Right this second my entire family is just chilling outside in the sunroom. This is what life should be like on Sunday afternoons. ahhhhh. Everyone- breathe in and out deeply and happily with me. Imagine the happy St. Bernard lying around and watching Hunter. Imagine Hunter jumping up and down, playing in his exersaucer (way fun) and grinning every time he catches a glimpse of Bruno or the wind blowing something. Jason is reclining in the chair- catching up with an old friend (something he doesn't get to do very often). And I, I am writing on my laptop with the sun and breeze in my hair and face. I am absolutely content in this moment. Breathe in and breathe out. Sigh. This is what spring means to me. I really really like the Spring. I can even smell grass. It reminds me of summers with my Grandmother and Opa rolling down the hills of Mount Vernon.
I love the Spring.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Am I a Bad Mother?
Just a little tid-bit I have to share before I take a much needed nap (that's another tid-bit).
Yesterday was a typical Sunday, where in the morning Jason leaves early to go to church and I put my hearing aid in to listen for Hunter while sleeping in a bit longer (I hope). Hunter started doing his typical "talking" wake up a little before 8:30. This is the way he wakes up every morning- and I let him talk for a little bit before I pick him up: 1) because I think it teaches him patience that I don't rush in as soon as he makes a peep, 2) there is a slight, offchance possibility that he'll go back to sleep- and I don't want to interrupt that! 3) I think he needs time to wake up before I stick my big face in his view- I've needed to picked him up right away before- and he always seems a little disoriented if he doesn't have proper "talking" time. So- I give him some talking time.
Somehow I fell back asleep during talking time for about 5 minutes and I woke up to silence. No talking baby on the other side. Here are my thoughts in chronological order:
"did he fall back to sleep?"
"is he alive? did he suffocate on his stuffed animal?"
"I can't believe I fell back to sleep, am I a bad mother?"
"If he is asleep, I could go back to sleep, that would be nice."
"I should really check to make sure he's alive."
so I got up, brushed my teeth (habit) and went into his room to find the door already open and the crib empty. My brain is empty, but in the back of my head I know that Jeremy has him. I go to the kitchen, and there is Hunter in his Bumbo- perfectly content to watch Jeremy make breakfast.
Jeremy is the brother-in-law of one of my best friends from college. He's staying with us for a few months as he transitions from the west cost to his new job here (his wife and dogs will follow once they get a house and all is in place). Jeremy is the perfect roommate- he likes kids (aka - the scene in the kitchen), he likes dogs and can handle our St. Bernard, Bruno (bonus- his wife is a vet), and he totally plays nerdy card and strategy games with us! Ok, back to the kitchen scene...
I see Hunter in the Bumbo smiling and Jeremy doing his thing and here are my thoughts in chronological order:
"I should have felt fear but it evaporated before I had the chance- am I a bad mother?"
"I totally didn't notice that Hunter was picked up from his crib- am I a bad mother?"
"He seems really happy, that's so nice, I kinda wish I had slept longer... am I a bad mother?"
"Dang it, I can't even go back to sleep now, because then I'll really look like a bad mother."
I smiled, thanked Jeremy and tried to reassure him that he actually didn't scare me as badly as he thought he did- in fact - I was a little embarrassed at how not afraid I was. I'll pretend my motherly instinct knew all was well.
And a thought that occurs even now...
"I wonder if I can arrange it so that Jeremy picks him up first thing and I just set my alarm for when Hunter should eat.... wait- dang it- I am a bad mother."
The verdict is in- I need some sleep. I'm going to go take a nap.
Yesterday was a typical Sunday, where in the morning Jason leaves early to go to church and I put my hearing aid in to listen for Hunter while sleeping in a bit longer (I hope). Hunter started doing his typical "talking" wake up a little before 8:30. This is the way he wakes up every morning- and I let him talk for a little bit before I pick him up: 1) because I think it teaches him patience that I don't rush in as soon as he makes a peep, 2) there is a slight, offchance possibility that he'll go back to sleep- and I don't want to interrupt that! 3) I think he needs time to wake up before I stick my big face in his view- I've needed to picked him up right away before- and he always seems a little disoriented if he doesn't have proper "talking" time. So- I give him some talking time.
Somehow I fell back asleep during talking time for about 5 minutes and I woke up to silence. No talking baby on the other side. Here are my thoughts in chronological order:
"did he fall back to sleep?"
"is he alive? did he suffocate on his stuffed animal?"
"I can't believe I fell back to sleep, am I a bad mother?"
"If he is asleep, I could go back to sleep, that would be nice."
"I should really check to make sure he's alive."
so I got up, brushed my teeth (habit) and went into his room to find the door already open and the crib empty. My brain is empty, but in the back of my head I know that Jeremy has him. I go to the kitchen, and there is Hunter in his Bumbo- perfectly content to watch Jeremy make breakfast.
I see Hunter in the Bumbo smiling and Jeremy doing his thing and here are my thoughts in chronological order:
"I should have felt fear but it evaporated before I had the chance- am I a bad mother?"
"I totally didn't notice that Hunter was picked up from his crib- am I a bad mother?"
"He seems really happy, that's so nice, I kinda wish I had slept longer... am I a bad mother?"
"Dang it, I can't even go back to sleep now, because then I'll really look like a bad mother."
I smiled, thanked Jeremy and tried to reassure him that he actually didn't scare me as badly as he thought he did- in fact - I was a little embarrassed at how not afraid I was. I'll pretend my motherly instinct knew all was well.
And a thought that occurs even now...
"I wonder if I can arrange it so that Jeremy picks him up first thing and I just set my alarm for when Hunter should eat.... wait- dang it- I am a bad mother."
The verdict is in- I need some sleep. I'm going to go take a nap.
Friday, March 20, 2009
My Old Lady Died
As I begin this post- of course Hunter is beginning to wake up in the background. Often he talks for a few minutes before he's fully awake- so we'll see how much time I have.
I just found out my Old Lady died. This may seem odd to you if you haven't heard me speak of her. I was a companion last year for a woman named Catherine who was 98 years old. She turned 99 this January. Before her birthday, she was in the hospital with pneumonia and I visited her with Hunter. She was thrilled. Her daughters called me a week and a half ago to let me know she was back in the hospital with another case of pneumonia, and this time the doctors were not promising any recovery. She died peacefully at 3:30am on Thursday morning. Margaret- her daughter- called me today to let me know.
Let me tell you about my old lady. She had beautiful white hair that was naturally straight and smooth. One time the girls took her to get a permanent and the curls just didn't look right on her- they were too girly, too fancy for her simple style. I don't mean simple like mundane- but rather effortless, accepting, no-fuss. She was a very positive woman. The girls had to put her in a nursing home after a little while when her care became too much for them to handle. I remember my Mom saying that it was too bad- but Catherine could find beauty and delight in a cardboard box. She was so naturally positive- not the kind that is taught. She genuinely enjoyed herself in whatever setting you put her. So long as you didn't rush her and she could see nature outside.
She and I spent many Thursdays together. When I was pregnant during my first trimester- we dosed off together. I helped her with her scrapbook that she meticulously kept updated. It consisted of interesting newspaper clippings and birthday cards, etc. She had to be sent large pictures of new babies in the family because her sight was failing, but she would put them up and point them out often. She was a quiet-natured woman but willing to talk and share stories. She had an interesting balance of reticence and openness. I know that I don't know everything about her life- but I know more than many people do. She trusted me with many of her stories. She was particular about a few things and would be upset if I didn't eat my vegetables. She was concerned when I cooked up the frozen meals we had for lunches that I didn't give myself enough to eat to favor her portion. She caught on that I was pregnant before I told her and didn't say a word. She never talked about being sad that she didn't stay "home"- she practiced gratefullness naturally.
I read Harry Potter to her. We got through book 3 I believe. She thought Dudley was such a "dreadful boy"- he bothered her more than Voldemort and Draco. When I visited her in the hospital last week- I told her how it ended and that Dudley turned out to be alright after all. She seemed relieved.
I brought Hunter to see her last Saturday- she was still aware of her surroundings and could communicate. She was so thrilled to see him. She touched his hands and feet- keeping her hands outstretched in the off-chance he might grab them. He did and she loved it- showing it only by her complete focus on his face and faint smile.. She looked like a child in amazement. That was the last time I saw her and her girls tell me it was her last good cognitive memory.
My Old Lady died- but she embraced my son and taught me joy. She'll be buried back "home" next to her old church and her old schoolhouse and her old home- right next to the two pear trees she donated that should be in full bloom just in time for her.
I'm going to miss Catherine.
I just found out my Old Lady died. This may seem odd to you if you haven't heard me speak of her. I was a companion last year for a woman named Catherine who was 98 years old. She turned 99 this January. Before her birthday, she was in the hospital with pneumonia and I visited her with Hunter. She was thrilled. Her daughters called me a week and a half ago to let me know she was back in the hospital with another case of pneumonia, and this time the doctors were not promising any recovery. She died peacefully at 3:30am on Thursday morning. Margaret- her daughter- called me today to let me know.
Let me tell you about my old lady. She had beautiful white hair that was naturally straight and smooth. One time the girls took her to get a permanent and the curls just didn't look right on her- they were too girly, too fancy for her simple style. I don't mean simple like mundane- but rather effortless, accepting, no-fuss. She was a very positive woman. The girls had to put her in a nursing home after a little while when her care became too much for them to handle. I remember my Mom saying that it was too bad- but Catherine could find beauty and delight in a cardboard box. She was so naturally positive- not the kind that is taught. She genuinely enjoyed herself in whatever setting you put her. So long as you didn't rush her and she could see nature outside.
She and I spent many Thursdays together. When I was pregnant during my first trimester- we dosed off together. I helped her with her scrapbook that she meticulously kept updated. It consisted of interesting newspaper clippings and birthday cards, etc. She had to be sent large pictures of new babies in the family because her sight was failing, but she would put them up and point them out often. She was a quiet-natured woman but willing to talk and share stories. She had an interesting balance of reticence and openness. I know that I don't know everything about her life- but I know more than many people do. She trusted me with many of her stories. She was particular about a few things and would be upset if I didn't eat my vegetables. She was concerned when I cooked up the frozen meals we had for lunches that I didn't give myself enough to eat to favor her portion. She caught on that I was pregnant before I told her and didn't say a word. She never talked about being sad that she didn't stay "home"- she practiced gratefullness naturally.
I read Harry Potter to her. We got through book 3 I believe. She thought Dudley was such a "dreadful boy"- he bothered her more than Voldemort and Draco. When I visited her in the hospital last week- I told her how it ended and that Dudley turned out to be alright after all. She seemed relieved.
I brought Hunter to see her last Saturday- she was still aware of her surroundings and could communicate. She was so thrilled to see him. She touched his hands and feet- keeping her hands outstretched in the off-chance he might grab them. He did and she loved it- showing it only by her complete focus on his face and faint smile.. She looked like a child in amazement. That was the last time I saw her and her girls tell me it was her last good cognitive memory.
My Old Lady died- but she embraced my son and taught me joy. She'll be buried back "home" next to her old church and her old schoolhouse and her old home- right next to the two pear trees she donated that should be in full bloom just in time for her.
I'm going to miss Catherine.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Communication
I know- it's amazing- two days, two posts. What can I say but that my writer is on.
I just have a short (or long if Hunter stays asleep) thing to say about communication.
Most people suck at it. I mean this in the nicest way. Actually- in light of my post- no I don't. I mean it in a YOU SUCK way. Not to you the reader of course- unless you fall trap to the many ways of bad communication that we all do one time or another. We all suck I guess.
Here's what I'm talking about: when people get upset with someone and go to someone ELSE to complain about it. What ends up happening is that two people get upset and the truth is never found. Or- my favorite thing that usually happens- the someone else talks to original someone and now three people are upset and only someone else knows the full story.
People do this ALL THE TIME. I'm sure I'm no stranger to it- though I feign innocence. It is so frustrating at a church especially to be party to this type of miscommunication (aka- failure to communicate). Another fun communication folly people committ is the "I've had it" mass communication. These are those who are particularly fond of drama. Person A is upset with person B and so writes group C a long venting email about it (to include person B of course- but no names mentioned). How do you respond to that? The best part is that it is usually the result of weeks or months of pent up frustration and anger that were never addressed!
So here is my solution: education. I'm serious. I think that proper/good communication should (and can) be taught, staring in Kindergarten. I'm talking please and thank you- but also listening skills, conflict resolution, and somehow courage and discipline to speak the truth in love. Can you imagine how much drama/politics/crap would de-escalate if people only knew and practiced good communication? My poor children will be my guinea pigs for this program. I might get my older sister (she's a therapist) in on it. I may just be serious enough about this to formulate a curriculum and get it in the public school system. Communication skills should be taught through the years- all the way up and even through college!
Imagine a classroom full of kids doing listening exercises and conflict resolution role-play. Imagine the teenage girl who realizes how to break up with an idiot boyfriend the right way. Imagine the coworker who addresses his colleague with a problem before it becomes a workplace drama. Imagine a supervisor who adequately and professionally offers constructive criticism- and the supervisee who can accept it! I know that every person has their personality quirks that interfere with perfect communication- but I'm not asking for perfection - just knowledge and good. Think about the possibilities- once it takes off- you could get classes on the college level that deal with specific roles. Communication in the leadership role. Communication in the medical field (aka bedside manners- which some are *missing*), etc. Socially Awkward people can at least get some practice and have some tools to work with!
Who did you learn conflict resolution from? Who taught you to speak truth in love? Did anyone? Who are our models? The media (no- I'm not ranting) has to depict miscommunication in order for the plot to move. If everyone communicated perfectly- the mystery and drama would be missing. However- we don't need to have our lives be soap operas ("if she would only tell him! oh the pain! tell him!").
I am sick of soap opera dramas being carried out in peoples lives: work, church, family, etc. it's annoying and takes up time and energy.
So- there ya have it- I'm going to come up with something- anyone with me on this?! I'll do it for schools, for church, for synagogue- whatever.
Fight for good communication! yeehaw!
I just have a short (or long if Hunter stays asleep) thing to say about communication.
Most people suck at it. I mean this in the nicest way. Actually- in light of my post- no I don't. I mean it in a YOU SUCK way. Not to you the reader of course- unless you fall trap to the many ways of bad communication that we all do one time or another. We all suck I guess.
Here's what I'm talking about: when people get upset with someone and go to someone ELSE to complain about it. What ends up happening is that two people get upset and the truth is never found. Or- my favorite thing that usually happens- the someone else talks to original someone and now three people are upset and only someone else knows the full story.
People do this ALL THE TIME. I'm sure I'm no stranger to it- though I feign innocence. It is so frustrating at a church especially to be party to this type of miscommunication (aka- failure to communicate). Another fun communication folly people committ is the "I've had it" mass communication. These are those who are particularly fond of drama. Person A is upset with person B and so writes group C a long venting email about it (to include person B of course- but no names mentioned). How do you respond to that? The best part is that it is usually the result of weeks or months of pent up frustration and anger that were never addressed!
So here is my solution: education. I'm serious. I think that proper/good communication should (and can) be taught, staring in Kindergarten. I'm talking please and thank you- but also listening skills, conflict resolution, and somehow courage and discipline to speak the truth in love. Can you imagine how much drama/politics/crap would de-escalate if people only knew and practiced good communication? My poor children will be my guinea pigs for this program. I might get my older sister (she's a therapist) in on it. I may just be serious enough about this to formulate a curriculum and get it in the public school system. Communication skills should be taught through the years- all the way up and even through college!
Imagine a classroom full of kids doing listening exercises and conflict resolution role-play. Imagine the teenage girl who realizes how to break up with an idiot boyfriend the right way. Imagine the coworker who addresses his colleague with a problem before it becomes a workplace drama. Imagine a supervisor who adequately and professionally offers constructive criticism- and the supervisee who can accept it! I know that every person has their personality quirks that interfere with perfect communication- but I'm not asking for perfection - just knowledge and good. Think about the possibilities- once it takes off- you could get classes on the college level that deal with specific roles. Communication in the leadership role. Communication in the medical field (aka bedside manners- which some are *missing*), etc. Socially Awkward people can at least get some practice and have some tools to work with!
Who did you learn conflict resolution from? Who taught you to speak truth in love? Did anyone? Who are our models? The media (no- I'm not ranting) has to depict miscommunication in order for the plot to move. If everyone communicated perfectly- the mystery and drama would be missing. However- we don't need to have our lives be soap operas ("if she would only tell him! oh the pain! tell him!").
I am sick of soap opera dramas being carried out in peoples lives: work, church, family, etc. it's annoying and takes up time and energy.
So- there ya have it- I'm going to come up with something- anyone with me on this?! I'll do it for schools, for church, for synagogue- whatever.
Fight for good communication! yeehaw!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Lenten Failures
As I start this entry- I'm pretty sure I hear Hunter trying to poop over the monitor. So we'll see how this goes. He should be sleeping- not pooping. Although he could probably use to poop. Moving along.
This Lent I have done nothing to spiritually prepare myself for Easter and all its conundrums. I have not given one thing up- I have not taken one thing on- I have not even really seriously considered doing any of the above. This is what I will call spiritual apathy- perhaps the deadliest sin in the book. Deadly really only to my soul and yet apathy reigns.
I thought briefly that perhaps trying to be more positive this Lent would be beneficial to my soul and to God (as I probably spit on my blessings more than count them). Have I done this? Of course not- because my habits are way more towards the negative side and it takes a lot of work to break a habit. I am like a manic-depressant in my spiritual walk- I get highs and lows. Lately with the Spring threatening to never arrive, a teaser vacation with family in Florida, a sinus-sick husband and a house that is a wreck- I'm frankly at a low. See- if I go back through that sentence, sunshine Sarah can find all the things I could be thankful for- but apathy Sarah silences her.
I think Hunter may need my assistance. Poor guy. At least I don't have to learn to poop.
3 hours later... (and no poop)
So I'm apathetic this Lent. Nothing to bring to Easter. I will be one of those people that comes to Easter from across the street instead of from a journey. It will be too easy to rejoice and sing Hallelujah because I'll barely have noticed I hadn't said it for a while. Here's the kicker- somewhere inside I feel justified. I feel like the weather, my transitions in life- all the things apathetic and negative Sarah focuses on- are enough Lenten journey for me. I know this isn't true because being frustrated and down with rainy days does not equal spiritual transformation. I'm not saying one has to be happy to be spiritual- nor must one be miserable- but at least in whatever season- intentional. I am not being intentional about anything. It drives me crazy.
I was home (as in parent's home) last week. My mother's house is beautifully decorated, impeccably clean and wonderfully welcoming. I would say that she has more time, money and resources to make this happen - but my sister's house is the same and she lacks most of those things. I'm lacking ambition. Or is it drive? No- more like action. I have all the things that are predecessors to great action like ambition and motivation and desire, etc. The one thing I lack as I sit here on my bed with the rain slowly falling outside is honest to goodness kick me in the butt action.
Here's the sad part- I had action. After I had Hunter, and even before- I was motivated and actually moved into action. Things were getting done- I wasn't my usual apathetic self and I actually had a somewhat clean house, clothes, and even was getting the meal-time thing down. Now I'm drowning in unfiled papers, dust, dog-hair and frozen meats that I keep forgetting to put out for dinner. What happened?!
I have some thoughts: 1) the adrenaline ran out and I became me again (I hope this is not the case- I liked the other girl) 2) Winter happened. (I believe this) 3) Work happened (affirm this theory) 4) I got the flu- I say this because I did and it knocked me out for 3 weeks- and perhaps that broke all my new good habits and got me feeling lazy- and of course things piled up and got overwhelming when I couldn't keep up with it. I don't know what the culprit is.
But here's what I'm hoping for- in my Lenten failures I still have room to hope- that spring will come soon- that I will get another adrenaline rush enough to get it all back on track, that work will un-happen, and that the "me" I face come Easter will be that energetic and non-apathetic woman I met a few months ago before all this Lenten failure happened. Maybe I can blame Lent! My soul needs Easter. My body needs the sun. My mind needs to decide and move.
I really have nothing to blame as nothing is all I've been doing. May Easter bring something.
This Lent I have done nothing to spiritually prepare myself for Easter and all its conundrums. I have not given one thing up- I have not taken one thing on- I have not even really seriously considered doing any of the above. This is what I will call spiritual apathy- perhaps the deadliest sin in the book. Deadly really only to my soul and yet apathy reigns.
I thought briefly that perhaps trying to be more positive this Lent would be beneficial to my soul and to God (as I probably spit on my blessings more than count them). Have I done this? Of course not- because my habits are way more towards the negative side and it takes a lot of work to break a habit. I am like a manic-depressant in my spiritual walk- I get highs and lows. Lately with the Spring threatening to never arrive, a teaser vacation with family in Florida, a sinus-sick husband and a house that is a wreck- I'm frankly at a low. See- if I go back through that sentence, sunshine Sarah can find all the things I could be thankful for- but apathy Sarah silences her.
I think Hunter may need my assistance. Poor guy. At least I don't have to learn to poop.
3 hours later... (and no poop)
So I'm apathetic this Lent. Nothing to bring to Easter. I will be one of those people that comes to Easter from across the street instead of from a journey. It will be too easy to rejoice and sing Hallelujah because I'll barely have noticed I hadn't said it for a while. Here's the kicker- somewhere inside I feel justified. I feel like the weather, my transitions in life- all the things apathetic and negative Sarah focuses on- are enough Lenten journey for me. I know this isn't true because being frustrated and down with rainy days does not equal spiritual transformation. I'm not saying one has to be happy to be spiritual- nor must one be miserable- but at least in whatever season- intentional. I am not being intentional about anything. It drives me crazy.
I was home (as in parent's home) last week. My mother's house is beautifully decorated, impeccably clean and wonderfully welcoming. I would say that she has more time, money and resources to make this happen - but my sister's house is the same and she lacks most of those things. I'm lacking ambition. Or is it drive? No- more like action. I have all the things that are predecessors to great action like ambition and motivation and desire, etc. The one thing I lack as I sit here on my bed with the rain slowly falling outside is honest to goodness kick me in the butt action.
Here's the sad part- I had action. After I had Hunter, and even before- I was motivated and actually moved into action. Things were getting done- I wasn't my usual apathetic self and I actually had a somewhat clean house, clothes, and even was getting the meal-time thing down. Now I'm drowning in unfiled papers, dust, dog-hair and frozen meats that I keep forgetting to put out for dinner. What happened?!
I have some thoughts: 1) the adrenaline ran out and I became me again (I hope this is not the case- I liked the other girl) 2) Winter happened. (I believe this) 3) Work happened (affirm this theory) 4) I got the flu- I say this because I did and it knocked me out for 3 weeks- and perhaps that broke all my new good habits and got me feeling lazy- and of course things piled up and got overwhelming when I couldn't keep up with it. I don't know what the culprit is.
But here's what I'm hoping for- in my Lenten failures I still have room to hope- that spring will come soon- that I will get another adrenaline rush enough to get it all back on track, that work will un-happen, and that the "me" I face come Easter will be that energetic and non-apathetic woman I met a few months ago before all this Lenten failure happened. Maybe I can blame Lent! My soul needs Easter. My body needs the sun. My mind needs to decide and move.
I really have nothing to blame as nothing is all I've been doing. May Easter bring something.
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