It has become glaringly obvious to me that I lack a certain parenting gene. To be clear, I actually lack a lot of parenting genes. I am a schizophrenic parent, loving and kind one minute, a raving lunatic the next. Then I read ACJ's post on God as a parent and realized that God kinda is too...especially in the Old Testament. It must have something to do with the whole Love and Grace thing.
Anyways, the gene I desperately lack is the "Letting it Go" gene. You know, the gene that lets you survey your parenting domain with sereneness, embracing the chaos and beauty around you without batting a eyelash. Lots of my friends have this gene. I asked one good friend who has five kids how she does it and she replied that she doesn't even hear it. Doesn't hear it??? How is that even possible? It is like I'm wired to notice/see/hear EVERYTHING! And once I hear/see/notice it, I can't not engage. (I know, a double negative. Whatever.)
I have noticed this lack of gene in the last months when the girls have suddenly decided that everything the other does is purposely designed to RUIN THEIR LIVES. Like breathing. Or looking. Or existing. I'm pretty sure that the girls' bickering non stop is only slightly less painful to me than taking one of Hubby's power tools and drilling straight into my head. And as someone who can't let go, by the eighth hour of being awake and together with them makes me less than an ideal person to be around.
I think that if I can at least emulate the characteristics of the Letting It Go gene, every one's lives will be much better. Maybe I should go and re-read the Old Testament for a model of how God freaks out, then loves, and lets stuff go. You know, just for kicks and giggles and parenting help.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
How does your garden grow?
At Christmas and my birthday I received seeds, books and other garden stuff. I dreamt and planned for weeks what I would grow and designed and redesigned my garden. Then we had the Noah's ark version of spring where it rained until mid June. Way past prime planting season. On the few dry days we did have, I planted peas, carrots, lettuce and Good Friday potatoes...most of which rotted in the ground. I lamented to Hubby that all that we would have these year was peas (which loved the cold damp), potatoes and garlic. All my seedlings that flourished in my warm, dry solarium succumbed to blight and rot when transplanted into the never ending rain,
Then, finally the sun showed up. And Bear and I got our first harvest! She was especially proud of her potatoes!
Then, finally the sun showed up. And Bear and I got our first harvest! She was especially proud of her potatoes!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
8 Years Old.
My first born is eight. 8! This may be one of my favorite pictures of Pookie. She is growing into such a beautiful girl, inside and out. She can be so kind and loving, thoughtful and generous. We are beginning to see glimpses of the woman she may be...Strong willed and articulate for sure, but also fierce and loyal. She keeps us on our toes with her intellect and desire to learn and know everything. She has faced challenges in learning this year with a good attitude and the desire to learn despite of it. We are blessed to be raising this girl!
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Me and my Dad in Law
A couple of days ago I spent some quality time with my father in law...moving 6000 pounds of dirt, rock and turf. Good times eh?
Here's what happened. My sister and partner bought a house. The house has some ISSUES. The biggest one right now is the perimeter drainage. And let me tell you, I have talked more about drainage these past few weeks than I care too. Part of putting in perimeter drainage is removing all the dirt around the foundation of your house. Which, by the way, is a stinkin' huge amount of dirt! So for the past month or so, my sister has had huge mounds of dirt sitting in their front yard. Not so pretty. So on Monday, me and Dad decided to do something about it.
A word about my in laws...they are pretty awesome. I'm not gonna lie, when I first met them 15 years ago, they scared the sh@t out of me. They had come down to the ghetto where me and Hubby(who was not my hubby at the time) were interning. Shortly after that, Hubby brought me up to a family gathering. We walk in and everyone stops talking to look at us. This is saying quite a bit because Hubby's clan is LOUD! And there are a lot of them. To say that I was a little intimidated is a bit like saying giving birth hurts just a little bit. As we left the gathering, Hubby's Beppe (grandmother) and matriarch of the family looked me, grabbed my face, kissed me straight on the lips and loudly announced that she liked me, that I was good for Hubby and that I should come back. ( a side note, Hubby's clan are kissers...but that is a whole other post!) It also probably helped that I come from Dutch stock as Hubby's parents are 100% Dutch, off the boat as children. Of course, because my parents immigrated as adults, I like to say I'm actually more Dutch since I speak/understand the language and grew up going to Holland and Hubby went for the first time with me after we were married.
I digress.
So, Monday we announced to Mom and the girls that we are going to do the dirt moving and it shouldn't take too long. Famous last words. We head over to my sister with a borrowed trailer and start shoveling the first load. In about 45 mins we realize that this trailer is not going to work. But we had already loaded it with dirt. So I get on the phone and called a rental place, we head over there to pick up a new trailer. Then we need to take the dirt out of the first trailer and move it to the second trailer. Then we find out that the landfill won't take this dirt. So we have to find an alternate place. I find one, call them and get the address to dump the dirt. Not until we are driving around an industrial park do we realize that they gave us the wrong address. I call back and they are apologetic. They gave us their HQ address instead of the dump site address. Brilliant. Turns out, the dump site is just across the river from us, instead of almost into the city. So after almost 3 hours, we finally offload our first load. Back to my sister's house for the second load, did it in an hour. By this time we were already past our time that we had promised Mom and the girls, so we headed back to the house. It was empty, so we made lunch in 5 mins and booked outta there so we wouldn't incur the wrath of the girls and Mom. After loading up the third trailer full, we were both moving slower. We looked at the never ending pile and decided that it was just too bad, the rest was my sister's problem. The final tally from the wieght scales was 5989 pounds of dirt...which really is like us moving 12 000 pounds since we had to both load and offload the dirt each time.
Up until this point of our 13 year marriage, I have never spent that much time alone with my father in law. He worked a lot up until this past year as a big boss electrician building huge hotels and various other buildings. He is an amazing Pake (grandfather) to his six grand kids, a very supportive father to his four kids and three daughters in law and loving husband to Mom. He told me when Hubby and I got serious about getting married that not calling him Dad was not an option and that I needed to get over it. He is generous to our family and makes sure we know that we are an integral part of the clan though we are separated by 3 provinces. We share a love of reading and a competitiveness around card playing. And we bicker with each other a lot.
Hubby is a lot like his dad. This has become more obvious over the years, and now especially since Hubby is in construction. Watching the two of them ponder drainage at my sister's house made me realize what a good family I married into. Not because of their exceptional building skills, but because of their work ethic, commitment to family and faith and their enjoyment of life in general.
By the end of the day with Dad, we were speaking in the same tone and rhythm of each other and we still can't move without some sort of join and muscle pain..but I wouldn't trade my day with Dad for anything. Except maybe for a massage.
Here's what happened. My sister and partner bought a house. The house has some ISSUES. The biggest one right now is the perimeter drainage. And let me tell you, I have talked more about drainage these past few weeks than I care too. Part of putting in perimeter drainage is removing all the dirt around the foundation of your house. Which, by the way, is a stinkin' huge amount of dirt! So for the past month or so, my sister has had huge mounds of dirt sitting in their front yard. Not so pretty. So on Monday, me and Dad decided to do something about it.
A word about my in laws...they are pretty awesome. I'm not gonna lie, when I first met them 15 years ago, they scared the sh@t out of me. They had come down to the ghetto where me and Hubby(who was not my hubby at the time) were interning. Shortly after that, Hubby brought me up to a family gathering. We walk in and everyone stops talking to look at us. This is saying quite a bit because Hubby's clan is LOUD! And there are a lot of them. To say that I was a little intimidated is a bit like saying giving birth hurts just a little bit. As we left the gathering, Hubby's Beppe (grandmother) and matriarch of the family looked me, grabbed my face, kissed me straight on the lips and loudly announced that she liked me, that I was good for Hubby and that I should come back. ( a side note, Hubby's clan are kissers...but that is a whole other post!) It also probably helped that I come from Dutch stock as Hubby's parents are 100% Dutch, off the boat as children. Of course, because my parents immigrated as adults, I like to say I'm actually more Dutch since I speak/understand the language and grew up going to Holland and Hubby went for the first time with me after we were married.
I digress.
So, Monday we announced to Mom and the girls that we are going to do the dirt moving and it shouldn't take too long. Famous last words. We head over to my sister with a borrowed trailer and start shoveling the first load. In about 45 mins we realize that this trailer is not going to work. But we had already loaded it with dirt. So I get on the phone and called a rental place, we head over there to pick up a new trailer. Then we need to take the dirt out of the first trailer and move it to the second trailer. Then we find out that the landfill won't take this dirt. So we have to find an alternate place. I find one, call them and get the address to dump the dirt. Not until we are driving around an industrial park do we realize that they gave us the wrong address. I call back and they are apologetic. They gave us their HQ address instead of the dump site address. Brilliant. Turns out, the dump site is just across the river from us, instead of almost into the city. So after almost 3 hours, we finally offload our first load. Back to my sister's house for the second load, did it in an hour. By this time we were already past our time that we had promised Mom and the girls, so we headed back to the house. It was empty, so we made lunch in 5 mins and booked outta there so we wouldn't incur the wrath of the girls and Mom. After loading up the third trailer full, we were both moving slower. We looked at the never ending pile and decided that it was just too bad, the rest was my sister's problem. The final tally from the wieght scales was 5989 pounds of dirt...which really is like us moving 12 000 pounds since we had to both load and offload the dirt each time.
Up until this point of our 13 year marriage, I have never spent that much time alone with my father in law. He worked a lot up until this past year as a big boss electrician building huge hotels and various other buildings. He is an amazing Pake (grandfather) to his six grand kids, a very supportive father to his four kids and three daughters in law and loving husband to Mom. He told me when Hubby and I got serious about getting married that not calling him Dad was not an option and that I needed to get over it. He is generous to our family and makes sure we know that we are an integral part of the clan though we are separated by 3 provinces. We share a love of reading and a competitiveness around card playing. And we bicker with each other a lot.
Hubby is a lot like his dad. This has become more obvious over the years, and now especially since Hubby is in construction. Watching the two of them ponder drainage at my sister's house made me realize what a good family I married into. Not because of their exceptional building skills, but because of their work ethic, commitment to family and faith and their enjoyment of life in general.
By the end of the day with Dad, we were speaking in the same tone and rhythm of each other and we still can't move without some sort of join and muscle pain..but I wouldn't trade my day with Dad for anything. Except maybe for a massage.
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