On Motherhood

For me, being a mother doesn't come naturally. Let me explain; loving and enjoying my children is to me the same as breathing. And, experiencing the blessing that they are is also easy. It's the hard stuff that gets me. The activities I've always hated. I am sure you hate them too. You just probably don't think about it. I think about everything. Constantly. I analyize and debate and think during the day. I count the songs until my dishwasher is unloaded. (two songs if Molly is occupied, 25 or more if she is not). Sometimes, I just wish I could turn it off. Emptying the dishwasher, cooking dinner, picking up toys, teaching my kids to pick up toys. It is the mundane monotony that my friends who are moms have always embraced, even before their were children. It is this very stuff I tried my best to eschew. I hate to cook, sew, decorate, vacuum, mop, wash laundry, fill the dog's water bowl, ect. So, in that respect, being home with the kids during the day is something of a chore. I would like to read a good book and think about it. Debate in my mind the finer points of dogma and interpretations. Examine texts and find themes that run through them. Look for typos in a paper. Think of a more articulate way to communicate my ideas. But, I tried working, and all I could think about was my son in the care of someone else. Someone, a stranger who doesn't love him, providing him with food, clean diapers, comfort when he was sad, reading a book to him, explaining why we don't bite or hit. Telling him that the only being who loves him more than me is God. Discussing God's goodness with him. Thanking God for a beautiful rainbow, or a flower, or a cool breeze or the rain shower that just popped up in spite of an awful drought. These things I adore. I treasure his smile and the sweet rubs on the arms I get during the day. I treasure his arguments with me, his debates, his breath which smells slightly of last night's sleep. I enjoy watching Molly have the last word on the discussion of which is more appropriate for milk, a sippy cup or a bottle. I love to watch her busy legs; they never stop. I love to see her whispy hair that is coming in tufty and uneven on the top of her head. I love to hold her and pat her back when she has fallen for the fourteenth time, and feels like giving up on walking, running and jumping. So, I stay home. I do the laundry (sometimes). I pick up trains, paper, markers, paint, play dough. I wash bottles filled with chunky whole milk that is separated by chocolate syrup and curds. I give Matty a drink when she is thristy. I turn telemarketers down. I vacuum more than I ever have in my life. I clean sheets and diapers. I believe in my heart that on earth, every good thing costs something. For me (and I believe for many mothers) we put our wants, hopes, and desires on hold to focus on pressing needs like finding a race car, or showing our children dragonflies, or laughing uncontrollable when exhaustion and frustration attempt to interrupt our domestic utopian experience. I am thankful for the chance to know my children, to hold them and smell their sweaty necks and hold their dirty hands. Soon, their necks will be powdered or cologned and their hands will be manicured. What a day of weeping; for joy and for loss. One truth about motherhood is this. Although I believe I am but a wraith of what I was before, a shadow passing by the house waiting on my children, when their brief childhood is over, I will be better than I ever was. I will notice small things that eluded me before. I will notice when a pair of shoes are on the floor and should be in a closet. I will appreciate the sly smiles of children, when they look at their moms to see if their mom's notice a slight of hand. I will notice the brush of a hand on hand, the slightest change in my child's facial expression and what it means and what caused it. And when they are old, and don't notice me much any more, I will cling to the memory of an inarticulate voice shouting mommy while I try to pee. I will notice their kindnesses, their hopes, their love for people and God. I will remember countless versions of Jesus loves the little Children. And someday, when I am alone with a good book, able to think and reason and notice patterns in sublime silence, my memories will interrupt and I'll only be able to think about motherhood, and what a blessing it is.

Last Minute Notice

The book club will be meeting at 7:45 at the Barnes and Noble in Southlake off of Interstate 114. You do not have to have the book, Tracks, by Louise Erdrich read yet. Come, enjoy a beverage and some fun conversation! Everyone is invited!

Haven't Decided How To Vote? Mike Breaks Down The Candidates

The Texas Governor's election is in November. If you haven't decided how you will vote, or if you already know, check out Mike's blog. It spoofs all the candidates; with respect, of course. It made me laugh out loud. My husband has got such a witty sense of humor.
http://butthesegoto11.blogspot.com/

Mike Cope's Blog: Does God Want You To Be Rich?

I have to admit; this is a spiritual quandry that has been on my mind for a long time. As my global view has widened, and I have become aware of the great poverty that exists, God has been convicting my heart in this matter. If you have ever read the parable of the camel passing through the eye of the needle, and heard a cofc preacher explain it off as a geographic example, you know how problematic the idea of Christianity and wealth is. I totally reject the geographic explanation, that the needle was a low entrance into a city, and the camel had to crawl to get through it. I believe getting to heaven when you are rich (like me; you have a home, two cars and enough to eat and a tv or extra money to take classes or trips, you are rich), is difficult, and that materialism is much more dangerous to Christians than ANY other sin. Not because it is worse, but because it is much more prevalent to be greedy and selfish (myself as the perfect example of greed and selfishness) than other sins. I am not saying that I hate America, or that capitalism is bad, but I am saying that the idea that as God loves you he will bless you with material wealth is wrong, wrong wrong! He can bless you with wealth. He can also bless you with wisdom, patience, love, health or in any number of ways that we seldom think of. But, wealth can also be a huge stumbling block, too. I used to cringe when I read the prayer of jabez. It just seemd obscene to me to ask for much more money (disclaimer, Bruce Wilkerson does state that God can bless you spiritually, too) when we have so much more than almost all the world. Every night, I should be on my knees thanking God for his many, many blessings instead of asking for a louis vuitton wallet (guilty as charged) or a winning lottery ticket (yes, my greed knows no end!). Here is a link to Mike Cope's blog today. It must be contraversial; it already has 83 comments. Warning: if you are a fan of Joel Osteen, you may not like what he has to say. (I am ignorant about the man. If he would only appear on Thomas the Train, perhaps I would know more about him.)
http://www.preachermike.com/
And, Larry James' blog is also interesting, although his blog is thematically dedicated to making people aware of the poverty that exists in our communities.http://larryjamesurbandaily.blogspot.com/

SHOCKED!

I just wanted to post a quick blog to say I am so shocked that Willy Nelson was cited for drug possession. Just shocked. Okay, that is a little disengenious. I am not shocked, but it does make me want to listen one more time to Whiskey River. Seriously. Why did that even make the news? It would be newsworthy if he was caught without his stash. Although, the ages of the people on the tour bus are hilarious! I think the youngest person who received a ticket was like fifty.


We just got back from the pirate ship park, and I have to say the day is just beautiful. I think fall is my favorite time of year. I do know that Jackson is a gulf coast boy, though because he thinks it is way too cold. He shivers everywhere we go. But Molly got my body heat; she is perfect out in a pair of shorts.

13 Songs I Jam To

1. Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun By Cyndi Lauper
2. Shook Me All Night Long AC/DC
3. Dazed and Confused Led Zepplin
4. Fire Woman by The Cult
5. Last Mango in Paris by Jimmy Buffett
6. Yesterday by the Beatles
7. Apartment by Bare Naked Ladies
8. Rocket Man by Elton John
9. Take Me Home Tonight By Eddie Money
10. Sweet Child of Mine by Guns and Roses
11. Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana
12. Black by Pearl Jam
13. I Like The Way You Move by OutKast

These songs always make me smile when I hear them on the radio. They are fairly eclectic. What are your favorite songs to jam out to?

9/11 Memorial as published in the New York Times Obituaries

Simon Maddison
World Trade Center
Simon came along to breakfast with a friend following a beach house party in Manasquan, New Jersey, where we ended up sitting next to each other. Right there, over the breakfast dishes at the Ritz diner, "down at the Jersey shore," I began to fall in love and I haven't stopped falling yet. He was the cute British guy with the adorable accent who brought his own jar of marmite wherever he went. We got married 8 months later.His life revolved around his family and his family revolved around him. He left for work at 6 a.m. every morning so he could be home to play with the kids before bed. He never woke me up when he left because he said the kids got me up early enough he wanted to let me sleep.He gave each of his kids a special gift, a little part of himself for them to have as their own. To his darling little Caileigh, he gave his sense of humor. To his sweet, sweet Kyle, he gave his enormous heart. And to his precious Sydney, he gave his unwavering determination. I see these gifts in them and know that he is here with us. Sydney turned 13 months old on that horrific day. I don't know when the 11th will go back to marking the day when she ages another month, but for now it is a constant reminder of how precious life is and how lucky we are for the time we have with each other. We miss him more than I ever thought a heart could. In a letter Queen Elizabeth wrote for the Memorial Service in New York City on September 20th, she said, "Grief is the price we pay for love." We have loved so deeply, so now we grieve so deeply. Tribute submitted by Maureen Maddison.
Kept His British HabitsSimon Maddison liked his marmite. He was British, and it was not easy to find the spread — which is made from yeast —in America, so he carried his own jar.It was one of the routines his wife, Maureen, found so endearing. He kept a jar at her parents' house. He kept a jar at her parents' shore house. He carried a jar on vacations. One thing must be clear: she liked his habit, but she hated marmite. It's an acquired taste and smell, and she never acquired it. "It's gross." she said.Mr. Maddison, 40, a software consultant for the eSpeed division of Cantor Fitzgerald, lived in Florham Park, N.J., making sure not to wake his wife when he left at 6 a.m., and making sure he got home in time to play with his three children before their bedtime. Their favorite game was "sandwich," with pillows as the bread and the children as the ingredients.Mrs. Maddison sees traces of her husband in the children. Caileigh, 7, has his sense of humor; Kyle, 4, his enormous heart; Sydney, 1, his unwavering determination.They also have picked up some British expressions. They say "serviette" instead of "napkin," "boot" for the trunk of the car. If Kyle said he was going to play with his trucks, Mr. Maddison would correct him: "No, you're going to play with your lorries."All three children have also acquired his fondness for marmite. Holding her nose, Mrs. Maddison spreads it over their toast and bagels. She'll never remove it from the house. "Actually," she said, "it sort of smells better now." Profile published in THE NEW YORK TIMES on February 3, 2002.

An Ignored Sign

Today, I got up early; long before the sun began to change the earth's color from dark blue to beautiful hues of orange and pink. I showered and got dressed to go to UTA to watch my friend teach her 8 a.m. freshmen rhetoric class. I got to campus before most students were awake. The campus was virtually empty. I got a great parking space. Starbucks on campus had just opened, and I got my friend and I a warm beverage to enjoy in the quickly cooling fall air. I met her in her office, and off we went to room 100 Preston Hall, which was filled with clearly fatigued freshmen, wondering if Professor Arnold was going to let them out a moment early. She didn't. She did a great job eliciting conversation, and after 8:30 the students were debating the topics at hand (should motorcylce helmets be mandatory, should women get equal work for equal pay). Her next class was a literature class, and they are covering Love Medicine, Louise Erdrich's first novel in a series that we (book club) friends are reading. Her students were excited about the book, and the hour and a half flew by. At one point, we convinced the sophomores that I was Erdrich, and I had just come to listen to dialogue in a sophomore English class at UTA. I guess if Ludacris could entertain them tonight, a boring novelist appearing in their class didn't seem so far fetched. After her classes, she helped me prepare my application to be a GTA for UTA (only about six months late). I have been in touch several times with the director of first year English, who assured me there was a real possibility I could teach in the Spring. I spent a lot of effort and time compiling about 10 things, including requesting two letters of recommendations from professors (always awkward). So, today, I brought cookies to thank the professors. While I was printing out a copy of my best academic writing, along with letter of intent and a letter explaining why I would want a job that pays roughly one fourth to one fifth what high school teachers make, I felt that I should pray that if it is God's will, I get the job. I should only want the job if it will help me in my walk. I'm sorry, God, I said. I really want to teach a few days a week to get out of the house and make some spending money. I really want this job. I don't care what is best for me, I told him. Finally, I relented. If it isn't ment to be, give me a sign. Let me know. Don't leave me hanging. I journeyed to the director's office, who asked if I had taken Argumentation Theory. No, I hadn't, and wasn't taking it currently. Well, he said, I'm afraid this won't work out. I don't need your application, he said. WAIT A MINUTE! I had talked to him on at least five different occasions before school began, and he never mentioned Argumentation Theory! I told him to keep my application on file with the letters of recommendation, and I would apply for next year. I was shocked. Like a deer in the headlights. All of my days and days of work and compiling documents and requesting recommendation letters amounted to nothing. I felt sad. I even cried in the bathroom at UTA. (so embarassing). He suggested that I email the professor, who is working on her third week in the class to request I be admitted late. There are only 12 classes total. Plus I am only part time right now. I don't want to take more than one class. My mom, who has always been a pillar of strength, suggested through my tears of frustration that I thank God, who is obviously taking an active role in my life. What faith. What an example. And yet, that is not exactly what I felt like doing. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum. I couldn't help my tears of stinging disappointment and bitterness. Not to mention that last week was one of the worst weeks I've had recently. But, my mom is right. God is taking an active role in my life, and telling me through the spirit exactly what is going on. Although the reasons behind it aren't clear, his urging to me to pray for what was his will was crystal clear. Sometimes, our walk with Christ is tough, really tough, like gut wrenching. Like child/husband/parent/sibiling ill tough. Words like Leuekemia, Tumor, car wreck, hospital, NICU, preterm, police, abuse, neglect, abandonment, and affair permeate these times. I am well aware I am not in one of those times. But, I am at a loss to explain the disappointments, worries and stresses of the past two weeks. I really wanted that stupid, bad paying, piddly little job. Just part time. Just something fun for my resume. Just to be in front of a class full of adolescents again. And right now, the answer is no. And I ignored the sign telling me what was going to happen. So, for now, I will force myself to say to God, thank you for your active involvement in my life. In Erdrich's novel, Mandi pointed out to her sophomores that one of the characters began yelling in church because he thought God was deaf and wasn't listening. Why isn't God involved anymore, he lamented. Tonight, that is not my lament, and being completely honest, it is not my praise, either. But, it should be. So I will force myself to say it, and to think it, even if I can't quite feel it yet. And I will try really hard not to ingore any more spiritual promptings, even if I really want to.

Inagural Book Club Book: Tracks by Louise Erdrich

Some girlfriends from church who love to read and I are starting a book club! The first book is Tracks by Louise Erdrich. This book is relatively short, but packs a powerful punch. Erdrich is a Native American novelist who rose to fame after winning a short story contest on the East Coast. She is an amazing writer whose attention is mostly focused on Native themes, as well as powerful women within a tribal viewpoint. But aside from that, this woman can tell a story! She weaves a narrative yarn that is intriguing and thoughtful, and her prose is filled with depth and heart. Tracks is most often taught in American Literature classes on campus, and in recent years has become an accepted canonical text (think famous American writers like Poe, Emmerson, Hemingway). Her attention to familial issues and dynamics is inspiring, realistic and very moving. Especially relevant is her concept of what constitutes a family. I hope that whoever loves a good book will join us. Anyone who reads this is formally invited. Try to purchase the book before our first meeting, the last MOnday night in September. We will either meet at the new coffee shop in Keller, or a Starbucks. Our first meeting is the last Monday in September, and you don't have to have the book read by them. We'll discuss it at our next meeting in October. Take some time for yourself, go to the half priced book store, and buy this book and get set for a fun, exciting time with the girls! Paige, if you come, I promise to buy you a lemon bar with your coffee! :)

Progressive Parking

Get your mind out of the gutter! Remember the good ole days when parking meant making out in the back seat of your significant other's car at Nelson Park? The days of eating out at restaurants unencumbered by children whose ages barely reached singal digits? The days when you thought you were busy because you had a paper due that you could have been working on for months, but you delayed until the last minute for no reason other than laziness? And progressive parking would look something like driving to every park/ elementary school in Abilene and making out there? Well, our lives look nothing like that now. But, Mike, me, Jack and Molly went progressive parking together as a family. We rode in the wagon to our neighborhood park, played a while, and when it became to crowded, we walked to the school and played on the playset in front of the school (which by the way is beautiful--it was my first time to see it up close). Then, when I got bored, we walked around to the playset in the back and played a while. Then, we walked on the side of the school and rolled down the hill while Jackson sang "Jack and Molly went up the hill...". You get the idea. I peeked in the classrooms. They were impeccibly decorated. The whole campus of Independence Elementary is lovely. And, for those of you in my neighborhood, we are lucky! Then, we walked home. It was a sedate, uneventful, fun afternoon. Just what we needed after the trauma's and excitements of the week. We are doing better. Of course, I am well aware that our 'trauma' is nothing like my friend's families are facing. Almost everyone I hold dear has family members facing illness. So you have been on my mind and in my prayers, and I am well aware that the bothers of my family's week have been just that, bothers. I've been thinking of KF, and Scott's family, of PP and her family, of JB and her neice, of DP, and Tanner. (Sorry to anyone I left out.) :) You are in my prayers tonight. And I hope you all try progressive parking really soon.