Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
"As I studied the baffling and plentiful writings on self-esteem, the more I read of secular things, the more I found myself concentrating on the scriptures. I began to see how placing importance on self-esteem itself instead of on the "just and right" and its "management" has evolved into mass selfishness in every age. When we believe we must feel worthy in and of ourselves to think well of ourselves, we look skeptically at the need for growth: it threatens our self-satisfaction. We must not look up to others, because we can't consider ourselves any less. We must not give ourselves constructively critical evaluation, because we must believe we deserve life's rewards just as we are. Preoccupied with the self's status quo, we eschew growth and therefore forfeit progress toward eternal life. Peace doesn't come. Insecurity remains." (page 16)
Yeah, yeah, it makes perfect sense now. What was I thinking?! I kind of feel like I've wasted a day in preparation, but I've also had some great conversations on the subject. So, it is what it is. The question was brought up as to what the author meant by "look up to others". What do you think? I was thinking it was referring to admiring others. If you admire someone else that means they can be better than you and, by the world's definition, that would lower your self-esteem. Admiring someone should be a good thing (provided it is a righteous quality), and we should always be trying to improve ourselves to become more like God. The quote above is a little confusing since she has used the negative before what we really should be doing. Make sense?
Here's a couple more quotes from C.S. Lewis that I liked on the subject. (I'm really going to have to read his book Mere Christianity someday.)
"If you really get into any kind of touch with Him you will, in fact, be humble- delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once got rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life. He is trying to make you humble in order to make this moment possible." (pg 114)
and what's the opposite of humility? Pride...
"As long as you are proud, you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you." (pg 111)
I suppose, if you don't like the idea of giving up your self-esteem, you can use the word pride instead. It is my understanding that Sister Rasband is using the word self-esteem like many people use the word pride.
Thanks for all your input thus far! Keep it coming.
• In the 20th Century having self-esteem has become a right and given preeminence. We are told that we must feel or believe that we are valuable, not that what we do must be of value. You can feel your inadequacies deep inside, but in today’s world don’t acknowledge them.
• “When we believe we must feel worthy in and of ourselves to think well of ourselves, we look skeptically at the need for growth: it threatens our self-satisfaction. We must not look up to others, because we can’t consider ourselves any less. We must not give ourselves constructively critical evaluation, because we must believe we deserve life’s rewards just as we are” (pg 16)
• If we look at the Christian paradox, we must lose ourselves to find ourselves, there really is no room for self-esteem. Is there?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
2nd hour: A parent asked a question and I recognized her voice. I turned around and sure enough, I knew her. Kyra and her son played together when they were about 3 years old. Small world.
3rd hour: Recognized a different parent (Lisa) from 2nd hour and discovered that it was both of our kid's first year at McKemy.
4th hour: Can't stand the teacher. She made good cookies but the 10 minutes I spent in there was about 9 minutes too long.
5th hour: Lunch. Joined the PTSA.
6th hour: Science. Saw Lisa again. That's 3 classes our children share, and they have the next 2 together as well. We walk to 7th and 8th period together and discover:
- we both went to THS
- both are learly of sending our kids there
- both feel like traitors if we send them to McClintock
- we live about 3 blocks from each other
7th hour: While exchanging phone numbers with Lisa, we got shushed by the parent that I knew from 2nd hour. Odd. The teacher explains that the 2nd quarter they will be reading The Outsiders. Hello?! That was only my favorite book of all time as a youth! The teacher explained that she didn't like reading as a child until she read this book. She read it over and over and then all the S.E. Hinton novels. Hello again! That is my life story, right there sista! I told her so.
8th hour: Volunteered to edit papers at home for the teacher. She loves me. She's also the one that gave the kids extra homework this evening because they complained about the 4 sentence homework they had. Awesome. I love her too!
Kyra's been happy the past few days and things have been going smoother. I've had my doubts, like any parent does when helping their child adjust to a new place, but it all came together tonight. I sat on Kyra's bed all giddy and silly telling her about the friend that I made. She laughed at me but was smiling the whole time. It's going to be OK. We're gonna make it.
A: Not a chance.
Payton has been standing for a very long time now. He cruises like it's no body's business. He's started reaching and testing his limits to get from one item of furniture to the next, or to a leg or hand or whatever. But he just won't take a step. Don't listen to Bill. Or Tasha. Or Kyra. It didn't happen because I didn't see it. He just likes to stand and then he dives at me. I believe he has lead feet and can't pick them up.
Well, if it did happen it must have been because of his haircut. Bill buzzed his head Monday and I imagine it was his hair that was weighing him down. Now, free from the fluff in his eyes, he could see where he was going clearly...
But on Tuesday he didn't take another step. So, the verdict is still out. The verdict on his walking, that is. The verdict on the haircut is that he's a charmer with or without hair! (plus also, it's just fun to rub!)
Bill: messy Payton...did you yell at him? no
H: I can't use that word with him!
Bill: u cant say no?
H: only to you :p
H: I think PT just ate dog food...
Bill: is he barking? or just scooting across the floor wiping his butt?
H: the later.
Well, whatever. Payton just left little apple deposits all across the living room floor.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Yesterday was kind of a scattered day with people going a few different directions, Bill cooking dinner, and Tasha being left behind to watch Payton as Kyra and I went off to a boutique. At the end of the day, when all went well, I offered up the last of the ice cream. All the kids were showered and there sat Payton, on top of the table, going back and forth between sisters, licking their ice cream cones. He happily flapped his arms as he leaned from one cone to the next as Kyra and Tasha giggled and debated whose ice cream he liked better. Bill came into the kitchen and we just stood there admiring them. They're good kids. They are cute and lovable and love each other. You can't tell it all the time, but at that moment it was obvious.
Payton was also particularly cute today. I don't know if it was his jumbo sized button down shirt he had to wear or his scraggly hair that needs to be cut somehow, but I was just in love with this boy and kissing on him all day. He's been pretty mellow all weekend and maybe someone pointing that out to me helped as well. Is it possible that I have a low-maintenance child after all these years of drama? Who knows, only time will tell. He seems to be getting another tooth or two since he's been a little cranky, nursing all the time, and a boogie nose, but somehow, at this moment, that's OK with me. His little spirit is calling out for love and comfort and I'm able to give it freely.
We all gathered in the living room this evening and watched That Thing You Do. Bill and I love that show and figured it was family friendly and full of music. The girls sat through it all and I even got to play Tasha's leg like a guitar. My brother used to do that to me all the time and I thought it was hilarious. I'm sure she'll say something to Thomas the next time we see him. It was a good night. A mellow night. We even had a 5 minute scripture study before the movie. And Tasha got Payton laughing so hard that he fell over. Three times. It was hilarious.
I guess it's just been a family time weekend and it was unplanned. If we had planned it I'm sure things would have gone haywire and been a mess. You can't plan times like these, you just have to appreciate them. Seize the moment and cherish it in your heart. It might never be duplicated, but the feeling of love will always be there as a memory. Thank you, sweet family, for a wonderful few days.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
BLAH! Makes me want to puke. Or at least stay up late eating ding dongs and chips and salsa and watching scary movies so I'm sure to have nightmares, thus rendering me useless come dawn. I thought some of this attitude would change when I became a mother and had responsibilities. So far, four responsibilities later, no change. It's nearly 11pm at night and I'm just now getting around to opening a school letter that apparently came last week some time. Why would I open it in the daylight hours? All the chattering, hungry, filthy responsibilities are running around at my feet and in my face. I can't get anything done or concentrate with all that jibber-jabber going on.
In my welcome letter the teacher writes, and I quote:
"Your child's educational experience begins upon waking...Try to make your child's waking, readying, and travel to school as pleasant, consistent, and rhythmical as possible, for a child who is awakened gently, has a consistent and timely morning ritual of washing, dressing, etc, and who receives a warm, nourishing protein-filled breakfast, is a child who is ready to begin a day of learning."
See now, if I had read that last sentence in the morning it would have made no sense to me at all. It makes perfect sense to me right now but that doesn't mean I can do it. Well, I could do it if I could start the morning off at 11pm at night. OK, I realize I'm coming off as joking about all this, but I really am sincere. I've tried to be a morning person but it's just not in me. I've met morning people, and it just doesn't rub off. I've even had a stint of a couple of months where I woke up at 5am every day and I tell ya, still not a morning person. I'm perfectly capable of doing stuff and thinking and whatnot, but please don't ask me to interact with people in a "pleasant, consistent and rhythmical" manner. When I was teenager I actually told (maybe screamed) my mom, "can I PLEASE just have a shower before you bombard me with questions?!"
The letter goes on, assuming that you have had a peaceful morning ritual in your home and not the draggingherbuttoutofbedandeatingoatmealinthecarwhileputtingonhershoes experience that is more typical of last year, and says:
"Sometimes travel makes it difficult to sustain the peacefulness of a morning ritual. Please make every effort to let your child's travel to school be as hassle free as possible. Young children especially, need not be exposed to audio book tapes, electronic hand-held games, news, music or inappropriate conversation while traveling to school. parents are encouraged to discuss their expectations with any carpool drivers in order to reach a common understanding."
Double ugh. Tell me now: how am I supposed to drive to school with out some head thumpin' music to drown out the children's inappropriate conversations? Huh? Huh? Answer me this question please! I'm trying very hard to figure out if I'm turning onto Priest or 48th street, I can't redirect conversation amongst elementary school children. If they want to talk poop and pee or Pokemon then that is their business. I can't maintain a coherent thought in my own head, much less come up with appropriate 6 and 7 year old conversation over the whines of 9 month old. Music I tell ya, music is my saving grace. Sorry carpool buddy, this is the way we roll.
So, I'll try with all my might to entertain these values. But, at the end of the morning, I'm going to be happy if Tasha made it to school dressed, 2 unmatched socks, unkempt hair, and a few spoonfuls of oatmeal that she ate while singing, "I am a rock star, I got my rock boots, and I don't need you tonight." It's alright. School will go on and learning will commence.
The officer that works at McKemy is quite the traffic cop. He has cars and buses moving in and out of that place like it's no body's business. At first I thought he was out there to actually police the streets and send people on their way which would just be a nightmare. Much to my delight however, I realized that he was making things easier and having people break traffic rules to get things moving. Amen to that cop! And yes Bill, I rolled down my window and thanked him. He said, "Well, what can you do? This school was built in the 50's it wasn't prepared for this." Super cool.
I thought an Open House was just that, "open". I thought it meant that you could come and go like the wind, in and out at your pleasure, no formal gathering or lectures. I was wrong. Next time I'll read the parent letter and discover that when the school has an open house, the first grade has a parent meeting. Maybe then I'll be on time.
Only at a Waldorf school will a parent raise their hand and ask, "can you speak to the rhythm of the day?" I think I did an audible gasp as I choked on my Waldorf salad, realizing that I absolutely will never quite fit in at DMS. In her defense, she apparently works at the school and is accustomed to using such terminology. But I tell ya, the first time I hear someone say "pedagogy" it is going to take all my energy to not shove my pedi-somethin' in their mouth. Just sayin'. I guess I'm just not that learn-ed, edjumicated, or at least not that eloquent.
Tasha just needs to feel useful. All week long she's been a gem. (And by week I'm talking about the last 5-6 days, not just since Sunday!) She's had chores to do and sewing to complete and has kept her room picked up. Maybe she's just growing into her 6 year old body and is ready to start first grade, who knows? Today she single-handedly took care of Payton (willingly!) while I helped Kyra through a rough patch of Monday morning, second week of school, blues. Love it!
The end of "summer" (like the official meaning of summer, not the heat that is Arizona) is upon us. I'm going to have to give up my Sonic vice. I've gotten very accustomed to happy hour at Sonic and a ginormous cranberry limeade. Yum.
I might just fit in at DMS. Bill pointed out that another mother said, "what if sewing that thing just isn't going to happen at my house?" That makes me chuckle. Sewing is something I can do. Sing-song voice and rythmic morning (I've got a post in the works for that one) are just not in me. Neither are granola/earthy/organic meals/clothes/school supplies. Just not happenin'. Sorry.
And back to Junie B. Here's a quote of hers from school. Her teacher, "Mrs." ('cuz that's the only part of her name that Junie B. likes) is coming toward her desk because she's in trouble. "Guess what? I am going to do my work now, " I said. "Plus also, I am not even going to talk. 'Cause I don't actually like anyone in this area." I don't know if we should all be a little more or a little less Junie B. like.
If, after a friend was your house, they break something and then call and apologize for it and you forget to call them back and tell them it wasn't a problem, do you then become the lame friend? I mean, I got the message a week ago and can't even remember what was busted. I hope they weren't thinking I was ticked or something.
Peanut butter and chocolate really do go well together.
When you own a truck, everyone calls you when they are moving. When you own a van, everyone calls you for a ride. I enjoy the latter, and am grateful we don't own a truck.
Friday, August 13, 2010
- Poor Tasha. Look at how tall that cart is for her. That has to hurt her elbows to lean up and over like that. And the poor kid so badly wants to help and push. She gave up pushing months ago and that must have felt like defeat. Is this what life feels like for her so often? Ugh, to be six.
- While sitting in the cart, PT is taller than Tasha. He's looking down at her. He doesn't look down at many people very often. What must that feel like? His head is over hers when she carries him sometimes too. Interesting. I bet he thinks he can push her around. Again, poor Tasha.
- The lights on the ceiling look like runway lights to me. I turned my phone upside down to look at it that way and then I thought of a bowling alley. Strange. I don't recommend turning your computer upside down to get the same affect, but maybe you could stand on your head. Just a thought. Poor you.
The other thing I was thinking about perspective has absolutely nothing to do with this picture, but more to do with how we look at things in a thoughtful kind of way, not an actually looking with our eyes kind of way. I had a really bad, creepy crawly (if you know what I mean), kind of day yesterday. I was freaking out and not well and had to do all sorts of things to escape the horror which I saw as the end of life as I know it in my home, all because of the satanic bug that was lurking behind every corner of my home. Now, he's still there, and I'm still freaked out, and I still can't wait until 1ish when the pest people come and blow his brains out, BUT... There are worse things in the world. My situation could be a lot worse and my nightmare could actually be a nightmare that leaves actual physical or emotional scars. I'm grateful that things are as they are.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Of course, I do what any unreasonable woman would do at 11pm at night when there is a freaking cockroach crawling around over her head. I jump up and go wake up Bill and run back in the room to make sure that monster doesn't get out of site. He's halfway across the room by now and Bill is not coming fast enough. I am glad, however, that when he finally does make it he has come armed with a weapon of mass squash-struction. I was sure that bad boy would do the trick.
I moved the diaper bag from under the stricking point so if he fell he didn't fall in there. I armed myself with a broom, just because that felt safer than nothing. Then I watched Bill line up for the kill. He stood back, held up the squasher, struck and missed. Damn it! Move quickly, move quickly, strike again before he runs too quickly. As Bill went back for another strike, I did the little dance of "Holy crap you missed, damn it, damn it, damn it, get him, get him, get hiiiiimmmmm..."
Well. I can't really talk about this next part. I am seriously close to tears just thinking about it. I keep getting shivers and cringing and popping my feet up on the chair even though I know that damn thing isn't crawling around by my feet.
OK. He flew. As Bill aimed for the second time that freaking cockroach flew off the wall, whizzed by my head, and flew to the other side of the room not to be seen from again. I kid you not. I've heard of flying roaches before, but You.Have.Got.To.Be.Kidding.Me!!! Oh man, what do I do?!
SH--! That damn thing just reemerged. I ran back, shoved Bill awake, grabbed the weapon, heard Payton yell out and ran back to the scene of the crime. He was gone. Damn it. I opened doors, banged on cabinets, threw out a few swear words, but nothing budged that little monster. I went back the bedroom, defeated, once again. While I nursed Payton back to sleep, Bill went out and did who knows what. I half expected him to come back claiming that he got the thing, but he didn't. It's a good thing too because I know he would have been lying just to help ease my mind.
Tomorrow I'm calling the exterminator. Better yet, I'll go online and see if I can set up an appointment via the Internet. Until they come, I'll be the one not sleeping...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Anyway, today was Kyra's first day of middle school. It could have been traumatic. I realized at some point that she really didn't know anybody for sure and was going to eat in a cafeteria for the first time in her life. Do we say something or just let it sneak up on her? We talked a little about it (Bill mostly). We discussed that everyone in her 4th hour class would have the same lunch hour and if she knew someone there she could just follow them in and sit by them. I also assured her that lunchroom antics in a real Jr. High were not at all like those on TV. She giggled at that, probably thinking of the scene in High School Musical where they all start singing and dancing on the tables.
As most of you know, Kyra is not much of a talker. Apparently, on occasion, she can stick her nose in a book and ignore you the whole drive home and you have to shout, "Bye Kyra!" as she's getting out of the car. (Not that that ever happened before!) After a long day at school you never really know what you will get from her. If it's been a trying time she can come unglued and let it all out: either by shouting, crying, or fighting. Other times she's a giggly schoolgirl. First day of school? I didn't know what to expect so I braced myself.
After she settled into the van and I finagled my way out of the parking lot, I hesitantly asked, "sweet and sour"?
She shot back immediately with, "my sweet was when Aiden came up to me and said 'hi' to me right before lunch". Phew, lunch fear is over. They also sat by April, another girl from camp, and their other friends from school. Then she added, my other sweet was when she saw another girl she knew and went up to her.
When we were leaving DMS, a parent there told me that this age was all about friends. For the kids, this is obviously true. They need to have friends to feel secure and have fun and enjoy their time at school. For the parents however, school demands a little more than that. Now I can just hope that McKemy fulfills the academic and athletic portion of schooling that we've been missing over the years. Socially, I think she'll be fine.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
The end of summer is coming though. And how do I know this? School supplies!!! School supplies are on sale and Target has it's special holiday section devoted to nothing but papers and pencils and fun coloring items. Sticky tape, bottled glue, glue sticks... you name it, we can adhere it. Binders, backpacks, stretchy book covers that I've never really understood, erasers for all the mistakes we're bound to make, and sharpeners to make a point. Ahh, sweet school supplies!
And what's even better than school supplies? Yep, back to school night, meet the teacher night, and finally... you got it... SCHOOL STARTS!!! How fun was it to meet all of Kyra's teachers at a new school, for a new adventure? TOTALLY fun, and I couldn't stand Jr. High as a kid. All I know is that Kyra found all the rooms by herself, wrote down the supplies she would need, introduced herself (when she was asked), and played it all pretty cool. She's ready, no worry there. Transitioning to a big public school had made me nervous in the past, but I felt pretty good about things last year. I never looked back or considered looking elsewhere. McKemy was the place for her and she proved me right today. What a great day!
Now, we can coast this school's roller coaster for 2 years and them I'm right back to square one for research and finding high school. Yeesh. Maybe summer isn't so bad after all...
But, for now, "I'd send you a bouquet of sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."
So when, exactly, did he start eating regularly? When did he decide to take a few bites from a spoon while shoveling crackers and what not in with his other 2 hands? I only remember making the food, trying to feed him, and him shaking his head or sticking his tongue out. Residue of mashed up food graces the table in front of his clip on chair.
Cranky, cranky boy. He fussed and fussed this morning. He woke up early, made his dad take him out of bed and played with the girls for a while before nursing a bit more and taking a mini slumber. Then he fussed and fussed some more. We saw a little Baby Einstein, nursed some more. Fussed some more. I tried to make me some food to eat while he played at his favorite toy station: the dishwasher. He fussed, he cried, he pulled at my legs. Then, as I was placing some breakfast on my plate, it occurred to me: could he be hungry? Like, for real food?
Yep, that did the trick. Feed the boy.