Sips

Sips

My daughter looked at me in awe. "I just realized how particular you are about what you drink from." 

I giggled a bit as I recognized the truth in her statement.

I can pretty much only drink milk from a ceramic mug, glass is tolerable, but never plastic. Hot tea is best in ceramic as well, tall and narrow, not short and wide. Water from glass or stainless steel. Juice is equally refreshing in a glass or plastic cup. And coffee tastes best to me in a paper to-go cup. 

... And Other Failings of a Wife and Mother, Part 4

Once upon a time, in a land in the middle of the Kingdom, there lived a woman who was such a pretty shade of pink. She had two daughters who were stunningly studded in gleaming sparkles. The people of the land seemed warm and welcoming upon first introductions. But soon it became clear that if the woman and her daughters weren't covered in drab fashions of navy blue and khaki, covering their unique features, the people would become uncomfortable. They'd glance furtively from the sides of their eyes, squirm, and nod to their friends in the direction of the woman and her daughters.

Does that sound like the beginning of a fun story? Where do you think it's headed? Will the woman and her daughters hide themselves away or will the people of the land learn to appreciate their unique features?

I wish I could say it was just a story, but unfortunately, this is one of those not so nice judgements of my failings, this time not only as a wife and mother, but as a "Christian" wife and mother.

It was Easter Sunday and I had picked out a pink, knee length sundress to wear to our new church, paying careful attention to find a black cardigan to cover my shoulders as there were only wide straps and not actual sleeves on the dress. I wasn't insensitive to the fact that we were attending a more conservative church than we were used to, so that's why the cardigan mattered. I didn't want to call attention to myself by baring my shoulders and leaving my shoulder tattoo uncovered.
My daughters had been very concerned that our tradition of getting new, fancy dresses for Easter would be ruined since we didn't go to a "dressing up church" anymore. My husband and I went out of our way to make sure they had pretty, colorful dresses next to their Easter baskets and they were thrilled when they saw them.
So dressed in our Easter Sunday best, we went to church. We sang, we listened to the sermon, we shared pleasantries. And just before we loaded into the vehicle to go home, my husband was pulled into a private discussion. A male member of the church told my husband that he needed to speak to me about my dress. In his opinion it was inappropriate and tempted him to unseemly thoughts. Bravo to my husband! He let the man know that he had no concerns about how I was dressed and that this man's temptations were his own responsibility to manage. At that point the man threatened to have us kicked out of the church, to which my husband told him to do what he had to do.
My girls wore their dresses without anything being said that day. However, a few Sundays later, I was pulled into conversation with the pastor's wife. She talked about how pretty my girls looked in pink, yellow and orange. Then she said, "My girls and I don't wear those colors. Pastor doesn't think Christian women should call attention to themselves wearing such bold colors. " She said it as if it was just information passed in conversation. And so I responded in kind. Not showing that I understood the reprimand, but just nodding sadly about her colorless plight.
Now, I have to state that I really did not understand what was wrong with the dress I had worn on Easter, especially since it was a little past the knee, not figure hugging, and I had taken the precaution of wearing that cardigan. So imagine my surprise when the very next week, as I was entering the ladies room, I was looked up and down with disapproval by the visiting sister-in-law of the pastor. She said, "My that's a lot of pink" as she swept past me. There it was. It wasn't the dress, it was the color!
What was I wearing that day? A pink embroidered cotton t-shirt with a pink paisley prairie skirt that came to my ankles!
It wasn't too provocative, it was just too PINK. I chuckle every time I think of it. What's that saying about judging a book by it's cover? Oh yeah...don't. I don't know what my pink cover was saying to those people, but I can promise the book is so much more interesting. I'm not sure they could handle it.

Read

Read

I love to read. 

I love to get lost in the surroundings, the flavors, the sounds, the accents of a romantic novel.

I love to decipher clues, analyze a motive, feel the panic, exhale in relief with a crime novel.

I love to dig deep, challenge my beliefs, explore the new ideas found in theological or philosophical books.

I love the coming of age stories found in young adult books.

I love the innocent introductions to the wide world in children's books. 

I love traveling far away and long ago in history books. 

I love discovering the hows and whys explained in scientific books.

I love getting to know someone's story in biographies and autobiographies.

I love to read.

Quieter

Quieter

With everyone sleeping,

Can it get quieter than this?

It seems so.

Something is amiss.

The silence in the house

That usually feels full,

Is measurably quieter

Without you.

Our middle son returned to his college town a week ago. It has been remarked upon by each of us left here how empty and quiet the house feels both day and night. I feel it mostly at night. It's funny though because this child is the one who is the quietest and takes up the least space, yet somehow the lack of his presence has a big impact on us all.

Throwback to "Full Life Journey, March 30, 2011"

In the past, I've started and then closed blogs as I either lost the fire for the blog's topic or life just got busy. Before I closed those accounts I saved all the posts. I've decided that doing a series of "Throwbacks" would be a fun way to recapture those lost posts.

March 30, 2011

Last week was completely devoted to working on the Geography Fair presentation.  The kids were reporting on the state of Colorado.  Everyone took part in creating the poster board, researching the state, and presenting the information.  Grace gathered interesting facts about the state.  She thought the most interesting thing she learned was that the oldest living tree in Colorado is about 2,436 years old.  Isaiah had fun learning about the ancient people of Colorado.  He also decided to make an elevation map from clay, which he molded and painted with a little help from his sisters.  Victoria researched the types of food that Coloradoans.  She also made the timeline on the bottom of the board and used beans grown in Pueblo, CO for the timeline markers.  They all had a great time discussing their display with the guests and other participants at the fair.

I rarely tell my family, "I'm proud of you."

For many years now I have been uncomfortable with the phrase, "I'm proud of you." I don't say it to my husband or my children very often, and I feel very uncomfortable when somebody says to me, "you must be so proud," in reference to something they have accomplished.

 I understand what is meant when people use the phrase, but for me I just have to find a different way to express the sentiment involved in that phrase. To me, "I'm proud of you," feels like I'm either claiming a piece of their success or that I'm judging their actions as good and worthy. Some people may feel like I have the right to both of those things considering I am their mother, but I just don't feel settled in my spirit when I use those words.
Let me dive a little deeper into my thoughts around this. When one of my children succeeds at something, for example, performs well at a piano recital, gets accepted at the college of their choice, or ranks highly in a gaming competition, to say I'm proud of you, implies that either I had a significant role in making that happen or that they were doing it for my approval. It erodes the fact that if they did well in those things it was because there was something that was so meaningful to them that they set a goal and dedicated themselves to the hard work required to achieve it. It also has the potential to build a belief that my approval is important and that in order to have my approval they must succeed at everything they do. In truth, I'm more interested in having connected relationships with them than in them performing well enough to puff up my pride.

 So, how do I affirm them without saying, "I'm proud of you"? Well, first I look at the actual accomplishment and what went into achieving it. But not only do I do this for the accomplishments, I do it for the areas where they've fallen short of their goals as well, because I feel like there's always something that can be gained from either type of experience. So instead of, "I'm proud of you," I might say, "I'm so impressed by all the effort you put into that," or "it amazes me how much knowledge you have gained in pursuing this goal." Maybe I'll say something like, "I'm so pleased for you that you were able to reach your goal," which gives them the praise they deserve, but takes none of the glory for myself.

The only times I still say, "I'm proud of you," is when I can see that those are the exact words they need to hear. And then I say them with every bit of love and affection I carry in my heart for them.

...And Other Failings of a Wife and Mother Part 3

Whenever I see a little kid out in public, dressed like their favorite princess, super hero, or just in their own sense of style, it brings to mind one of my most cherished memories.
This story is actually about a judgement I was proud to have made of me.

It was early 2005 and we had recently moved to Virginia. We had spent several Sundays visiting churches to find our new faith family. After a few visits to a small church that met inside a school auditorium, we had started to attend regularly and became acquainted with the members of the church.

At the time, my kids were ages 1, 3, 4, 11, and 14 years old. My 3 yo daughter had tons of dress up dresses modeled after Disney Princesses and my 4yo son practically lived in his Mr. Incredible costume. Strangely, I didn't see any reason to fight them when I would tell them to go get dressed for church and they'd come out to the car in those outfits. Did we get some raised eyebrows and a few chuckles? Sure! Even my 11yo would say, "Mom, make them change, please! That's embarrasing!"
But, I just rolled with it.

Months later, I joined a small group and the members had to go around introducing each other instead of themselves. A fun ice-breaker to get us started. My new friend Ann, introduced me with this statement, "I knew I could be friends with a woman who let her kids come to church dressed the way they wanted to."

She saw us, she judged us, she loved us.

I wish I had a picture of the kids dressed up, but alas, if there are any they are probably lost on a dead hard drive in an old computer in the basement portion known as our electronics graveyard.

My Exploring Unschooling Interview

On August 15, 2019, I had the privilege of joining Pam Larichia as a guest on the Exploring Unschooling Podcast, episode 189.

Here is Pam's intro to our talk and a link to listen:

"Amy Martinez joins me this week to talk about her family’s move to unschooling. Amy is a mother of five, who range in age from 15-29. They had time in public school, homeschooling, and ultimately moved to unschooling. Her insights on those transitions, on living in a big family, and on the connections and amazing relationships that have developed with unschooling are inspiring!"

https://livingjoyfully.ca/blog/2019/08/eu189-ten-questions-with-amy-martinez/

Purpose

Purpose

A reason for living,

A place to belong,

A challenge for growth,

And wisdom passed on.

Interests, passions, talents and skills,

Woven together for a purpose fulfilled.

Off

Off

With all the changes to social interaction, it's no wonder that people are finding new ways to engage online. We have only been under stay at home orders for a few weeks, but already I have a long list of social engagements I can put on my calendar. Video chats with a group of moms that I'd regularly get together with irl. Bible study video chats weekly. Video chats to hang out with others for breakfast, lunch, coffee, happy hour, and game night interspersed throughout the week. Whew! 

I have a hard time saying no to an invitation. This week I had to remind myself that even though we're just staying home it's still necessary to create boundaries around my time. To take a day off.

...And Other Failings of a Wife and Mother Part 2

"What kind of mom let's her kids dress like that?!"

I was in line with a friend at a movie theater. The kids in question were a bunch of teens, dressed in the then popular Goth style; black t-shirts, black baggy chained pants, dyed black hair, twisted in dreads or shaved and spiked. 

I gave her a strange look, and she blushed. Why? 2 of my 5 kids were teens and regularly dressed that way. They shopped at Hot Topic, I personally dyed their hair, and not only did she know what kind of mom I was, she knew and loved my kids.

I smiled back at her and let it go, hoping in the future she'd not judge another mother solely on a child's appearance.

Marriage

Marriage

My husband's job has only slightly been affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. Although he's always worked the 3-11pm shift, it was only 5 days a week, every week. Now he's working the same shift for 7 days on and then 7 off. Those 2 extra days on really make a difference in how tired he is by the end of the week. None of us are great at managing emotions or reading situations when we're tired. 

When he came home after his last shift a couple weeks ago, he continued to tell me the story of an injured pigeon he found at work. The problem was, he had never told me the beginning of that story so I said, "I don't know what you are talking about." 

Annoyed, he said, "The pigeon on he dock, from last night."

Calmly, I said, "You never told me about the pigeon before, can I have the back story?"

Exasperated, he did relay the full story, but with a very put out attitude. 

Afterwards, I went to bed feeling upset that he was so upset with me for not reading his mind. I told myself, "he's just tired."

The next morning we were all up early for our church's online streaming worship service.

Afterwards, he told me he was sorry, but it wasn't an apology for his poor attitude. No, it was an apology for bothering me, for wanting to share the bird story with me, for merely being in my space. I wasn't satisfied with the apology, but again told myself, "He's just tired."

And you know what, it was true. When he was finally able to get some rest his heightened sensitivity came back to normal. We could laugh about the entire situation.

A week of restfulness passed and then he started back to work this Sunday past. 

This morning as we were playing with our grandson and just spending time together, I looked at him and said, " Let's make a deal."

He looked at me curiously and I continued, "At the end of this week when you're feeling tired and prone to being misled into believing that you are a bother to me, an unwelcome guest in my life, don't believe it. And my part will be to give you grace and wait patiently until you are rested again if any of my feelings get hurt."

He laughed and said it was a deal.

Isn't that really just a restatement of our vows, "for better or worse," that we made 22 years ago? During this time, his off weeks will be the better, his on weeks the worse, but we will be ok if we keep to our deal, keep to our vows.

Listen

I recently joined a Mighty Networks community and started halfway through an A-Z writing challenge they're doing. Thought I could keep track of my contributions here.

Listen

The constant, almost silent song coming from the girl who moves to her own beat.

The uproarious laughter that only gets louder when you give a quick shush.

The repetitive music always playing in the background. Is it the background music of a video game or is it really the background music to this chapter of our collective life?