This Explains Everything, I've Been Playing the Wrong Sport!

This is my 10th time with a two year old.

The battle of the parental will against the irrational mind or is it the irrational parent against the indomitable will never ceases to surprise.

My daughter is a dumper.  She plays with the stuff in a basket, releases everything in it from captivity and then cavorts onto her next mess.  Today, I thought she should assist in picking up the plastic eggs she helpfully scattered across the entire living room after I'd just set them aside.

Now I know all the Parent magazine approved tricks.  Sing a song. Set the timer. Let them do half, make it a game.  She apparently knows them too and wasn't buying any of it.  She went rigid as only a Pilate's instructor or a two year old about to lay down the law can do.

Sensing that this is somehow an important battle, I dig up my special ed tricks, hand over hand, physical prompt, verbal prompt, lots of praise.  Again, I've held children in restraint before who raged, she wasn't raging, she was simply absolute refusing.  Hand over hand, we got down to the last egg, not without her trying at some point to swipe at the basket to show me not only am I not going to do this, I'm going to undo all you made me do so there.  I was fortunate this did not happen.

We got to the last egg.  She refused. I'd tried. I'd offered treats, praise, hand over hand, she would only throw the egg away to show she wasn't doing it.  I placed the basket on the table and the egg next to it.  "Nap time."  I declared.  She knew, this wasn't over.

My only question is is it wise to let her get refreshed before starting on round two of Easter Egg Rumble.

As I ponder this, the bus comes with her brother.  He is upset his sister is asleep.  In a fit of sibling solidarity, he dumps the entire basket and kicks it about with great abandon.  

I didn't realize this was World Federation Wrestling and I'd just been tag teamed.  

Willingly Willing It

 It is the paradox of seeking to live an authentic Catholic life.  If we would do so, we must mold our will, our stubborn prideful selves to God's. If we would do that, we must "Will it."  So on the one hand, we must surrender our willfulness and on the other, we must wilfully throw ourselves into God's will.  It is a both and experience, that takes everything we have and pours it out, and constantly fills us with the infinity of God's grace. 

Lent is a time for strengthening our resistance to sin, strengthening our capacity to "Will it" to be molded as God willed us from the start, but loved enough to allow for our own fumbling about. 

Why are all these thoughts crammed in my head? 

Because I've spent the week seeking to get my children to see, via love, via talk, via reminders and sitting next to them until they're tired of me and I of them, that if they would blossom as their intellects and creativity indicate they could, they must "Will it."  I can check every assignment. I can go over every paper, but if they will not own something of this, they will not be what they could be, they may master some, but what they could own, they will forget and lose.  It takes a sublimation of the self for each of them to do this and that is not easy. What they do not see, is I too am having to "Will it" when I sit there, when I check the homework, when I force myself not to just let it go. 

We are all engaged in an ongoing battle to will what is proper and surrender what is not.   In a sense, all of life is Lent, of learning to surrender the excessive attachment to appetites, power and glory. 
Every time we think we've licked it, we've deluded ourselves, because we continue and the next moment will come when we shall be tempted yet again.  Like the dieter who has lost four pounds, the next day, I still have to watch it today and tomorrow and the next and the next and so on or they'll come back.  There is no rest in this battle, it is ongoing. Sin is like that, a fresh drink to an alcoholic, an offering of a "free sample" to lure you back into whatever it is.

Fortunately, God's grace is ample to defeat sin in our own lives, but we have to avail ourselves and all too often, I find after I've had a momentary triumph, I forget to keep going back to avail myself of still more.  Because I am stubborn, I keep trying to go on alone. Even worse, I find groping for that next moment after I've had a temporary triumph, is all the harder, that moment is the mile before the last leg of a marathon, when it seems justifiable for one's body to fail and the only thing that can keep it from failing is "Willing it."

How do we reach for God's grace in that moment when it seems impossible?  This is what prayer and fasting are designed to do; to give us a method for those moments when appetite or weakness or desire for the things of this world threaten to disorder our lives.   We shall not be perfect, but if we grab onto these gifts and seek God's grace, we shall be perfected in this great struggle.  It will be epic, but we know the outcome, the happy ending, and as such, as hard as the journey may be, it will make for a great story. 

7 Quick Takes

1.  Biting Off More than I Can Chew Take#1


Halloween candy.  It can't leave the house soon enough.  I have discovered when it comes to chocolate and me, there is no will.  My sweet tooth rules.  Having vowed not to purchase the stuff, when it shows up unannounced and free, my power to say no vanishes.  Gained two pounds and there's still stuff here.  Bleah. 

2.  Biting Off More than I Can Chew Take #2



Reading Dorthy Day's "Duty of Delight." I lifted the picture from Amazon, if you want to look inside, click on the link. But it's quite lengthy and short on narrative.  It is a diary of a woman being considered for sainthood, and filled with both profound gems revealing her intense desire to be close to God, and equally human realities of being frustrated, worried, and irritated by those who co-opted the service she was engaged in, for other purposes.  I have to finish it so I can write a rewiew, but it is slow going and I'm worried I won't get finished in the next ten days. 

3.  Hey Sherry...you could you know...be reading instead of writing.

Yeah...I know.  I too am out of discipline with writing and deadlines.  It's good for me to Have to do something. 

4.  Want to See...Tower Heist. 

It looks like fun and God knows these days, we could all use a few good belly laughs.  Hope it is as good as the trailers appear.  Plus I liked that Eddie Murphy recognized he was using his signature laugh to get laughs and that it was false.  It shows thoughtfulness and care for the craft to actually recognize a crutch and abandon it; a rare trait in Hollywood these days.  I admit, I'm in the mood for some lazy entertainment that is a tad self indulgent and this seems like it would fit the bill.

5.  Right Calls?

So much of parenting is praying you aren't screwing up too much.  Do I force a kid to play a sport to teach fortititude? Do I honor the opinion to stop an activity a kid excells at because she doesn't want to be taxed? 

A lot of it seems to be countering whatever a child's tendencies are, making the timid one stretch, the reckless one disciplined, the orderly one loosen up, the silly one mature, the responsible one more charitable towards less disciplined, the less disciplined more respectful and mindful, more orderly.  Sometimes it seems like every question of ballance is one where when I opt for one, it should have been the other.  I let a child do her homework without a glance over as I usually do.  She got a bad mark.  Do I hover over the homework in perpetuity when I know she needs to learn to have a critical eye and I know she can do it, she simply does not apply that lens to herself.   Or not? 

Tweaking is one of those things that is perpetual.  Today, the "A" thi pme wrote is just fine.  Tomorrow, we need to anchor it to the line.  And she remembers yesterday and wonders why the bar moved. How do I not nit pick and still offer course correction?  Sometimes it feels like we're working simply against their grains, and sometimes, it seems like it is necessary if they are to smooth their rough edges.  It's hard to know.

5.  Organizing Self (Related to prior post).

I go through shifts in organization, sometimes it's "What I need to do today" and other times, it's according to child.  Durring the school year, it's easier/better to do according to child.  So it looks like this:

W: schedule dr. appt, driver's test, homework, job apps.
B: homework, paperwork for b-ball, service hours
M: high school apps, homework, clarinet
(and so on).  It makes it easier to break it down. Now I have to do get them to summon the will to do it.  

6.  Why is this man blind?

One of the best questions in the New Testament, (John 9:1-5).
As he passed by he saw a man blind from birth.^a2^* His disciples asked him,^b “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

To which Jesus gives a mysterious and great answer. 

3Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.^c4We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work.^d5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”^e

It was on my mind as my children asked why their Granddaddy suffers from Alzheimers.  They asked, "Will he forget us?" "Will he forget his birthday?" "Will he forget how to make pumpkin pie?" "Will he forget Christmas?"  "Will he forget all the books he's read?"  and it is painful to answer, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. and Yes."  Before we had that conversation, my mind had been much on the strange possiblity, that all suffering can be meaningful. 

If the crucifixion, the act of a mob and a fixed court and fearful friends to destroy the One who is Love, is the most meaningful act ever, (and it was one of  pure hate, pure injustice, pure cowardice, pure malice, full rejection by the world of the creator, as sinful an act as ever there was), and yet it through love has been made the cornerstone of our capacity to enter into a new life, then all little sufferings can be a shadow of that act.  All sufferings great and small can be a road to the cross, a carrying of the cross, an embracing of love despite the world, and for the world.  The rest of us get to walk with my father and weep that he must endure this, powerless except to occasionally wipe his face and help with the cross if we are near enough, unable to stop the long walk to Calvary.

The harder it becomes, the more God's grace is required. But it is a hard mystery, to be given the oportunity to need so much. 

7.  Mundane but a New Love: Top Chef Texas

I love these cooking competition shows, plus it gives me a dose of home.  Hope they visit Beaumont and Galveston.  They should given that Tiffany was a big plus in their Top Chef Allstars, being a Beaumont Native.

Tools of the Trade

At what point in my life did my brain transfer to the hidden confines of a blank spiral bound notepad? Last week, my toddler daughters found my notebook and scribbled into it such that while I could still make a list on any given page, it just wasn't the same.  I tried bravely for three days to cope with the decorated pad but my list kept blurring with the artwork.  It just wasn't happening.

At the same time, I also noticed that all the pens and pencils had simultaneously evaporated from my purse, car and home.  There were still crayons and dry erase markers, (mostly green), but no normal adult writing utensils to speak of; I decided this was an errand that required top priority. 

The problem was, I had no place to write 1) Buy pens and notepad, and 2) nothing to write with if I decided to be a trooper and use the back of an opened envelope from the day's mail.   So the notepad slipped from my mind as I groped about the next day trying to remember to go to the drycleaner's, the play date at the cool park at 9:30, the tutor at 12 that had been moved to the next day and how many days it was until my son's birthday.  We missed one scheduled appointment for the Dentist and barely made it to another.  I forgot about getting the car serviced entirely.The week was coming apart at the seams, all for want of a pad and pencil. 

It was then I realized, I also lacked the desire to move.  I didn't want to patrol the bedrooms like I normally did, to scoop up clothes and turn off lights.  Absent my two tools for organization, I slipped into freefall chaos. With horror, the adult in me recognized that not only did I not have a clue what I needed to be doing because I didn't have a list, I lacked the will to do anything because I hadn't written it down.   It seemed all my thinking required documentation and all my spirit and enthusiasm to do something required a to-do list.  The paper held my brain and the pen held my will.  What was left in me was a compliant capable shell that needed marching orders.

After two more days of barely treading water with remembering the therapist came at 10, my oldest needed to get his picture taken at 5, to manage, I began using my children like human post-it notes.  "You! Remind me today that two of your sisters need hair cuts!"   "You!  Make sure you remind me to call your friend's mom because I need her to help with the fall festival."  "You! Dinner tonight is pasta shells and a spinach salad.  Remember that!" It worked pretty well for the older ones, but the messages got distorted, forgotten or deliberately altered the younger down the line the child doing the memory recall was.  "We can have ice cream for dinner right?"  "NO Editing the message!"  I warned.  Things were getting serious.  

Pity and possibly the very real desire to escape having to remember Mom's list in addition to her own, my oldest daughter typed up a list of things to do for me on the computer and printed it up.  It was admittedly  self serving, with little extras like "Stop at Borders" and "Buy milkshakes at Chick Fillet." and "Despicable Me is supposed to be a good movie. Maybe we could go see it since it is so hot and then you could relax."  I smiled and asked her to reprint the list but add one more thing.  "Buy a notepad and pen." 

I felt sanity and serenity pour into me as I snatched the sheet still wet from the printer.  Ahhhhh!  Mommy's back in business. 

Exercising Futility

Yesterday: Alarm at 5:00 am. I know I said today I’d go to the gym first thing but this is an unhealthy hour. I need sleep. Experts say getting enough sleep helps you lose weight. So I’m going to listen to the experts. Sets alarm for 6:15. I’ll do a workout video in the morning and hit the gym after lunch.

6:15 snoozed to 6:30… Okay. We’re on a Diet. No fats. No Fried anything. No Sweets. No Chocolate. No Caffeine, No Alcohol, No unhealthy anything. What is there to eat in this house…almost nothing.

8:15 am Breakfast. I….need…food. Cereal. Healthy plain bran flake cereal I’ve let sit on the shelf for months is the only low sugar option available. I’ll start good. I’ll be good. Hmmm…taste bad…taste like it’s stale…I’ll fix that…with fruit. Lots of fruit….and milk….and orange juice….who knew eating healthy could taste good….why haven’t I started this before, this is easy….it’s still chewy and stale, but the fruit helps.

Morning room sweeps and dishes and laundry carry us through the next two hours without a mishap except for the two handfuls of M&m’s I gave myself when the toddler went to the potty and I handed out rewards.

10:30 am…Food….I need food….can’t have food until 12…the kids want second breakfast. I fixed them frozen waffles and sipped my diet coke with lime virtuously. I just need to make it to 12…

11:00 am. Double toddler accident below the beltway. Ate a fistful of M&m’s to sustain morale.

11:40 am I’m supposed to wait until 12…what’s 20 minutes…the time it will take me to make the food, so it will be ready by 12, when I get to eat….tuna…with onions and celery and tomatoes…peppers…and just a tablespoon of mayo…hmmmm. That looks REALLY dry. Maybe little more, NO. No. no. I’ll add a healthy fat, some olive oil…just a drizzle. Okay, that looks much better. Mix it up, on toast…a pickle, an apple sliced up and maybe a big glass of milk. That is a virtuous lunch. It needs a little something hot though, maybe some soup…soup is healthy….and I’m going to the gym so it will be okay, I can count the calorie credits, they’re all good calories…

1:00 pm Need to go to gym. Too full…wait until later…let kids watch PBS…feel vague guilt that I’m not putting on fitness workout video for all of us to enjoy or at least try.

1:15 Pottying success and I grabbed a diet coke instead of eating M&m’s. Yeahs all around. Can’t find shoes to get them ready to go to the gym.

1:30 Still can’t find shoes

1:45 Found 3 shoes…still need one more.

1:55 found three other shoes, none match.

2:00 pm Having found a pair of slippers that match, I could technically make a go of it, but child care ends in thirty minutes, wouldn’t be a long enough work out to be worth it…I’ll go at 4…

2:30 Load car of kids sans shoes for school pick up, find other four matching shoes in car.

3:00 pm pick up kids from school, Girl Scout cookie orders came in today, so our car is packed with cookies. The kids open a box to share as the afternoon snack while still in the car in the school parking lot, I absentmindedly eat a cookie the kids hand me. It’s a Girl Scout thin mint. Thin mints. The thin mint scent is wafting around in my head. The open sleeve of thin mints is within arm’s reach…resist….resist….resist….what’s a serving?…four…I’ll have just one…so that’s what…40 calories….40 calories…puh. That’s nothing…I’ll make it two, that’s only 80…besides, these two are stuck…explain to kids that thin mints are best eaten straight out of the freezer. One child hands me another thin mint, “I don’t want this type of cookie Mommy, you can have it.” Her eyes are generous and happy. If I refuse, they will be sad…I eat the cookie. Other children offer cookies and I decline by chewing as long as possible, when we get home, my son has wrapped two cookies in a napkin as a gift to me, so I eat those two…200 calories… trouble.

Unloading the car takes about 20 minutes…then the phone rings such that homework gets delayed…a few thin mints may have been eaten in the process...

4:15 pm “We have to go to the gym..”
“But Mommy, I need to use the computer to type up my Copernicus report.”
“And I have to make a diorama using clay and a shoe box for tomorrow’s project on the rain forest.”
“Can you read to me?”
“I have to practice this piece for the concert on Friday.”

I realize that my gym bag doesn’t have my favorite gym pants or shirt and the walkman is missing it’s headphones and needs new batteries...and I only have AA and it needs AAA…I need to repack this…so it goes in the corner to be dealt with later.

5:30 pm Homework is finished. Music is finished. Thin mints are finished. How did that happen?
“Hey Mom, What’s for dinner?”
Making a mental note to skip dinner, I fire up the pot of boiling water, put the meatballs in the microwave and begin making a salad.

6:20 pm Dinner is on the table. It smells great. Maybe I’ll serve myself…sensible portions.

7:20 pm Time to get people bathed and starting on bed routine.

8:30 pm Kids are mostly in bed…time to do dishes and put away food.

9:27 pm…with interruptions and phone calls and retucking in of three separate kids, plus the discovery of an older one in the back basement reading comic books on the sly, dishes are just now getting done.

10:00 pm…I could go to the gym. It’s open until 11…but I don’t want to go out this late…alone….and I’m tired…I’ll start tomorrow at five thirty --five was too early. I’ll get up and do a DVD –the 21 minute workout, right at six, that way I’ve got a jump on the day and won’t have cut into the schedule by more than 15 minutes….and I won’t have to worry about what I’m wearing or if I have headphones…just the other sleeve of thin mints in the freezer.

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