Time

I should put a disclaimer for all 3 of you who read my blog..."All blogs written in 2 minutes or less." Why? Because they are...I have found that what appears to be the perfect time to get on the computer will turn into not so perfect because the quiet kids have turned into wrestling kids. Time...one minute quiet, the next minute chaos.

Take last night for instance...I thought soup the perfect dinner for the bone chilling night. I brought the soup to the full rolling boil point. I am thinking I am such a great mom providing such a perfect dinner for my perfect family...Then, in a split second, that rolling boil soup hit my hand...then time really stood still. I could not get rid of the ladle and the bowl fast enough and the more I tried to get rid of the offending soup, the more I burned my hands...It is amazing how many thoughts run through your mind while being burned...If I drop the bowl it will hit the range top (one of those flat surface kinds) and will break the bowl, soup will fly, I will get burned more, will the range top crack if I drop a ceramic bowl on it? I got the soup down, ran to the sink and turned the water on for my hands. There is one advantage to this bitter cold...the water comes out like it has been cooled in ice. I stood there for a very long time before my slow brain thought of filling a tub for my hands. I later switched to my daughter's princess boo boo cold pack...those things don't stay cold very long. I ended up taking a blue ice to bed with me. Seriously. Time, one minute it is for you, the next against. Hopefully, y'all have a blue ice to comfort you when you get burned.

Life in the Schoolyard

Recent events have taken me back to painful lessons I have learned in the schoolyard and in life. I learned the hard way in school. I learned the hard way not to take sides when friends have a rift. I always picked a side, the two friends made up and now I was on the outside. It has taken me a lifetime to figure out what to do when I am angry with someone or two people I care about fall out...I was 38 before the words of wisdom came to me. Was I or the offended party sinned against or was God sinned against? If God is being sinned against, easy call. If I am upset because I am not getting my way...I am sinning. If two people I care about are in a dispute, I have to look at it the same way.

I was 39 before I learned my most important lesson in parenting...Love your kids like they won't be here in a year and teach them like you won't be here in a year.

This week these two principles of my limited wisdom have been brought into my life. Someone I care about very much is very upset because I have not stopped talking to someone who hurt her. Does this mean I care less about her? Absolutely not. I had to go to the Bible for my decision in this. When Hagar and Sarai hurt each other (and Abram sat passively by...men, another story) did God let Hagar hide when she ran away? No. "The God who sees" lovingly told her to go back and to do what is right. All three characters had to reap the consequences of their sin. Did God love them less because he wouldn't let His loved children hide when the going got rough? He loved them passionately. He refined their character by letting His loved children learn to do what is right even if when it was painful and uncomfortable. I must love those around me in the same way.

If my sweet H hits another child in the schoolyard and the other child says "I don't want to be your friend anymore" I am not going to take H's side. I am a weird mom, I believe my child needs to apologize for any offense and understand if that child never wants to play with her again. I am not going to remove H from the uncomfortable situation of being friendless. We're not moving, she isn't changing schools. She is going to have to see that child everyday and learn how to deal with it. It is a consequence. It is a situation my child is going to face throughout her life when she sins against others and does not honor God. I believe it is for His glory that he lets us reap what we sow.

I love my friends and family deeply but I have go one step further in this crazy life we lead...do I protect them from their hurt or let them learn to deal with it? One day I won't be here, all I can do is love them like crazy, pray for them daily, and let them learn.

Military History

Lately, I have been indulging my interest in American History by reading about the American Revolution and the two World Wars. It's a strange interest for a woman who loves Louisa Mae Alcott and Jane Austen.

Today I had a revelation while reading about how to outflank the enemy, etc. I loved the story about how Washington tricked the Redcoats into thinking his army was much larger than it actually was, leaving the fires burning while he and the Army slipped away in the night across the Delaware River. I loved how the Allies accomplished the same thing with the Germans...through the use of rubber tanks and movie studio staged ports. The Germans continually overestimated the strength of the Allies...I think my sub-conscious is trying to find pointers on how to outsmart my children psychologically when they become teens...since I will be in my middle to late 50s when this journey embarks. I am pretty sure they will both be physically taller than me so I will have to rely on my wits.

One thing which really struck me in my reading was how American troops watched the cows in Normandy. They realized the fields would not have mines if there were cows, cows are curious and would watch if someone was nearby...letting the troops know there were Germans close to them. I wonder if cows could be used to figure out what a teenager is up to...perhaps it would moo if they were sneaking out at night...block the driveway if they try taking the car without permission...I am pretty sure a cow will make a big enough mess to keep the teens shovelling for quite awhile.

Yes, I am just beginning to see how to use military history to battle my children.

Bach

My children love to be told the stories of when they were born. I am a different kind of mom, not only did I not have my children in the same decade, they weren't even born in the same century. All three were born under a Bush as president and the last two were both born in years the Patriots won the Superbowl.

Today's drive to school was accompanied by Bach. The children were asking all sorts of questions about the music and I told them it was playing when M was born. This prompted the "When I was born, when M was born and when Roo was born conversation) I don't remember too much of when Roo was actually delivered (a combined effect of 48 hours of labor and morphine) but I do remember country music was playing and they had to chase a fly out of the room before the c-section. M thinks it is a hoot that he pee'd on the doctor and H loves the part about biting the doctor. Once again, I told M that Bach was the favorite of one his doctors. M's response? "Bach Bach Chicken!"

Lisa,

Wish you were here...Love, Julio and me XOXO

My Resignation

I think it is time to tender my resignation effective immediately and head to Mexico with Julio. I wonder if they have Starbucks in Mexico? I need my tea. I hear it is warm in Mexico and they have margaritas...I understand the natives speak a different language so no one will bother me with incessant chatter. Julio doesn't talk...he just caters to my every whim, the perfect man. All desires are fulfilled without my asking. I just have to give a little nod of my head and he turns the page of my book. A tilt to the right of my head and my thirst is quenched with my shaken iced tea. It is lovely, delightful, wonderful...I am off, I'll send y'all a postcard.

Wait a second...Why are these little blonde people following me and why are they calling me "Mom?"

Growing Up

Last night I was reading a book to my children before bed and M reached over to touch the page. I was struck by how small his little hand is...I watched him sleeping and was mesmerized by how small he is...I realized that my two little ones have so much energy during their awake hours I feel like I am dealing with two huge people, bigger than me. They're still so little.

My oldest is 19. She is my size. Physically, she is done growing up...This past weekend, I watched my oldest deal with her first loss of a sweet funny friend. It opened purposefully forgotten wounds. I was 22 before I lost any friends, one a suicide and one killed by a drunk driver. It is a horrible ordeal to go through and it is awful to have to watch your child learn to deal with grief, grief that goes down to the marrow. It is horrible to be my age and watch a young person die under such tragic circumstances, so much potential...vanished. Unexpected death of a someone never gets easier, perhaps it just gets harder. You feel for everyone who was impacted by the tragedy. There are no words to share. Words are just empty at this point. I can only sympathize with my daughter and feel the pain of her growing up.