I originally wrote this a couple of weeks ago as a guest post for my wonderful friend Carrie's blog. I'm not sure if you were able to access it, so I am sharing it here, as well. Please check out her blog, Perfectly Imperfect, from my blog list if you haven't already!
Last night my one year old’s erupting teeth and my own recently extracted wisdom teeth combined to keep me awake most of the night. I won't lie--I was really grouchy about it. Eventually, though, I quieted my mental grumblings to listen. Usually I savor my night-wakings as my special, secret time with God. I tend to be pathetically distractable , and during the day so many things seem to conspire to keep me from just sitting at His feet.
Once I stopped mentally screaming and begging for more sleep, and after I watched the new episode of Top Chef on our DVR, I got a song stuck in my head. It was one I hadn’t heard since I was a little girl, and it was based off of the verse from the Song of Songs that says, "He brought me to his banquet table; his banner over me is love." It planted itself firmly in my mind with all the persistence of an obnoxious commercial, though with far more soothing effect.
I'm not sure that I ever fully went back to sleep, but throughout the day, that verse has reverberated in my heart. Now I know that believers debate how much of the Song of Songs has a spiritual interpretation and how much is just love poetry. I don't really care, although some of the more, um, unusual and creative similes remind me of the sense of humor of the Lover of our Souls who chose to heal a blind man by mixing spit and dirt and smearing it in the guy's eyes. Regardless, I know that He claims us as His bride, and I have no doubt that the verse applies to us. His banner over us is love.
I started looking through other Biblical references to banners. One of the first was mentioned in the account of the Israelites battling the Amalekites. When Moses lifted his hands, they would prevail; when he was too tired and put them down, they began to lose. So he got the support of friends who held his hands for him. After they won the battle, he built an altar and declared that the Lord was their banner.
Another passage is in one of my favorite Psalms: "We will shout for joy when you are victorious and lift up our banners in the name of our God. May the Lord grant all your requests." (20:5)
Isaiah 11:1-22 continues with a beautiful promise to draw all the nations of the earth to Himself, standing "as a banner for the peoples" and says that "the place of His rest will be glorious." He promises to gather together the outcasts and the people who don’t have a place where they belong.
Isaiah also spoke of banners in chapter 49. The servant of the Lord was discouraged and felt that all his work had been a waste of time. He was worn out and didn’t believe he was accomplishing anything. God gave him a radiant promise of the restoration of Israel, of captives finding freedom, abundance and fulfillment, and declares that those who hope in Him will not be disappointed. In chapter 59, He says that when the enemy comes in like a flood, He would raise up a banner.
As I read these words, a few things stood out to me. First, so many of these talked about weariness and discouragement. Whether we can see it now or not, our efforts have value and purpose, and ultimately, we will enjoy victory. Furthermore, this victory is the result of love--our acts of love for others, the love of people around us who hold our hands when we need extra strength, and the power of an open, accepting love that will draw all nations.
Most of all, though, it is about His love for us. His banner over us is love. The most persistent struggle in my walk with God has been trying to grasp what is the height, the depth and full measure of His love toward us. There is a stubborn, sneaky part of me that keeps wanting to make it about my worthiness or lack thereof, and reduce God's amazing passion into a resigned tolerance. Some duty that He has just because He is God and He “has to” love me.
But banners don’t convey that image at all. Banners are about public proclamations. About belonging. About confidence. They shout out our true identity to everyone present: We are His Beloved! He isn't ashamed of loving us! In fact, He is a joy-filled, delighted lover who is boldly announcing to the whole world that we belong to each other. I am my Beloved’s, and He is mine. His banner over me is love
I pray that despite any weariness that you may be feeling right now, and even if you are in the presence of your enemies, that you will enjoy the feast that He has prepared for you. You are the guest of honor at His banquet table. His banner over us is love.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Surprise, surprise!
So as not to keep anyone in suspense, I'll jump right to the good part: we're pregnant! Now, for the backstory...
I've always believed that God speaks to us, but some times my hearing works better than others. Many years ago, a friend told me that she thought that women had the ability to be extra-sensitive to the Holy Spirit during times of hormonal shifts, like a sort of super-Godly PMS. I think I snorted. But the idea intrigued me, and decades later when I became pregnant, I remembered her comments.
With each of the last three pregnancies, I would wake up in the night with spontaneous praise sings to God for the baby inside of me. It was such a powerful outpouring of joy that in the morning, even though my period wasn't late, I'd go buy a pregnancy test, and it would be positive.
Throughout the pregnancy, as I opened up and listened, particularly during the nights of pregnancy, certain things would be impressed on my heart for each child. With Elena, that also included a very strong impression that I was not supposed to get an epidural or other pain meds, even though I had with the first two and it had been fine. Our OB later confirmed that if I had had an epidural, she probably would have died, or at the least been severely brain damaged. So, even though I try to be cautious about claiming "Thus saith the Lord!" I pay a lot of attention to the impressions I get.
Several months ago, when praying about our family size and the possibility of subsequent children, I got the idea that things would be different this time. Of course, I really wanted specifics, and didn't particularly feel like I got any. The truth is, I am terrible with surprises. I am a bit of a control freak, and hate not knowing what is going on. Even if I can't change the outcome, or am perfectly happy with it, I still like to know all the details as soon as possible.
Back in September, one night once again I woke up with the same praises and thanks in my spirit as I had with each previous pregnancy. Of course I went and bought a test. Big fat negative. The feelings didn't go away, though. I finally said something to Carlos, and he said that he felt the same way. !!! Now, my imagination has been known to carry me away, but Carlos is extremely level, so this really caught my attention. I began to plan weekly outings for the kids to the dollar store so that I could buy cheap pregnancy tests. All negative. I didn't really buy them all up, I promise, but a couple of weeks later, both dollar stores in our area stopped carrying pregnancy tests. I waited as long as I could, then sprung for a three-pack at Target.
Now, I have seen dear friends struggle with infertility. We had three children very easily, and we hadn't been actively trying to conceive now. In fact, up until the night in September, I'd have told you that I'd be fine either way--another child would be welcomed, but if our family was already complete, that was fine, too. Yet with each negative test, my heart felt crushed and I would burst into tears. I felt guilty for being so sad when we had had it so easy.
Because of breastfeeding, my cycles typically don't start up again until about 15 months. Can I just say that having had a total of 5 or 6 periods since April of 2003 is a wonderful thing? Before, I had always had one or two cycles before getting pregnant again, so I decided to stop torturing myself with tests and wait until I had a period again. I got some dental work done, and tried to just be at peace.
Of course, having unused tests is almost as bad as having hidden chocolates in the house. I went a few weeks, but this last weekend decided to go ahead and test again. A bright, clear positive! My head spun for a couple of days. I took another test, just in case, and it was also an instant positive.
We are so, so happy! Even though the sequence of events was a bit different this time, it only increased our desire and love for this new little one.
We've definitely got some issues coming up--Carlos is already committed to taking students to Puerto Rico next summer, and we aren't sure of the due date (my LMP was in 2007) but suspect it is very close to the dates for the trip. Of course, even due dates aren't foolproof, so we'll just have to see. Did I mention how I feel about not knowing things?
We also have to find an OB...I guess. Our previous OB has retired, and so we are starting again. The problem this time is that I really want to be left alone. I want to be able to conduct my pregnancy, labor and birth without much intervention, and it is hard to know in advance how many OBs feel about various interventions. Frankly, I like the idea of homebirth. However, we would only pay a couple hundred dollars for a hospital birth, and Carlos isn't convinced that spending more money to give birth at home is a good idea. So we shall see. I am calling the insurance company today about a midwife of whom I've heard good things.
I am very happy, very tired, and very emotional, and feel much "more" pregnant than I typically do around this stage of pregnancy, or at least what I *think* is this stage of pregnancy. But while bobbing around in this ocean, I'm trying to just breathe and enjoy the ride with each wave. I suspect that a few more surprises may be in store. :)
I've always believed that God speaks to us, but some times my hearing works better than others. Many years ago, a friend told me that she thought that women had the ability to be extra-sensitive to the Holy Spirit during times of hormonal shifts, like a sort of super-Godly PMS. I think I snorted. But the idea intrigued me, and decades later when I became pregnant, I remembered her comments.
With each of the last three pregnancies, I would wake up in the night with spontaneous praise sings to God for the baby inside of me. It was such a powerful outpouring of joy that in the morning, even though my period wasn't late, I'd go buy a pregnancy test, and it would be positive.
Throughout the pregnancy, as I opened up and listened, particularly during the nights of pregnancy, certain things would be impressed on my heart for each child. With Elena, that also included a very strong impression that I was not supposed to get an epidural or other pain meds, even though I had with the first two and it had been fine. Our OB later confirmed that if I had had an epidural, she probably would have died, or at the least been severely brain damaged. So, even though I try to be cautious about claiming "Thus saith the Lord!" I pay a lot of attention to the impressions I get.
Several months ago, when praying about our family size and the possibility of subsequent children, I got the idea that things would be different this time. Of course, I really wanted specifics, and didn't particularly feel like I got any. The truth is, I am terrible with surprises. I am a bit of a control freak, and hate not knowing what is going on. Even if I can't change the outcome, or am perfectly happy with it, I still like to know all the details as soon as possible.
Back in September, one night once again I woke up with the same praises and thanks in my spirit as I had with each previous pregnancy. Of course I went and bought a test. Big fat negative. The feelings didn't go away, though. I finally said something to Carlos, and he said that he felt the same way. !!! Now, my imagination has been known to carry me away, but Carlos is extremely level, so this really caught my attention. I began to plan weekly outings for the kids to the dollar store so that I could buy cheap pregnancy tests. All negative. I didn't really buy them all up, I promise, but a couple of weeks later, both dollar stores in our area stopped carrying pregnancy tests. I waited as long as I could, then sprung for a three-pack at Target.
Now, I have seen dear friends struggle with infertility. We had three children very easily, and we hadn't been actively trying to conceive now. In fact, up until the night in September, I'd have told you that I'd be fine either way--another child would be welcomed, but if our family was already complete, that was fine, too. Yet with each negative test, my heart felt crushed and I would burst into tears. I felt guilty for being so sad when we had had it so easy.
Because of breastfeeding, my cycles typically don't start up again until about 15 months. Can I just say that having had a total of 5 or 6 periods since April of 2003 is a wonderful thing? Before, I had always had one or two cycles before getting pregnant again, so I decided to stop torturing myself with tests and wait until I had a period again. I got some dental work done, and tried to just be at peace.
Of course, having unused tests is almost as bad as having hidden chocolates in the house. I went a few weeks, but this last weekend decided to go ahead and test again. A bright, clear positive! My head spun for a couple of days. I took another test, just in case, and it was also an instant positive.
We are so, so happy! Even though the sequence of events was a bit different this time, it only increased our desire and love for this new little one.
We've definitely got some issues coming up--Carlos is already committed to taking students to Puerto Rico next summer, and we aren't sure of the due date (my LMP was in 2007) but suspect it is very close to the dates for the trip. Of course, even due dates aren't foolproof, so we'll just have to see. Did I mention how I feel about not knowing things?
We also have to find an OB...I guess. Our previous OB has retired, and so we are starting again. The problem this time is that I really want to be left alone. I want to be able to conduct my pregnancy, labor and birth without much intervention, and it is hard to know in advance how many OBs feel about various interventions. Frankly, I like the idea of homebirth. However, we would only pay a couple hundred dollars for a hospital birth, and Carlos isn't convinced that spending more money to give birth at home is a good idea. So we shall see. I am calling the insurance company today about a midwife of whom I've heard good things.
I am very happy, very tired, and very emotional, and feel much "more" pregnant than I typically do around this stage of pregnancy, or at least what I *think* is this stage of pregnancy. But while bobbing around in this ocean, I'm trying to just breathe and enjoy the ride with each wave. I suspect that a few more surprises may be in store. :)
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Decadently Rich Pumpkin Fudge Cake (DF/EF/etc)
Joelito, our three-year-old pastry chef, came up with this version this morning. This moist cake is like melted Mexican chocolate, and allergy-friendly, too! I know that baking is supposed to be very precise, but as I've mentioned before, sometimes his enthusiasm gets the better of him.
1 C pumpkin
1 C apple cider
1/2 C brown sugar
1/2 C sugar
generous amount of pumpkin pie spice (Joel emptied the can, but it was almost gone anyway--maybe 2 tsp?)
several shakes of allspice
2 3/4 C flour (if gluten-free you can sub most GF mixes and the cake still comes out well, a rarity with egg-free cakes! We usually used 2 C rice flour and 2/3 C tapioca flour.)
1 C dairy-free chocolate chips
1/2 C canola oil
1 tsp salt
scant Tbsp baking powder
Mix well, pour into a greased and floured 9x13 pan and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes.
While the cake is baking, we mixed sugar, cocoa and Smart Balance light and boiled it like you would for a fudge sauce. Remove from heat, add a Tbsp of coffee and good splash of vanilla and stir well. Pour over the warm cake when it comes out of the oven.
It is the perfect autumn chocolate and spice combination. Yum!
1 C pumpkin
1 C apple cider
1/2 C brown sugar
1/2 C sugar
generous amount of pumpkin pie spice (Joel emptied the can, but it was almost gone anyway--maybe 2 tsp?)
several shakes of allspice
2 3/4 C flour (if gluten-free you can sub most GF mixes and the cake still comes out well, a rarity with egg-free cakes! We usually used 2 C rice flour and 2/3 C tapioca flour.)
1 C dairy-free chocolate chips
1/2 C canola oil
1 tsp salt
scant Tbsp baking powder
Mix well, pour into a greased and floured 9x13 pan and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes.
While the cake is baking, we mixed sugar, cocoa and Smart Balance light and boiled it like you would for a fudge sauce. Remove from heat, add a Tbsp of coffee and good splash of vanilla and stir well. Pour over the warm cake when it comes out of the oven.
It is the perfect autumn chocolate and spice combination. Yum!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sore spots
Last weekend I had the joy of having wisdom teeth extracted. Allow me to say, in all seriousness, that I prefer childbirth without pain meds to pretty much any kind of dental work, with full anesthesia. I don't respond well to pain meds. They make me loopy and moody, and often don't even make much difference with the pain. These extractions were under general anesthesia because one tooth was sideways and messy and they had to take out a small portion of my jawbone along with it. Things went well, but I'm am feeling whiny still, in spite of copious amounts of ice cream.
Perhaps you have noticed this--if I had ever taken physics (shudder) I'd probably know the name of the law for it--there is a special force of attraction exerted by injured body parts that compels further injury by anyone in the vicinity, despite their own intent. I first noticed this in childhood when a toe nail came off. I was positive that every single time my mom passed it, she stepped on my foot.
Now, anyone acquainted with my mother would dispute that. She is one of the most tenderhearted people I've ever met, far more so than I, and the idea of her purposefully hurting anyone is ludicrous. Nor is she so clumsy as to keep doing this accidentally (maybe once or twice, but certainly not over and over).
A similar occurrence took place with my sore jaw last night. Joelito smacked me in the jaw, and Elena headbutted me three times. Lest you get the wrong idea, this happened right after turning out the light. It was dark and they didn't see me. They had no intention of hurting me whatsoever. Joel actually cried for several minutes afterward when he saw that it hurt. Just as in the case with my foot, I was so sensitive that I noticed any incidental contact that probably wouldn't have even registered if I were not already sore.
This isn't limited to physical issues. Once I saw a couple of guys teasing each other, and happened to glance at one's face in the split second before the pain left his eyes. Now, the other guy was his best friend, and a genuinely nice person. He would have been horrified if he had realized that his words wounded his friend.
We've all seen those cruel barbs that are passed off as "just kidding" when everyone listening knows that they are meant to dig. This wasn't like that. It wasn't vicious or truly meant to hurt. Just gentle ribbing. And, if the friend hadn't been already tender in that spot, it wouldn't have hurt at all. But he never spoke up and said that it hurt. He hid it so quickly that his friend didn't see it.
I've been thinking a lot lately on the admonition from Galatians to bear one another's burdens. There is a full blog post brewing on that, but I'm not there yet. Somehow, though, I think there is something in that verse that ties in to being sensitive to sore spots in the people around us.
The Bible also tells us that each should bear his own burden, and I believe that we are responsible for dealing with our own hurts and letting them heal. So I certainly don't want to guilt-trip anyone into blaming themselves for an innocuous comment or action that just happens to hit a nerve with someone else, anymore than I would want my children to feel bad for accidentally bumping me.
I know, though, that for me it is so easy to miss things and not see the pain that my words or actions can cause, especially when no harm is intended. Maybe, if we open our eyes and look closely, we could get to be part of the healing process for someone close to us. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to soothe and help heal damage that might otherwise go unacknowledged? After the accidental bonks on the jaw, Joel and Elena carefully cuddled close to me and showered me with love. Even though they hadn't meant to hurt, their sweetness helped bring healing. What if we could do that, too?
Perhaps you have noticed this--if I had ever taken physics (shudder) I'd probably know the name of the law for it--there is a special force of attraction exerted by injured body parts that compels further injury by anyone in the vicinity, despite their own intent. I first noticed this in childhood when a toe nail came off. I was positive that every single time my mom passed it, she stepped on my foot.
Now, anyone acquainted with my mother would dispute that. She is one of the most tenderhearted people I've ever met, far more so than I, and the idea of her purposefully hurting anyone is ludicrous. Nor is she so clumsy as to keep doing this accidentally (maybe once or twice, but certainly not over and over).
A similar occurrence took place with my sore jaw last night. Joelito smacked me in the jaw, and Elena headbutted me three times. Lest you get the wrong idea, this happened right after turning out the light. It was dark and they didn't see me. They had no intention of hurting me whatsoever. Joel actually cried for several minutes afterward when he saw that it hurt. Just as in the case with my foot, I was so sensitive that I noticed any incidental contact that probably wouldn't have even registered if I were not already sore.
This isn't limited to physical issues. Once I saw a couple of guys teasing each other, and happened to glance at one's face in the split second before the pain left his eyes. Now, the other guy was his best friend, and a genuinely nice person. He would have been horrified if he had realized that his words wounded his friend.
We've all seen those cruel barbs that are passed off as "just kidding" when everyone listening knows that they are meant to dig. This wasn't like that. It wasn't vicious or truly meant to hurt. Just gentle ribbing. And, if the friend hadn't been already tender in that spot, it wouldn't have hurt at all. But he never spoke up and said that it hurt. He hid it so quickly that his friend didn't see it.
I've been thinking a lot lately on the admonition from Galatians to bear one another's burdens. There is a full blog post brewing on that, but I'm not there yet. Somehow, though, I think there is something in that verse that ties in to being sensitive to sore spots in the people around us.
The Bible also tells us that each should bear his own burden, and I believe that we are responsible for dealing with our own hurts and letting them heal. So I certainly don't want to guilt-trip anyone into blaming themselves for an innocuous comment or action that just happens to hit a nerve with someone else, anymore than I would want my children to feel bad for accidentally bumping me.
I know, though, that for me it is so easy to miss things and not see the pain that my words or actions can cause, especially when no harm is intended. Maybe, if we open our eyes and look closely, we could get to be part of the healing process for someone close to us. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to soothe and help heal damage that might otherwise go unacknowledged? After the accidental bonks on the jaw, Joel and Elena carefully cuddled close to me and showered me with love. Even though they hadn't meant to hurt, their sweetness helped bring healing. What if we could do that, too?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Help! My daughter is a Betazoid!
As we drove home from the Children's Museum today, I amused myself comparing our family to different characters from Star Trek. I have a lot in common with Kathryn Janeway, particularly her appreciation for coffee (the finest organic suspension ever devised), love of spontaneous exploration (stopping to look at every insignificant little nebula or gaseous anomaly out there...), and a rather inconvenient conscience that focuses somewhat obsessively on my ideals.
I see Carlos as Captain Picard: extremely intelligent, well-spoken, a natural leader, interested in ancient civilizations and cultures. He has a lot of Spock, particularly in his reliance on logic and dry wit. There is also a bit of Commander Chakotay in him, and a rather striking physical resemblance there, too.
Joelito is harder to tell. Maybe Captian Kirk? He definitely has the charm, love of adventure and confidence at risk-taking (not to mention the occasional rule-breaking...). Elena is too small to say much, although I am reasonably sure that she is part Klingon (just try to take away something she wants and you'll be grateful that she doesn't swing a bat'leth).
Ariana, however, is unquestionably an empath. (She loves chocolate just as much as Deanna Troi, too). She soaks up the emotions of the people around her like a sponge. Even as a baby and toddler, she was remarkably attuned to other people's feelings. There are times when I delight in her sensitivity. Other times, like today, my heart breaks for her.
She had been looking forward to our trip for days. She counted down the time left every night. At first, she was enjoying it tremendously. Her abuelitos joined us, and we were having a great time exploring. She went through the store, chose her produce and ice cream and checked it out. We played on the spider web and then the playground. She was all smiles.
Then, in the archeology section, a little girl got in trouble and was given a time out. I am unaware of the offense that prompted it, but at least the parents weren't hitting her or screaming or being overtly cruel. The little girl began to cry, though, and Ariana grew more and more distressed until she was crying, too. We comforted her and moved to a different section, but to no avail. She stopped crying quickly, but was downcast for the rest of our time there. Every few minutes she would look at me with pain-filled eyes and whisper, "I want to go home".
How do you respond to something like that? When asked what was wrong, she just told me that she felt so sad for the little girl. I told her that I thought that the little girl was probably happy now and having fun. She was too scared to go back to the area we had left. For the rest of our time at the museum, she was sad.
Part of me wants her to develop callouses. To protect her heart and emotions more and be less sensitive. Yes, we have tried to teach and model caring and compassion for others, but we need some balance here! I've noticed at home that she will give in to whatever her siblings want rather than risk them getting upset. Even when it isn't verbalized, she has an acute awareness of the emotional climate around her.
I really need some help here, because I don't know what to do. If you or others that you are close to have that kind of exceptional sensitivity, how do you develop healthy boundaries or release the burdens that you take on from others? Are there any books you would recommend? I have always been naturally self-centered enough to distance myself when necessary, but she doesn't seem to have any protective mechanisms yet. I know that she has an amazing gift in her tenderness towards others, but how do we help nurture her so that she isn't torn to shreds because of it?
I see Carlos as Captain Picard: extremely intelligent, well-spoken, a natural leader, interested in ancient civilizations and cultures. He has a lot of Spock, particularly in his reliance on logic and dry wit. There is also a bit of Commander Chakotay in him, and a rather striking physical resemblance there, too.
Joelito is harder to tell. Maybe Captian Kirk? He definitely has the charm, love of adventure and confidence at risk-taking (not to mention the occasional rule-breaking...). Elena is too small to say much, although I am reasonably sure that she is part Klingon (just try to take away something she wants and you'll be grateful that she doesn't swing a bat'leth).
Ariana, however, is unquestionably an empath. (She loves chocolate just as much as Deanna Troi, too). She soaks up the emotions of the people around her like a sponge. Even as a baby and toddler, she was remarkably attuned to other people's feelings. There are times when I delight in her sensitivity. Other times, like today, my heart breaks for her.
She had been looking forward to our trip for days. She counted down the time left every night. At first, she was enjoying it tremendously. Her abuelitos joined us, and we were having a great time exploring. She went through the store, chose her produce and ice cream and checked it out. We played on the spider web and then the playground. She was all smiles.
Then, in the archeology section, a little girl got in trouble and was given a time out. I am unaware of the offense that prompted it, but at least the parents weren't hitting her or screaming or being overtly cruel. The little girl began to cry, though, and Ariana grew more and more distressed until she was crying, too. We comforted her and moved to a different section, but to no avail. She stopped crying quickly, but was downcast for the rest of our time there. Every few minutes she would look at me with pain-filled eyes and whisper, "I want to go home".
How do you respond to something like that? When asked what was wrong, she just told me that she felt so sad for the little girl. I told her that I thought that the little girl was probably happy now and having fun. She was too scared to go back to the area we had left. For the rest of our time at the museum, she was sad.
Part of me wants her to develop callouses. To protect her heart and emotions more and be less sensitive. Yes, we have tried to teach and model caring and compassion for others, but we need some balance here! I've noticed at home that she will give in to whatever her siblings want rather than risk them getting upset. Even when it isn't verbalized, she has an acute awareness of the emotional climate around her.
I really need some help here, because I don't know what to do. If you or others that you are close to have that kind of exceptional sensitivity, how do you develop healthy boundaries or release the burdens that you take on from others? Are there any books you would recommend? I have always been naturally self-centered enough to distance myself when necessary, but she doesn't seem to have any protective mechanisms yet. I know that she has an amazing gift in her tenderness towards others, but how do we help nurture her so that she isn't torn to shreds because of it?
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Independence Day
I've ranted before about the absurd and unhealthy obsession in the US that attempts to force independence from infancy. However, it is exciting to see child-initiated steps toward competence and achievement.
Ariana has been saying since she was two or three that she wants to be a chef. Last night, she wanted to exercise her culinary abilities by herself. She went and got the cutting board and a knife, and diced an onion. She put it in the pan, turned it on and began to saute it. As any cook knows, seasoning is of utmost importance, so she had Joelito collaborate. They added salt and pepper, and Joel threw in a good amount of rosemary and some red sugar sprinkles for color. (It would not have occurred to me to add sugar sprinkles, but the color was very nice, and the sugar helped the onions caramelize).
At this point, she came to me for help. I could tell that she wanted to finish the project on her own, so I logged her in to me favorite message board and turned her loose. I had explained before that one of the safety precautions we take on the Internet is using a pretend name. She promptly suggested Caramel (she has been very involved in her own role-playing game based on Candyland, and that is her favorite alter-ego). I thought that Caramel was pretty cute for the daughter of Dulce de leche. :)
She wrote a post introducing herself and requesting help with recipes (her spelling was a little inconsistent--I think it usually came out as "recepes") for onions and rosemary. She was so excited to see the replies! She read them aloud to me and Ooohed and Ahhhed over each one. She also wrote love notes to the posters who responded and asked them to please be her freind (sic). I intercepted her in mid-post as she thanked her new friends and invited them to our house, complete with address (which prompted further discussion about anonymity online).
After thinking about which recipes would work with the ingredients on hand and our allergens, she decided to add butter, garlic and potatoes to the onion-rosemary mixture. Carlos had been a bit dubious about the concoction early on (or perhaps just skeptical of the sprinkles?), but he couldn't believe how delicious it was once she finished it. It was really, really good!
Best of all was seeing how confident and happy my little girl was with her new cooking prowess. Despite my crunchy tendencies, I'm not fully into the while Continuum Concept thing. I found it fascinating, and agree to a point, but I am still too uptight to give it free reign. I'm sure some people are raising their eyebrows at the idea of letting a five year old use a knife and stove--I will say that we are firm about it being under supervision. But who knows? Maybe a decade or two from know, she will be graduating from culinary school and look back at the delight, creativity, self-reliance and independence she felt last night.
Today she wants to help me with meal planning and grocery shopping so that we will have everything we need for her next meal. :)
Ariana has been saying since she was two or three that she wants to be a chef. Last night, she wanted to exercise her culinary abilities by herself. She went and got the cutting board and a knife, and diced an onion. She put it in the pan, turned it on and began to saute it. As any cook knows, seasoning is of utmost importance, so she had Joelito collaborate. They added salt and pepper, and Joel threw in a good amount of rosemary and some red sugar sprinkles for color. (It would not have occurred to me to add sugar sprinkles, but the color was very nice, and the sugar helped the onions caramelize).
At this point, she came to me for help. I could tell that she wanted to finish the project on her own, so I logged her in to me favorite message board and turned her loose. I had explained before that one of the safety precautions we take on the Internet is using a pretend name. She promptly suggested Caramel (she has been very involved in her own role-playing game based on Candyland, and that is her favorite alter-ego). I thought that Caramel was pretty cute for the daughter of Dulce de leche. :)
She wrote a post introducing herself and requesting help with recipes (her spelling was a little inconsistent--I think it usually came out as "recepes") for onions and rosemary. She was so excited to see the replies! She read them aloud to me and Ooohed and Ahhhed over each one. She also wrote love notes to the posters who responded and asked them to please be her freind (sic). I intercepted her in mid-post as she thanked her new friends and invited them to our house, complete with address (which prompted further discussion about anonymity online).
After thinking about which recipes would work with the ingredients on hand and our allergens, she decided to add butter, garlic and potatoes to the onion-rosemary mixture. Carlos had been a bit dubious about the concoction early on (or perhaps just skeptical of the sprinkles?), but he couldn't believe how delicious it was once she finished it. It was really, really good!
Best of all was seeing how confident and happy my little girl was with her new cooking prowess. Despite my crunchy tendencies, I'm not fully into the while Continuum Concept thing. I found it fascinating, and agree to a point, but I am still too uptight to give it free reign. I'm sure some people are raising their eyebrows at the idea of letting a five year old use a knife and stove--I will say that we are firm about it being under supervision. But who knows? Maybe a decade or two from know, she will be graduating from culinary school and look back at the delight, creativity, self-reliance and independence she felt last night.
Today she wants to help me with meal planning and grocery shopping so that we will have everything we need for her next meal. :)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Truth and consequences
When I first began my journey into gentle discipline, I was familiar with the Goldilocks-model of discipline: Papa Bear discipline, which was too harsh; Mama Bear discipline which was too lenient; leaving Baby Bear discipline which, of course, was just right. Most approaches that I heard were all variations of that theme (naturally, each book claimed the Baby Bear version) and many linked gender that way, too.
We threw those models away, preferring a more unconditional parenting approach. We don't use punishment, at least by the way I define punishment: intentionally making my children miserable in retaliation for misbehavior. And I admit, I am wary of the term "consequences" because so often it is simply a euphemism for punishment.
I imagine that some of my blog readers, especially those who are not around us often in real life, assume that we just don't use spankings as punishment but still use time outs and other negative reinforcement, or that we simply let the kids run wild and shield them from any consequence whatsover to their actions. In reality, we do allow some natural consequences, when we feel like the children can actually learn from them.
I don't usually blog about it for several reasons, among them: I wouldn't necessarily appreciate my own mistakes being blog fodder, so it seems a bit unfair to focus on my children's; they generally behave pretty well, so major issues are pretty rare; and 99% of the time, dealing with my own attitude is the key.
Still, we had some growing times recently, including the Most Famous Discipline Example of All, and I thought I'd share about them. Our responses are not perfect, nor are they necessarily my advice to others on how to handle similar instances. This is just a window into how it happened here.
I was chuckling with a friend recently how in any GD forum, if a mom starts to talk about how she cannot handle her child, and her fears for his future, veteran posters know before the mom mentions age that the kid is probably three. Terrible Twos? Not so much, in my experience. Threes, however, are two with a year of practice. Intense for everyone involved. Add some lapses with food allergies, and my dear son has had a rough couple of weeks. This cycle expanded as my darling and uber-sensitive five year old saw our attention directed towards her siblings and little left over for her.
Scenario Number 1--Yesterday, I planned to take them to Borders to celebrate the 30% discount for educators. They've been extraordinarily cooperative and well-behaved on our outings the last few months. This time, however, they were dawdling and not particularly interested in going. I pushed it because I thought it would be fun. Once we got inside the store, they quickly began a noisy game of chase. I told them to stop and was not heeded. So we immediately left.
What I did do: leave the store after the first request was not obeyed. I told them clearly exactly why we were leaving. Was it punishment? Eh, in the eye of the beholder. Certainly, they were not pleased. Ariana informed me that I was "very, very boring". I agreed that when they were not respectful of other people and we had to leave it was very boring. What I did not do: add on any punishment beyond returning to the house, or attempt to shame them. It is a tricky line, in my opinion, between letting them know how their actions affect others and deliberately trying to convict them of their wrongdoing. I believe that the Holy Spirit has a role there that is not mine to usurp. At the same time, as a loving teacher, I want to be honest about the results of their choices.
Scenario Number 2--Today, we went to the playground for lunch. The morning had been great, the time at the playground was fun for all of us, and they cheerfully agreed to leave as soon as I asked. Then came the dreadful playing-in-the-street-example. As we left, I was carrying the baby and my three year old saw a flock of birds. He darted away before I could grab him. He was across the parking lot before I could catch him. I was terrified, furious and all of the other emotions that you would imagine in that case.
What I did: grab him and hold his hand until we got to the van. Remind myself that his impulse control is still in the early stages of development, and that to a three year old excited about chasing birds, there is no thought of safety. I also, in my haste to reach him, dropped his sister's stuffed dog. A lady passing by gave us one of those looks and said loudly, "That kid needs a good spanking!" Apparently, she also picked up the stuffed dog and took it with her. :( As soon as the kids were in the van, I turned back to pick up the dog and it had disappeared. Ariana was heartbroken and began to cry.
As I looked for the toy dog, I saw a bird that had been run over. I brought Joel and Ariana over and let them see it. I explained that it had been hit by a car, and why I was so scared when Joel ran in the parking lot. I told him that I loved him and wanted him to be safe and not get hurt.
What I did not do: follow the busybody-dog-napper's advice (maybe she thought that the dog was Joel's and that she was teaching him a lesson?). Seeing how sad Ariana was made a pretty deep impression on him. The squashed bird was also a powerful object lesson. I didn't berate him or harp on it over and over after the first discussion. I didn't punish him (or the rest of us!) by trying to add anything more.
What we did do: find a replacement doggy for Ariana (though "it isn't the same one"), hold hands everywhere we went afterwards, and have a lovely time at Borders.
I also listened to him and Ariana talk on the ride home about the whole thing. They seemed to have retained the lesson, but in the future, I will still hold onto his hand in parking lots. And you know what? Even if I had spanked or punished in other ways, that wouldn't change. I would still hold hands and not expect a three year old to be responsible for his own safety.
The rest of the day has been good, unmarred by unnecessary drama. We rode bikes outside for awhile, and we're going to make a quick batch of pumpkin cupcakes before bed. We've had repentance and forgiveness and grace. Sure, there is a place for consequences, but I am glad that God removes our sin as far as the East from the West and that His mercies are new every morning.
We threw those models away, preferring a more unconditional parenting approach. We don't use punishment, at least by the way I define punishment: intentionally making my children miserable in retaliation for misbehavior. And I admit, I am wary of the term "consequences" because so often it is simply a euphemism for punishment.
I imagine that some of my blog readers, especially those who are not around us often in real life, assume that we just don't use spankings as punishment but still use time outs and other negative reinforcement, or that we simply let the kids run wild and shield them from any consequence whatsover to their actions. In reality, we do allow some natural consequences, when we feel like the children can actually learn from them.
I don't usually blog about it for several reasons, among them: I wouldn't necessarily appreciate my own mistakes being blog fodder, so it seems a bit unfair to focus on my children's; they generally behave pretty well, so major issues are pretty rare; and 99% of the time, dealing with my own attitude is the key.
Still, we had some growing times recently, including the Most Famous Discipline Example of All, and I thought I'd share about them. Our responses are not perfect, nor are they necessarily my advice to others on how to handle similar instances. This is just a window into how it happened here.
I was chuckling with a friend recently how in any GD forum, if a mom starts to talk about how she cannot handle her child, and her fears for his future, veteran posters know before the mom mentions age that the kid is probably three. Terrible Twos? Not so much, in my experience. Threes, however, are two with a year of practice. Intense for everyone involved. Add some lapses with food allergies, and my dear son has had a rough couple of weeks. This cycle expanded as my darling and uber-sensitive five year old saw our attention directed towards her siblings and little left over for her.
Scenario Number 1--Yesterday, I planned to take them to Borders to celebrate the 30% discount for educators. They've been extraordinarily cooperative and well-behaved on our outings the last few months. This time, however, they were dawdling and not particularly interested in going. I pushed it because I thought it would be fun. Once we got inside the store, they quickly began a noisy game of chase. I told them to stop and was not heeded. So we immediately left.
What I did do: leave the store after the first request was not obeyed. I told them clearly exactly why we were leaving. Was it punishment? Eh, in the eye of the beholder. Certainly, they were not pleased. Ariana informed me that I was "very, very boring". I agreed that when they were not respectful of other people and we had to leave it was very boring. What I did not do: add on any punishment beyond returning to the house, or attempt to shame them. It is a tricky line, in my opinion, between letting them know how their actions affect others and deliberately trying to convict them of their wrongdoing. I believe that the Holy Spirit has a role there that is not mine to usurp. At the same time, as a loving teacher, I want to be honest about the results of their choices.
Scenario Number 2--Today, we went to the playground for lunch. The morning had been great, the time at the playground was fun for all of us, and they cheerfully agreed to leave as soon as I asked. Then came the dreadful playing-in-the-street-example. As we left, I was carrying the baby and my three year old saw a flock of birds. He darted away before I could grab him. He was across the parking lot before I could catch him. I was terrified, furious and all of the other emotions that you would imagine in that case.
What I did: grab him and hold his hand until we got to the van. Remind myself that his impulse control is still in the early stages of development, and that to a three year old excited about chasing birds, there is no thought of safety. I also, in my haste to reach him, dropped his sister's stuffed dog. A lady passing by gave us one of those looks and said loudly, "That kid needs a good spanking!" Apparently, she also picked up the stuffed dog and took it with her. :( As soon as the kids were in the van, I turned back to pick up the dog and it had disappeared. Ariana was heartbroken and began to cry.
As I looked for the toy dog, I saw a bird that had been run over. I brought Joel and Ariana over and let them see it. I explained that it had been hit by a car, and why I was so scared when Joel ran in the parking lot. I told him that I loved him and wanted him to be safe and not get hurt.
What I did not do: follow the busybody-dog-napper's advice (maybe she thought that the dog was Joel's and that she was teaching him a lesson?). Seeing how sad Ariana was made a pretty deep impression on him. The squashed bird was also a powerful object lesson. I didn't berate him or harp on it over and over after the first discussion. I didn't punish him (or the rest of us!) by trying to add anything more.
What we did do: find a replacement doggy for Ariana (though "it isn't the same one"), hold hands everywhere we went afterwards, and have a lovely time at Borders.
I also listened to him and Ariana talk on the ride home about the whole thing. They seemed to have retained the lesson, but in the future, I will still hold onto his hand in parking lots. And you know what? Even if I had spanked or punished in other ways, that wouldn't change. I would still hold hands and not expect a three year old to be responsible for his own safety.
The rest of the day has been good, unmarred by unnecessary drama. We rode bikes outside for awhile, and we're going to make a quick batch of pumpkin cupcakes before bed. We've had repentance and forgiveness and grace. Sure, there is a place for consequences, but I am glad that God removes our sin as far as the East from the West and that His mercies are new every morning.
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