I have the most wonderful husband in the world, and he is the most amazing daddy ever. This morning I awoke with a migraine. My angel husband brought me a coke and then fed the kids breakfast, fixed their lunches, got them dressed and took them to school while I slept and tried to get rid of my headache. That was truly wonderful. As anyone with kiddos knows it is not the easiest thing to get them out the door in the mornings.
Then this afternoon when I got home from work, I found Jeff at the kitchen counter with Mary Hannah. They were learning how to knit. Mary Hannah bought a “knit a teddy bear” kit. They were looking at the instructions and trying to figure out what to go. WOW. That is a real man of a dad. (I didn’t even want to learn to knit. I tried crocheting some, but it didn’t work out so well.)
Then after knitting for awhile, Jeff cooked dinner and got the kids into the tub so I could rest since my head is still bothering me. I have been truly blessed by having such a kind, thoughtful, generous, & helpful husband.
I love you, Jeff
Am
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Girl Talk
Tonight Mary Hannah said, “Mom, after I get my pajamas on I want to come talk to you alone.” Of course I wondered what it was she needed to talk about privately. Was it time for the “girl talk?” I geared myself up, thinking of ways to explain the “birds and bees” with enough detail to satisfy her need for knowledge, but not so many that she would be over burdened. I needn’t have worried.
When we settled down to cuddle and talk, she told me that when she listens to sweet songs she feels sad like she is growing up too fast. She feels like she’s 12 (so grown up) instead of just 8. So we talked and I reminded her that God made her and planned how she would grow up. We talked about being a kid and not having much responsibility, and how hard it is to take responsibility for herself. I revealed that even at 35 I sometimes feel the same way: too grown up with too many responsibilities. I tried explaining how God starts us out with small responsibilities like turning in spelling assignments on time, and how He moves us to larger responsibilities that come with age. I reassured her that she has plenty of time left to be a little kid.
We have been talking about how she has a huge responsibility in taking care of her body with diabetes. I think that may be the root of her struggle. She still thinks it is ok to grab a handful of M&Ms on the way through the kitchen. We have told her that she can’t do that without getting insulin, and yet she still does it. We haven’t told her all of the dangers to her body if she allows her blood sugar to remain high. We have not wanted to burden her with the knowledge that she could lose kidneys, eyesight, and limbs. We want her life to be as normal as possible.
So how do we teach our children this incremental responsibility? We begin with simple things like putting away toys and clothes. We train them how to answer the phone, wash dishes, fold laundry, & feed the pets. And move on to more advanced expectations. We expect them to start doing these things without being told: to find the intrinsic motivation they need. Then we assign them more responsibilities. And then suddenly they are driving, and dating and off to college where they are on their own. No one is there to hold their hands and tell them what to do. We must take the opportunity when they are young to instill in them a good sense of responsibility and a good work ethic.
As parents we have not only the normal adult responsibilities (job, home food, bills), but also the added responsibility of children’s lives.
When we settled down to cuddle and talk, she told me that when she listens to sweet songs she feels sad like she is growing up too fast. She feels like she’s 12 (so grown up) instead of just 8. So we talked and I reminded her that God made her and planned how she would grow up. We talked about being a kid and not having much responsibility, and how hard it is to take responsibility for herself. I revealed that even at 35 I sometimes feel the same way: too grown up with too many responsibilities. I tried explaining how God starts us out with small responsibilities like turning in spelling assignments on time, and how He moves us to larger responsibilities that come with age. I reassured her that she has plenty of time left to be a little kid.
We have been talking about how she has a huge responsibility in taking care of her body with diabetes. I think that may be the root of her struggle. She still thinks it is ok to grab a handful of M&Ms on the way through the kitchen. We have told her that she can’t do that without getting insulin, and yet she still does it. We haven’t told her all of the dangers to her body if she allows her blood sugar to remain high. We have not wanted to burden her with the knowledge that she could lose kidneys, eyesight, and limbs. We want her life to be as normal as possible.
So how do we teach our children this incremental responsibility? We begin with simple things like putting away toys and clothes. We train them how to answer the phone, wash dishes, fold laundry, & feed the pets. And move on to more advanced expectations. We expect them to start doing these things without being told: to find the intrinsic motivation they need. Then we assign them more responsibilities. And then suddenly they are driving, and dating and off to college where they are on their own. No one is there to hold their hands and tell them what to do. We must take the opportunity when they are young to instill in them a good sense of responsibility and a good work ethic.
As parents we have not only the normal adult responsibilities (job, home food, bills), but also the added responsibility of children’s lives.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Specificity
In past years I wrote everyday. Much of that time I was in school writing for an assignment, in a journal, and sometime just for fun. Then I taught school and I wrote to provide examples of writing for my classes. Then I had 3 kiddos and the writing basically just stopped. Now I am trying to restart my "writing engine" but I find that the idea supply has also stopped. The other night I was sitting on the couch with my very hyper 4 year old. After turning a few flips and jumping on me she looked at my blank legal pad and the pen I was holding and asked what I was doing. I explained that I was trying to think of things to write about and asked her for suggestions. (This was not a brilliant move on my part.) So she thought for a minute and said, "Plants, Momma, you should write about plants." I thanked her for the idea and tried to explain that I wanted something more specific. "What's spapacific?" came her reply. In my great wisdom I explained the word specific to her. I told her how there might be a broad topic and that I was looking for one idea or one detail from that topic. After a few moments of glassy-eyed stare she nodded and said, "So what does spapacific really mean?" I tried another tack. I suggested trees for a topic, and went on to say that I could write only about mesquite trees or crepe myrtles. Her little brow furrowed in concentration. In an effort to clarify I said, "Instead of writing about the whole tree, I could write about the bark. That would be specific." She nodded and said "ok." We sat in silence for a few moments, then suddenly the ideas began to flow freely from my daughter.
"Momma, you could write about flowers; no just the petals. Or Pumpkins, no just the seeds I like pumpkin seeds momma. I know, you should write about unicorns; wait just the horn" I got the giggles from this very "spapacific" list which only encouraged her more. She hollered, "Cows? Ducks? Fans? Blinds?"
Obviously at this point the conversation had deteriorated so much that I just put down my pen and cuddled my baby.
Even though I didn't choose any of the topics that she suggested, I gained a great topic, and a lot of insight into the mind of a 4 year old. Her world is very concrete. Where the world of adults is quite abstract.
I don't think I am going to try and tackle that one just yet with her.
Love on your kids. They are precious.
Am
"Momma, you could write about flowers; no just the petals. Or Pumpkins, no just the seeds I like pumpkin seeds momma. I know, you should write about unicorns; wait just the horn" I got the giggles from this very "spapacific" list which only encouraged her more. She hollered, "Cows? Ducks? Fans? Blinds?"
Obviously at this point the conversation had deteriorated so much that I just put down my pen and cuddled my baby.
Even though I didn't choose any of the topics that she suggested, I gained a great topic, and a lot of insight into the mind of a 4 year old. Her world is very concrete. Where the world of adults is quite abstract.
I don't think I am going to try and tackle that one just yet with her.
Love on your kids. They are precious.
Am
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
What's in a name?
I respond to many different names. My given name is Mary Amelia KayLynn. Thankfully I didn't have to write all of that in 1st grade. I go by Amelia, but close family and friends call me "Am." My Dad and my brothers also call me "sis." Many members of my extended family call me Mary Amelia because of the remarkable number of Marys in my family. My brother and his friends still call me Oatmelia (which didn't make sense as I hate oatmeal) and Slenderella (which I take as a compliment.) Throughout my life I have been called many random names. I had a boss who insisted on calling me "Camille." She even put it on my nametag. My theatre teacher always called me Punkin. I don't think that ever in 4 years whe used my name. As an adult, my students called me Mrs. Emery, or just Mrs. E. Some just called me teacher. My co-workers call me Mrs. Amelia and occasionally, "Miss tall person." And just today my Martial Arts Master, who has a hard time pronouncing my name) just gave up on it and started calling me "Flash." Not bad, but I prefer "Elasta-Girl." My husband calls me Am so often that it sounds wierd for him to say my whole name. He also calls me hunny. I am known to my kids' friends as Mrs. Emery, that lady from the teacher store, or most commonly "Mary Hannah's mom" or "Ethan's mom." As for my angel children, my favorite name is momma. They use all the variations: mom, mommy, and my least favorite, moooommmmmeeeee!
I know that it is common to have many names and nicknames for different situations. In fact, I do this to my children. Mary Hannah often becomes M H or Sister; Ethan is EJ or brother. Eleanor is affectionately called ELE (pronounced Ellie) and called in frustration "ELE-NO." (that one save time see, to just make that ever present "no" part of her name. We all also think of ourselves by different names. For a long time ELE called herself Eleanor Jeffrey (my husband's name) Dodd (her best friend's last name.)
So what is the point?
God has many names also, a different one for every situation: Elohim, Adoni, Lord, Master, Alpha & Omega. There are far to many to analyze or even list here. I don't pretend to be a Biblical scholar, but each of His names strikes a different tone in my heart. Just as "Mrs. Emery" strikes me as formal and is indicitave perhaps of a professional or even distant relationship, so Elohim or Adonai sounds to me. I feel a formality and sense of awe at reading these names. A more personal name for me, Amelia, makes me feel familiar, welcome, like a cozy chair by the fireplace. Likewise, Lord and Jesus are names that evoke in me a personal generally comfortable relationship. These names represent to me someone with whom I can share my thoughts, make requests, converse with, and ask for guidance from. On an even deeper level the pet name Hunny and my children calling me Momma is the most personal and intimate relationship. There are only 3 people who call me Momma and only 1 who calls me Hunny. I feel that kind of personal intimate relationship when I call God "Father." To the embodiement of this name I can bring my most intimate emotions: the incredible joy of holding my newborn child, the comforting shoulder to cry on and even rail against with perfect security in times of trouble, the intimacy of a confidante.
We often see artsy pieces with definitions of names. Sometimes our name really suits us, mine is "hard worker," and sometimes it doesn't. Mary Hannah's name seems to cancel itself out (Mary-sea of bitterness, Hannah-grace, favor.) As she is one of the most positive kiddos that I know, I'm not sure how accurate the Mary is. It is easy to look at a list of God's names and be awed by the amazing number of ways that God is named or referred to. (Try Googling "Names of God." The responses are overwhelming.) But take a look at the lists. Think about your names and God's names and the way that those names make you feel.
For me it is awe inspiring. It makes me feel pretty small. But then at the same time, I realize how in all His infintie wisdom and all the things that He must take care of, God made me. He loves me. He defines me. And He gives me all these wonderful people around me who use all my various names, and I feel big again. I am special. No matter what you call it.
-Am
I know that it is common to have many names and nicknames for different situations. In fact, I do this to my children. Mary Hannah often becomes M H or Sister; Ethan is EJ or brother. Eleanor is affectionately called ELE (pronounced Ellie) and called in frustration "ELE-NO." (that one save time see, to just make that ever present "no" part of her name. We all also think of ourselves by different names. For a long time ELE called herself Eleanor Jeffrey (my husband's name) Dodd (her best friend's last name.)
So what is the point?
God has many names also, a different one for every situation: Elohim, Adoni, Lord, Master, Alpha & Omega. There are far to many to analyze or even list here. I don't pretend to be a Biblical scholar, but each of His names strikes a different tone in my heart. Just as "Mrs. Emery" strikes me as formal and is indicitave perhaps of a professional or even distant relationship, so Elohim or Adonai sounds to me. I feel a formality and sense of awe at reading these names. A more personal name for me, Amelia, makes me feel familiar, welcome, like a cozy chair by the fireplace. Likewise, Lord and Jesus are names that evoke in me a personal generally comfortable relationship. These names represent to me someone with whom I can share my thoughts, make requests, converse with, and ask for guidance from. On an even deeper level the pet name Hunny and my children calling me Momma is the most personal and intimate relationship. There are only 3 people who call me Momma and only 1 who calls me Hunny. I feel that kind of personal intimate relationship when I call God "Father." To the embodiement of this name I can bring my most intimate emotions: the incredible joy of holding my newborn child, the comforting shoulder to cry on and even rail against with perfect security in times of trouble, the intimacy of a confidante.
We often see artsy pieces with definitions of names. Sometimes our name really suits us, mine is "hard worker," and sometimes it doesn't. Mary Hannah's name seems to cancel itself out (Mary-sea of bitterness, Hannah-grace, favor.) As she is one of the most positive kiddos that I know, I'm not sure how accurate the Mary is. It is easy to look at a list of God's names and be awed by the amazing number of ways that God is named or referred to. (Try Googling "Names of God." The responses are overwhelming.) But take a look at the lists. Think about your names and God's names and the way that those names make you feel.
For me it is awe inspiring. It makes me feel pretty small. But then at the same time, I realize how in all His infintie wisdom and all the things that He must take care of, God made me. He loves me. He defines me. And He gives me all these wonderful people around me who use all my various names, and I feel big again. I am special. No matter what you call it.
-Am
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Diabetes and Hope
To Hope by John Keats
When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!
Stanza 1
I am blessed in many ways. I can’t begin to count the blessings that God has given to me: children, husband, family, work, home. Sometimes though, even when I am surrounded by my blessings, I feel despair. I allow the problems that I have to drag me down into depression and gloom, and all I can see are my difficulties and my seemingly insurmountable issues.
See, one of my greatest blessings is continually tied up in one of my greatest fears. My children are joy of my life. They fill me up on ways I never could have imagined. I look forward to being at home with them so that we can cuddle, talk about their days, color, play with legos and blocks, read, and just spend time wrapped in love. Now for my difficulty and fear. My oldest 2 children have Type 1 diabetes. My middle child, Ethan, was diagnosed in 2004 at 18 months old. Because it is so unusual for a child under age 5 to develop the disease, diagnosis took a long time, and we almost lost him. (There’s a blessing: we still have him.) My oldest daughter, Mary Hannah was diagnosed with Type 1 this year. (There’s another blessing: we caught it early.) Now we are carefully watching our youngest child for signs of the disease. (There’s another blessing: we know what to look for.) So my greatest joys and struggles are all bound up together. It is so easy to feel the victim in this situation. We cry out to God, “Why us? Why now? Why 2 of our kids?” We are filled with worry about the most mundane things. We allow ourselves to dwell on the hopelessness of the situation.
Now on to the hope. With diagnosis comes hope of survival. With treatment comes the hope of healthy fulfilling lives. And with advancements in medicine, research and treatment, comes a hope for a cure.
Sometimes we have to go hunting for hope. It seems elusive, slippery. We must search for it in unusual areas. My husband and I work toward bringing hope to other families with Type 1 kids.
Hope is not an easy thing to hold onto. The following scripture tells us that we must “be strong.” Sometimes I do not feel like being strong. But in the midst of my weeping and despair I hear God’s voice reminding me that I do have hope in Him and through Him.
Psalm 31:24
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.
When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!
Stanza 1
I am blessed in many ways. I can’t begin to count the blessings that God has given to me: children, husband, family, work, home. Sometimes though, even when I am surrounded by my blessings, I feel despair. I allow the problems that I have to drag me down into depression and gloom, and all I can see are my difficulties and my seemingly insurmountable issues.
See, one of my greatest blessings is continually tied up in one of my greatest fears. My children are joy of my life. They fill me up on ways I never could have imagined. I look forward to being at home with them so that we can cuddle, talk about their days, color, play with legos and blocks, read, and just spend time wrapped in love. Now for my difficulty and fear. My oldest 2 children have Type 1 diabetes. My middle child, Ethan, was diagnosed in 2004 at 18 months old. Because it is so unusual for a child under age 5 to develop the disease, diagnosis took a long time, and we almost lost him. (There’s a blessing: we still have him.) My oldest daughter, Mary Hannah was diagnosed with Type 1 this year. (There’s another blessing: we caught it early.) Now we are carefully watching our youngest child for signs of the disease. (There’s another blessing: we know what to look for.) So my greatest joys and struggles are all bound up together. It is so easy to feel the victim in this situation. We cry out to God, “Why us? Why now? Why 2 of our kids?” We are filled with worry about the most mundane things. We allow ourselves to dwell on the hopelessness of the situation.
Now on to the hope. With diagnosis comes hope of survival. With treatment comes the hope of healthy fulfilling lives. And with advancements in medicine, research and treatment, comes a hope for a cure.
Sometimes we have to go hunting for hope. It seems elusive, slippery. We must search for it in unusual areas. My husband and I work toward bringing hope to other families with Type 1 kids.
Hope is not an easy thing to hold onto. The following scripture tells us that we must “be strong.” Sometimes I do not feel like being strong. But in the midst of my weeping and despair I hear God’s voice reminding me that I do have hope in Him and through Him.
Psalm 31:24
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.
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