For anyone (is there anyone, other than my husband?) wondering, I will be taking a short hiatus. Will post whenever.
Over.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Patience
Earlier I discussed self-control, which relates to patience. If you have a fair amount of patience, it stands to reason that self-control will naturally come easier.
The more I consider patience, the more I think that it may relate to more than just calm and anger. What about the parent whose child is ill, who patiently waits for the medicine to finally start working, so they'll see their child's eyes light up again? What about every mom out there who waits and waits for the first word and the first few steps? Each of these moments reward our patience beyond measure. I think every mom would agree that every second of waiting is well worth the reward.
As the child grows, our patience becomes intertwined with our faith in our child. Patiently waiting for your adolescent to make the right decision, which you know in your heart will happen eventually, can seem grueling. They need you to be patient in order to grow and move forward. The question is, can you be as patient as they need?
The answer, of course, is no, not always. We all have moments when we can't wait patiently any more. We want, and need, our children to grow up and give us a moment's peace. I hope my children will understand my occasional impatience, which often threatens my self-control. I think that this impatience is also tied with our faith - we believe completely our kids can do what we need them to. Why can't they just hurry up and do it? As if it should be so easy for them. It wasn't easy for us.
"Patience is a virtue." I'm sick of hearing it, because I know it's true. I don't need someone's self-righteous advice. The people that tend to say it the most, in my experience, need to follow their own advice before chastising me. Just because I don't always accomplish my goals doesn't mean that I don't know what they are.
I would love to always be patient and understanding with my kids, but I know I'm not perfect. Does that mean I won't strive to be as patient with them, in all ways, as possible? Never. Knowing you're not perfect is not an admission of defeat or wrongdoing.
This has been a very tangled mess of an entry for me. I can't get my head wrapped around it, and it seemed in the beginning like such a simple idea. Maybe that's because my mother is always impatient; maybe it's because I feel like I'm failing at something that should be so easy. Either way, I know I need to work on it. I need to be more patient with my kids, my family, my very patient husband, and even the family cat.
I'm going to keep trying. In the meantime, could you give me some ideas of middle-of-the-road good traits for a mother? I've got some ideas for the big stuff, but I may not be ready to handle that yet.
The more I consider patience, the more I think that it may relate to more than just calm and anger. What about the parent whose child is ill, who patiently waits for the medicine to finally start working, so they'll see their child's eyes light up again? What about every mom out there who waits and waits for the first word and the first few steps? Each of these moments reward our patience beyond measure. I think every mom would agree that every second of waiting is well worth the reward.
As the child grows, our patience becomes intertwined with our faith in our child. Patiently waiting for your adolescent to make the right decision, which you know in your heart will happen eventually, can seem grueling. They need you to be patient in order to grow and move forward. The question is, can you be as patient as they need?
The answer, of course, is no, not always. We all have moments when we can't wait patiently any more. We want, and need, our children to grow up and give us a moment's peace. I hope my children will understand my occasional impatience, which often threatens my self-control. I think that this impatience is also tied with our faith - we believe completely our kids can do what we need them to. Why can't they just hurry up and do it? As if it should be so easy for them. It wasn't easy for us.
"Patience is a virtue." I'm sick of hearing it, because I know it's true. I don't need someone's self-righteous advice. The people that tend to say it the most, in my experience, need to follow their own advice before chastising me. Just because I don't always accomplish my goals doesn't mean that I don't know what they are.
I would love to always be patient and understanding with my kids, but I know I'm not perfect. Does that mean I won't strive to be as patient with them, in all ways, as possible? Never. Knowing you're not perfect is not an admission of defeat or wrongdoing.
This has been a very tangled mess of an entry for me. I can't get my head wrapped around it, and it seemed in the beginning like such a simple idea. Maybe that's because my mother is always impatient; maybe it's because I feel like I'm failing at something that should be so easy. Either way, I know I need to work on it. I need to be more patient with my kids, my family, my very patient husband, and even the family cat.
I'm going to keep trying. In the meantime, could you give me some ideas of middle-of-the-road good traits for a mother? I've got some ideas for the big stuff, but I may not be ready to handle that yet.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Insight and intuition
While no one can predict the future or read minds, I believe that people who are closely attuned to each other have an intuition that is unmatched. Sometimes that comes simply from time together, and other times it just happens.
I'd like to think that mothers, as a whole, tend to have more intuitions and insights about their own children, which may be innate or resulting from the time together, especially in the child's first few years.
But if you don't have it, how do you find it? Is it something that can be learned? I'm not sure I can answer that.
Let's consider instead whether insight is truly necessary. As infants, children have only one way of expressing their needs. Most of them do it very well, and most parents learn to recognize what's wrong by how their child's cries sound. In order to physically raise a healthy child, you have to at least be willing to listen.
This continues, or should continue, as a child grows older. I don't think it happens often, though. Most children, as they grow up and become individuals, grow apart from their parents. I don't know if it's intentional for everyone. It isn't for me; in fact, it's been very hard trying to come to a decision regarding my relationship with my mom. Maybe this is just a natural occurrence for some families. Maybe the types of personalities involved make closely-bonded life impractical.
With my autistic son, it's always been more of a priority to try to understand how he feels, because he hasn't always talked. He's just learning now, and he's nowhere near catching up with his younger sister. For example, trying to understand why he was awake at midnight, shivering in his bed, was difficult. Once we understood that he wasn't cold or sick, but just needed to use the restroom, our task as parents became much harder. He refused to go in the bathroom because of what he saw through the window. We didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he was terrified, and held on to the doorframe to keep from going in. We eventually got him into the bathroom, and afterwards, he fell asleep in minutes. What would have happened if we left him shivering in the bed? Was it worse for us to force him to face his fears, whatever they are? There's no way to know. I hope we did the right thing, based on our instincts and what we already knew about him.
If that's all we can do as parents, hope to do the right thing, based on how well we know our children, then it seems obvious that everyone should play a strong role in their child's life. If you don't spend time with your child, how will you ever know if they need you? And if you don't spend time with them, will they ever feel comfortable asking you for help?
There are many things I don't know about being the best parent to my kids, but I know I want to be there for them, even if they don't need me.
I'd like to think that mothers, as a whole, tend to have more intuitions and insights about their own children, which may be innate or resulting from the time together, especially in the child's first few years.
But if you don't have it, how do you find it? Is it something that can be learned? I'm not sure I can answer that.
Let's consider instead whether insight is truly necessary. As infants, children have only one way of expressing their needs. Most of them do it very well, and most parents learn to recognize what's wrong by how their child's cries sound. In order to physically raise a healthy child, you have to at least be willing to listen.
This continues, or should continue, as a child grows older. I don't think it happens often, though. Most children, as they grow up and become individuals, grow apart from their parents. I don't know if it's intentional for everyone. It isn't for me; in fact, it's been very hard trying to come to a decision regarding my relationship with my mom. Maybe this is just a natural occurrence for some families. Maybe the types of personalities involved make closely-bonded life impractical.
With my autistic son, it's always been more of a priority to try to understand how he feels, because he hasn't always talked. He's just learning now, and he's nowhere near catching up with his younger sister. For example, trying to understand why he was awake at midnight, shivering in his bed, was difficult. Once we understood that he wasn't cold or sick, but just needed to use the restroom, our task as parents became much harder. He refused to go in the bathroom because of what he saw through the window. We didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he was terrified, and held on to the doorframe to keep from going in. We eventually got him into the bathroom, and afterwards, he fell asleep in minutes. What would have happened if we left him shivering in the bed? Was it worse for us to force him to face his fears, whatever they are? There's no way to know. I hope we did the right thing, based on our instincts and what we already knew about him.
If that's all we can do as parents, hope to do the right thing, based on how well we know our children, then it seems obvious that everyone should play a strong role in their child's life. If you don't spend time with your child, how will you ever know if they need you? And if you don't spend time with them, will they ever feel comfortable asking you for help?
There are many things I don't know about being the best parent to my kids, but I know I want to be there for them, even if they don't need me.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Faith
I'm not a spiritual person, most of the time. I have this vague idea that there might be something, somewhere, that neglects us most of the time. Faith, to me, is a belief in a person that he or she will keep their promises and achieve their goals, even if the situation doesn't seem that way. It's a certainty that a particular person will find a way to make it happen.
I feel this way about Barack Obama. I have faith that he can do what he wants to do, and what he promised to do, even when all of his critics begin to wax sarcastic that he will never be able to, based on his current actions. (By the way, regardless of the fact that I live in a very red state, I am very much blue.)
Back to the subject at hand: faith in a child.
There's a song my husband found for me, kind of a punk rock thing for Mother's Day. The line that always sticks out to me is, "She encourages me in whatever I do." It's an odd line in a punk song, of course, but it always makes me think of the perfect mother (or parent). I would like to think that if I did decide to try to be an acrobat, that my mother would do all she could to support me. She wouldn't, though. She would remind me how clumsy I am, and how dangerous that could be, and that really, I should just stick with my normal recreational activities, i.e., housewife stuff. She would mean well while saying it, though.
In my ideal future, I will have complete faith in my children. I know my daughter has artistic tendencies, and that she can rock those with abandon. But I tend to be too realistic when she starts telling me she'll be queen of the earth. Is that wrong? At what point is it no longer "explaining what is realistically possible" and when does it become "shooting down your child's dreams"? I'm sure that physical limitations are allowed, at least regarding actual physics. (My daughter likes to tell us what she used to do when she was older. It's hysterical.) What if I just don't want her to be disappointed when she isn't elected queen of the earth?
My husband and I have already discussed what we'll do if one of the kids is homosexual. I said, "nothing". Either one of the kids can be straight or gay - I want them both to be happy and not restrained. My husband agreed, but only after he hesitated. While I would like to think that my imagined reaction is what would happen, I can't really know. Maybe that's why my husband hesitated. No one knows definitely.
The end result of this is that I don't want to have a lack of faith in my children. I want to believe they can succeed at everything they try. Most of all, I don't want to be my mother to them. I suspect this is not the last of many traits that my mother lacks, and not the last that I wish to avoid. My mom has the best of intentions; if only she considered how her words would affect the recipient before she let fly. I can't say much on that topic; my mouth is continually moving.
My hope for my children is health and happiness. My hope for myself and my husband is to be included in their futures. Who knows how things will unfold?
I, for one, have faith that my kids will always know I love them.
I feel this way about Barack Obama. I have faith that he can do what he wants to do, and what he promised to do, even when all of his critics begin to wax sarcastic that he will never be able to, based on his current actions. (By the way, regardless of the fact that I live in a very red state, I am very much blue.)
Back to the subject at hand: faith in a child.
There's a song my husband found for me, kind of a punk rock thing for Mother's Day. The line that always sticks out to me is, "She encourages me in whatever I do." It's an odd line in a punk song, of course, but it always makes me think of the perfect mother (or parent). I would like to think that if I did decide to try to be an acrobat, that my mother would do all she could to support me. She wouldn't, though. She would remind me how clumsy I am, and how dangerous that could be, and that really, I should just stick with my normal recreational activities, i.e., housewife stuff. She would mean well while saying it, though.
In my ideal future, I will have complete faith in my children. I know my daughter has artistic tendencies, and that she can rock those with abandon. But I tend to be too realistic when she starts telling me she'll be queen of the earth. Is that wrong? At what point is it no longer "explaining what is realistically possible" and when does it become "shooting down your child's dreams"? I'm sure that physical limitations are allowed, at least regarding actual physics. (My daughter likes to tell us what she used to do when she was older. It's hysterical.) What if I just don't want her to be disappointed when she isn't elected queen of the earth?
My husband and I have already discussed what we'll do if one of the kids is homosexual. I said, "nothing". Either one of the kids can be straight or gay - I want them both to be happy and not restrained. My husband agreed, but only after he hesitated. While I would like to think that my imagined reaction is what would happen, I can't really know. Maybe that's why my husband hesitated. No one knows definitely.
The end result of this is that I don't want to have a lack of faith in my children. I want to believe they can succeed at everything they try. Most of all, I don't want to be my mother to them. I suspect this is not the last of many traits that my mother lacks, and not the last that I wish to avoid. My mom has the best of intentions; if only she considered how her words would affect the recipient before she let fly. I can't say much on that topic; my mouth is continually moving.
My hope for my children is health and happiness. My hope for myself and my husband is to be included in their futures. Who knows how things will unfold?
I, for one, have faith that my kids will always know I love them.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Self-control
Everyone has a temper. Everyone has buttons that can be pushed, some more easily than others. Everyone loses their shit sometimes. It's hard not to do that in front of your kids, or even to your kids. So how do you control it?
The problem is that people tend to lose their tempers more quickly if they're tired, over-stressed or over-worked. That is the Webster's definition of most good parents: exhausted, all of the time. No one can do all that is required to raise a child and not lose their temper sometimes. The ideal situation is two parents, working in a tag-team system. Ideal doesn't always work, though, when you factor in jobs, errands, colds and flus, and general exhaustion.
I'm not too proud to say that I haven't lost my temper, on an epic level, with my kids. So has my husband. Does that mean that I don't love my children? Of course not! They are the purpose of my life. They're also infuriating sometimes. Maybe what's most frustrating is how hard I try to make things right, and how quickly they can turn things around. My kids are like mini-tornados, made up partly of happiness, anger, jealousy, greed, sweet and loving affection, and a strong desire for anything coated in sugar. It's easy to love them, and it's very easy to get frustrated when they act like tyrants.
When I get angry, I would like to say that I breathe deeply and try to assess the situation in a calm manner. Most of the time, I explode. But I'm getting better!
The problem is that people tend to lose their tempers more quickly if they're tired, over-stressed or over-worked. That is the Webster's definition of most good parents: exhausted, all of the time. No one can do all that is required to raise a child and not lose their temper sometimes. The ideal situation is two parents, working in a tag-team system. Ideal doesn't always work, though, when you factor in jobs, errands, colds and flus, and general exhaustion.
I'm not too proud to say that I haven't lost my temper, on an epic level, with my kids. So has my husband. Does that mean that I don't love my children? Of course not! They are the purpose of my life. They're also infuriating sometimes. Maybe what's most frustrating is how hard I try to make things right, and how quickly they can turn things around. My kids are like mini-tornados, made up partly of happiness, anger, jealousy, greed, sweet and loving affection, and a strong desire for anything coated in sugar. It's easy to love them, and it's very easy to get frustrated when they act like tyrants.
When I get angry, I would like to say that I breathe deeply and try to assess the situation in a calm manner. Most of the time, I explode. But I'm getting better!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Pre-natal concerns
In the current day and age, everything a pregnant woman does is scrutinized, by everyone, even people she's never met. We have to give up all sorts of things that make us feel good, even though most of the time we feel like crap.
Expectant mothers today are required to give up alcohol and smoking, of course, but also caffeine, which is in chocolate! We're instructed to exercise, but not too vigorously, have as much sex as we want, even if we don't want to, and avoid cat litter. (OK, that last one was a bonus.)
We're also expected to let everyone on the face of the planet touch our bellies, without so much as a by-your-leave. Weight gain is a must, but not too much, and don't forget to talk and sing to your fetus, even if your singing voice makes your husband cringe. Prenatal vitamins are huge, and leave a disgusting aftertaste. Regarding morning sickness, I was lucky enough to only have it once with each of my pregnancies. I have a couple friends, though, who were sick every day. I can't even imagine.
We get all sorts of gifts, mostly for the baby, but it's fun anyway. There are some parties which you have to attend, even though you'd rather stay at home and eat the forbidden chocolate.
Mainly, though, people think you will be happy all the time. Most of the time, I was. When I wasn't, everybody but me was confused. I'm not confused. Pregnant women of the world, be as bitchy as you want. This process may be a miracle, but it's still a huge pain in the ass sometimes.
I refuse to discuss natural birth, mostly because those women are saints. I had two c-sections and it was painful, but I still think it could have been much more painful.
For the most part, everything turns out alright. There are some families that have tragic problems, regardless of all their careful planning. There are some women who deliver babies with horrible problems, but it's expected because they did all the wrong things, like drinking, smoking, and doing drugs. I know a child resulting from that type of situation, and in addition to all of the physical maladies he has because of his mother's attempts to kill him in utero (her words), he also has Down's syndrome. He is alive, and that's truly amazing, but his life will be very hard. I don't understand those women.
I think that everyone will agree that in order to be a good mother, one must, from the very beginning, protect and nurture her child to the best of her ability. Before her child even enters the world, the child must be shown as much love as possible, by caring for it throughout the pregnancy.
It seems like this first quality is the easiest of all.
Expectant mothers today are required to give up alcohol and smoking, of course, but also caffeine, which is in chocolate! We're instructed to exercise, but not too vigorously, have as much sex as we want, even if we don't want to, and avoid cat litter. (OK, that last one was a bonus.)
We're also expected to let everyone on the face of the planet touch our bellies, without so much as a by-your-leave. Weight gain is a must, but not too much, and don't forget to talk and sing to your fetus, even if your singing voice makes your husband cringe. Prenatal vitamins are huge, and leave a disgusting aftertaste. Regarding morning sickness, I was lucky enough to only have it once with each of my pregnancies. I have a couple friends, though, who were sick every day. I can't even imagine.
We get all sorts of gifts, mostly for the baby, but it's fun anyway. There are some parties which you have to attend, even though you'd rather stay at home and eat the forbidden chocolate.
Mainly, though, people think you will be happy all the time. Most of the time, I was. When I wasn't, everybody but me was confused. I'm not confused. Pregnant women of the world, be as bitchy as you want. This process may be a miracle, but it's still a huge pain in the ass sometimes.
I refuse to discuss natural birth, mostly because those women are saints. I had two c-sections and it was painful, but I still think it could have been much more painful.
For the most part, everything turns out alright. There are some families that have tragic problems, regardless of all their careful planning. There are some women who deliver babies with horrible problems, but it's expected because they did all the wrong things, like drinking, smoking, and doing drugs. I know a child resulting from that type of situation, and in addition to all of the physical maladies he has because of his mother's attempts to kill him in utero (her words), he also has Down's syndrome. He is alive, and that's truly amazing, but his life will be very hard. I don't understand those women.
I think that everyone will agree that in order to be a good mother, one must, from the very beginning, protect and nurture her child to the best of her ability. Before her child even enters the world, the child must be shown as much love as possible, by caring for it throughout the pregnancy.
It seems like this first quality is the easiest of all.
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