As a Christian, trying to raise not only my own children, but helping to influence other kids, too, to live a Godly life in a less than godly environment, I have been challenged by the expression “tell a story”. As a child of the 50’s, we lived such a pristine life – no really an ostrich life – never saying bad words such as “pregnant” or “divorce” or “lie”. The only time I know that one could say “lie” and not get that ugly look was when talking about George Washington. We at least could say he never told a lie and that was okay – but don’t ever say “You lied”, or “That’s a lie”, or – the worst – “You’re a liar”. That was not tolerated. One simply “told a little story.”
So, when I want to tell a “story”, or talk about a “story”, I immediately get that “uh-oh” feeling. I can hear Jessie B – my saintly mama saying, “Are you sure you’re telling the truth? We don’t want to be telling stories, now do we?” But I do have stories, and I do want to tell them and the difference is these stories are the truth (at least the way I remember – hahaha). The stories are sometimes about my growing up years – my daddy was worthy of a book himself – but mainly centered around the growing up years of my 4 sons – the main reason I have early onset senility and a head full of very grey hair!
For as long as I can remember, my sons have joked about my repetitive story telling. They even suggested numbering my stories so they can simply yell “number 12” and not have to hear the whole story one more time. While I haven’t always appreciated their witticism, I have wanted to get the stories “down” instead of always depending on my memory. I had a grandfather that had some of the neatest stories of growing up in Texas from 1882 – wild and wooly Texans, Indians, wildcatting at Spindletop and in Mexia, even riding with the Texas Rangers – and while he told these stories, I was young, and didn’t really want to listen to the ramblings of an old man. Now, while I have some vague ideas, the details are buried – literally. Why he never wrote them down… That’s why I want to write down some of my kids’ stories. It is their history. It is their lives that made mine and their daddy’s journey these last 30 years so much richer. I don’t want them to forget the fun.
Wait. That’s not completely true. It wasn’t all fun. But, it was all an adventure. Hey guys – that’s it. Don’t you get it?!?!? I love this! This is just perfect! This is truly a mother’s revenge! I love it! I love it!
While you dreaded getting into the car for those infamous weekend rides – you even called them ugly names, “Mom and Dad’s Bogus Journey” – it has come the proverbial Full Circle. It truly has been a “Mom and Dad Excellent Adventure.”
And don’t you ever forget it!! HAHAHA!!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Perception -- is it really everything?!
Well, the best laid plans…, And so on and so on and Scooby dooby do on…, and all of that…
My original intent, and still my primary focus, is to use this “blog” as the place to get my stories – finally – about motherhood and mothering, and life with my sons, out of the cobwebs of my mind and onto “paper”. However, things can change, can they? As a young girl growing up in the late ‘50’s and ‘60’s, I was encouraged to believe that a woman’s prerogative was to change her mind. Of course, we don’t talk in non-politically correct terms anymore, but there are some old adages that are worth trying to use when one deems it appropriate.
“Perception is everything” is another adage that has seen it’s time and perhaps is passing from usage. However, I believe it to be quite true. Here’s an example: This past weekend, Paul’s youngest brother and his wife came to visit. Really a treat, and an unexpected one, too. He’s probably the only in-law that likes me, and he is definitely the only one that has made an attempt to be in my boys’ lives. (ie coming to birthdays, Eagle Scout events, graduations, etc.) He’s a great man, very witty and smart, and very talented. And, so is his wife. They’ve only been married about 3 years, and we all really like her and glad she’s a member of the family.
Well, Tom told a story about when he was still in college and was painting Adam’s room with a “Wink ‘em, Blink ‘em, and Nod” motif, complete with shooting stars. He said that I told him he reminded me of the Carly Simon song “You’re so Vain”, because I felt he must be the vainest guy I knew because every time he walked past a mirror, he looked in it, smiled, fixed his hair or something. He assured me that even today my remark still kinda stung, because he was far from vain, instead being very insecure and unsure of himself, especially in the looks department.
Deliver me!!! This was 28 years ago!!! He was the cutest of guys then and is still a nice looking man at 50! Not only is he a good looking man, he only looks about 40! Unfair! And he was walking by the mirror checking himself out because he was afraid he was a dork. Who would have believed that!!! I perceived Tom to really have it all together – and knowing what to do with it!!! Then, it’s the perception was everything to me, but nothing to him.
However, in observing my 4 sons, who are the biological sons of me and Paul, been raised in the same house (we didn’t farm any of them out, promise!!), one can’t help but notice they are 4 of the most different men I know. They were raised by a mother that read the books about children’s self-esteem and tried her best to make sure the other people in their lives at least heard of some of the positive techniques. (I’m sorry, Stephen. Nothing could change your Paw Paw making “wah-h-h-h, wah-h-h-h” noises and horrible faces when you cried. Talk about self-esteem issues.) While I wondered, even worried, about them growing up with such well-defined egos they would believe they were invincible and unbeatable, and not depend on God enough, they are not as self-assured as I want them to be. Yes, I know I have one son that knows he’s “Superman” or at least is every girl’s “Knight in Shining Armor”, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
It’s the perception thing, still. It’s what I “perceived” I wanted them to be vs. what I “perceive” them as being today. I wanted them to grow up to be ready to tackle the world – to be ready to do anything and be able to do anything. Can they not do that? It was my perception that they would grow up to be successful, rich businessmen. Granted, while two of them are still young enough to be in college, none of them is quite what I perceived them to be. Hm-m-m-m…What then is successful? What is rich? Successful with money, with women, with God, with themselves… Rich in these same parameters… How shallow can I be! On the other hand, how normal is that for mothers? What did I perceive would be the “right thing” for them?
Again, it’s all a perception thing. As I was writing this down, trying to put my thoughts into some logical order, attempting erudition and eloquence, I began to read it aloud to two of my sons. Quietness ensued, and then my critical son – known to me as “my worst critic” -- bellowed this long, extended, LOUD Burp! Perception truly is everything. Some things never change and some adages are “truisms” always.
My original intent, and still my primary focus, is to use this “blog” as the place to get my stories – finally – about motherhood and mothering, and life with my sons, out of the cobwebs of my mind and onto “paper”. However, things can change, can they? As a young girl growing up in the late ‘50’s and ‘60’s, I was encouraged to believe that a woman’s prerogative was to change her mind. Of course, we don’t talk in non-politically correct terms anymore, but there are some old adages that are worth trying to use when one deems it appropriate.
“Perception is everything” is another adage that has seen it’s time and perhaps is passing from usage. However, I believe it to be quite true. Here’s an example: This past weekend, Paul’s youngest brother and his wife came to visit. Really a treat, and an unexpected one, too. He’s probably the only in-law that likes me, and he is definitely the only one that has made an attempt to be in my boys’ lives. (ie coming to birthdays, Eagle Scout events, graduations, etc.) He’s a great man, very witty and smart, and very talented. And, so is his wife. They’ve only been married about 3 years, and we all really like her and glad she’s a member of the family.
Well, Tom told a story about when he was still in college and was painting Adam’s room with a “Wink ‘em, Blink ‘em, and Nod” motif, complete with shooting stars. He said that I told him he reminded me of the Carly Simon song “You’re so Vain”, because I felt he must be the vainest guy I knew because every time he walked past a mirror, he looked in it, smiled, fixed his hair or something. He assured me that even today my remark still kinda stung, because he was far from vain, instead being very insecure and unsure of himself, especially in the looks department.
Deliver me!!! This was 28 years ago!!! He was the cutest of guys then and is still a nice looking man at 50! Not only is he a good looking man, he only looks about 40! Unfair! And he was walking by the mirror checking himself out because he was afraid he was a dork. Who would have believed that!!! I perceived Tom to really have it all together – and knowing what to do with it!!! Then, it’s the perception was everything to me, but nothing to him.
However, in observing my 4 sons, who are the biological sons of me and Paul, been raised in the same house (we didn’t farm any of them out, promise!!), one can’t help but notice they are 4 of the most different men I know. They were raised by a mother that read the books about children’s self-esteem and tried her best to make sure the other people in their lives at least heard of some of the positive techniques. (I’m sorry, Stephen. Nothing could change your Paw Paw making “wah-h-h-h, wah-h-h-h” noises and horrible faces when you cried. Talk about self-esteem issues.) While I wondered, even worried, about them growing up with such well-defined egos they would believe they were invincible and unbeatable, and not depend on God enough, they are not as self-assured as I want them to be. Yes, I know I have one son that knows he’s “Superman” or at least is every girl’s “Knight in Shining Armor”, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
It’s the perception thing, still. It’s what I “perceived” I wanted them to be vs. what I “perceive” them as being today. I wanted them to grow up to be ready to tackle the world – to be ready to do anything and be able to do anything. Can they not do that? It was my perception that they would grow up to be successful, rich businessmen. Granted, while two of them are still young enough to be in college, none of them is quite what I perceived them to be. Hm-m-m-m…What then is successful? What is rich? Successful with money, with women, with God, with themselves… Rich in these same parameters… How shallow can I be! On the other hand, how normal is that for mothers? What did I perceive would be the “right thing” for them?
Again, it’s all a perception thing. As I was writing this down, trying to put my thoughts into some logical order, attempting erudition and eloquence, I began to read it aloud to two of my sons. Quietness ensued, and then my critical son – known to me as “my worst critic” -- bellowed this long, extended, LOUD Burp! Perception truly is everything. Some things never change and some adages are “truisms” always.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
"Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start."
Motherhood
Sorry guys (i.e. the men folk), but you’ll never understand it, appreciate it, or comprehend it. And girls, you too will never fully grasp the true scope and sequence of the word unless you join the ranks of motherhood.
Mothering
Yes, and while it is both a noun and a verb, it is a term that should not /never be compared or confused with Smothering. While many of us have felt the two were often synonymous, they are not. In fact, they are truly polars apart. I have so many people in my life to thank for helping me learn the fine art of “Mothering,” and while I have tried to share this knowledge with many other women, not all women have been receptive. Of course, there are many, many levels of mothering, many kinds of mothering and we shouldn’t be “judgmental” of those who “do it” differently. HOWEVER, thankfully, there were women who risked my non-acceptance of them and their ideas to share with me a lifestyle of mothering/loving/nurturing/parenting my children that I embraced. I would have been far less of a mother if I would have followed the traditional mores of the late 70’s and early 80’s, and I never would have had the chance to have the relationship with my now grown children that I so cherish.
Mother
On June 25, 1979, at 11:11 am, a nurse placed into my arms my first-born son for me to hold for the first time. He was a wanted and welcomed baby. I was 25 yrs old, my husband 30; but my parents were 58 and70! And this was their first grandchild! Wanted and welcomed, to say the very least! Here’s your baby. He’s yours. It’s your turn to take care of him. The interesting part of this baby-holding experience is that he was the very first baby I had ever held! Really!?!? You’ve got to be kidding, you say. No, truly I avoided babies altogether. I hadn’t baby-sat as a teenager like my friends. I was career-minded and didn’t have many friends that were “mommies”. I didn’t have any nieces or nephews that I had known as babies. I wasn’t really the baby type at all. And NOW, what is this cute little red-headed doll someone has placed in my arms that has IMMEDIATELY stolen my heart.
Paul and I had long decided on a more “natural” kind of existence. He was already the “live on an island”-type of guy, and was pulling me – oh, I mean encouraging me -- along into this lifestyle. We were learning to do without many trendy gadgets, opting for more homespun. We had decided that I would be a “stay-at-home” mom, and while I definitely knew that was the right thing to do, there were many other avenues, where I wasn’t going along very well, yet. We desired to have a 70’s style of natural childbirth, complete with daddy in the delivery room and mother-infant bonding via nursing on the delivery table. (These were still very big issues in the late 70’s. Few drs in our area were compliant.) Thankfully, the JERK that was my OB went out of town, and another dr, that seemed not to care what we did, was on call. Of course, we still had to follow the most conservative rules of the hospital (wearing masks and gloves to hold the baby, etc.), but we had a successful experience of sorts.
Finally, back to the mothering part. Let’s face it. I had no clue what I was doing. I don’t know how that could have been correct, however. Why, I had read ALL of the books available at the time whether they were good or not. I wanted to know it all. (The teacher/learner in me!) I was going to be a well-educated mother. Of course, a lot of that book-learning isn’t important, because we all know that this mothering thing is “natural.” All I had to do is follow my instincts. NOT! NOT! NOT! What a joke. Who ever told that lie, and got us all to believe it, was good! But, it is still a lie. I simply had no clue what to do.
Mothered
And, how dare he! This little beautiful red-headed doll wasn’t by Mattel after all. He was a live real baby. AND, he did not follow ANY of the rules in the books. He couldn’t tell time! He didn’t know how to follow a schedule! He wasn’t doing things the “right way”. Again, how dare he! He was messing up! Then, I “obviously” didn’t have enough milk, or my milk was “bad”. Why, this baby needed formula. Now it was ME messing up. I couldn’t even do this “naturally instinctive” mothering stuff. What was wrong with me? Well, perhaps this is all of the best, they said. That way we could give the baby a bottle, and I could go back to work and use this wonderful education I had instead of wasting it by staying home and becoming dumb.
Motherhood 101
La Leche League came to my rescue. Such an interesting bunch of nutty-as-a-fruitcake women, but with an idea, and a “brand’ or mothering that appealed to my “natural instincts.” Their battle cries of “baby the baby while it’s a baby, and you won’t have to baby the adult”, or “no one knows what is best for your baby like you do because no one know y our baby as well as you do”, became my mantras. All of the wacky ideas that seemed “natural and instinctive” to Paul and I, but the books and the doctors said were “wrong” or “harmful” or “potentially” something or other bad, we discovered weren’t so wacky anyway. There were many people and many doctors that found our particular type of mothering / parenting not only appropriate, but also nurturing, bonding, cultivating, and just downright, the RIGHT way to approach this mothering.
SO, first we threw away the clocks, then we forgot schedules, then we didn’t look at the calendar, and settled into simply loving our baby. Of course, we were now attempting to swim up stream amid raised eyebrows, scornful looks and acrid, crass remarks and opinions. Oh yes, in due time, we decided to risk further disdain and we even threw away the baby bed. I “scooched” over into the middle of our bed and made room for the baby and FINALLY we all got to sleep, to rest, and to snuggle, and to bond, and most importantly, to -- love!
Ah, Mothering!!
Sorry guys (i.e. the men folk), but you’ll never understand it, appreciate it, or comprehend it. And girls, you too will never fully grasp the true scope and sequence of the word unless you join the ranks of motherhood.
Mothering
Yes, and while it is both a noun and a verb, it is a term that should not /never be compared or confused with Smothering. While many of us have felt the two were often synonymous, they are not. In fact, they are truly polars apart. I have so many people in my life to thank for helping me learn the fine art of “Mothering,” and while I have tried to share this knowledge with many other women, not all women have been receptive. Of course, there are many, many levels of mothering, many kinds of mothering and we shouldn’t be “judgmental” of those who “do it” differently. HOWEVER, thankfully, there were women who risked my non-acceptance of them and their ideas to share with me a lifestyle of mothering/loving/nurturing/parenting my children that I embraced. I would have been far less of a mother if I would have followed the traditional mores of the late 70’s and early 80’s, and I never would have had the chance to have the relationship with my now grown children that I so cherish.
Mother
On June 25, 1979, at 11:11 am, a nurse placed into my arms my first-born son for me to hold for the first time. He was a wanted and welcomed baby. I was 25 yrs old, my husband 30; but my parents were 58 and70! And this was their first grandchild! Wanted and welcomed, to say the very least! Here’s your baby. He’s yours. It’s your turn to take care of him. The interesting part of this baby-holding experience is that he was the very first baby I had ever held! Really!?!? You’ve got to be kidding, you say. No, truly I avoided babies altogether. I hadn’t baby-sat as a teenager like my friends. I was career-minded and didn’t have many friends that were “mommies”. I didn’t have any nieces or nephews that I had known as babies. I wasn’t really the baby type at all. And NOW, what is this cute little red-headed doll someone has placed in my arms that has IMMEDIATELY stolen my heart.
Paul and I had long decided on a more “natural” kind of existence. He was already the “live on an island”-type of guy, and was pulling me – oh, I mean encouraging me -- along into this lifestyle. We were learning to do without many trendy gadgets, opting for more homespun. We had decided that I would be a “stay-at-home” mom, and while I definitely knew that was the right thing to do, there were many other avenues, where I wasn’t going along very well, yet. We desired to have a 70’s style of natural childbirth, complete with daddy in the delivery room and mother-infant bonding via nursing on the delivery table. (These were still very big issues in the late 70’s. Few drs in our area were compliant.) Thankfully, the JERK that was my OB went out of town, and another dr, that seemed not to care what we did, was on call. Of course, we still had to follow the most conservative rules of the hospital (wearing masks and gloves to hold the baby, etc.), but we had a successful experience of sorts.
Finally, back to the mothering part. Let’s face it. I had no clue what I was doing. I don’t know how that could have been correct, however. Why, I had read ALL of the books available at the time whether they were good or not. I wanted to know it all. (The teacher/learner in me!) I was going to be a well-educated mother. Of course, a lot of that book-learning isn’t important, because we all know that this mothering thing is “natural.” All I had to do is follow my instincts. NOT! NOT! NOT! What a joke. Who ever told that lie, and got us all to believe it, was good! But, it is still a lie. I simply had no clue what to do.
Mothered
And, how dare he! This little beautiful red-headed doll wasn’t by Mattel after all. He was a live real baby. AND, he did not follow ANY of the rules in the books. He couldn’t tell time! He didn’t know how to follow a schedule! He wasn’t doing things the “right way”. Again, how dare he! He was messing up! Then, I “obviously” didn’t have enough milk, or my milk was “bad”. Why, this baby needed formula. Now it was ME messing up. I couldn’t even do this “naturally instinctive” mothering stuff. What was wrong with me? Well, perhaps this is all of the best, they said. That way we could give the baby a bottle, and I could go back to work and use this wonderful education I had instead of wasting it by staying home and becoming dumb.
Motherhood 101
La Leche League came to my rescue. Such an interesting bunch of nutty-as-a-fruitcake women, but with an idea, and a “brand’ or mothering that appealed to my “natural instincts.” Their battle cries of “baby the baby while it’s a baby, and you won’t have to baby the adult”, or “no one knows what is best for your baby like you do because no one know y our baby as well as you do”, became my mantras. All of the wacky ideas that seemed “natural and instinctive” to Paul and I, but the books and the doctors said were “wrong” or “harmful” or “potentially” something or other bad, we discovered weren’t so wacky anyway. There were many people and many doctors that found our particular type of mothering / parenting not only appropriate, but also nurturing, bonding, cultivating, and just downright, the RIGHT way to approach this mothering.
SO, first we threw away the clocks, then we forgot schedules, then we didn’t look at the calendar, and settled into simply loving our baby. Of course, we were now attempting to swim up stream amid raised eyebrows, scornful looks and acrid, crass remarks and opinions. Oh yes, in due time, we decided to risk further disdain and we even threw away the baby bed. I “scooched” over into the middle of our bed and made room for the baby and FINALLY we all got to sleep, to rest, and to snuggle, and to bond, and most importantly, to -- love!
Ah, Mothering!!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
One word. No explanations.
I have waited and waited for the chance, the place, the time to do "this". Thanks, Adam for all of your help, your love, your support. I hope you feel the same from me. You are the greatest #1 son in the whole wide world.
And now... TA DA...
1. Yourself: accepting
2. Your spouse:BEST
3. Your hair: graying
4. Your mother: pattern
5. Your father: brilliant
6. Your favorite item: punches
7. Your dream last night: tiring
8. Your favorite drink: coke!
9. Your dream car: cadillac
0. The room you are in: office
11. Your ex: gone
12. Your fear: alone
13. What you want to be in 10 years: grandma!
14. Who you hung out with last night: couch
15. What you're not: skinny
16. Muffins: spice
17: One of your wish list items:"craft room"
18: Time: flies
19. The last thing you did: ate
20. What you are wearing: denim
21. Your favorite weather: fall-ish
22. Your favorite book: old
23. The last thing you ate: burrito
24. Your life: GRAND
25. Your mood:hyper
26. Your best friend: unexpected
27. What you're thinking about right now: me
28. Your car: Chevy
29. What you are doing at the moment: typing
30. Your summer: difficult
31. Your relationship status: loved
32. What is on your TV: jibberish
33. What is the weather like: humid
34. When was the last time you laughed: tonight
And now... TA DA...
1. Yourself: accepting
2. Your spouse:BEST
3. Your hair: graying
4. Your mother: pattern
5. Your father: brilliant
6. Your favorite item: punches
7. Your dream last night: tiring
8. Your favorite drink: coke!
9. Your dream car: cadillac
0. The room you are in: office
11. Your ex: gone
12. Your fear: alone
13. What you want to be in 10 years: grandma!
14. Who you hung out with last night: couch
15. What you're not: skinny
16. Muffins: spice
17: One of your wish list items:"craft room"
18: Time: flies
19. The last thing you did: ate
20. What you are wearing: denim
21. Your favorite weather: fall-ish
22. Your favorite book: old
23. The last thing you ate: burrito
24. Your life: GRAND
25. Your mood:hyper
26. Your best friend: unexpected
27. What you're thinking about right now: me
28. Your car: Chevy
29. What you are doing at the moment: typing
30. Your summer: difficult
31. Your relationship status: loved
32. What is on your TV: jibberish
33. What is the weather like: humid
34. When was the last time you laughed: tonight
This is it! Or something like that...
I've been told -- or perhaps by some standards encouraged -- to start a blog. A blog! Why -- I've said slightly ugly things about people who have all of this time to sit around and not only write their own thoughts, but also read other's ramblings. Then, during an incredibly trying time in my life, while reading the only 3 blogs I've ever kept up with, I decided to expand my proverbial horizons and try my hand at writing and reading at other sites.
Oh, was I ever dismayed (if that is even a word!) While I have belonged to many diverse organizations during my lifetime (La Leche League, Scouts, Ham Radio, food co-ops, a fundamental church) that have definitely made me feel that there are DECIDEDLY different people in the world, I now had hard written proof of their existence. I read about these people and entered into their world of words that gave me more the reason to feel like I needed to just keep my thoughts and opinions to myself -- I surely did wish they had!
Oh well, here I am anyway. My favorite oldest son has come home for the weekend and, with the suggestion of a family friend, has taken me to this site and helped me begin what hopefully will be a fun, exciting, and learning experience.
I want to begin my making the admission that I really don't expect anyone to read this with any regularity. Sure, I know that my "booster club" of APN, Nate, and Wilsonian might keep tabs on me making me feel good about my endeavor, but I don't expect the masses to come. This is not a "you write it and they will come" type of experiment. Like many people, I have always wanted to write a bookor even better a school curriculum. However, while raising 4 sons and working to "school" them, I never either had the time or made the time. So, I want for this space and time to be a place where I can tell my stories, where I can share my experiences, where I can put to paper the words in my heart.
Was that syrupy or what! But that's what I want in/from this venue. And... I do have some stories to tell, too!!
later...
Oh, was I ever dismayed (if that is even a word!) While I have belonged to many diverse organizations during my lifetime (La Leche League, Scouts, Ham Radio, food co-ops, a fundamental church) that have definitely made me feel that there are DECIDEDLY different people in the world, I now had hard written proof of their existence. I read about these people and entered into their world of words that gave me more the reason to feel like I needed to just keep my thoughts and opinions to myself -- I surely did wish they had!
Oh well, here I am anyway. My favorite oldest son has come home for the weekend and, with the suggestion of a family friend, has taken me to this site and helped me begin what hopefully will be a fun, exciting, and learning experience.
I want to begin my making the admission that I really don't expect anyone to read this with any regularity. Sure, I know that my "booster club" of APN, Nate, and Wilsonian might keep tabs on me making me feel good about my endeavor, but I don't expect the masses to come. This is not a "you write it and they will come" type of experiment. Like many people, I have always wanted to write a bookor even better a school curriculum. However, while raising 4 sons and working to "school" them, I never either had the time or made the time. So, I want for this space and time to be a place where I can tell my stories, where I can share my experiences, where I can put to paper the words in my heart.
Was that syrupy or what! But that's what I want in/from this venue. And... I do have some stories to tell, too!!
later...
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