Troubles

I got a new perspective on my troubles this morning.  Some of you know that at least one person in my family has been sick for a little over 2 weeks.  I still have an earache and am thinking of having it looked at this afternoon. Sigh.  I'm tired of sickness.

AND I had my car towed to the body shop this morning, because well, we think it's the starter, as it doesn't start, but everything else seems to be working fine, lights, air, etc.

But none of my troubles compare to what I witnessed this morning in my kitchen!  Early this spring three cute little spiders decided to take up residence just above my kitchen sink, between my inside window and the storm window.  Loving E.B. White's story Charlotte's Web and truly appreciating the role of the web spider as an effective and natural means to control fruit gnats, I made the decision to leave them alone.

I had no idea how interesting those spiders would be to me.  What I thought would end very soon with a fly swatter has lasted all summer, as I've watched them hang upside down for hours, silent, ready at a moment's notice to fly into action.  And I've watched them do it all, spin, eat, attack, hang.  They've gottten a bit bigger, but they aren't huge by any stretch.  Just cute little spiders, making their home above my fruit bowl, and a very successful living they've had until this morning.

I couldn't believe it!  I've heard that this happens, but I really couldn't believe it.  As I looked thru my window this morning, two of the three spiders who have up till now coexisted very peacably together, content to hang next to one another sharing in the profits of their web that now spans the entire bottom portion of my window, had fought, and the spider on the left was eating the spider on the right!

I called my husband at work who has frequently laughed at my new-found interest in spiders, not really believing that I would let them live. 

I said, "Honey.  My spiders!" 

He chuckled and replied, "Treacherous thing, huh?"  Evidently, he had seen them before leaving for work this morning. 

I said, "They were probably sisters!  That's terrible!" 

He disagreed and replied, "Well, that was probably a male and female, and he's done his duty, and now she's, well, doing hers."

I haven't decided whether or not if I can let the two remaining spiders live now, or not.  I'd always thought I'd vacuum out the egg sack, if one appeared.  I just never thought about how the egg sack was going to get there . . . poor little guy.  His troubles are over.

I'm glad I'm still alive and able to experience troubles.

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Edit**

My husband just reminded me that we were supposed to be with him in St Louis this weekend on a business trip (with our van).  It worked out that we didn't go, however.  So the starter went out on my van right here in my garage, and not in St Louis.  How cool is that!

Currently Listening God Bless America...land That I Love - For the Benefit of the Twin Towers Fund see related

Open to Interpretation

Our four year old attended Vacation Bible School last week at our church and had a terrific time learning about how Jesus gives us the power to be kind and be brave.  She must consider what she learned to be open to interpretation, however, because Branson heard her "teaching" her two year old sister that "Jesus gives us the power to listen to our Sissy." 

We got a huge kick out of that.  But truly Eva had a wonderful time.  She loved her teachers, the snacks, the crafts, her independence, the singing and everything.  She was in her element.  I'm so glad she had that opportunity.  What a blessing. 

As for me, the girls and I have been listening to patriotic music in honor of our national holiday.  AND I just finished watching the 7 hour movie Middlemarch.  (It's taken me a really long time!) I read the book when I was in college, but like a lot of what I consumed during that four year blur I had forgotten all but the name of the main female character, Dorothea.  And bless the BBC for making a movie of it, because the novel is incredibly long, and I would never have been able to sit down and give it a thorough reading at this season in my life.  So it was a sweet return to a much-loved rendering of pre-Victorian England, just at the signing of the Reform Act of 1832 and just before the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833.  Definitely a volatile time in English history.

What is really lovely is Eliot's portrayal of a woman who is very normal and does a lot that doesn't change history, but she is good and her works of kindness mean a lot to the people around her.  Just an ordinary woman doing what needs to be done, living, working, loving.  My world is full of quiet little heroes who do a lot of beautiful and good things, who'll probably never have their name on a plaque somewhere.   But, and I'll quote Eliot, "the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts."  Of course, she's open to interpretation.

Currently Reading The Unofficial Guide to Adopting a Child By Andrea DellaVecchio see related

So much I'd love to do

My husband and I have talked about adopting another child someday.  For a variety of reasons we've both felt that our own children need to get older before adding to the family, but in the meantime we've been reading books and looking at websites.  The latest book I read was written by an attorney specializing in adoptions, and he gave a fascinating overview of the various ways people can bring a new baby into their home, and how much he was able to help due to his capacity as a lawyer.  I was on my way to law school once, (pre-husband and pre-kids) and man, I can tell you, the desire was resurrected.  I thought, just three years from now I could be handling adoptions and helping people in such a dramatic and worthwhile, way!  What a noble reason to enter the workforce again!  I could . . . oh brother, that's not going to fit into my life. 

Does that happen to anyone else?  Do you ever get so excited about something and just want to go out and make it happen?

And just the other day I was working with Branson on our garden and researching different soil additives and pruning advice and said to him excitedly, "Let's get a degree in horticulture!"  In typical Branson-style he thought a minute and said slowly, "Let's just read about it and become experts without all the cost . . . ".  I laughed and agreed with him, of course. 

And so that brings me to this new thought that I'd love to plunge right in to everything I love to do, but I think I'm going to have to know where my deepest interests lie and let those interests take me to the level of expertise and enjoyment most important for that time in my life.  Picking and choosing wisely and thoughtfully, as there is danger in becoming inbred in my interests or so widely diversified at any one time that I enjoy nothing.  So that's what I'm thinking right now; it could change.

On Becoming a Mother

I think I became a mom mostly because it's what young married couples do.  Other than setting ourselves up financially for the birth of a child, I think we simply decided to have a baby because of this mysterious need to to bring forth new life and truly, I believed I would be fine.  Thinking back, I remember wondering if I could conceive.  I remember discussing at length with many different people with as many different perspectives.  Men, women, working, non-working, educated, non-educated, childless and those with so many children they didn't know what to do . . .  How does one go about raising a child?

Do you stay home?  Do you work?  What about daycare?  Keep a clean house?  Let the house go?  Work part time?  Don't lose your identity, one lady told me.  What's my identity, I wonder now?  Isn't it, "Mom?"  I remember one girl who was coming upon her final month of pregnancy and she was imploring her friend who had no child at the time, "Make sure you call me and invite me to your party.  I'm not going to be one of those mothers who stays home and never goes anywhere just because I had a baby!"  Other mothers I've met have never been away from their children for more than a few hours.  Does the Dad work or stay home?  Does the Dad get involved at all?  Does the Dad spend time trying to advance his career and bring in more income for his growing family, or does he find work that allows him maximum time with his family, taking less pay.

People try to have babies and can't.  I've talked with them; cried with them.  Other friends of mine freak out because they conceive too easily.  "I think I'm pregnant, again!"  What a dilemma!

Some days, it's true, there are moments when I wish I'd never become a mother.  And I remember the story of Hannah from the Bible, "Please God, give me a child."  Hmm. 

I feel so alone, sometimes.  Really, who values small children?  Small children are daycared, nurseried, pushed aside, sat in front of the T.V. or latest gaming console, taken here and there.  Mommy's busy right now.  I say that too much, I know. Small children get in the way of grown up activities.  It sure isn't fun for me.  It isn't fun for me to take them places while they're whining about this and that.  It isn't fun for me to discipline them for whining.  It sure isn't fun for me to replace all the books they pull off the shelves at the bookstore, to find their shoes, to fix their meals and then clean up after them, to turn around and realize they weren't where I thought they were.  It's difficult to teach them how to handle conflict, that lying is wrong, that I'm NOT YELLING AT THEM, and yet I am.  In a very basic way, I enjoy very little of the day to day caring of my young. 

I'm pretty sure it's not all supposed to be fun, either.

I have read all the books.  I really did, too. I'm still reading them.  I had harboured an illusion, a romantic notion that I would have lovely children that sparked joy and love and playfulness in everyone around them.  I dreamed of baking with them, doing fun, artsy crafts with little pollyannas who desired to spread light and cheer to a dark and hurried world.  I had so hoped I would never be cross with them or yell at them or micromanage them, nag, or turn them to food for comfort.  I dreamed of people wanting to be with my children.  Of loving my children.  Of wanting to invest in their little lives on a continual basis.  They would knock on my door . . . may I take your little girl out for ice cream??  Dreams die so painfully.

I don't believe in spanking, yet I spank them.  Hitting a child is cruel and teaches something I prefer not to teach.  I condemn myself every time I spank them.  Yet the mental exercise it takes and the physical process I have to go thru in order to avoid using brute force to make my children mind me, is simply too much for me sometimes.  I had believed that creating an environment for them in which they could succeed wouldn't be so exhausting that I couldn't get thru the day.  I dreamed of humorous playdates with drooling babies, reading aloud to curious toddlers, trips to the library with lively preschoolers and zest and charm spilling over to everyone I met.

Too bad I can't start over and try again.

Recently, I was sitting next to a woman who was holding her screaming infant.  That child never did stop screaming.  I think I was with her for 15 or 20 minutes.  She was explaining that none of her other 5 kids had continually screamed like this.  This one had colic, she guessed.  I had seen her husband with the baby before, too, sitting, holding the baby, rubbing the baby and rubbing his own temples.  I wanted to cry right along with the kid.  For her, for myself, for all the parents who'd ever held an unreachable, unpacifialbe, un-understandable child and just plodded on, trying not to despair.

They're children.  Precious.  Jesus said, "Let the little children come unto me."  Sometimes it seems He's the only one whoever said that and meant it. 

Tonight after a rough evening, one of brute force and me being more authoritarian than loving, my 4 year old told my 2 year old, "I hate my mom." 

I can only look toward tomorrow.  It's another day.  I'll have another chance.  As I continue to do these things that I find unenjoyable with an ever-increasingly joyful attitude and too, an attitude that I am pleasing the creator of these beautiful children, I believe I will change in a very real and lasting way.  It will produce patience in me.  I will have looked love full in the face. 

"But women will be preserved through the bearing of children if they continue in faith and love and sanctity with self-restraint."  1 Timothy 2:15

Noses, Manuals and Pie

Whoa!  My nose was actually fractured.  My doctor informed me of my fractured nose after contorting my body every which way on the hardest, coldest x-ray table in the Northwest.  She said it was good to know if I were ever to experience any nasal problems.  But it wasn't bad enough to consult an ENT.  Okay . . .

I noticed something today.  I've been married for six plus years and I have never unloaded the dishwasher and had to rewash any of the dishes if my husband was the one who loaded it.  I, however, have rewashed dishes countless times after loading it all by myself.  So of course, I tracked him down and questioned him this afternoon.  He looked at me, rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, "I do remember reading the manual to the dishwasher when we bought it, and I've tried to follow their suggestions . . .".  Has anyone else ever read the manual on their dishwasher?  I have to know.

Funny story from our trip to the firestation last week:  The firefighter pulled a large "jaws of life" saw out of the fire truck and asked the kids if they'd ever seen one.  My four year old piped up, "Oh, my Dad has one of those, only it's smaller and he calls it a pig saw."  We guess she thought it was a jigsaw? 

Lastly, I just put a gooseberry pie in the oven.  Lovely it looks; I hope it tastes yummy!