. The breeze wrapped around me and reminded me again that, sometimes anyway, things do change.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A Do-Over
About a month ago now, I asked God for a do-over. I'd gotten into a bad place, and trust me, it had taken a long time to get there. But I felt like somehow my head and heart had gotten filled up with a lot of BS about God and the Christian life. Too much teaching, too many books, and not enough of the Bible itself, I think. And I like to read the Bible, so it wasn't as if I hadn't been reading it.
But somehow my head had gotten full of other people's ideas and thoughts about God...and ultimately that had led me to some dark places. Because God didn't seem to me to be who other people made him out to be...and that led me to a lot of pain and confusion. I've been working my way through all of that for a long time, trying to sift truth from untruth...but perhaps because life feels so incredibly overwhelming right now and I can scarcely finish my own thoughts, I felt I needed a fresh start. I wanted to just throw out all the old stuff and start again. Mostly I didn't want to grapple any longer with my lingering feelings of anger toward God for this, that, and the other thing. I suspected it was all a load of crap anyhow. And so I asked God if we could start again, and if he could show me who he is and what it means to follow him and live as he would have me live. I decided the epistles would be a good place to start, and soon I'll probably thrown in Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John.
The whole experiment is going pretty well so far, which isn't surprising since I think God really does want us to know who he is and how we can live in response to that knowledge. Here's a verse that jumped out at me yesterday:
"For it has been GRANTED TO YOU on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him but also TO SUFFER FOR HIM." (Philippians 1:29). This feels like medicine for my American-culturized soul.
And this verse caught my eye this morning from Philippians 2: "Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interest of others." It intrigues me that the verse says to look "NOT ONLY to your own interests." Because I have had trouble looking to my own interests.
I think when you're in the throes of motherhood, it's easy to look to the interests of others but not so easy to look to your own. For a long time I forgot that I had my own interests. That I mattered at all in this equation. I completely subjugated myself to my kids and what they wanted. Not that they're brats. They're not. But I got trapped in thinking that what they wanted was far more important than what I wanted, and now I don't think that's the case anymore. I can look to my own interests, and I can look to theirs, though the whole thing can be a pretty confusing process. Not particularly cut and dried. In other words, a lot like life.
But somehow my head had gotten full of other people's ideas and thoughts about God...and ultimately that had led me to some dark places. Because God didn't seem to me to be who other people made him out to be...and that led me to a lot of pain and confusion. I've been working my way through all of that for a long time, trying to sift truth from untruth...but perhaps because life feels so incredibly overwhelming right now and I can scarcely finish my own thoughts, I felt I needed a fresh start. I wanted to just throw out all the old stuff and start again. Mostly I didn't want to grapple any longer with my lingering feelings of anger toward God for this, that, and the other thing. I suspected it was all a load of crap anyhow. And so I asked God if we could start again, and if he could show me who he is and what it means to follow him and live as he would have me live. I decided the epistles would be a good place to start, and soon I'll probably thrown in Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John.
The whole experiment is going pretty well so far, which isn't surprising since I think God really does want us to know who he is and how we can live in response to that knowledge. Here's a verse that jumped out at me yesterday:
"For it has been GRANTED TO YOU on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him but also TO SUFFER FOR HIM." (Philippians 1:29). This feels like medicine for my American-culturized soul.
And this verse caught my eye this morning from Philippians 2: "Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interest of others." It intrigues me that the verse says to look "NOT ONLY to your own interests." Because I have had trouble looking to my own interests.
I think when you're in the throes of motherhood, it's easy to look to the interests of others but not so easy to look to your own. For a long time I forgot that I had my own interests. That I mattered at all in this equation. I completely subjugated myself to my kids and what they wanted. Not that they're brats. They're not. But I got trapped in thinking that what they wanted was far more important than what I wanted, and now I don't think that's the case anymore. I can look to my own interests, and I can look to theirs, though the whole thing can be a pretty confusing process. Not particularly cut and dried. In other words, a lot like life.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Yes, for a Change
On Sunday just as we got in the car to leave for church, Son3 said, "Oh, my glasses just broke." Great. He was simply pushing them up, and the arm broke off. Oh well. It was time for new glasses anyway. I asked him about his back-up pair (every 11-year-old boy needs one), and he said, "They're bent and all messed up." Perfect. We found the back-up pair later that day and they were just as he described...and one of the lenses had popped out.
And so he asked for the millionth time whether he could get contacts. He's probably been asking for contacts for two years and we've resisted. He was too young. Contacts can be expensive, and then they become yet another ongoing expense. Just what everyone needs. Then there's the responsibility factor. There's also the issue of his eyes. They have always been sensitive and the source of many freak-outs. “There's a bug in my eye!” “There's dirt in my eye!” Blood curdling screams about the eyes! I figured there was no way he could do it. So we've always said no. But on Sunday, I finally said yes.
We get his vision tested and his glasses at Wal-Mart, so I made the appointment and took him yesterday for the exam. I left the baby with a sitter because I figured the whole process of him learning to put them in and take them out would demand all of my attention. First, we watched a video, and it was then that I began to panic. You have to keep everything so clean! Could he do it? Would he remember all the steps and everything that has to be done? Because I won’t. Not right now. For four days last week I couldn’t even remember that his older brother had lost his toothbrush and needed a new one. Would he be flipping out about his contacts every morning, multiplying the stress of our already stressful lives? I pictured him freaking out and needing help while the baby cried. Ugh. I tried to maintain my equilibrium and tell myself I could do this for him.
After the video, someone came in to teach him how to put them in. He tried and tried. His eyes started to hurt. They got red and irritated and he still couldn't do it. He got frustrated, and he didn't like the idea of how he was going to have to take them out if he ever got them in. He started to say he couldn't do it. The vision tech said the appropriate encouraging things, but I said, "You don't have to do it. It's okay to change your mind. Maybe you're just not ready." He continued to plug away, and then finally said, “I can’t do it.” Again the vision tech tried to encourage him, but I said, “That’s okay, you don’t have to do it. Let’s just get some new glasses.” And he said okay.
Later he said, “My eyes are just really sensitive. I can’t do that.” I said, “I know. That’s why we always said no.” He then asked why I hadn’t told him that and continued to say no, and I explained that he wouldn’t have believed me. Miraculously, he admitted, “You’re right. I wouldn’t have,” and smiled sheepishly.
As a parent you have to say a lot of no’s. At least I do. But recently I’ve had a few experiences like this…where I’ve felt that it’s time to say yes, let them have their way, and in the end they come around to the decision that I was fairly sure was the right one to begin with. And when that happens, it feels a bit like a miracle.
And so he asked for the millionth time whether he could get contacts. He's probably been asking for contacts for two years and we've resisted. He was too young. Contacts can be expensive, and then they become yet another ongoing expense. Just what everyone needs. Then there's the responsibility factor. There's also the issue of his eyes. They have always been sensitive and the source of many freak-outs. “There's a bug in my eye!” “There's dirt in my eye!” Blood curdling screams about the eyes! I figured there was no way he could do it. So we've always said no. But on Sunday, I finally said yes.
We get his vision tested and his glasses at Wal-Mart, so I made the appointment and took him yesterday for the exam. I left the baby with a sitter because I figured the whole process of him learning to put them in and take them out would demand all of my attention. First, we watched a video, and it was then that I began to panic. You have to keep everything so clean! Could he do it? Would he remember all the steps and everything that has to be done? Because I won’t. Not right now. For four days last week I couldn’t even remember that his older brother had lost his toothbrush and needed a new one. Would he be flipping out about his contacts every morning, multiplying the stress of our already stressful lives? I pictured him freaking out and needing help while the baby cried. Ugh. I tried to maintain my equilibrium and tell myself I could do this for him.
After the video, someone came in to teach him how to put them in. He tried and tried. His eyes started to hurt. They got red and irritated and he still couldn't do it. He got frustrated, and he didn't like the idea of how he was going to have to take them out if he ever got them in. He started to say he couldn't do it. The vision tech said the appropriate encouraging things, but I said, "You don't have to do it. It's okay to change your mind. Maybe you're just not ready." He continued to plug away, and then finally said, “I can’t do it.” Again the vision tech tried to encourage him, but I said, “That’s okay, you don’t have to do it. Let’s just get some new glasses.” And he said okay.
Later he said, “My eyes are just really sensitive. I can’t do that.” I said, “I know. That’s why we always said no.” He then asked why I hadn’t told him that and continued to say no, and I explained that he wouldn’t have believed me. Miraculously, he admitted, “You’re right. I wouldn’t have,” and smiled sheepishly.
As a parent you have to say a lot of no’s. At least I do. But recently I’ve had a few experiences like this…where I’ve felt that it’s time to say yes, let them have their way, and in the end they come around to the decision that I was fairly sure was the right one to begin with. And when that happens, it feels a bit like a miracle.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Too tired for titles
I can't get it together to blog. I think of new posts all the time, but the only time I have to sit down with my computer involves doing actual work. If I'm not getting paid, then I'm pretty much not sitting with my laptop. Okay, sometimes I am. A quick email check, a scan of the day's headlines. Nevertheless, my news addiction is suffering. I'm not sure how CNN.com and the New York Times online continue to survive without their most devoted reader. Guess I'm having some trouble juggling a new baby with the taxi service I run for the three other boys and the editing I do for clients and the planning I have to do for the next school year. Who does this? On second thought, don't answer that. The last thing I need to hear is that there's some mother out there who can seamlessly juggle homeschooling and caring for an infant and working and managing a house.
***
Today I took Son3 to buy new sneakers. Nobody needs new sneakers more frequently than this kid, which is ironic considering that he's the one I always have to yell at to remind him not to run around the yard in socks. Herman came with us on our shopping trip, and at one point I told Son3 to put the paci in Herman's mouth. At that point Son3 sidled up to me and said very quietly, "When we're in public, can you call him by his real name?" I must have looked confused, because he followed that up with, "I just don't want anyone to think his name is Herman."
***
This week I'm thinking about where I was this time last year -- in North Carolina with the boys, visiting my dear friend and her girls. More importantly I am remembering that I was living in the last few days of ignorance. Two days after we returned from North Carolina I made the shocking discovery for the reason behind the dizziness and excessive thirst I was experiencing: pregnancy! Yup. It's been a whole year since that shocking news turned my world upside down. I just wish I could travel back in time and reassure myself. I'd let me know that Herman is simply delicious, that I often feel drunk just looking at him, that he's healthy, sleeps well, and cries very little. All of that might have gone a very long way toward averting the major freak out I experienced. Or maybe not.
***
Today I took Son3 to buy new sneakers. Nobody needs new sneakers more frequently than this kid, which is ironic considering that he's the one I always have to yell at to remind him not to run around the yard in socks. Herman came with us on our shopping trip, and at one point I told Son3 to put the paci in Herman's mouth. At that point Son3 sidled up to me and said very quietly, "When we're in public, can you call him by his real name?" I must have looked confused, because he followed that up with, "I just don't want anyone to think his name is Herman."
***
This week I'm thinking about where I was this time last year -- in North Carolina with the boys, visiting my dear friend and her girls. More importantly I am remembering that I was living in the last few days of ignorance. Two days after we returned from North Carolina I made the shocking discovery for the reason behind the dizziness and excessive thirst I was experiencing: pregnancy! Yup. It's been a whole year since that shocking news turned my world upside down. I just wish I could travel back in time and reassure myself. I'd let me know that Herman is simply delicious, that I often feel drunk just looking at him, that he's healthy, sleeps well, and cries very little. All of that might have gone a very long way toward averting the major freak out I experienced. Or maybe not.
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