Getting along...for now.

Sorry for the earlier, melancholy post. We were in the midst of hurt feelings, tears, and attitude.

That has been resolved, for now. I separated the girls, talked with them individually, took a list of demands from each, went back to the other sister, gave the demands. Elicited promises from both girls to work on the list of demands.

Reagan needs some down time in her room. I had her pull out her art supplies and draw.

Amanda is upstairs watching a movie.

I am caught in the middle.

It's not always a happy time around the holidays, despite the posts I keep reading on FaceBook. At least, not for us. Our family doesn't usually enjoy baking together, the girls don't always hug and love on each other. Sometimes we flat out struggle to get along and be happy with each other.

But every once in awhile I see the love and the joy and the laughter.

I don't know.

I don't know how to make my kids get a long.
I don't know how to make the 4 year old be nicer to her sister.
I don'tknow how to make things better for the 7 year old.

I'm frustrated.

White Belt, with Stripe

Reagan and I take karate together. We're both in the white belt class, which means that there are ten to fifteen 7 and 8 year olds in the room... and then me. Ok, to be totally honest, there is one other adult in the class, but he is testing for his yellow belt on Monday and will be out of the class after the Christmas break. Which just leaves me, the 35 year old, stay-at-home mom. Attempting to "do" karate with the little people.

Reagan earned two stripes last night, a blue one for completing Form 1 and a green stripe for attitude. I, however, walked out with one stripe: the blue one for completing Form 1. Yes, I am SUPER proud that I completed Form 1 correctly, but am humbled that my 7 year old earned a green attitude stripe and Mom didn't.

Humble pie is my dinner twice a week when we have karate class.

I enjoy karate, but it sure is teaching me some lessons! First of all, I am really not that flexible. Oh sure, I say I'm in shape--afterall, I run 5Ks. That counts for something, right?! Not when you're on the mat, with the 7 year olds, and you can barely touch your toes in warm-ups, or when the rest of the class is waiting on you to finish your 20 push-ups.

I'm also learning that I STILL get nervous in front of groups. I was one of the last ones to go last night, and I had to sit and wait and wait and wait for the other kids to perform their assessments. I was so nervous I thought I was going to have to excuse myself and go to the bathroom. The room was full of parents watching their kids do their assessments; my daughter was in the same room waiting to do her assessment. Butterflies all over my stomach-I was nervous for her and for myself!

She got two tries to complete Form 1, only because she hesitated the first time through, and when she was done, I wanted so badly to jump up and hug her and high five her. She had worked so hard for this! But, as per the instructor, we had to sit quietly against the wall. So I did (which, IMO, should have counted toward my attitude stripe, right?!).

I am also learning that practice makes perfect and that we have to practice karate a lot during the week. Just going to class and paying attention isn't enough. Reagan and I have to set time aside at home to practice. Which we do, and which allows us some more time to do something that is "just us".

I am going to occasionally throw these karate blogs in with my regular blogs, because one of the requirements for black belt testing (which is YEARS away for us!!) is that you have to have a scrapbook/photographic representation of your karate journey. I tend to be an optimist, so here I am, with my white belt with one little stripe on it, scrapping for the future.

Marshmallows

Amanda gets in the car after school today with a bag of "Reindeer Food." I mistakenly thought it was food we were supposed to feed the deer on Christmas night and was about to panic: Do I throw the "food" out on the lawn? How is that going to work since there are chocolate chips, cornflakes, raisins, and marshmallows in it? It will still be sitting on the lawn in the morning and then Amanda will go look and see it and figure out that the reindeer really didn't come because there really are no reindeer.

All of that passed through my mind in about 10 seconds. I'm already thinking we'll have to go to the grocery store and buy cornflakes (we're HoneyNut Cheerio people) and chocolate chips, then we'll have to make a big deal out of it while we're making it....

Amanda, oblivious to the panic in my mind, proceeds to tell me that the Reindeer Food is NOT for reindeer, it is for her to eat. "But," she says as she settles herself into her carseat, "I didn't put marshmallows in mine. I'm not into marshmallows, you know."

And that was that. She ate the Reindeer Food, sans marshmallows, and I laughed. Because, to her, it was all about NOT having the marshmallows. So there!

I love this kid!

Experiment

I'm conducting a little experiment in the kitchen.
Nothing scientific about it.
There has been a small piece of cereal box on the floor, next to the fridge. It looks like someone ripped the cereal box when opening it, then didn't pick up a small piece of it off the floor. It's a little bigger than the size of a quarter.

I'm waiting to see how long it takes someone ELSE in the family to pick it up.

4 days and counting.

Off With Her Hair!

In the calm and thoughtful way of parents everywhere, I threatend my youngest this morning. Oh, nothing as terrible as bodily harm or time outs.

I threatened to cut her hair.

Amanda is 4 and half. She must do everything herself, including "brushing" her hair before school. I'm a good mom: I've modeled the correct way to brush hair. I've done it for her, then allowed her to do it. I've brushed my hair as she brushes hers. And during all these training sessions she does a good job. Not great, but passable for a 4 year old. Good enough to go out the door and be seen by the world.

But when she goes to the bathroom, by herself, to brush her hair, (and sometimes attempt to put a clip in) she comes out looking worse than when she went in. Her hair is sticking up at odd angles because she has brushed it the wrong direction. Or she has put a clip in, to clip her bangs out of her face (she is growing out her bangs, but that's a story for another blog, another day). The clip is usually holding 3 strands of hair, still falling in her face, and will fall out by the time we get to school.

Today, it was just not working. I asked if I could re-do the clip for her, so it would hold more hair out of her face. "NO!" she shrieked. I left the room, because, frankly, I don't do shrieking.

She follows me, suddenly in tears. "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM. I want you to fix my hair. Yes. Please." More tears.

I tell her that I do not want to help someone who is shrieking at me and crying and using a whiney voice.
"But I'm nooooooot whiiiiiiining," she whines.

I'll spare you the rest of the story. Let's pick up where we're in bathroom, me brushing her hair.

"Ow! You hurt me. Stop doing my hair!" she yells (Amanda has two volumes, off and LOUD). She runs out of the bathroom, suddenly in tears, and I put the brush down and follow her to the kitchen, where she is still in tears and gathering her things for school.

"Amanda, if this is how you're going to behave, I'm taking you to the salon to get your hair cut short again. Even though you don't want to." My lands, I'm theatening my child with chopping her hair off.

Her eyes grow huge as she remembers the last time we went to the salon and had her hair chopped off. That time it was a mutual aggreement between us. As soon as her locks were on the floor, she cried. She has never liked her short hair. I, on the other hand, loved it because there was NO maintenance. Some days we didn't even have to brush it. No clips to worry about, no bows, no brush.

That was May, it's November now and her hair is long again. I know there is no way I'll ever be able to get her into the salon, or into the chair, to get her hair chopped off again. But I'm at the point where I'm willing to try.

Off with her hair!

Something funny one of my kids said

Has your kid ever said, "Hey! That person looks just like you, Mom." And you look at that person and say, "Whaaaaaa?"

Trying to reconcile life and religion

I'm still wrestling with the whole church issue. We've quit going to church and are much happier for it. No rushing around, no fussing at the kids, no stress. Actually, over the summer, we've been going to the pool at 10 am on Sunday mornings and we've had such sweet family time.

I want to write about two books that have led me to this point-that's for another time, but I will do it.

The way the rest of the world experiences God is so vastly different than the way we do in America. Is the rest of the world wrong? Most churches would have you believe so. Worship and belief has to be structured in a certain way, thought of in a certain way, and lived out in a certan way. Otherwise, you're doing the God-thing wrong.

Most of our church friends don't understand us anymore. They don't know how to carry on a conversation with us, since we are no longer "church people." They ask if we've found another church. We say "No,and we're not looking." Then silence. Can they only relate to people who are in church? That's NOT how it's supposed to be.

Do I know how it's supposed to be? No. I only know they way we've been doing it isn't right.

Is it right to preach the Great Commandment (Love one another) then turn around and tell homosexuals they're not allowed in your church? No.

Is it right to tell people they can only come to God one way and it has to be the way their denomination believes? Look at others around the world and they will tell you differently.

My church friends tell me to have more quiet times, to pray more, to listen to Christian music or to read Christian books. I'll find the answers there, they say. Oh really? I've read A TON of Christian books (fiction and nonfiction), I've been a quiet time Nazi, I've lain prostrate on the floor in prayer. I've been there. I've done that. And it wasn't right. It was me following a plan that man put together to show his devotion to God.

Do you know how I show love and devotion to God? I love my kids. I love my husband. I help my friends. I'm nice to strangers. Could I be doing more? Yes. Should I be doing more? Yes. Have I reconciled that? No.

It's in the living that matters, not in the religous rites.

"Much-loved"

Somtimes I look at Amanda and I am so overwhelmed with love, amazement, joy, anticipation that I can physically feel it wash over me.


Sometimes I think I need to go to counseling so I can learn how to deal with her better.

She is amazing. She is joyful. She makes me laugh.

I want the best for her--I just wish she didn't seem to be always drawing the worst out of me!

She had to take some medicine this morning. She does not like taking medicine, no matter what brand, what flavor. It all tastes gross to her. So she stands in the bathroom, medicine cup in hand, bottle of water in the other. She sips the water, sips the medicine. I can almost see her mind working, "Nope. That didn't work." She put the water bottle to her mouth and the medicine cup to her mouth. Her mind: "Hmmmmmm. I might try it this way. No. This won't work. Try something else." She sips the medicine, then sips the water. That works better. She gets down from the stool and wipes her mouth on a towel. Medicine must have dripped down it. Then she stands at the towel, feeling its softness on her face. She grins (I'm sure she does, even though her back is to me. I just know her.) She climbs on the stool. I laugh. She looks at me, surprised she was being watched. This is the moment when I want to sweep her up in a hug and never let go.

The only way to get her to take her medicine is to leave her alone. If she has an audience, it will take her all day. Trust me on this. I walk to the kitchen and seconds later she comes flying in, "Mom! I'm done!"

I wouldn't put it past her to dump it down the sink just to be done with it.

And I love her for it, yes, even for that. For her audacity to dump it just because she doesn't want to do it. For her eagerness to be back with me in the same room.

She is much-loved. Always and forever.

Don't bother with this Parker Bros. game

The Game of Things by Parker Brothers
We played this game last night and quit after about 10 minutes because it just wasn't fun.
Let me set the scene: there were 5 of us, all women, all over 30, and we had each had at least one adult beverage.
We read the instructions, which didn't really make sense, but we started anyway and agreed we would figure it out as we played. We hit roadblocks from the beginning. I was The Reader and read the first answer. The player to my left seemed stumped and it turns out, that I had read her answer. She guessed herself. That wasn't too much fun, but it thought it was a fluke. Turns out, that in each of the three rounds we played, two of us had to guess ourselves. There was nothing in the instruction book about that and it really zapped the fun out of the game.
The other issue we ran into was that the instruction said the guesser cannot guess The Reader. That just doesn't make any sense. If you know the answer belongs to The Reader, but you can't guess The Reader, then you have to guess someone else, even though you know that is incorrect. Stupid.
We boxed the game back up after three rounds because it wasn't any fun and didn't flow well. The concept is a good one, it just seems that no one actually played the game before they released it to the market. And if you're spending $29.99 on a game, you expect fun.

Amazon says this isn't available until August, but we bought it at Target last week.
Price: $29.99

One of those days with the kids

I don't get why my kids whine. Oh sure, all kids do at some point, and I know there are kids who whine much more than mine do. But I don't get it. I've read waaaaaaay too many parenting books and I know the "expert's" reasons for why kids whine. My kids don't seem to fall into the grouings that the "experts" throw out. They weren't tired, hungry, or blah blah blah. They were misunderstood. Why in the world does that mean they need to whine? It escalated to crying and screaming, because, of course, I was on the phone. First time I had been on the phone in 3 hours. I'm so tired of listening to the whining. They don't get what they want when they whine. They get to go to their rooms. When I hear whining, it feels as though pieces of me are being ripped out of me, slowly and painfully. A brief time out for us all, then we can rejoin each other and try to be better people.
Did I whine that much as a kid? I don't think I've ever asked my mom. I'll do that. Think she remembers?

Telling the truth in church

So, we're done with yet another church. Why is that? Isn't that sad? It makes us sad. And the thing that gets me the most, is other church people telling me, "Don't hate the church because of the people. There are good and bad people at every church." I KNOW that. But, it seems, when there are enough people who stymie change, then we have to move on. When there are enough people, good and bad, who hold back a church and smother the people who want the church to move forward, then it's over. Walk away and don't look back. Keep up with your friends, but walk away from the disease and the hurt.
Are we going to find a new church? I don't know. Maybe. We're ok with 'taking a break' for now.
Why can't church people just be honest? Why can't we have an open discussion about things (life)? *sigh*
I still the Lord, I still seek Him. I just can't find Him in a church right now. And I honestly, truly believe that He's ok with that.