Bring on the Love

So my friend smartmama issued a 14 Days of Love challenge on her blog last week.  Unfortunately, I cannot manage 14 days of love in my present state. I'm doing well if I can manage one day, to be honest. So far, it has proven almost beyond my love capacities to gestate a human being, to gestate a dissertation, and to lovingly correct the two children I already I have when they are at each others' throats rather than snapping, sending them to their rooms indefinitely, or turning on Madagascar for them to memorize. So, no 14 days here. 

However, I think I might be able to manage 5 days. Because it's all about baby steps, knowing your limits, or not biting off more Days of Love than you can chew. So 5 days it is. Yesterday, I pulled out the old Easter egg tree from last April, which is now missing more than half of its appendages, and Voila! transformed into "The Tree of Love."  Mister and Sweetie get to choose one little goodie off the tree every day. Attached to the goodies are notes that tell them something that I love about them. 

And so far, so good on the kids' end. In fact, a little too good. They can't keep away from the darn tree and have been known to sneak peeks or tear little slits into unopened little goodies. Today the Tree of Love had to take a time out on top of the refridgerator until two children could remember that one way to show love to Mom is to obey the Rules of the Tree of Love. 

But so far, so good on my end too. Tonight when I tucked Mister into bed, he said, "Mom, you only had to ask me once to brush my teeth.  Is that something you love about me, that I'm a fast listener tonight?" 

"Yes," I said. "That is one of the many things I love about you." 

It's good for me to remember all of those many, many things I love about my kids. And it's good for Mister too. Who doesn't need a little daily validation?  

Now wish me luck on the remaining 4 Days . . . 

Disneyland

"Bluestockingmama, you've finished round 1 of revisions on that second-to-last chapter of your dissertation, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to Disneyland!"

"What if it rains?"

"Well, then we'll take rain boots, umbrellas, jackets, and garbage bags to cover the stroller. And there will be absolutely NO lines."

"What if someone steals your umbrella while you're on a ride, and J forgets to cover the stroller during another ride?"

"Then we'll be really wet, a little cold, but we'll still have fun!"

Poem of the Month: "Metaphors"

I missed posting January's poem of the month by one day. Better late than never, right? This one requires audience participation. It's a riddle. A pretty exciting one, if I do say so myself. I always used this poem in the figures of speech unit when I taught intro to lit. So, I'll save my commentary on the poem until later. First, you have to let me know if you figure out the riddle . . . 

"Metaphors"

by Sylvia Plath

I'm a riddle in nine syllables,

An elephant, a ponderous house,

A melon strolling on two tendrils.

O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!

This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.

Money's new-minted in this fat purse.

I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.

I've eaten a bag of green apples,

Boarded the train there's no getting off.

100 Days Smarter!

That's what Mister and Sweetie are, thanks to today's 100th day of school. (We subscribe to the no-discrimminating-against-preschoolers philosophy over here, so we're pretending Sweetie has had her 100th day of school too). So we celebrated in the typical way--by eating junk, which in this case was a little cake for each, slathered in icing.  Hooray! 

It only took us as long to find Mister's 100 rocks for school as it did to make the 100-day cakes. Because 100 rocks is not good enough. It has to be 100 cool rocks.

 

1.  Learning            2. Eating treats          3.  The Weekend

"Please bless Mommy not to snap at me."

That's what Sweetie said in her prayer tonight. 

Ouch. 

Part of me is glad she said it. I could use all of the help I can get. So if she can pray for me and I can pray for me, maybe something will actually improve. Today was just one of those overwhelming days where I felt like I was doing too much and none of it even remotely well, including mothering. It's easy to get down on yourself on those days, especially when your 3-year-old prays that you won't snap at her. 

Tonight, as I was searching through my Word archives, looking for a specific example for one of my dissertation chapters, I came upon this quote by Toni Morrison that I'd saved:

"There was something so valuable about what happened when one became a mother. For me it was the most liberating thing that ever happened. . . . Liberating because the demands that children make are not the demands of a normal 'other.' The children's demands on me were things that nobody else ever asked me to do. To be a good manager. To have a sense of humor. To deliver something that somebody else could use. And they were not interested in all the things that other people were interested in, like what I was wearing or if I were sensual. Somehow all of the baggage that I had accumulated as a person about what was valuable just fell away. I could not only be me--whatever that was--but somebody actually needed me to be that."

Now I don't know that I would describe being a mother as "the most liberating thing that ever happened" to me. Some days it feels like just the opposite. 

But today the part of this quote that resonated with me is the end: "I could not only be me--whatever that was--but somebody actually needed me to be that." There are many things that make up "me," and unfortunately, one of those things is impatience. But if I look at the whole picture, I can think of a whole bunch of other things about me that Sweetie needs me to be, even if that means she has to put up with my impatience and pray for my soul occasionally. I can draw confidence from that thought that despite my inadequacies, I am what she needs.

And Morrison is right, there is something valuable in the frazzling and abnormal demands that my children make of me. Maybe by the time they're 18 or 20 (or 30 or 40), all of those "Please bless Mommy not to snap at me" prayers will have kicked in and the "me" that my offspring will need will be a little bit more mellow than "me" that they are currently getting.  Maybe.

Gaining Wheels, Losing Coolness

I think it might be official now. I am no longer cool. Why am I just realizing this now? It's all due to my new wheels.

We got the van 2 weeks ago, and the bike was a generous gift from Santa. Do you like them? I love them both! 

However, the van is forcing me to come face-to-face with my coolness factor. You see, even though I am 33, I still imagine myself as 24 or 25. I still imagine myself as hip and stylish, as sporty and outdoorsy, as fun and fashionable. It's very possible that I was never any of those things in the first place, but, regardless, it's kinda hard to perceive yourself as hip, fashionable, sporty, etc. when you realize that you really are the 30-something-year-old mom driving that mini-van. I thought maybe the bike would redeem me a bit, but when I was biking to get the mail last week, the neighbor said, "You look like Pee-Wee Herman on that bike." Um, okay. So, there I go sliding down another knotch (or 10) on the coolness chart.

Oh well. At least my kids think it's the coolest car they've ever seen. And really, from the inside, it is pretty cool!

Submerged

When you spend 10-14 hours a day for 5 1/2 days in front of your computer, revising your dissertation chapters . . . 

• Your eyes hurt from staring at the screen.
• Your head hurts from trying to come up with brilliant thoughts.
• Your legs hurt from lack of use.
• Your hiney hurts from overuse.
• Your stomach hurts from, well, from the plethora of starbursts, sugar babies (those things are good!), rolos, gingersnaps, and breathsavers. Your fingers really needed all those empty calories to keep typing.

But you get a lot done! 4 7/8 out of 6 chapters revised. Yay!