It started off with me thinking that it might actually be okay this time.
"We have an appointment this morning sweetheart" I told her in the morning when she came to me, curling herself up like a kitten, like a still small baby like she used to. I'm so glad she still does.
"It's for a needle sweetie, just one poke...it's no big deal" I reassure her and she nods because I've been doing this all along too. Reassuring her.
I learned long ago when she was still a small babe, that the stronger I was, the stronger she could be. The calmer I was, the calmer she would be. So I trained myself to be still and calm and strong and hold her steady through the screaming and writhing and the tears and she'd be okay.
I'm trying to train myself in this in other ways too. And sometimes I fail. Miscommunications happen on the telephone and emotions run strong and I am the one with tears and a raised voice and the overreaction to pain and I forget she's there, watching and soaking it all in....little sponge that she is.
And sometimes I fail in the hot seat itself. I have her little body braced in my lap, but it's going to be three pokes not just one and my reassurances look like lies. And the needles themselves; they're huge. Three times the size of those when she was here last, 18 months old and so much more trusting, so much more forgiving and forgetful. A smarty could still fix the tears last time. But this time there fear and my singing isn't penetrating it. My gentle rubbing of her back isn't fixing anything. She's wild eyed and shrieking and breaking my heart as she begs and pleads for it to be over, but there's still two more to go and I fail her. Because I forget to pray.
I forget the source of all that calm all that peace that transcends human understanding and I leave him out of the room when he is needed most. I forget to draw on the well that is the only thing that can help and I am instead left doing a pitiful job in my own strength.
She knows it and I know it, and she cries all afternoon. Cries from the soreness and the stiffness and the fever that follows that night, the trip to the bathroom because her stomach has turned sour and she cries from the sight of the blood and the bruising because I didn't hold her still enough through her panic. Mostly she cries because she feels betrayed. Her face is puffy until the next morning.
I don't know who feels worse.
There was a lot of emotion yesterday, and eventually it was sorted through. A slow untangling and straightening out. Things returned to normal...no better than normal. Because at the end of all the struggle there is something better, something that may protect from the storm again next time. There's been lessons learned and the biggest one is to not leave the arms of the one who is holding me tight through it all either. My heavenly father is there with me braced in his lap, holding my hand, holding me still and I forget. I writhe and shriek and turn away. I try to do things on my own with a counterfeit serenity that helps no one. And I can't afford to hand the same counterfeit to my daughter. She needs more.
Later in the afternoon, I suggested we pray. She shook her head fiercely.
" I don't want to! I don't know how!!! It hurts too bad".
I know the feeling, I've said those words myself.
"Alright, well why don't you pray with me and you can repeat my words"
You can follow my example.
And she does.
I made a resolution this afternoon to be a better mom. It was right around the time I had finished sewing up the first of two decorated cloth envelopes so my kids could awaken tomorrow morning and have fun opening them to find all manner of little loving goodies. My plan was to write a love note to each of my children so that there would be some lasting token of my affection for them long after the candy wrappers had been thrown away. I thought about those little notes I wanted to write and all the heartfelt things I wanted to genuinely say and I made a firm vow that I was going to really be that mother all of the time from here on out. No more nagging, no more frustration leaking into my voice, no more inconsistencies, no more unfair judgement calls, no more being tied up on the telephone or internet or sewing machine. I was going to do it all from now one better.
I made it about two hours ...most of which my daughter was at school and my son was sound asleep....sigh.
An hour or so after that I was standing on the side of the road with my toddler in my arms trying to soothe him whilst he cried from the bite of the cold wind. "Don't worry little buddy, I know you're cold. Her bus will be here any minute....any minute now....any minute...oh dear Jesus please help her bus to come now!"
Finally, we had to admit defeat and retreat back to the house, where I frantically dialed her bus driver wondering what had happened to make her a half hour later for our usual pick up time. All sorts of scenarios ran through my head, and this isn't the first time the consistency of the bus system from her school has fallen through. (let's just say, it's not the most solid rock I've got to stand on).
Within moments of course, I received a call back from the driver assuring me they were en route but had been stopped by a large accident on the train tracks that split our town in half. Very soon, my sobbing five year old was in my arms, while my frazzled nerves worked overtime to comfort us both.
Then the baby cut his mouth and dinner hardly got cooked and my picky little one's deigned to sully their forks with any of the veggies and then there were fights and screaming and children being hard of hearing and cupcakes that had to be made for the next day and the second cloth envelop almost didn't make it, (which would never do) and I found myself a distracted, harried, ungracious mother far off the mark I had set for myself short hours ago...
Earlier today I had fallen in love with the words and music of a classic hymn I had never heard. More than anything the message stole me completely. "Abide with Me", Henry F. Lyte pleaded of God as he lay dying in the middle of the 17th century. His words resonated deeply with me even today, here is a small excerpt:
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and other comforts flee
Help of the helpless; abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power
Who like Thyself, my guide and stay can be
Through cloud and sunshine; abide with me.
Upon the sweet truth of this hymn is the secret to finding a rest, a stillness, a peace and a strength I so often lack. I lack it most when trials come or the day feels long and bleak or my heart turns to ice as I look down the road and don't see that expected thing coming to me, anxiety creeps in and takes it's hold and I am not abiding. I am struggling and this too must be my prayer, that when other helpers fail and other comforts flee, that the Help of the helpless might abide with me.
I failed today, miserably. But thankfully, the presence of God doesn't depart from me based on the merit of my behaviors or attitude. The measure of my patience is out of step with the measure of His for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and I will resolve again to do my very utmost to love my children and be the mother they need for me to be. Only I won't be able to do it on my own strength. The wonderful thing is that I don't have to. Grace, Forgiveness, Mercy, Wisdom, these things are in limitless supply from the one who abides with me.
I will awake to my responsibilities anew, and with fresh determination I will throw myself into this business of being a mama. Together we will cut paper hearts and eat cupcakes, make mistakes and have meltdowns and I will write them letters of love from the bottom of my heart that they cannot understand at this age. Because I have first been given a love that I cannot fully understand, and it is abiding with me....always.
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| For starters, a big thanks to Oma for the birthday gift! |
This box of sticker tiaras has been sitting up in the cupboard since October. Every once in a while my daughter remembers that it's there and asks if we can pull it down and create some for ourselves. I'll admit, it hasn't been high on my list of projects to do.
First there was the Christmas rush that ran from October to the End of December...then there was the Christmas burnout which has lasted for all of January so far( I haven't even touched the sewing machine since Pickle's birthday party).
But today when those big green eyes implored me to please, please make sticker tiaras today... I was out of excuses.
Still, I came up with one anyway.
"Honey, I'm about to start making supper...how about we do it after supper tonight?"
"As soon as we're done?"
"Sure. As soon as we're done".
An hour and a half later I put my fork down and she was at attention, standing next to shoulder.
"It's after supper now...you promised, let's make Tiaras!!!!!"
I finished chewing, swallowed, and went to get the box. To her credit she helped clear the table.
And then we actually had a ton of fun. The stickers were all numbered and coincided with numbers that were printed in patterns all over the little foam tiaras so I figured it was actually a pretty educational activity for number recognition and patterns and sequences, not to mention fine motor control.(those stickers were tiny!)
But more importantly every thing was bright and sparkly and glittery and colored like rainbows...it was wonderful.
While we were plodding away at this time consuming feat (another plus in my book, because it kept my girl absorbed for almost an entire hour) we got to chat and sing and laugh together and that was really the best part of the whole exercise.
At one point my little girl began singing aloud along with me, old camp songs and ditties she's learning at school. She began improvising her own creations all songs about chocolate chips, putting on rain jackets and riding horses through golden skies....I didn't want it to end to be honest, and apparently neither did she.
" I just love chatting with you mom." she said. "Me too honey, me too."
"Isn't this just the best thing ever? I don't ever want to be done."
Yes, it sure is.
Some days are just bad days.
Yesterday was a bad day.
Worse for some other people who are close enough to me for my heart to be hurting for them so badly in the wake of tragedy hitting them unexpectedly.
Yesterday as I fumbled around my house fighting the worst dizzy spells I've had yet I got a phone call from the School Bus driver who was sitting at my daughter's bus stop wondering where the heck I was and when I was coming to pick up my daughter.
"Seriously?" I looked at the clock, I have been having a hard time keeping track of certain things but we were trying to get out the door. I thought I had more time.
"Am I late?"
"umm...yes, you sure are." came the snippy reply.
I wanted to burst into tears and tell her that I was having a hard time even walking around my house and that my son was running and laughing from me while I tried to wrestle him into a snowsuit so I could walk to the bus stop to get my little girl. I wanted to tell her that the whole world was falling apart for members of my husband's family and that I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so low...mostly because I couldn't remember things very well these days. I wanted to snap back and tell her not to be pissy with me. I wanted to tell her she should rearrange the bus schedule so she could drop my daughter off right at home instead of 2 blocks away. But instead I stuffed my tears inside and mumbled that I was on my way and I proceeded to shuffle and stumble down the street with my baby boy in tow crying in the minus 30 wind chill.
I blubbered apologies to the bus driver and took Ava by the hand who immediately burst into tears. Everything she said was technically true and hopelessly skewed:
" I didn't get to be the big helper today at school because you didn't come and it was the worst day ever! It was such a bad day and then you forgot me at the bus stop!"
It was true, I had swapped helper days with another parent because I could hardly function and even more importantly my mother in law had to fly to New Mexico that morning and she needed to do that for the family emergency that was happening and that meant I needed to stay home with my son.
None of that mattered to my daughter's world. The grownups had let her down and that was NOT what grown ups were supposed to do.
Then she realized I hadn't brought the vehicle at about the same second that she realized it was really cold outside and more than a block to your house.
"C'mon" I urged her taking her by the arm of her coat. " Baby's cold, mama's cold, you're cold, let's just get home"
She wrenched away from me.
"NO! I'm MAD at you!",her hot tears freezing instantly on her cheeks.
I sighed heavily and got down on her eye level, steadying myself on the ground with my mittened hand, feeling faint.
"Look, it doesn't help to blame people. I'm sorry that this was such a hard day for you, I'm sorry that you had a bad day, but you can't blame me. It isn't my fault, now please let's get inside the house."
She started shuffling along with me as the little boy started fussing and crying cause his poor little face was turning red in the cold.
She let go of my hand and I continued to hurry along. She sobbed that I was leaving her on the street, that I didn't care about her.
Finally at the end of the drive way I turned around and yelled, "GET IN THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE BEING A BRAT!"
So I guess my tantrum wasn't any better than hers. I hauled her into the house and all three of us stood and sobbed and caught our breath and angrily threw our toques and mittens on the floor.
Later we talked and apologized and hugged and cuddled and had a bubble bath and all the things that make a bad day a little better. We went to bed early and held each other while we cried over sad news on the telephone. We said prayers in choked voices and felt humbled by the weight of how precious each and every day we have really is.
Whether we get to be the big helper or not, or get left on the school bus, whether we feel healthy or not, whether it's a freezing blizzard or a warm breeze, whether we are scared or frustrated or tired or overwhelmed, whether we are separated from loved ones or forced to say good bye. Whether we know the future or are facing the unknown, whether it was a good day or a bad day....
It was a day and we made it through it and we will make it through the next one too, That is my prayer for myself and for those I love who are hurting, that you will feel the presence of God and love that encircles and encompasses you, that you will be filled with a peace that surpasses all understanding and find the strength to make it through the worst days and the ones that follow.
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| What is this cake stuff, and where has it been all my life? |
My lovely little niece Pickles turned one just before Christmas and we all had a party to celebrate on the weekend. It was one of the loveliest parties I'd been to, all low key and intimate and not too long for the little ones in attendance to get over tired or go into hysterics.
The gifts were all lovely too. Wooden dolls for a playhouse, a vintage sourced doll cradle and highchair from the birthday girl's mommy, a tutu from one auntie and a quilted quiet time book from this auntie.
It was probably the most difficult and time consuming project I have ever attempted but also one of the most enjoyable projects I've ever endeavored as well.
When we were little girls my sister and I had one Auntie in particular (who is a reader of mine too, I love you Auntie Shirley) who made us the most beautiful handmade dresses, pillows and yes, a quiet book for my older sister. For reasons, not divulged here, she doesn't have that quiet book today, so I decided months ago, that I would be the Auntie to fix that situation and make sure Pickles got a quiet book from an Auntie too.
Here are some of the pages I created.
Please take into account that I am very much a beginner sewer and I made more mistakes than even I have the humility to point out.
The book is based on the changing of the seasons and has the classic fine motor activities of weaving, zipping a zipper, tying a bow, lacing a shoe, doing up buttons etc.
Wouldn't you know it was such a hit with all the other guests that there have already been inquiries that perhaps I will try my hand at it again for them too? That's an exciting prospect, considering it will give me the chance to use all the knowledge I've learned the hard way and try out some new ideas.
if anyone wants to see the rest of the pages, let me know and I'll post them too!
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