MommyBlog

Casey and Kenny and  I just got back from a “Founders Weekend” for a group we have been involved with since we were dating called The Clapham Institute.   My parents were both there as well, so my mom graciously took Kenny for several of the conversation sessions so that I could participate.   All I can say is, my head is full.

During the long drive home, I had time to muse about the discussions we had: on “re-framing” the conversations we have about our faith so that it is coherent to the people we encounter.   In other words, instead of “witnessing” to people by bashing them over the head with the four spiritual laws, we engage those people  in conversations about what is relevant in their lives.   We talk about the way things ought to be, the way things are, the way things can be and the way things will be.   We talked about investing in people and learn what they love, so that we can in turn meet them in a conversation that gives pause to say, “Huh.   I never though of it that way… ”  

The whole idea of re-framing our conversations and learning a new way to engage people grips me.   Though most of the applications were to the business world, I can see plenty of ways that I can put these ideas into practice in my own little sphere.   Too often as a Mommy, I get  trapped in the trivial and temporal conversations of “what my kid did” or what gripes I have about this or that.   I know that it’s natural to talk most about whatever is at the forefront of our daily lives, but there can be a point when I say, “I want to talk about more” and I deliberately bring up a topic or ask a question to someone that has nothing to do with their identity as a mother or wife and everything to do with the real, thinking, feeling person that they are.

I started thinking about my friends these days… and what do I really know about them?   I know the facts of their current lives, like the nap-habits of their kids and who hates to cook and who is having a rocky time with their marriage.   But I don’t know anything about what these friends think about the wider world outside our homes and our churches, or  about the dreams they have for themselves outside of raising their kids.   I have no idea how, if we started really having conversations with each other instead of “chats,” we could bind together to have an impact on each others’ lives.

Sarah Zacharias Davis wrote a  thoughtful book called Transparent in which she explores the question, “What if we all just told the truth about how we are feeling?”   She challenges us women to get behind the mask we all wear with each other and just be real.   I thought about that throughout this weekend… can I raise the bar on my relationships with people and be real about more than just the surface facts of our lives?   It’s time to think…

I was the “guest” speaker at my own MOPS group today.    I actually did a cooking demonstration along with a talk on meal planning, cooking with kids and making the most out of our opportunity as moms to nourish our families.

It was a load of fun, but I am exhausted!

Between the hours of preparation and the sleepless night of butterflies in the stomach, I feel as tired as I did when Kenny was still nursing through the night.   Casey was pretty excited with the “leftovers” of fajitas and tex mex salad that I served up tonight, so I was all but off the hook for having to cook dinner twice in one day.   I have to admit, ever since Kenny was a newborn (and I nursed him every hour and a half for a half an hour, filling the time with compulsively watching the Food Network)  I have harbored a little fantasy of having my own cooking show.   Not that I have anything fantastically different than any other Food Network diva, but just because I think it would be a real kick.

Since Kenny was old enough to sit in a highchair, I have entertained him night after night with my own cooking expositions – he now has a special “kitchen helper”stool and we do everything together – he dumps the baking ingredients in the bowl and helps stir them, he watches as I chop, fillet, butterfly and otherwise manipulate raw ingredients into what dinner is to become.   The more I talk as I cook, explaining what I’m doing, the more fascinated he becomes.   Maybe that could be my “thing” – an entire cooking show made to entertain a toddler and get a gourmet meal on the table at the same time…

On another note, I realize that this is the second Wednesday with no book review, but I promise to have one next week.   I was recently sent a novel by the author Gwendolyn Gross, The Other Mother, and I’m nearly done after two sittings… it is fantastic and hooks me in way past bedtime.   The book jacket says that it’s about the “mommy wars” of stay-at-home moms versus working moms, but it is so much more than that.   It is a drama that any mom, at home or working in a corporate high rise, can relate to.   So I promise a full review next week.   In the meantime, check out her website!

I went in to check on Kenny during his naptime, and this is what I found:

 

Apparently, during his usual pre-sleeping romping in bed, he worked his way into the pillowcase, and fell asleep there.   I couldn’t resist a picture… even though  the flash  woke him up a little…

 

But he fell back asleep right away.   He’s been that way for over two hours.

It seems Dudley taught him all about snuggling in the pillows, because I went back downstairs and found this:

 

It’s hard to tell, but Dudley has wedged himself behind the couch cushions and is in a little cave.

Those are my boys.

I am a self-admitted neat-freak when it comes to the “public” areas of my house.   (Read: I am slightly less freakish about the closets and the garage.   They are horror-shows.)

I vacuum the downstairs at least three times a week… partly because of the way the sun comes in the windows on the pergo, and partly because I slightly flip out when I see a crumb on the floor.   I mop and dust nearly as often.   I’m pretty efficient, so it’s not like it takes much time.   I clean theupstairs slightly less frequently because it’s big and it takes forever and because I get my June Cleaver on when Kenny’s napping, and cleaning upstairs tends to wake him up.   I polish the silestone on the counter-tops with gusto and use the handy Mr. Clean Magic sponges on the scuff marks on the walls with as much zeal as the ladies in the commercials do.   I feel a certain calm when my house is shiny and I (eek) kind of enjoy doing it.

But I will let a load of clean laundry sit in, on, around or next to the dryer, unfolded, until we have completely run out of clothes in the drawers and have so many piles waiting for closet space  that I fear losing Dudley in the masses.   (Exception: I always fold Casey’s shirts and undies right away so he knows nothing of my lapse in good housekeeping.)   I don’t know what it is about folding laundry, but I detest it.   I’ve tried  doing it in front of the TV, folding to the beat of an ABBA tune, and stealing myself with mouthfuls of chocolate chips in effort to get the ball rolling, but in the end, I find myself stuffing the clean clothes back in the laundry closet, promising to get to it later.

In fact, I was in the middle of thinking about folding laundry when I remembered that I needed to write a post.   It is sitting next to me, leering in victory over yet another foiled attempt.

First I want to thank all of you who took the time to write such thoughtful comments and emails over the last two days.   I have learned a lot!   I do want to answer Crisanne  and others who felt I was being too judgemental in expressing my opinion.   When I started writing the post, I didn’t intend to put down those moms who do put their kids in weekly programs; I was actually just trying to say, “Call it what it is” in the respect that when kids are really young (two and under), the programs are not truly “school” – they are closer to “day care.”   But I have found quickly that the term definitely ruffles people up!   And that’s why it is more socially acceptable to call it “school.”   And yes, I know that a three year old can learn a lot in a twice a week program, and I agree that throwing a kid into 5-day-a-week kindergarten, when they have never been to school at all, can be unfair and frightening.  

In yesterday’s post, I was trying to make the point that, while Kenny isn’t in “school” he still has opportunities throughout the week to be in settings where another adult is taking care of him and where he is learning how to interact with other kids (Sunday School, MOPS, etc.)   So for me, I don’t see a need to fall into the peer pressure of putting him in “school” – he has four times a week where he is “on his own” and learning to be his own little person outside of me!   Where he is learning about respecting other authority figures, waiting his turn, and following directions.

Finally,  Jen and Crisanne, you are right, I did make the insinuation that a mom who puts their  toddlers in “school” misses out on much of their life… that was way too over-dramatic and I apologize for that one.   And I do thank those who made more of the “if you had more than one, you’d understand” response that I hate so much.   I didn’t look at it from the perspective of getting to spend one-on-one time with a younger child, like I have had the time to spend one-on-one with Kenny.

I think it’s fair to say that while I haven’t changed my mind about what I’m going to do with Kenny in the near future, I do have a little better understanding of why some people choose to put their kids into programs during the week.   I guess it doesn’t matter what we call it, if it works for each individual’s situation.   And just wait, if I have another one before it’s time for Kenny to go to kindergarten and I make the decision to put Kenny in to “school” two days a week, I promise to eat crow and write all about it.

Well, I knew that I was pretty much walking in front of a train when I wrote that last post… (I had just finished watching the O’Reilly Factor and was feeling daring…)

I have to say, though, that I truly do value all the comments and emails I’ve received so far.   I especially appreciate the more passionate ones about the value of an early-learning program.   I agree heartily that kids need socialization, and moms need breaks to nurture themselves.   Kenny and I get  ours four times a week: Sunday School, where he learns sweet songs and how many ways to hide goldfish in his pockets while Casey and I get to go to the service in peace; our weekly evening  home group, where he is in a basement in controlled chaos with eleven other wild-things and and two harried sitters and Casey and I eat, laugh and talk with the adults upstairs; MOPS, where he is in a class of 2 and 3 year olds reading stories, doing art, learning to interact and having a blast while I am recharging;and  finally  Casey and my weekly date night, where he is with his much-adored babysitter for several hours while Casey and I play tennis, talk, recharge and  re-connect.

Then Kenny and I go to Rolly Pollie once a week, and Casey and Kenny go to swim lessons once a week – times for learning  and interaction.   And those Saturday morning swim lessons are my “mommy’s morning out” when I can go to the park for long runs, go shopping, get my hair done, and all the things I don’t get to do during the week.

I agree with you, Jen, that doing all your housework and errands while your kids are in their programs, then being able to focus on them 100% otherwise is a good argument for getting the kids into an early-learning setting.   I do hate those days when it seems like we’re in the car all day running errands, or when I’m trying to get the house clean and Kenny is bored and underfoot.   And you are right… “there are different circumstances in everyone’s life…”   Kenny didn’t nap AT ALL until he was 14 months old (he was a great night-time sleeper, but never slept during the day) and there were days then when I would have left him with the first warm body who came along, just so I could take a nap and give my boobs a rest… maybe I have forgotten those days to readily…

Keep your comments coming, please!   I wrote the original post because I wanted to know what opinions were there on this matter.   Most of the  stay-at-home moms  I know at this point in my life are fully-reliant on pre-school, but all of those have three or  more kids, so their answers to my inquiries on the matter are only ever, “If you had more than one, you would understand.”   I wanted a better answer!

Thanks to all who took the time to write, and I am still looking forward to more…

Kenny is two.

I know lots of kids his age who  are in “school.”   I just have to get this out, but:  It is not SCHOOL!    It’s DAY CARE!   At least, that is my rather dramatic opinion.   I am eager to hear from those readers out there who disagree.

I’m not talking about working moms who put their kids in daycare so they can put food on the table or help support their family, I’m talking about those stay-at-home gals who have convinced themselves that either 1) Their kids will flourish by going to “school” early or 2) they’ve convinced themselves that they “deserve a break” and need   a few hours a week “to get things done.”

I say, What planet are you people on?   What cultural agenda are you trying to live up to?   Kindergarten is right and good and a part of American life, and ok, maybe even pre-k for those so inclined,  but  you cannot reasonably convince yourself or anyone else that anything earlier than that is “school” anymore than I can convince myself that taking my dog to the kennel for the day is “social-skill-building-time.”

Being a mom is hard.   It’s way harder than working nine-to-five or getting your masters degree.   It’s frustrating, it’s draining, it’s occasionally boring (did I say that?) and it will sometimes  make you contemplate a martini at three in the afternoon.   But’s it’s real.   It’s hugs and kisses and hearing your little guy whisper to himself  after lights out the song you sang to him all afternoon.   It’s getting pee’d on in the bathroom at Nordstrom’s while they sit on a too-big toilet seat  and still saying, “Good job for pee-peeing in the potty!”   It’s putting  carrots on their plate for the 8,oooth time and watching them suddenly eat them.   It’s pretending to fold laundry while actually sneaking a peak at them “reading” a book and   getting almost all the words right on the right pages.   It’s hearing them count to twelve on their own, then tentatively look up at you and  whisper, “turd-teen?”

Why are we believing a lie that there are other people out there that are better equipped to teach and mold  those precious little hearts?   And why are we believing that we Moms deserve time off?   And I can’t tell you how many people have thrown at me, “well, if you had more than one, you’d understand.”   I’d cut off my foot for another baby.   Maybe that’s why I’m so passionate about this; I want to soak up every minute I can being  a mom and being close to a little person that is part of me.

So … I would love to hear some of your thoughts from both sides of the arena… What do you think?

It has recently become apparent  that Kenny has already learned all of Casey’s sales skills at the ripe old age of two.

At bedtime we read several stories, always warning him when the last one comes, and as soon as it ends, he looks up solemnly and intones, “Just  wuuuuuuun more.  Laaaaaaastone.”   When he does his business in the potty, he runs to the cabinet to get his “potty treats” (which consists of exactly two M&Ms).   I let him pick which colors he wants, and he will say something along the lines of, “A blue one and a brown one.   And a red one and a lellow one.   Just two and two.”

But my favorite new speech pattern is the new art of asking questions.   Just a few weeks ago, when he wanted to read a book, he would say, “Read this book!” or when he wanted me to sing him a song, “‘Nudder song, pa-lease.”   Now, all of the sudden, it’s,

“Mama?   You wanna read this book a’ me?” and “Mama?   You wanna listen to Larry Cucumber CDs?”   and “Mama?   You wanna bake a cake?”   and “Mama?   You wanna build a tower a’ me?”

I’m sold.

Kenny and I met Casey for lunch today at a small bakery.   Since I have started seriously potty training Kenny, he has never yet actually asked to go in a public place, so when he announced that he had to go as we finished our sandwiches, I happily complied.  

Kenny has not yet mastered the stand-up-pee-pee, so at home we use a training seat that has a … um… splash guard.   We obviously didn’t have one today, but I gamely sat him right  down and said, “Ok, Kenny,  go ahead!”  and was promptly sprayed by a stream of  warm two-year-old urine  directly into the crotch of my own jeans.   We exited the bathroom, Kenny triumphant, and me sheepishly  looking like I’d just wet my pants.

And the ego goes out the window.

Today at our MOPS meeting, we had a young woman come speak.   She is the mother of two children, a seven year-old girl and a four year-old boy, and along with her husband, they live in a remote village in western Uganda.   They felt called to join the staff of a missions school, and a year and a half ago, they got rid of all their belongings, with the exception of eight steamer trunks, and moved a half a world away.   They are on furlough right now in the US, but will return to Uganda at the end of the month, where they have committed to another 4 years with the mission, though they may stay on longer.

Her stories were enough to alternately make your heart melt and your hair stand on end.   Next time you complain about the fly that got in your house when your kid left the door open, imagine waking up to find a tarantula on the mosquito netting of your four year-old’s bed.   Or when you’re  fretting  about not having enough time to cook dinner and popping in a frozen pizza, imagine having no running water or electricity, and having to begin your dinner preparations shortly after breakfast in order  to have time to make everything from scratch.   Not to mention bath-time involving hauling water, heating it on the stove, and bathing the kids in basins before the water gets too cold.  

She and her husband write regularly on their blog (that is, when their solar batteries can get enough charge to run the computer!), Called to Uganda.     Listening to her speak, I came home and spent Kenny’s entire nap time reading her blog and the various blogs of their teammates in Bundibugyo.   It is a world I can barely imagine.   I have no frame of reference for it.   Today’s post talks about “psychic numbing”   – when we here in the US hear of the millions of people suffering in third world countries, we tune it out because it overwhelms us.   But  when we can see these people as individuals, we are compelled to help.   That is something I can relate to.   I will never forget the movie “The Constant Gardener” … when a young British couple embarks on work in Kenya, and the wife wants to help a particular person in need.   Her husband cuts her off and says, “There are so many… we can’t help them all.”   She replies, “But I can help this one.”   Later in the movie, after her death, he eerily finds himself repeating the very words he condemned when he tries to rescue a single child from the murderous landscape.

It is amazing to me that a couple would be so convicted to help the people of western Uganda that they would uproot their entire young family and adapt themselves to a whole new world-view, in order to passionately strive to make life better for those  people they have adopted as their own.   God bless you, Pierce family!   You are in our hearts and prayers.