Daddy The Hero

Just returning home tonight from a quick trip to Edmonton yesterday, my son, being very over-tired, did not want to sleep. He didn't go to sleep last night until 11:00 p.m. and was up at 7:00 this morning. This is a boy who requires at least 10-11 hours of sleep per night, and even asks to go to bed when he's tired.

He called me to his room at 10:00 (he was in bed by 9:00).

"Mom, I'm lonely," he stated.

Hard-hearted (and extremely tired myself), I was not moved. I told him to go to sleep. Lest anyone think I am totally without compassion, this is a boy who on a daily basis wants me with him in every room of the house because he's lonely. He's the last one eating - EVERY DAY - so I leave him at the table (or I might as well set up a tent and camp, and get nothing done) - EVERY DAY. And EVERY DAY he tells me to come back because he's lonely. This is a boy who has a stay-at-home mom and is homeschooled on top of that and he's STILL LONELY.

I tell ya, this is a boy who has been lonely FOR YEARS.

In my hard state, I left him there.

So, he decided to let his dad (who was already in bed) know that he was lonely.

And his dad, who does not stay at home with him all day (because he supports his family like good dads do), and who does not do 99 percent of his schooling (because he supports his family like good dads do), and who NEVER has compassion at mealtime and is the first to leave the table (because he eats the fastest like good dads do), was moved by the pleas of his son. He told me he was going in to lay beside Seth for a little bit. I smiled secretly, glad that someone in this family had a heart, but feeling not-at-all guilty that it wasn't me.

I creep into Seth's room an hour later. If I could take my camera in to capture the kodak moment (and not wake either up), I would. In the small twin bed, daddy is laying on his side, while his son is laying not beside his daddy, but over top of his daddy (in an arc-shape). Fast asleep. Making double sure that daddy has no way of escape.

And my tired, hard-hearted self, is finally moved.

Moments

Frustrating moment of the day: Getting a job interview to work casually in the criminal record department at the police station (very interesting work to me - great pay and get to choose my own hours when Dave is home with the kids.....perfect scenario) only to find out that I MUST find my diploma from the secretarial college I graduated from 23 years ago BEFORE I get the interview! Stupid, ridiculous rule............perhaps I should beg???.............Like a six month course means more than 14 years experience!!!!

Ear-splitting moment of the day: Listening to my darling children blow their KAZOO's in the car on the way home from an errand this evening. They were given these wonderful toys when we were out and I was ever......so......grateful......for......the.......experience. If you have never heard a kazoo played by children before - in an enclosed space no less - you are truly missing out.

Heart-warming moment of the day: Going with my daughter to the library to find CD's to learn how to speak Spanish. The challenge came yesterday from my pastor in church, encouraging whoever was willing to try to learn a foreign language. The goal is to become a church of many ethnic cultures that is unhindered by the language barrier. My daughter took this to heart and, always being interested in Spanish, is determined to learn the language. I am totally thrilled with this.

Hilarious moment of the day: This evening with my two nieces.....watching them duck and hide beneath blankets in my living room because a MOTH was flying around. To their credit, they restrained their shrieks quite well (they knew their auntie would throttle them if they woke up the kids), but as I stalked the moth, I managed to subdue my mirth. And become a heroine in the process.

Magic moments.

Happy Birthday To Me

Tomorrow is my birthday. I am older than 40 and younger than 45. I normally don't advertise it, but I can't tell my story unless I do.

Taking two vehicles to church tonight, Dave decided to take the kids home. On the way home - all by myself - I clued in as to why he whisked them off so quickly.

"Mom, it's your birthday tomorrow!" my son informed me as I walked through the door.

Smiling because it confirmed my suspicion, I thanked him for reminding me.

A few minutes later, he rushed to see his dad, informing him, not so quietly, that he "let me know it was my birthday but he didn't tell me anything else". Dave and I grinned at each other while he "quietly" reminded Seth not to say anything else.

Then, while praying with the kids at bedtime, Seth leaned to my ear to whisper:

"Mom, dad is gonna wake Hannah and I up early tomorrow for your birthday!"

The little stinker.

Not that any of this is a surprise at all. It did make me grin, and also made me realize he'll probably be 22 before he can keep a secret.

Happy birthday to me tomorrow. I look forward to lunch with my sisters (and friend, whom we call a sister) - a tradition we established a few years ago, and who knows what else. I doubt I'll be surprised, but strangely enough, I am actually looking forward to it.

Which is a miracle when you're over-the-hill.

Sandbagging

This post is entirely Dr. Laura's fault. She expressed something in her blog today that I had never heard stated in the way she stated and I believe it was profound. Here is a portion of what she said:

"Sandbagging" is a term used to describe an awful thing to do to another person where you collect years of grievances of all sizes and dump them on someone all at once. There is nothing they can do about these supposed "slings and arrows" as they are history. The context is gone, the possible provocation is ignored, the amalgam of complaints is impossible to dissect and respond to.

The point is that sandbagging never results in resolution or redress. It just results in the feeling of being disdained or betrayed.

I believe that people sandbag when 1) they simply want to hurt someone else, 2) want to get superiority over another, and/or 3) desire not to take responsibility for their contribution to the problem.

Time for total honesty here. Because of the goodness, mercy, and longsuffering of Jesus, HE brought me out of my sandbagging mentality. In fact, I believe that the direct result of sandbagging was "crashing and burning" within the last year, causing me all sorts of anxiety symptoms.

What I also know, from being a previous sandbagger, is that it is contagious. Sandbaggers always stick together. It is also VERY prevelant amongst our "apostolic ranks".

The bottom line is this: If you feel you have been wronged (real OR imagined....), but DO NOT have the courage to communicate this properly AT THE TIME OF GRIEVANCE, then just LET IT GO! Nobody can properly deal with a complaint against them when the incident happened so long ago they don't even remember it!

Bottom line #2: We ALL hurt people (only we never think what we do unto others is that bad....). And require unending mercy. The sooner we get this revelation, the sooner we can forgive others for just being human.

Bottom line #3: We apostolics tend to forget God's very important principle: We must forgive in order to be forgiven. (The result of having an unforgiving nature is sandbagging.)

I don't know about you, but I need God's mercy every day. I cannot live without it. I cannot make it to heaven without it. By God's grace, He has shown me this. I cannot afford to be unmerciful and unforgiving. I cannot afford not to let it go.

I cannot afford to be a sandbagger.

Five Facts

I have recently discovered these five - deeply profound - facts to be true:

1. We have had more rain this year than in recent memory.

2. We have ten times MORE mosquitos than last year.

3. I do NOT like tornado warnings. (I like actual tornadoes even less.....)

4. I REALLY don't like TRAINS travelling through right in the middle of a tornado warning.

5. It is easier to wet yourself the older you get (particularly when you hear a train on a tornado-warning evening....)

Hannah's First Recital

This is Hannah's beloved piano teacher, Tanya, whom she adores. Unfortunately, Tanya is moving away and we have to find a new teacher. Today was Hannah's recital.

And so Hannah finishes her first year of piano. We have to begin the process of finding her a new teacher, one that she connects with because I truly believe that is a huge reason why she did so well this year.

I am tremendously proud of her.

P.S.: You'll note at the end of her duet that she did not curtsy. It's funny because she manages to play two songs - while being very nervous - but is too "scared" to curtsy. What a funny, delightful girl. (We'll work on the curtsy for her next recital).

The Pipsqueak

"Sometimes their rationalization seems unreasonable to adults, or doesn't make proper sense."

(a comment from my friend, Rachel R)

Truer words never spoken.

My son is completely irrational and I cannot figure him out.

He insists that he wants me to throw out a book that Hannah gave him about a dog and a robot.

"Why in the world do you NOT want this book, Seth?" I asked. "You like both robots AND dogs. In fact, you build robots with your blocks."

"I will build a robot," he replied. "But I WILL NOT read a book about a ROBOT AND A DOG!!"

?????????????

That was this evening. Let me tell you about my morning. At the mall. With my sister.

My pastor used a word in our Wednesday night Bible study that very much suited my son. It even suited my daughter. The word was pipsqueak......a.k.a. TWERP.

I thought I would join my sister this morning - at her request - on a shopping excursion. Just to get out of the house. And because malls have become an unknown entity of late. My sister makes this request about twice a year, and each time she does she slaps herself, shakes her head, puts a big "L" sign on her forehead because she again remembers TOO LATE why she only asks us to go with her TWICE A YEAR. She then marks it on her calendar as a reminder NOT to ask again (but then obviously senile dementia sets in because she loses her calendar).

This trip to the mall reminded me that for the 754th time, (some people are slow learners I guess), I need to work at my consistency of parenting. Or change my methods. Or take a long vacation. I personally favour the last suggestion.

The kids drove me, and my sister, batty at the mall, particularly my son. When I found myself pulling Seth along unsuccessfully, I discovered it was because he decided to "walk short" (in his words) by trying to walk by squatting. He nearly dislocated my shoulder.

Whenever correcting him, he ALWAYS has a wise crack. This is a method he has used to try to get out of trouble - unfortunately, it must work too much - that has me thoroughly annoyed. I do NOT find it funny at all, and neither did my sister. On one occasion after he used his wit, we both told him we did not find him funny at all and to stop. Totally. He thought about this and then informed us that,

"I sure wish I was with my dad. HE at least would appreciate my jokes."

On another occasion (of hiding around the clothes, imagining he was being chased by his sister), his auntie had told him she had had ENOUGH.

"I've had enough, Seth. I'm serious. ENOUGH. Quit."

He paused for a short time. Then said,

" "e" "e" "n" "f". That's how you spell enough, right?"

(He's always excelled at spelling, what can I say?.......)

And the grand finale...

I had to take him into the bathroom at the mall. This was a big bathroom, and with the air hand dryers and noisy flush toilets, was the noisiest one I've ever been in. He went into a stall and shut the door. I did not think he would lock it because I was standing outside (he's had problems unlocking the door in the past, so I don't like him to lock it).

He did.

I yelled at him to unlock it (remember: it was noisy - I had to yell).

"SETH. UNLOCK THE DOOR!"

"I CAN'T!" he said.

"YES YOU CAN. UNLOCK THE DOOR!" I repeated.

"NO, I CAN'T!" he repeated.

I repeated myself. He repeated himself. Life in the bathroom went on as only life in a bathroom can. Nobody could hear us (I think) - it was that noisy. Then he said,

"GET YOUR KEY OUT. UNLOCK IT YOURSELF!"

"I DON'T HAVE A KEY," I said. "THIS IS A DOOR I DO....NOT.....HAVE...... A..... KEY..... FOR!"

"THEN CALL DAD! HE HAS A KEY. HE CAN UNLOCK IT!"

I actually laughed. Right in the middle of this frustrating situation, I regained my sense of humour.

Then a miracle happened. The toilet flushed. On it's own (it was one of those kind of toilets). It scared my son.

He opened the door. Miracle.

Thank God for automatic-flush toilets. I think we'll get one in our house.