What Can I Say?

February 27th, 2010

I’m humbled. 

Usually I have a post rolling around in my head for days, sometimes weeks.  And when I have something somewhat heavy to say I write, then draft, and come back several times to read it, editing all along, before hitting that “publish” button.  Just to make sure I’m saying precisely what I want to say.

But Thursday night when I thought my day was done I began to prepare for bed.  And on a whim came back to the computer “for just a second” to get my thoughts out there.  And then hit publish and turned the computer off.  I briefly worried as I laid down that maybe I shouldn’t have made it public so quickly.  Maybe I should’ve waited for morning when my thoughts would be clearer.  The next morning I came back to reread what I had written and decided to let the post stay. 

The outpouring of love and understanding and general commiserating was unbelievable to me.  Sometimes it just helps to get it all out there.  Outside of my own head.  Sometimes it helps to talk to a friend who doesn’t want to “fix it”, but just to say, “man, I hate that, me too.”  Sometimes it helps to have answers.  Friends to turn to that have been there, done that and would love to show me the way.  Sometimes it helps to know that even those who seem to have all the answers are still guessing themselves.  And sometimes it helps to be reminded that I need to turn around and offer what I know to those that aren’t as far along the path as I am.

That night was nothing new.  I often lay down at night saddened by what my day could’ve been.  By my perception of the kind of mom I am.  The only difference is that I let you in on it.  And wondered aloud if I was alone. 

And you answered.  Like I’ve never seen before in my life.  My eyes were opened because of you.  I discovered that I have my own preconceived notions of families with fewer children than my own.  (Hello.  My name is Suzanne and I’m a judge-er.)  To you, I apologize.  I discovered there are so many that feel just like I do.  It’s so nice to know you’re out there.  I feel so alone in my own world.  And I found some of those older, wiser women that I didn’t think were out there.  And I plan to learn from you.  I was so comforted by you, do you have any idea how your words made my day?  I will answer each and every one of your comments in the next few days, not to mention that I can’t wait to stop by your blogs!

Tonight when I went looking for an image to go with this post (because we all know I’m crazy visual) I found a batch of pictures Matt had taken not long ago.  And though most nights I feel like all the little eyes in my life are as serious as these in this moment:

TheOldest's not so happy face. We all have one, right?

I realized my husband had snapped these pictures at the same time:

He looks really worried about life.

A kiss caught.

A cuddle captured.

And I realized maybe, just maybe, they’re not quite as unloved and unhappy as I worry they might be.

Now to just capture some of that silliness.

May all of you sweet mamas that worry as much as I do find your own new friends among those comments.  May you see the mama you really are in your own pictures this week.  And may they warm your heart on those cooler nights.  Because the proof is there.  You just have to find it.

Tonight I Ponder

February 26th, 2010

What kind of mother I really am. 

Not hands on enough. 

Not engaged enough.

On our way to the zoo last week one of the kids said, “We have five kids.”  And another child said, “Six, if you count Daddy.”  And there were giggles all around.  Then the first child one-upped the second with, “Seven, if you count Mama.”  To which the second child said, “Yeah, but she’s not the right kind of kid.”

I’m not lovey enough.

I adore them.  But not to their faces enough.

I waited in the doctor’s office with two of my children today.  The older child’s talking had been incessant with the boredom we were stewing in and I was hungry, headachey, and needing to pee. I finally shushed him and told him that I enjoyed talking with him, but that I didn’t want to hear him making noise just for the sake of noise-making.  He quieted for a few minutes.  I picked up a magazine to try to engage him insomething with me and we looked at upscale photos of families in posh apartments with impeccable decorating.  Things that I would desire in my own home if life were different.  I noted to my son that the mothers and children looked unhappy, posed all seriously.  I then asked him if we were happy.  To which he replied somewhat flippantly, “I don’t know.”

Is that the answer of a six year old boy when he’s bored, having to see a doctor, and hasn’t had lunch yet?  Or is it the answer of a child that truly isn’t happy?

Do they know how I feel about them?

How can they when I’m constantly barking orders to clean this, quiet down, listen up, quit fidgeting, hurry along?

This is not the mother I wanted to be.

I was going to be different.

I was going to be carefree and wild and… and… not this.

Tonight as I was readying my bed for us, sweeping out crumbs, picking up a “secret garden key”, moving a robot, turning the covers back – I smiled – sweet reminders of children at play.  I passed a shelf with 3 small toy animals perfectly positioned by my daughter – it’s her new “decorating” phase.  I pointed them out to my husband and cherished the moment.  Without her.  She’s sleeping now and doesn’t know the joy it brought to me.  Sure, I’ll tell her in the morning, but I saw her playing with them tonight, and yet had my busy-ness to go about.  Until the house was quiet and my brain was calm and I noticed them.  Without her.

Do they know?

Am I missing it everyday for all the dailyness?

You can skip the dishes when you have 2 children.  You can resolve to do the laundry tomorrow when you have olders who can pick up the slack.  What about when they’re all so very little still?  And there are so many of them?  Someone must cook.  Someone must clean.  Someone must do. 

I wanted to be the fun mom.

But there are heavy pregnancies and babies to tend, there are lessons to learn and manners to teach.

And lately I feel as though I’m not enough. 

I wonder how other moms do it.

How do you have enough time and get it all done? 

How do you do it with no guilt?

I was called a “breeder” last week and saw the word “spawn” in reference to a family with many children who were acting up.  I saw the cover of People magazine and felt sorry for the Duggars. 

Why are people angry about the number of children people have? 

Why do we live in a country where the concept of children is more revered than the children themselves?

Why do I feel like I’m carving out a path that hasn’t been driven before?  Where are the wise older women who’ve worn well the road of many small children?

Once, at the grocery store my husband took the children out to the van while I paid with just the infant in tow.  There was a mom having trouble ahead of me.  And between us was a mom, dad, and child.  They were perturbed.  The woman was taking up way too much time.  “Ridiculous!”, they snarled to me as though I were in on the joke with them.  I wasn’t.  I felt bad for the mom ahead of us and thought evil thoughts at the people for judging her.  Me, in my self-righteousness wouldn’t judge someone.  Except..

I’m quick to tell others to judge not, but hold a special spot of indignation for those who don’t have to scratch out their existence quite like we do, for those who seemingly haven’t walked in my precious shoes.  And yet, compared to a huge number of people in the world we are rich beyond measure.  “Judge not” rings in my ears alot lately.  I feel as though it may be my plank.

I was at a mega pet store recently and we were oohing and aahing over the pets.  With no intention to buy, it’s just one of our go to town, fun things we do sometimes.  A woman came by and said with a sideways grin, “It’s kind of like the zoo, except you have to spend no money, huh.”  And I laughed and agreed.  And then looked twice at her and realized I was not in on the joke, I was the joke.

 Where is the mom I wanted to be? 

Why don’t I know how to play?

Where is my imagination?

Do others get to the end of their day and feel guilt?  Do they promise themselves tomorrow will be different, pray, study His ways, and then get to the end of another night and wonder what happened?

Where are the people who have it all together?  Do they offer up advice on how they’re doing it?

And would I listen if they did? 

Or just harbor judgement for them?

Homemade Biscuits

February 24th, 2010

Saturday I told you about our big breakfast traditions.  And I mentioned that my daddy taught me how to make scratch biscuits.  I’ve also heard them called baking powder biscuits.  Y’all complimented me on how well they rose and how yummy they looked so I thought I’d let you in on mine and my daddy’s secret. 

 

When I asked Daddy what his recipe was he laughed and said, “Oh, I don’t know, gal, it’s on the back of the baking powder can.”  Sure enough.  There on the back of the Clabber Girl can was the recipe my daddy had used my whole life.  They’re called “Old Fashioned Biscuits”.  And now, courtesy of Clabber Girl, I give you my daddy’s recipe.

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 1/2 teaspoons Clabber Girl Baking Powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/3 cup shortening
• 3/4 cup milk
• 1 tablespoon soft margarine or butter

Directions

In a bowl stir together flour, baking powder, and salt.  Cut in shortening until mixture resembles coarse crumbs.  Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and add the milk all at once.  Stir just until moistened and dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl.  On a floured surface, lightly knead dough for 30 seconds.  Roll dough to 3/4-inch thickness and cut biscuits with a 2 1/2-inch biscuit cutter, dipping cutter into flour between cuts.  Place biscuits close together on a lightly greased baking sheeet.  Brush tops with soft margarine.  Bake in a 475 degree oven for 11-15 minutes or until golden brown.  Serve warm.  Yield: Makes about 8.

My Recipe Notes

I double this recipe.  It makes plenty for our large family and I keep the leftovers.  I used the cookie cutter instead of a biscuit cutter (my daddy always used a juice glass).  Nothing else changes.  I’m a recipe changer, but not on these.  

Keep your leftovers.  I love them the second day (or the third or the fourth) just as much as fresh.  This part of the recipe comes from my mama.  She always sliced them in half, buttered ‘em up, and put them in the oven under the broiler.  Watch them closely – they brown quickly.  Pull them when the butter melts and the edges just start browning.  Smear them with jelly and serve ‘em warm.  Enjoy!

A Girl's Best Friend (Get Thee a 6-in-One!)

Once upon a time it might’ve been.  But nowadays this girl as a Mama to five needs somethin’ a little tougher than diamonds.  Or at least grittier.

I present to you the 6-in-1. 

One of my true loves.

I’m not kidding.  Yes, the paint tool.  No, I don’t know why it used to be perfect as a 5-in1 and then they felt the need to add one more tool.  I don’t even know what the one extra tool is now.  Who cares.  It’s perfect.

If you have things like these around your house:

Duct tape, what is that?!, Christmas tag. I absolutely DID just show you those.

And, once again, if you don’t see things like this around your house, I’m not sure we’re made for each other and we should just part ways now.  Oh, I kid.

We had a 5-in-1 that was well-worn and somehow it went missing.  How the gunk in my house has built up.  But we’re back, baby!  This thing scrapes gunk from floors, walls, counter tops, tables, and those little crevises that not much can reach (see that little pointy part?).  And if you’re careful to keep it perfectly flat while scraping it doesn’t scratch your surfaces.  The glitter glue that didn’t get cleaned up right away?  Gone!  Dried cereal that’s stuck?  Voila!  Science experiments gone horribly wrong?  That’s right. 

Mamas run now and get you one of these.  Who knows, your sweet hubby might just have one in their tool box that you can steal borrow.

This Valentine's Day...

Amelia Earhart, a Dragon of Chinese Lore, Billy the Kid, and Dr. Livingstone with their Valentine's boxes at the History Fair/Valentine's Party.

May your heart be just as full (and beautiful) as the children’s Valentine’s boxes!

Oil Paintings and Toulouse-Lautrec Studies

February 2nd, 2010

I mentioned before that we were studying Toulouse-Lautrec for art in our homeschooling.  What that means for us with a 3rd grader, 1st grader, pre-k-er, and a 2 year old (just to keep it interesting) is that over the course of a week or two I pick an artist, we look up and I read to them a small bio, we find on the map where they were born, we look at selections of their art (online mostly or in books if I happen to have any), we talk about their style, we talk about when they fit into the world’s timeline and what else was happening in the world at the same time (just tie everything together in their minds), and then we try our hands at that artist’s style of painting or at least in the medium they were most famous for.  This week we did Toulouse-Lautrec.  He was a favorite of mine.  I like me some crazies, y’all.  And he fit the bill.  Then we finished off the study with real oils.  I promised it at the beginning of the study like I do most of my promises – “Huh, what a great idea!”  Followed closely by, “What was I thinking?”  Since this was especially daunting for me I waited until Matt was home to tackle it.  It was a lot of set up, a lot of clean up, but a lot of fun!

Oil paints on a paper plate? Oh, how times have changed.

TheOldest working hard.

BigMan and TheMiddlest hard at work.

Matt's work in progress.

ThePrincess all finished with her masterpiece.

When toddlers get bored.

The finished works!

From left to right, top to bottom: Matt’s – Interpretation of a Laptop, TheOldest’s – Rainbow, mine – Smiley, TheMiddlest’s - A Mii, ThePrincess’s - A Robot, and BigMan’s – Experimentation.  Didn’t they turn out great?