One of my New Year's Resolutions this year is to get back into writing. So, I have retrieved my favorite book from my college days called, A Writer's Book of Days by Judy Reeves. In it are 365 prompts to get me to write about something every day.
So, I will write everyday. I will write around 7 pm every night when everyone has been fed, girls bathed and watching TV. I plan on writing for 30 minutes every sitting. Each heading will have the prompt for that day and my unedited writing.
Please feel free to read. Critique. Give me constructive criticism. Please remember that telling me that I suck is not constructive. After you tell my I suck, then tell me why I suck and how I can improve on my suckiness.
OK, here we go!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Friday, March 5, 2010
Talk in church
I gave a talk in church last week. Let me know what you think of it.
The earliest memory I have of my father is when I was about 4. My mother had gone somewhere with my older brother and dad was left to care for me. I needed a bath, pajamas and to have my unruly hair brushed. So he filled the tub with water, gave me the soap and left. I took the soap, slicked up the slanted back of the tub and used it as a slid into the water. After that was mastered and a little boring, I slicked up the back, stood on the side in an effort to slide down on my feet. Instead, my feet slid out from under me, by bottom splashed into the water and my head got a firm smack on the side of the tub. I let out a loud cry and my father came rushing in to find most of the tub water on the floor and me holding my head and wailing. He plucked me out of the tub, dried me off, put my pjs on me and went at my hair. Then he took me outside for a walk around the property. I remember my old fashioned flannel nightgown that buttoned all the way up to my neck. I was barefoot and the grass was cold under my feet, my long, blond hair was blowing behind me like Cindy Lipton from the Mod Squad and my father’s hand swallowed my hand. Kids came by and asked to play and dad said no, that I was all his that night and he wasn’t sharing. I felt like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.
I spent most of my childhood running through European museums, parks, black forests, mountain trails and crumbling ruins, just to keep up with my father. He took such big steps and I had such small legs that I couldn’t keep up. But I was not going to let go of his hand and be left behind, so I held on and ran while he led the course.
Another strong memory for me is when my mom went to a painting class and left my sister and I with my dad. Well, my sister and I were teasing our dog and he leapt up to defend himself from us, and his front teeth caught my sister right in the nose and severed it in half. Again there was a scream and this time a dog flying across the room and blood was everywhere. We put a rag on her nose and held it there until my mother came home. She came home, took one look at the nose and knew this required a trip to the emergency room. My dad was kneeling beside my sister’s bed and held her hand in his strong muscular one and he started to cry. I had never seen my father cry before. As he cried, he told my sister how sorry he was that this happened to her and if there was anything he could do to trade places with her he would.
But then there were times, as I grew older and had less time to spend with my father that gap between us seemed to just grow larger by the day. He didn’t hang around much to talk to me because, every time he talked to me, I burst into tears and ran to my room. It got to the point where I didn’t want him to talk to him and he was happy with that arrangement. But I can remember the looks of disapproval when I brought home a bad grade or was mean to one of my siblings or not as helpful to my mother. I hated those looks. I often felt like my father did not love me. That he did not like me the way I was. Everyone else thought I was great! Friends parents thought I was so polite and smart and kind. Why couldn’t my father see that? Why couldn’t he just accept me the way I was?
These are feelings many of us have had with our fathers, or uncles, or older brothers or whomever is our authority figure. The stories I have told are not unique. The situations are, but the basis is the same. How can it be that so many people from so many different walks of life can relate to the same type of stories?
I believe that it comes from the fact that our Earthly lives are patterned after our eternal lives. Just like we have a father on earth, we have a father in heaven. Just like we have earthly fathers with whom we share facial features or personal characteristics, we have a heavenly father with whom we share physical characteristics and spiritual features and characteristics.
I look more like my father and his side of the family than my mother and hers. He has blue eyes, and so do I. He is a hard worker and very determined and so am I. Another characteristic that we both share is that as soon as you tell us we cannot do something or that it’s impossible, well will show you the seven different ways we can do it and that it is possible. One of my children also has this characteristic so we can see how it goes from one generation to the next.
But what of our Heavenly Father? What are his characteristics and do we see those in ourselves?
From the New Testament we know that Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, have a physical presence. They stand in one place at one time, as the New Testament disciple Stephen testified: “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.”7
We also know that the Father has a voice. As recorded in Genesis and the book of Moses, Adam and Eve “heard the voice of the Lord God, as they were walking in the garden, in the cool of the day.”8
We know that the Father and the Son have faces, that He stands, and that He converses. The prophet Enoch declared, “I saw the Lord; and he stood before my face, and he talked with me, even as a man talketh one with another.”9
We know that God and His Son have bodies, in form and parts like ours. From the book of Ether in the Book of Mormon, we read, “And the veil was taken from off the eyes of the brother of Jared, and he saw the finger of the Lord; and it was as the finger of a man, like unto flesh and blood.”10 Later the Lord revealed Himself, saying, “Behold, this body, which ye now behold, is the body of my spirit; and … I [will] appear unto my people in the flesh.”11
We know that the Father and the Son have feelings for us. The book of Moses records, “And it came to pass that the God of heaven looked upon the residue of the people, and he wept.”12
We have the same characteristics as our Father in Heaven. He has, of course perfected them where we are still working on them. I think that knowing that Heavenly Father is a being with a body and a face that looks like ours is comforting. How difficult would it be to seek guidance, direction and forgiveness from a floating mass that has no form?
All this sound well and good, but what about the times in my life where I felt that my own father didn’t love me the way I was, that he didn’t accept me? As a parent myself now, I realize that the reason my father couldn’t accept me the way I was, was because he knew I was better than what I showed. He knew I was smarter and kinder than what I was currently doing. He knew what I was capable of, even though I, as yet, did not know. Why did he always expect so much out of me? Because he knew I was capable of it.
Why does our Heavenly Father give us so many difficult circumstances to overcome? Because He knows that we have it in us to overcome and grow from those circumstances. Many people love to quote that “God never said it would be easy, only that it would be worth it.” I looked all over the scriptures once and I couldn’t find that phrase. At the time, I was going through the worst experiences of my life. The life and the marriage that I had worked so hard at and believed so strongly in, was over. I had children that needed more than just to be fed and clothed. They needed to survive and they needed the skills to continue surviving. The needed to believe that I wouldn’t leave them. That I was strong enough to handle even their burdens on my shoulders. It was all just more than I could stand! And one night, in a fit of crying, I pulled out my patriarchial blessing. The las paragraph reads, “you will have difficulties from time to time, but none of these will be particularly difficult for you to handle.” What, was he kidding me? What else could possibly be more difficult to handle than what I was currently handling?
1. I found in 1 Cor. 10: 13
13 There hath no temptation ataken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be btempted above that ye are able; but will with the ctemptation also make a way to descape, that ye may be able to ebear it.
Just like my earthly Father expected a lot from me and knew what I was capable of, so does my Heavenly Father.
And just like both always love me with a love that I cannot even comprehend, they don’t always like the choices I make.
It says in John,
“And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments.
“He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him.
“But whoso keepeth his word, in him verily is the love of God perfected: hereby know we that we are in him.
“He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked.” (1 Jn. 2:3–6.)
My father has always had a great reputation. His word is his bond. He has integrity like no one I have ever known. He has worked hard to have that reputation. When the actions of one of his children brought my Father’s reputation into question, he was livid. Our Heavenly Father has also built up a reputation for himself and those that say they Love Him, need to keep his commandments and show, by word, as well as deed, what it means to be a Child of God.
Elder Bernard P. Brockbank said, Knowing God is related to keeping his commandments. Knowing God must come by direct revelation from God. You cannot know by the power of flesh and blood.
To know God, you must walk in the light of life. To know God as a living child of God, we should know our relationship to him, our divine potential, and we should know that in knowing God there is great responsibility to respect and love and follow his counsel and his doctrines and his commandments and to grow as a child to become more godlike.
There are times where I have rationalized bad behavior. Made excuses for not living true to my self. It is in those moments, that I prove to everyone around me, that I do not truly know God. I do not truly believe in him. For times when I have brought my true beliefs into question, I am very sorry. Many of us justify bad behavior with the excuse that no one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes. This is true. But if we know our Heavenly Father, then we know what our potential is and we know what we are capable of and we know that cop outs are unacceptable.
I can tell you now, with full conviction, that I know my Father Ron ruzic. I know why he’s cranky, when he is. I know why he’s withholding. I know why he hides in his computer room when all of us show up at his house. I would hide too if there were that many emotional women in my kitchen! I know my father because I have lived and watching him my whole life I know my heavenly father, not because I have watched him in the physical. I know him because I talk to him. I pray and Ilisten. Every experience I havd I write down in my journal. This way, when I feel most alone and lonely, I can look back at all the ways Heavenly Father has answered my prayers. How many time he expressed love to me even though I wasn’t always listening. I know him because he wanted to take my pain away, so he sent his only son to suffer bleed and die for me. I know him beacause when life gets to rough, I place my hand in his and let him lead and guide me. Just like with my earthly father, my heavenly father makes me believe that I am the most beautiful girl in the world; I can do and be anything; I can rise to which my potential is and possibly surpass it
Brother Uchdorf said, Gaining this knowledge is ultimately the quest of all God’s children on the earth. If you cannot remember believing in God or if you have ceased to believe or if you believe but without real conviction, I invite you to seek a testimony of God now. Do not be afraid of ridicule. The strength and peace that come from knowing God and having the comforting companionship of His Spirit will make your efforts eternally worthwhile.
Even more, with your own testimony of God, you will be able to bless your family, your posterity, your friends, your own life—all those you love. Your personal knowledge of God is not only the greatest gift you will ever give, but it will bring you the greatest joy you will ever have.
. It is my prayer, brother and sisters that all of you will come to know God, your eternal father.
The earliest memory I have of my father is when I was about 4. My mother had gone somewhere with my older brother and dad was left to care for me. I needed a bath, pajamas and to have my unruly hair brushed. So he filled the tub with water, gave me the soap and left. I took the soap, slicked up the slanted back of the tub and used it as a slid into the water. After that was mastered and a little boring, I slicked up the back, stood on the side in an effort to slide down on my feet. Instead, my feet slid out from under me, by bottom splashed into the water and my head got a firm smack on the side of the tub. I let out a loud cry and my father came rushing in to find most of the tub water on the floor and me holding my head and wailing. He plucked me out of the tub, dried me off, put my pjs on me and went at my hair. Then he took me outside for a walk around the property. I remember my old fashioned flannel nightgown that buttoned all the way up to my neck. I was barefoot and the grass was cold under my feet, my long, blond hair was blowing behind me like Cindy Lipton from the Mod Squad and my father’s hand swallowed my hand. Kids came by and asked to play and dad said no, that I was all his that night and he wasn’t sharing. I felt like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.
I spent most of my childhood running through European museums, parks, black forests, mountain trails and crumbling ruins, just to keep up with my father. He took such big steps and I had such small legs that I couldn’t keep up. But I was not going to let go of his hand and be left behind, so I held on and ran while he led the course.
Another strong memory for me is when my mom went to a painting class and left my sister and I with my dad. Well, my sister and I were teasing our dog and he leapt up to defend himself from us, and his front teeth caught my sister right in the nose and severed it in half. Again there was a scream and this time a dog flying across the room and blood was everywhere. We put a rag on her nose and held it there until my mother came home. She came home, took one look at the nose and knew this required a trip to the emergency room. My dad was kneeling beside my sister’s bed and held her hand in his strong muscular one and he started to cry. I had never seen my father cry before. As he cried, he told my sister how sorry he was that this happened to her and if there was anything he could do to trade places with her he would.
But then there were times, as I grew older and had less time to spend with my father that gap between us seemed to just grow larger by the day. He didn’t hang around much to talk to me because, every time he talked to me, I burst into tears and ran to my room. It got to the point where I didn’t want him to talk to him and he was happy with that arrangement. But I can remember the looks of disapproval when I brought home a bad grade or was mean to one of my siblings or not as helpful to my mother. I hated those looks. I often felt like my father did not love me. That he did not like me the way I was. Everyone else thought I was great! Friends parents thought I was so polite and smart and kind. Why couldn’t my father see that? Why couldn’t he just accept me the way I was?
These are feelings many of us have had with our fathers, or uncles, or older brothers or whomever is our authority figure. The stories I have told are not unique. The situations are, but the basis is the same. How can it be that so many people from so many different walks of life can relate to the same type of stories?
I believe that it comes from the fact that our Earthly lives are patterned after our eternal lives. Just like we have a father on earth, we have a father in heaven. Just like we have earthly fathers with whom we share facial features or personal characteristics, we have a heavenly father with whom we share physical characteristics and spiritual features and characteristics.
I look more like my father and his side of the family than my mother and hers. He has blue eyes, and so do I. He is a hard worker and very determined and so am I. Another characteristic that we both share is that as soon as you tell us we cannot do something or that it’s impossible, well will show you the seven different ways we can do it and that it is possible. One of my children also has this characteristic so we can see how it goes from one generation to the next.
But what of our Heavenly Father? What are his characteristics and do we see those in ourselves?
From the New Testament we know that Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, have a physical presence. They stand in one place at one time, as the New Testament disciple Stephen testified: “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.”7
We also know that the Father has a voice. As recorded in Genesis and the book of Moses, Adam and Eve “heard the voice of the Lord God, as they were walking in the garden, in the cool of the day.”8
We know that the Father and the Son have faces, that He stands, and that He converses. The prophet Enoch declared, “I saw the Lord; and he stood before my face, and he talked with me, even as a man talketh one with another.”9
We know that God and His Son have bodies, in form and parts like ours. From the book of Ether in the Book of Mormon, we read, “And the veil was taken from off the eyes of the brother of Jared, and he saw the finger of the Lord; and it was as the finger of a man, like unto flesh and blood.”10 Later the Lord revealed Himself, saying, “Behold, this body, which ye now behold, is the body of my spirit; and … I [will] appear unto my people in the flesh.”11
We know that the Father and the Son have feelings for us. The book of Moses records, “And it came to pass that the God of heaven looked upon the residue of the people, and he wept.”12
We have the same characteristics as our Father in Heaven. He has, of course perfected them where we are still working on them. I think that knowing that Heavenly Father is a being with a body and a face that looks like ours is comforting. How difficult would it be to seek guidance, direction and forgiveness from a floating mass that has no form?
All this sound well and good, but what about the times in my life where I felt that my own father didn’t love me the way I was, that he didn’t accept me? As a parent myself now, I realize that the reason my father couldn’t accept me the way I was, was because he knew I was better than what I showed. He knew I was smarter and kinder than what I was currently doing. He knew what I was capable of, even though I, as yet, did not know. Why did he always expect so much out of me? Because he knew I was capable of it.
Why does our Heavenly Father give us so many difficult circumstances to overcome? Because He knows that we have it in us to overcome and grow from those circumstances. Many people love to quote that “God never said it would be easy, only that it would be worth it.” I looked all over the scriptures once and I couldn’t find that phrase. At the time, I was going through the worst experiences of my life. The life and the marriage that I had worked so hard at and believed so strongly in, was over. I had children that needed more than just to be fed and clothed. They needed to survive and they needed the skills to continue surviving. The needed to believe that I wouldn’t leave them. That I was strong enough to handle even their burdens on my shoulders. It was all just more than I could stand! And one night, in a fit of crying, I pulled out my patriarchial blessing. The las paragraph reads, “you will have difficulties from time to time, but none of these will be particularly difficult for you to handle.” What, was he kidding me? What else could possibly be more difficult to handle than what I was currently handling?
1. I found in 1 Cor. 10: 13
13 There hath no temptation ataken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be btempted above that ye are able; but will with the ctemptation also make a way to descape, that ye may be able to ebear it.
Just like my earthly Father expected a lot from me and knew what I was capable of, so does my Heavenly Father.
And just like both always love me with a love that I cannot even comprehend, they don’t always like the choices I make.
It says in John,
“And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments.
“He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him.
“But whoso keepeth his word, in him verily is the love of God perfected: hereby know we that we are in him.
“He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked.” (1 Jn. 2:3–6.)
My father has always had a great reputation. His word is his bond. He has integrity like no one I have ever known. He has worked hard to have that reputation. When the actions of one of his children brought my Father’s reputation into question, he was livid. Our Heavenly Father has also built up a reputation for himself and those that say they Love Him, need to keep his commandments and show, by word, as well as deed, what it means to be a Child of God.
Elder Bernard P. Brockbank said, Knowing God is related to keeping his commandments. Knowing God must come by direct revelation from God. You cannot know by the power of flesh and blood.
To know God, you must walk in the light of life. To know God as a living child of God, we should know our relationship to him, our divine potential, and we should know that in knowing God there is great responsibility to respect and love and follow his counsel and his doctrines and his commandments and to grow as a child to become more godlike.
There are times where I have rationalized bad behavior. Made excuses for not living true to my self. It is in those moments, that I prove to everyone around me, that I do not truly know God. I do not truly believe in him. For times when I have brought my true beliefs into question, I am very sorry. Many of us justify bad behavior with the excuse that no one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes. This is true. But if we know our Heavenly Father, then we know what our potential is and we know what we are capable of and we know that cop outs are unacceptable.
I can tell you now, with full conviction, that I know my Father Ron ruzic. I know why he’s cranky, when he is. I know why he’s withholding. I know why he hides in his computer room when all of us show up at his house. I would hide too if there were that many emotional women in my kitchen! I know my father because I have lived and watching him my whole life I know my heavenly father, not because I have watched him in the physical. I know him because I talk to him. I pray and Ilisten. Every experience I havd I write down in my journal. This way, when I feel most alone and lonely, I can look back at all the ways Heavenly Father has answered my prayers. How many time he expressed love to me even though I wasn’t always listening. I know him because he wanted to take my pain away, so he sent his only son to suffer bleed and die for me. I know him beacause when life gets to rough, I place my hand in his and let him lead and guide me. Just like with my earthly father, my heavenly father makes me believe that I am the most beautiful girl in the world; I can do and be anything; I can rise to which my potential is and possibly surpass it
Brother Uchdorf said, Gaining this knowledge is ultimately the quest of all God’s children on the earth. If you cannot remember believing in God or if you have ceased to believe or if you believe but without real conviction, I invite you to seek a testimony of God now. Do not be afraid of ridicule. The strength and peace that come from knowing God and having the comforting companionship of His Spirit will make your efforts eternally worthwhile.
Even more, with your own testimony of God, you will be able to bless your family, your posterity, your friends, your own life—all those you love. Your personal knowledge of God is not only the greatest gift you will ever give, but it will bring you the greatest joy you will ever have.
. It is my prayer, brother and sisters that all of you will come to know God, your eternal father.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Why marriages fail…
Weddings are such big business these days. On the We! Channel I watch shows about the dress, the cake, the crazy bride and even the guys who plan the reception. Barely anybody does a low-key wedding anymore. Everyone is looking to have something no one else has or has even considered. And we all know the very sad statistic that 50% of all marriages end in divorce. But why do those marriages end, what is the first fissure that ends up cracking the entire union. My theory is that it begins with the wedding song. Most of these songs that herald in the couple as Mr. and Mrs. Stupidly-in-Love is a precursor of how things will end up.
For example, on Wuderlist’s Best Love song list, the number one song is, Open Arms, by Journey. Sounds like a great song because he is finally here with his arms open…obviously he is there with open arms because she already left him once and as a co-dependant woman, she’s back for more! Trust me, those arms won’t be open for very long.
Another one on the list is Something, by the Beatles. She’s asking him if his love will grow, his response is, “I don’t know, but stick around and let’s find out.” Hey bub, if you don’t think that the passing years, babies and a mortgage and all the other ups and downs of life won’t make your love for this long-suffering woman grow…then you should probably go now.
One more, and one of my favorites, Van Morrison’s Someone Like You. Basically, he is looking for someone exactly like you…not you, but someone like you. Can you imagine the poor bride dancing with her new husband when she finally figures out that he wanted someone like her…maybe her sister…total devastation.
John Bon Jovi, hot and sexy as he is, sings a lot of co-dependant songs. Namely, I’ll be There For You, where he wants to be the air I breathe and the water I drink. Good gracious! Give a girl some space.
Howard Jones sings, “I'm not eating I'm not sleeping this tension this worry
You don't call you don't write me
I need your love in a hurry
Teach me, Reach me, Meet me, Beat me,
Tease me, Please me,
Come and seize me,”
YIKES is my only response.
Some of the songs are obviously co-dependent just by the titles:
"How Am I Suppose To Live Without You?" - Michael Bolton
"I Am Nothing" (If I Don't Have You) -Whitney Houston
"I Fall To Pieces" - Patsy Cline
"If I Can't Have You" - Yvonne Elleman
Groups from the late 70’s and early 80’s seemed to have only written co-dependent songs, for example:
Chicago – You’re the Inspiration, If You Leave Me Now, and Hard Habit to Break.
Basically, I don’t want any one woman to be any man’s EVERYTHING. I don’t want to be responsible for your happiness nor do I want to fulfill your every need. That’s why we get on with life after the honeymoon. Go make some friends, go golf with the guys and the come home and tell me about it, but don’t make me be your only friend.
To make my point, I asked my Facebook Friends what their love songs were. Here’s part of the list:
- All The Way" by Frank Sinatra
- True Companion by Marc Cohn
- All I Ask of You (from Phantom of the Opera)
- When a man Loves a woman" by Percy Sledge
When I checked the lyrics on these songs they were all about sharing life and love and giving all of yourself so someone because a marriage is not 50/50 but 100/100. How do I know this works? These songs came from people who have been married for over 10 years, most closer to 20.
And what about me, you ask, what’s our song? Well, the song that was “Our” song with my first husband was Time in a Bottle, by Jim Croce. A somewhat co-dependant song in the fact that I don’t want to spend every single day from August 26, 1989 til eternity with anyone. I need more interaction than that…Of course, he spent more time in a Vodka bottle than he did with me, so the point is moot.
My current husband,and best friend, and I have two songs. The Good Stuff, by Kenny Chesney and Home, by Alan Jackson. Both songs talk about the hard stuff married people go through, but love each other anyway; we are each other’s home. It may not be expansive and filled with fine furniture, but wherever we are, that’s home.
Now, please don’t take this personally…it’s just a silly blog. No matter what your song is, you picked it for a reason that’s special to you and you shouldn’t let me ruin that for you. But, if you find yourself living your life only to fulfill someone else’s life, then you should probably start singing a different tune.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Music to my ears...
I’m on the couch, again, while he is lying in my bed making the most God-awful noise. It’s not a gentle snore, but a reverberation that comes from deep in the back of his throat. It’s impossible to fall asleep next to him. I always love the bedtime ritual of wrapping our arms around each other just to feel each other breathe. When I place my head in the pit of his shoulder, I can hear his heart beating and feel like I’m almost inside of him, like we are one breath. But then he infuriates me by falling asleep so fast and commences with that ragged sound. It seems like he can fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, while I struggle with insomnia all night long. I assume that he has no worries, has no stress. He’s at peace with his life. His brain goes quiet while his mouth roars on.
When he wakes up in the morning it’s as if he’s shot out of a cannon. He needs no alarm because he can wake up at whatever time he tells himself he needs to the night before. I can hear him whistling when he gets out of the shower. It’s like a bird from “Snow White” has flown into our bathroom. I, on the other hand, fell that morning should not come before noon. Sometimes his jovial mood annoys me, but most of the time I just accept it for what it is; the sign of a man happy in his own skin.
There are other times, on the weekends or at the end of the day, when the sounds coming from my living room are those of children being tortured. I’m quite sure the neighbors wonder if they should call Social Services for all of the “Owws,” “Don’ts!” and “Stops,” Being screamed from my children. But along with the shouts of “Mom! Help!” are the never ending giggles and he tickles them or hugs the air right out of their lungs. There used to be Saturdays and Sundays filled with football games in the front yard. But now they plan on him being the designated chaperone while they attend some screamy, all-day concert in a dusty field. Some nights they all disappear for a movie in the park. At first, the chaos made me crazy. Our home had been so quiet until he came along and now it’s filled with cries of joy, laughter, and an abundance of love. I never knew love could be so loud. I realize now that what my children needed was a man who knew how to have fun and would ask them to join him.
When it comes time to talk about work ethic, grades, chores and the allowance they won’t be getting again this week, everyone gets stormy and upset. He is calm, but firm with them. He never forgets a punishment, nor does he forget a job well-done. He’s quick with discipline as well as with praise. He treats my children as if they were his own. Even though we now have babies that we share together, no one can tell by his behavior that the first three are not his. He’s ruggedly dark and handsome where they are fair and blond. Most people just say that they favor me, where the babies favor him. The average stranger is surprised to find out that the older children come from a different father. “he loves them so…” they say. “I can tell your son loves his father,” the quip. Little do they know, my son actually has no feelings for his father, but adores and respects his step-dad.
Speaking of steps, the most amazing sound I ever heard from him was when he responded to a question my daughter asked upon the birth of our child. She asked, “Is Lina my step-sister, or my half-sister?” His response was, “There are no steps or halves in this family. Lina is just your sister.”
We are an unconventional and noisy family and he is our conductor. I like his music much better than any music I have ever heard.
When he wakes up in the morning it’s as if he’s shot out of a cannon. He needs no alarm because he can wake up at whatever time he tells himself he needs to the night before. I can hear him whistling when he gets out of the shower. It’s like a bird from “Snow White” has flown into our bathroom. I, on the other hand, fell that morning should not come before noon. Sometimes his jovial mood annoys me, but most of the time I just accept it for what it is; the sign of a man happy in his own skin.
There are other times, on the weekends or at the end of the day, when the sounds coming from my living room are those of children being tortured. I’m quite sure the neighbors wonder if they should call Social Services for all of the “Owws,” “Don’ts!” and “Stops,” Being screamed from my children. But along with the shouts of “Mom! Help!” are the never ending giggles and he tickles them or hugs the air right out of their lungs. There used to be Saturdays and Sundays filled with football games in the front yard. But now they plan on him being the designated chaperone while they attend some screamy, all-day concert in a dusty field. Some nights they all disappear for a movie in the park. At first, the chaos made me crazy. Our home had been so quiet until he came along and now it’s filled with cries of joy, laughter, and an abundance of love. I never knew love could be so loud. I realize now that what my children needed was a man who knew how to have fun and would ask them to join him.
When it comes time to talk about work ethic, grades, chores and the allowance they won’t be getting again this week, everyone gets stormy and upset. He is calm, but firm with them. He never forgets a punishment, nor does he forget a job well-done. He’s quick with discipline as well as with praise. He treats my children as if they were his own. Even though we now have babies that we share together, no one can tell by his behavior that the first three are not his. He’s ruggedly dark and handsome where they are fair and blond. Most people just say that they favor me, where the babies favor him. The average stranger is surprised to find out that the older children come from a different father. “he loves them so…” they say. “I can tell your son loves his father,” the quip. Little do they know, my son actually has no feelings for his father, but adores and respects his step-dad.
Speaking of steps, the most amazing sound I ever heard from him was when he responded to a question my daughter asked upon the birth of our child. She asked, “Is Lina my step-sister, or my half-sister?” His response was, “There are no steps or halves in this family. Lina is just your sister.”
We are an unconventional and noisy family and he is our conductor. I like his music much better than any music I have ever heard.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
By way of introduction…
Having a big family is like cooking a frog. If you put a frog in boiling water, he’ll jump out to save his life. But, if you put him in a pot with room temperature water and slowly bring it to a boil, he has no idea what’s coming until it’s too late. That’s sort of what happened to me. I had one baby and he was cute, so I had another and she was cute and so it goes….and now it’s today, and I have five kids ranging in age from 4 up to 19 and they aren’t so cute anymore.
Yeah, go ahead and read that again….5 children and they’re driving me nuts
They are either pitching fits because they can’t go where they want to go when they want to go or they have found a new lifestyle that I am supposed to embrace and love and support, no matter how cockamamie it sounds to me.
So, I decided to go see the doctor to see what kind of medicinal therapy I can get to help me deal with these ankle biters.
So, while I am waiting in the waiting room, I spot an adorable, clean baby smiling up to its perfectly helpful non-rival of a three year old older sibling on a magazine cover. Parenting magazines lure me in with titles like, Tips for School Age Kids. Well, this was looking like a good day for research and development in the Wood/Keith Family lab.
When reading any book or article, I start by reading about the author. I like to know who I am getting advice from, unless I am in the produce department at the grocery store and I can’t tell which melon is ripe and which one needs a few more days, then I’ll take advice from anyone. Anyway, I look at the pictures of the article authors and all of them have perfect hair, smudgeless make-up and ironed shirts without spit-up, snot or spaghetti sauce stains on them. This immediately puts me on edge. I haven’t had perfect hair since I did it all up nice before I went to the hospital to have my first child. I wanted to be sure that I looked all put together for the pictures we would take before, during and after the miracle of birth. But after the pitocin started flowing and the contractions started coming…I didn’t give a damn about my hair. In fact, all I wanted to do was to waddle out to the dumpster so I could get rid of Satan’s Spawn and start over again with the beautiful experience I had been promised.
Needless to say, these women didn’t even look like they had even showed up for the job of labor, delivery and continued devotion to irrational children.
But, I am willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. You can’t judge a book by its cover (even though I do it all the time), so you cannot judge an author by their picture. I then go on to read the bios. All of them have PhDs from high profile schools. How do you learn about raising children by reading a book and listening to a lecture. But again, who am I to judge? I mean, I was trying to learn by reading a free magazine. I wasn’t even willing to invest in the experience by buying the rag.
I continue reading. One of the Princesses of Pristine has only ONE child who is six months old, while another is blessed with 5 year old twins…only TWO of God’s Sweet Spirits. What kind of experience is that? I was looking for a wrinkled old sage who had never lost a child in the Wal-Mart. I suspect these Wonder Women have nannies. I doubt any of these women had ever even gotten one spec of poop under their perfectly manicured fingernails.
I thought things couldn’t get any more desperate but they did. All of the articles were geared towards the wrong age groups. They covered infants and toddlers. Mine are all out of that stage. Which brings me to another point…since when is a 2 yr old considered a “school-age child?” Two year olds don’t go to school. They go to day care to play, have snack and take a nap on a mat. If that was school, I’d still be there today.
Then they move onto Pre-School age kids, of which, I have two. But my two are not twins and they are not separates. They are more like a sweater set. Not good on their own, and really hot when put together. The articles solutions for bad behavior were things like time-out. Time out doesn’t work at my house because while I am putting one in time-out, the other one is half-way down the street without her panties on! When I run out to get that one, the other one is trying to make popcorn by putting the popcorn in the microwave without taking the plastic wrapping off. So, I skipped those articles.
On to the Tween. One of my sons is 13. I don’t know if that makes him a teen or a tween. I don’t even know what a tween is. He is adorable and sweet and wants to be just like his older brother and sister. Obviously, if I can get those two straightened out, the 13 year old is covered. So I skip that article.
There were no other articles. According to Parenting Gurus, kids are perfect by they time they hit 15. There’s no more need to raise them. I couldn’t find one article that told me how to handle a love-sick, hormonal irrational 17 year old girl or a 19 year old boy who isn’t ready to move away from home, but is ready to be free of familial responsibilities..
The nurse calls my name. I follow her to the backroom where she asks me to step on the scale…oh forget it. I turn around to leave realizing all I need is a vacation that includes an all you can sleep buffet. But since I am the butcher, baker and candlestick maker in my home, I will just settle for some Ben & Jerry’s.
Having a big family is like cooking a frog. If you put a frog in boiling water, he’ll jump out to save his life. But, if you put him in a pot with room temperature water and slowly bring it to a boil, he has no idea what’s coming until it’s too late. That’s sort of what happened to me. I had one baby and he was cute, so I had another and she was cute and so it goes….and now it’s today, and I have five kids ranging in age from 4 up to 19 and they aren’t so cute anymore.
Yeah, go ahead and read that again….5 children and they’re driving me nuts
They are either pitching fits because they can’t go where they want to go when they want to go or they have found a new lifestyle that I am supposed to embrace and love and support, no matter how cockamamie it sounds to me.
So, I decided to go see the doctor to see what kind of medicinal therapy I can get to help me deal with these ankle biters.
So, while I am waiting in the waiting room, I spot an adorable, clean baby smiling up to its perfectly helpful non-rival of a three year old older sibling on a magazine cover. Parenting magazines lure me in with titles like, Tips for School Age Kids. Well, this was looking like a good day for research and development in the Wood/Keith Family lab.
When reading any book or article, I start by reading about the author. I like to know who I am getting advice from, unless I am in the produce department at the grocery store and I can’t tell which melon is ripe and which one needs a few more days, then I’ll take advice from anyone. Anyway, I look at the pictures of the article authors and all of them have perfect hair, smudgeless make-up and ironed shirts without spit-up, snot or spaghetti sauce stains on them. This immediately puts me on edge. I haven’t had perfect hair since I did it all up nice before I went to the hospital to have my first child. I wanted to be sure that I looked all put together for the pictures we would take before, during and after the miracle of birth. But after the pitocin started flowing and the contractions started coming…I didn’t give a damn about my hair. In fact, all I wanted to do was to waddle out to the dumpster so I could get rid of Satan’s Spawn and start over again with the beautiful experience I had been promised.
Needless to say, these women didn’t even look like they had even showed up for the job of labor, delivery and continued devotion to irrational children.
But, I am willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. You can’t judge a book by its cover (even though I do it all the time), so you cannot judge an author by their picture. I then go on to read the bios. All of them have PhDs from high profile schools. How do you learn about raising children by reading a book and listening to a lecture. But again, who am I to judge? I mean, I was trying to learn by reading a free magazine. I wasn’t even willing to invest in the experience by buying the rag.
I continue reading. One of the Princesses of Pristine has only ONE child who is six months old, while another is blessed with 5 year old twins…only TWO of God’s Sweet Spirits. What kind of experience is that? I was looking for a wrinkled old sage who had never lost a child in the Wal-Mart. I suspect these Wonder Women have nannies. I doubt any of these women had ever even gotten one spec of poop under their perfectly manicured fingernails.
I thought things couldn’t get any more desperate but they did. All of the articles were geared towards the wrong age groups. They covered infants and toddlers. Mine are all out of that stage. Which brings me to another point…since when is a 2 yr old considered a “school-age child?” Two year olds don’t go to school. They go to day care to play, have snack and take a nap on a mat. If that was school, I’d still be there today.
Then they move onto Pre-School age kids, of which, I have two. But my two are not twins and they are not separates. They are more like a sweater set. Not good on their own, and really hot when put together. The articles solutions for bad behavior were things like time-out. Time out doesn’t work at my house because while I am putting one in time-out, the other one is half-way down the street without her panties on! When I run out to get that one, the other one is trying to make popcorn by putting the popcorn in the microwave without taking the plastic wrapping off. So, I skipped those articles.
On to the Tween. One of my sons is 13. I don’t know if that makes him a teen or a tween. I don’t even know what a tween is. He is adorable and sweet and wants to be just like his older brother and sister. Obviously, if I can get those two straightened out, the 13 year old is covered. So I skip that article.
There were no other articles. According to Parenting Gurus, kids are perfect by they time they hit 15. There’s no more need to raise them. I couldn’t find one article that told me how to handle a love-sick, hormonal irrational 17 year old girl or a 19 year old boy who isn’t ready to move away from home, but is ready to be free of familial responsibilities..
The nurse calls my name. I follow her to the backroom where she asks me to step on the scale…oh forget it. I turn around to leave realizing all I need is a vacation that includes an all you can sleep buffet. But since I am the butcher, baker and candlestick maker in my home, I will just settle for some Ben & Jerry’s.
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