Category: Motherhood

It takes a hero

…to sew a gown in a day.

Paige WILL have sleeves and an adequate skirt on her gown at her big concert this weekend.

There is NOTHING in our stores that is appropriate. Trust me. We’ve looked.

The online world has failed us, too. I’m so glad I can sew.

I take it back. It doesn’t take a hero. It just takes a MOM.

Rushing and Racing

Last Saturday’s schedule:

5:45a.m. Drive  to airport (1 hr round trip)

7:10  Drop off Timothy at neighbor’s

7:15  Drive 30 minutes to bring Paige and Daniel to the U of A for piano ensemble practices

8:00-8:30  Wait for Daniel’s rehearsal to end; leave Paige

8:30 Drive 30 minutes to bring Daniel back to Sahuarita for team pictures

9:00 Meet Timothy at the ball field, drop off Daniel for practice

10:00 Drive 30 minutes back up to Tucson to pick up Paige

10:30 Pick up Paige and drive 30 minutes to ball field in Sahuarita

11:10 Pick up heat-exhausted Daniel, race home to eat lunch and let Paige change

12:00 Pick up produce co-op order

12:30-1:30 Paige’s dance performance. One of her songs was Slow Me Down (amen)

2:00 Mark, who has been my companion all day, is ready for an ice cream date

3:00 I take a rest and then get back up again.

New World to Me

Can it be that Paige has been dancing for 7 1/2 years and dance competition is something new to us?

Yes, it can.

Paige was in a dance competition on Saturday. Everything had to be altered: Costume, eye lashes, and hair. I altered some costumes and helped put on fake eyelashes behind stage.

She danced in a tall hotel in Phoenix where no food was allowed and $4 candy bars were sold for those desperate and rich enough. I watched 3 1/2 of hours of dance as I waited for Paige’s numbers. The music beat directly through important neural pathways, leaving me exhausted and weak. I suffered a great deal. I can’t imagine what Paige must have been going through.

Well, the dance team lifted Paige high above their heads and flipped her as planned and she was graceful and she was beautiful. They won second and third place in their division.

I expected to be exposed to Stage Mothers. This put me in great fear. I was so nervous I bought a new purse for courage (and I’m not a purse kind of girl). I walked in confidently with my new bag and a spring blouse, only to be met with

Bedazzled t-shirts.

Mothers weren’t sporting purses! They were sporting  “Elite Ballerina Mom” or “Dance Mom” in bling all over their chests. This is not me!  I said in my loudest, completely silent voice. Please don’t let this be my fate! I don’t want to be a Stage Mom. No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And then I calmed down. I may not have bling, but I’m the kind of Stage Mom who tells her daughter, “Dance for yourself and your Heavenly Father and find joy. I’ll pray for you!” And, when it’s all over, I’m the Stage Mom who tries to tell everyone they were beautiful.  I’m also the kind of Stage Mother who WILL henceforth sneak in snacks (in my spacious new purse). Let’s hope it’s a long time until another competition comes our way.

Under Construction

When a website is undergoing some kind of change, they say it’s “under construction.”

Something like that is happening here. I am a hesitant blogger (despite my frequent posts) because unlike many bloggers,  I am not here to start a discussion. I’m just here to share. I share to maintain relationships with family and have some personal validation. I have a very small readership. (Bless each of you!) I get a lot of questions about curriculum and activities, so I have tried to share these things here. This may be changing, however.

First, two bits of background information:

A few months ago I found a discussion that asked, “At what point do you stop posting about your children because they are old enough to tell their own stories?” This question has hovered over my head for a while and I can see wisdom in not treading heavily on the experiences of childhood. I have tried to be careful with what I post about the heart-wrenching or embarrassing moments of growing up. There are no posts showing the painful smile after braces or striking out during a baseball game, etc.

This weekend I read a homeschooling discussion and was once again shocked and horrified to read the hatred and mistrust that is directed against parents who educate their own children. Such comments ignore the good and highlight the bad. I have seen homeschooling done very well and I’ve seen it done very poorly. Over the past several days my reaction to the acerbic tone of so many against this movement has been to crawl into a shell and ponder two questions,

“Is the online telling of the education of my children ultimately unfair to them?” (even though I block search engines)

and,

“Do my homeschooling posts serve anyone but myself?”

Since I’m not looking for a discussion, I don’t expect these questions to be answered by my readers, but through prayer. And believe me, that’s enough.

But, if you see fewer posts in the future, or see that I suddenly start posting pictures of decorated corners of my house instead of scenes from the schoolroom you will know that I have decided to protect that aspect of our lives.

Mark’s little red boy

Mark drew his first person yesterday. He started with the legs and feet. Then he did the head and the arms. He used a red pencil, of course.

I taught Mark’s class at church yesterday, but he was the only one who showed up. We had a lovely time, sitting in the sunlight coming in from the window. We molded playdough, sang songs about prayer, and learned the story of Daniel and the lion’s den.

My baby is a big boy. Mine is a sweet kind of ache, though.

Leadership

Timothy, showing his hilarious entertainer side

Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he wants to do it.
Dwight D. Eisenhower

My role as a teacher is less about imparting and more about leading.

And that’s why I have nothing to say this week. I’ve been living the art of leadership. This means I’ve just been too busy studying things I will ask my children to study, organizing, and forming a vision for the upcoming months. My brain has been intensely busy and my hands have lifted many things. None of it shows well on a blog.

Today I had to halt for a little while and rest my aching side. Sometimes the old scar tissue acts up and I spend the day hugging a heating pad. But it’s a small thing.

As I have rested, I’ve been able to see things I wouldn’t normally see in my usual hustle and bustle. I’ve watched some seeds that have (figuratively) sprouted in my children: jobs accomplished, attitudes and emotions  checked, and skills honed. The true test of the training and education I try to provide will manifest itself in the level of self-discipline and love my children learn. I haven’t been disappointed today. There is a long way to go, but I’ve been given a glimpse of some progress today.

Carry on!

I gave Paige and Daniel the assignment to read about our Mayflower ancestors last week. We’re descendants of Mary Chilton and Richard Warren, who were passengers on the Mayflower. Mary was orphaned at age 13 when her parents died within a week of each other after landing at Plymouth. She later married Mr. Warren John Winslow who arrived in Plymouth in 1621.

I have been thinking about those ancestors all day. The Chiltons were Separatists who had fled from persecution in England to live in Holland. Although they were financially better off in Holland and were able to exercise their religion in peace, they were troubled by the worldly influences around them, such as a lax sabbath day observance and also some cultural differences. These parents were concerned about their children. They were concerned that the principles for which they had left their homeland were being watered down in the environment in which they now lived.

Mary’s parents died in what I believe to be a heroic struggle to maintain purity in the next generation.

Paige is writing a report about this young girl, Mary Chilton, who was orphaned in the new land. Will Paige be able to see a pattern in conviction and courage carried through the generations to her own family? I want so much for her and the boys to drink in this heritage of strength and fearlessness. I have seen it in my parents and grandparents: Strength to be different; Strength to stand alone and follow through with what they feel inspired to do. Our ancestors were fearless in being counted with the Separatists, driven from England, and later the Mormons, driven from the eastern United States. I see the same fearless strength today in my parents who are missionaries; and I’ve seen it in my grandparents who have made a difference by their service and faith.

I hope we’re doing enough to see that this courageous pattern is carried on in the next generation. Learning about these ancestors makes my decisions seem easy and my burdens light in comparison. However, this doesn’t mean I believe the battle is of lesser importance. The same enemy fights against good and it’s still the children for whom we struggle to preserve. And the enemy is insidious and permeates our culture so blatantly that I find myself shocked all the time at what I have just seen or heard.

I’m feeling a little more empowered by this new knowledge of our roots. As I said before, I hope Paige feels the same through her study of these ancestors.