motherhood, politics, faith & whatnot

heading to bed. need sleep to fortify myself to do battle with my 3.5 year old again tomorrow. phew. it’s exhausting. seriously.

At what age, can you expect kids to follow directions when you ask them to clean up? My 3.5 year old knows how to clean up, i.e. put toys away, even if is not always cooperative. My almost 2 year old — I can’t quite figure him out. He will refuse to clean up, just flat out refuse to pick up one toy, but I’ve seen him do it enough at other times to know that he knows what it means. If we put him in time-out like five times, he’ll eventually do it. Is this a developmental thing, where maybe he really doesn’t quite get it or is he being super-stubborn? And if he’s super-stubborn, how in the world do you motivate a kid like that?

The blog owner has stepped away from the computer today. She is currently wandering aimlessly around the room, mumbling to herself. She hopes to regain her senses by tomorrow. That is all.

On the liturgical (church) calendar, we are entering the season of Advent. Advent is all about waiting. Waiting for Christ’s birth. Waiting for the time when He will return. Waiting with quiet anticipation.

The meaning and the spirit in which we can experience this season became very real to me two years ago when I was at the end of pregnancy with my second child. As preparations for Christmas whirled around me, it was all I could do to hoist myself off the couch, so I watched from the sidelines, relishing the opportunity to be a passive and quiet observer.

I would often sit with my hand on my stomach, a faraway half-smile on my face, I’m sure, pressing back softly against the the kicks and nudges coming from inside, wondering what he was going to be like, when he was going to arrive, trying to calm my concerns about the imminent birth, waiting.

What a powerful metaphor for what waiting during the Advent season can be like. We are doers, aren’t we? Running around, doing errands, meeting deadlines, checking things off the to-do list, unaccustomed to just, well, sitting . . . . waiting . . . . being . . . . existing in periods of quiet, still expectation.

The parallel between waiting for the birth of a child and the spirit of the Advent season was not lost on our associate pastor who had J and I do the reading for the first Sunday in Advent. Other pregnant couples in the church followed us over the next several weeks.

We celebrated Christmas, as usual, opening presents on Christmas morning. It was Daniel’s 2nd Christmas, but he was still a novice when it came to opening presents. Only 22 months old, he hadn’t really caught on to the whole tearing-the-wrapping-paper-off thing. But he soon did. He loved his new toy garage, and got lots of new cars and trucks.

A few days later, on the 29th, Andrew made his appearance, in under an hour from water breaking to delivery, I might add. An intense and overwhelming experience, but blessedly brief, compared to most, I think. And finally, our little guy was here.

That wait was over. Others continue. Some had just begun.

Let us wait, this Advent season, in quiet stillness and expectant wonder.

squishy sweet

Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

how much my heart would ache when I looked back later on.

Both boys have been sick this week. No preschool. No parents-morning-out. No Bible study with childcare. No trip to the gym with childcare. No playdates.

Lots of TV-watching. Lots of whining. Lots of “mommmmeeeeeee!”s. Lots of “No! I don’t want that!”s. Lots of mommy pulling her hair out. Lots of heavy drinking in the evenings.

Actually, it hasn’t been too bad. I have made great strides in learning to let the kids figure out how to entertain themselves. We have tons of toys. There’s no shortage of stuff to do. I don’t have to always be the program director. I really wish I had figured this out early on with Daniel. But with your first child at least early on, you are so susceptible to everything that tells you that you need to interact with them, be talking to them at all times. Heaven forbid that you not entertain them for one minute. And now and I have one who is constantly wanting to be engaged with me, while the other one happily (for the most part) just bee-bops around the house.

But it’s hard to complain when it feels like maybe we are finally going to turn a corner in this country. I’m kind of in awe about how this whole democracy thing works. Pretty amazing. And now Rumsfeld is going, there are more pragmatic voices in the administration, a Republican refuses to go along with Bolton’s nomination.

And, it’s a balmy, sunny 79 degrees outside right now.

Andrew is almost 22 months old, the same age that Daniel was when Andrew was born. I can’t quite believe it and for some reason, this is the particular thing that his been sticking in my mind. I had to remind myself the other day that more important than the 22 month mark is the 24 month mark which is coming up quickly.

But this particular anniversary, if I can call it that, is making me all mopey and wistful. I’m sad because I don’t think I’ll ever have another baby. I think we are done. Having these two has totally kicked my butt. But yet, sometimes, I swear I almost ache to hold a wee one again, to smell that warm, yummy baby smell, to delight in new grins, new noises, new gestures, to have that cuddly closeness when nursing.

It seems like until you have kids, there is always something to look forward to in life. And, now what? I’ve had the kids. What’s next? Nothing seems quite as exciting right now. I guess this is a phase that I’ll move through like any other stage of life.

An alternative title, “But she did.” — in reference to the title of my previous post, “The job you can’t quit.”

I had a friend who had/is having an affair and has left her husband and her two kids, who are 3 and 5, both boys. She moved out and is staying in a place that’s like a boarding house, I think. Perhaps she is looking for an apartment, I don’t really know. She goes back to take care of the boys first thing in the morning and then stays until her husband gets home from work at 4:30. She then takes off.

I’ve had such a range of feelings about this whole situation as it has unfolded at the end of the summer. She and I had often spoken about the frustrations of being a mom to two small boys. So, some of my reactions have been almost like I’m mad that she’s bailed out on me.

“Wow. Must be nice to know that at 4:30, you are off duty until the next morning.” Evenings totally free. No counting down the minutes until the kids go to bed, but also knowing that they could pop right back up after that for whatever need that was still unmet. Being a mom seems easier if I could do it like that. A nice, relaxing evening and night to myself to recharge my batteries for the next day’s shift.

Yeah, but maybe her husband was a real jerk, you say, and she had to do this to take care of herself and by taking care of herself, she’ll be a better mom to her boys.

Um, well, no. That doesn’t really seem to be the case. I’m not saying that they were completely happy in their marriage. Maybe some communication break-down, some boredom, you know, the usual garden-variety things that people go to counseling for first before totally and suddenly walking away.

As one of my friends remarked, she made a conscious choice. People make mistakes, yes, but after a certain point, if you continue to go down a path, then you are choosing that path over all others.

She will most likely lose her job over this. She’s a minister part-time at a different church. Her family goes to our church. She was a part of our church until all this came out. Now, she doesn’t come to our church. The guy she is having an affair with was also a member of our church. And was married. And has two sons. He was on this 3rd marriage. He finds them 5 years younger each time.

And there’s more.

My friend and I were in a mom’s bible study that started over the summer. Bear in mind that the affair had started and was ongoing when the Bible study started. Also in this Bible study were others, two of whom are the closest friends of the guy’s wife, her best friend, in fact. She (the best friend) would ask for prayer requests for her friend who was going through a divorce (i.e. the guys’ wife), with K sitting right there. Can you imagine what balls you must have to attend and help lead even a bible study in which the closest friends of the wife of the guy you are screwing are also in?

I just don’t get any of it. And neither do some of her older friends that she’s now blowing off because they aren’t “with the plan.”

Her husband is pissed and angry, as you can imagine. He wanted counseling. This is getting nastier and nastier, as he’s probably going for full custody of their boys. He’s a great, involved dad. We’ve grown closer to him.

She was one of the most seemingly stable people that I knew. She and I and another mom did a babysitting co-op last year, taking turns watching each other’s youngest. I have the sweetest pictures of her son playing. As it turns out, on at least one of those occasions, she could have been out screwing her guy while I was watching her kid. Nice, hunh?

Our associate pastor preached on marriage and divorce last Sunday. The reverberations from these affairs have been deep in our community. Perhaps it makes people wonder if it could happen to them. I think it makes people think about and question the rules by which they live their own lives. Hey, if somebody can so blatantly eschew these rules, then maybe why are we bothering with them. Maybe we can’t really rely on those in our lives to adhere to these rules, so why should we either? What was so special about her situation that she felt it was OK to betray everything in her life? These are all big scary questions. How could she ignore all counsel that was trying to show her the consequences of this path she has chosen?

In our bible study, the leader had us write letters to Kristen to tell her our thoughts. I never wrote one. I didn’t know what to say frankly, and knew that unless I said something that was condoning her choices, that it would fall on deaf ears. Even if I was just trying to express my own feelings and reactions, it wouldn’t be taken in and considered, so why bother? So, I didn’t.

Have you ever witnessed something like this up close? What were your reactions?

“I don’t think I was meant to be a mother,” I sobbed to DH on the phone today after getting frustrated with my youngest after he pulled the laundry I had just folded. I hate trying to get stuff done around the house. But I hate not getting stuff done around the house. And don’t even think I’m one of those people who has to have their house as neat as a pin — J is probably snorting in agreement right now. I’m actually a bit of a slob, but I have my limits and when I finally decide to clean or arrange or put something away, it is the greatest of offenses when said work is immediately undone by a wee one. Teaches me to leave the folded clothes within reach and turn my head. And they do know better, by the way. If they didn’t, how is that when they want to get your attention, they do the thing that is going to piss you off the most. But what can you do? *rolling eyes*

It’s a little late for that, though, isn’t it, for thinking that maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Being a mom is not exactly a job you can just quit. Unless I was planning to abandon my children or something, which of course, is not the case.

Although I don’t feel like it at times, the more balanced viewof the situation is that I’m mostly a pretty decent mom. I’m certainly not the “ideal” mom that I have emblazoned in my head to which I hold myself up to all too often. I don’t have craft projects at the ready. I get grumpy when I think about having to take the kids to the park. Hot dogs, mac-n-cheese and applesauce are quite frequently served in our house. We have many, many kids’ shows stocked in our DVR. I insist on “QUIET!” before I have my coffee.

An awesome and insightful review for what sounds like a must-read for any momma who has struggled with depression.

dooce