Do your kids do funny stuff like this? I was browsing videos on Youtube today and saw this. I thought it was so funny! Enjoy! If you have cute videos of your kids send them to me! I would love for you to share them.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Short Christmas Message
Can you believe Christmas is tomorrow!? Wow. This year has really flown by. I just wanted to leave you a few words before the celebrations begin. This Christmas I have really been thinking about the true meaning of the season. Often times I forget why we really celebrate it. I get so caught up in the gifts, good food, and fun that I forget to stop to think about Christ. I think the reason why so many people say Christmas is their favorite time of year is because people change. They become nicer and more service oriented around Christmas. We do little acts of service every day and are generally happy the whole season. Why does it have to only be like that around Christmas though? President Thomas S. Monson says: "With the Spirit of Christ in our lives, we will have goodwill and love toward all mankind, not only during this season, but throughout the year as well." Like he says, we don't only have to be that way around Christmas. Make Christ the center of your life this next year and all those things will come easy to you. You will find yourself doing little acts of service without thinking about it. I challenge all of you to take the spirit of Christmas with you all year long, and remember why we celebrate Christmas after all.
Merry Christmas to you all- and happy blogging! We will be taking a break from the blogs until Monday, December 28th.
Happy Holidays!
Merry Christmas to you all- and happy blogging! We will be taking a break from the blogs until Monday, December 28th.
Happy Holidays!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Patience and Projects
This was submitted by Adrianne Richards from OH. You can view her blogs here and here
Thanks Adrianne!
Before I had kids I got a job working at Headstart in their homebase program. Each week I made a visit to one of the kids in the class and taught them in their home. To really have the program be effective the parents were expected to be present and to provide, some if not all the materials. The lessons were focused around fine motor, gross motor, math, language, science, etc. I would discuss areas the child could improve on and ask the mother (or father) what things they would like to work on and what activities they would like to do the following week. We played games, made art projects, cooked, played with playdough, went for walks outside, really the sky was the limit. I loved it and I loved watching the children grow and watching the parents become involved. It really taught me that teaching children can be easy and fun.
The hardest part of teaching children is the patience required. I have three boys between the ages of 4 1/2-20 months. It can often be very difficult to do projects with them. Some times when we have completed the project it looks like a tornado has hit our kitchen--paint, glitter, glue, and scraps of paper litter my floor.
Overall, I love teaching my children in my home. I love being able to watch them grow and see the curiosity they have. I love that they want to do a project each day (we don't do projects every day even though they want to). When the boys tape their projects to the pantry and ask, "Isn't it so beautiful?" I know that it was worth it.
Thanks Adrianne!
Before I had kids I got a job working at Headstart in their homebase program. Each week I made a visit to one of the kids in the class and taught them in their home. To really have the program be effective the parents were expected to be present and to provide, some if not all the materials. The lessons were focused around fine motor, gross motor, math, language, science, etc. I would discuss areas the child could improve on and ask the mother (or father) what things they would like to work on and what activities they would like to do the following week. We played games, made art projects, cooked, played with playdough, went for walks outside, really the sky was the limit. I loved it and I loved watching the children grow and watching the parents become involved. It really taught me that teaching children can be easy and fun.
The 3 boys making a craft
The hardest part of teaching children is the patience required. I have three boys between the ages of 4 1/2-20 months. It can often be very difficult to do projects with them. Some times when we have completed the project it looks like a tornado has hit our kitchen--paint, glitter, glue, and scraps of paper litter my floor.
The 3 boys cooking with Daddy
Overall, I love teaching my children in my home. I love being able to watch them grow and see the curiosity they have. I love that they want to do a project each day (we don't do projects every day even though they want to). When the boys tape their projects to the pantry and ask, "Isn't it so beautiful?" I know that it was worth it.
Two of the boys making paper mache
The 3 boys being silly!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Potty Training Tips
These tips were written and submitted by Christy Hardman- check out her blog here.
"One of my least favorite parts of parenting is potty training. There is something very insecure in putting your child in something that allows for certain disaster to happen any time and anywhere, and there’s nothing that gets the rage boiling like another puddle—or worse—on your new carpet.
Potty training is not something you can force. If you get frustrated or forceful, the child will naturally reflect your feelings and either decide it’s not worth trying or their feelings will be hurt and their self-esteem will suffer. If you can’t take it, put the diapers back on for a few more days until you’re ready to try again. After five kids, I learned that potty training is as much about Mom and Dad being ready to give it a go, as it is about the child being ready.
We tried everything from awarding potty treats, to new magic princess panties. For my boys we dropped Cheerios into the toilet and told them fire away. Set the timer and every time they hear it beep they get to sit on the potty again. Make it a fun game they want to play. Read them a story on the potty, and if they don’t go, let them off for another ten minutes and try again.
You know your child better than anyone, so before you start, think of what motivates him or her. Are they goal oriented, incredibly independent or are they super stubborn? Do they respond well to charts? Do they like competition? Think about ways you’ve had success getting them to comply with things in the past, and use a similar tactic.
Here are some tips that might help:
Number one: As stupid as it sounds, don’t take it personal when your child makes a mistake. Even if you’re absolutely sure your kid did it just to spite you, they only win if you get upset. Clean it up, pat their head, and both of you pick up and try again.
Number two: Don’t get a puppy while you’re trying to potty train your child.
Number three: Praise goes a long way.
Number four: Do NOT call your boy’s underwear panties in your husband’s hearing. It doesn’t go over well.
Number five: Even when you think you’ve got the potty training thing down, the child will inevitably revert. Don’t despair. It’s just a stage. Every child does this. They get bored with the potty game, and want to keep on with whatever they’re doing. Be persistent, and after a few days, they do better again. Nothing you’ve taught them about going potty in the toilet is wasted. Children hear a lot more of what you tell them than you think. Eventually it sinks in, and they stay dry for a whole day, and then through the night.
Hurray! Success never felt so good."
Thanks Christy for the awesome tips! Anybody have anything to add? What do you do to get your kids potty trained?
Friday, December 18, 2009
Yes, Putting Kids to Bed Does Get Easier....
So, you all read my earlier post about putting my niece and nephew to bed when we babysat two weeks ago. I kinda had a tough time getting them to go to sleep for me.
Well last night, my husband and I babysat them again. But this time- my brother and his wife left the newborn too! I tell ya, they are the easiest kids to babysit! They were so good for us. We got there around 5:15, and then we fed them some dinner. They ate most of their food, and then asked if they could watch a movie (mind you, the boy is 4 and the girl is 2, and the newborn is 2 months.) So, we popped in the movie "UP" and got comfy on the couch to watch it. Ella (my niece) cuddled right up to my husband with her blanket, and fell right to sleep. Henry (my nephew), sat through the whole movie and laughed- and was content. When it came time for bed at 7:30, they got a little ornery. They didn't want to go to bed yet. Once we got up there though, they went right to sleep!
They have this routine- they brush their teeth, say prayers, read a story, and have their mom sing a lullaby to them. After that, they go right to sleep. So, last night, I got to the lullaby and was nervous that they would cry because I didn't know the song. Instead, I sang a different song, and they sat through it all. They did complain a little- and Henry said "Gillian, I want you to learn mommy's lullaby for next time you put us to sleep." Ok, how cute are these kids?! This time, putting them to bed was SO much easier than last time. Maybe it's because they were in their own beds.
It amazes me that kids that young can get into routines and get right to bed after that. I think when their routine changes, it's a lot harder for them to get to sleep. Routines are good. They are comfortable. Do you have a special routine when you put your kids to bed? What do your kids have to have to go to sleep? A song? A back rub?
On a side note- I still think my niece and nephew are cuter than yours. :) My niece called me this morning (well her mom did...). She told her mom she wanted to call me before they left for California over the holidays. *I'm now a favorite....* And- I will admit it, my husband loved babysitting last night. I quote him "I hate babysitting kids that are so dang cute that it makes us want babies...." hmmm.....
What's your routine?
Well last night, my husband and I babysat them again. But this time- my brother and his wife left the newborn too! I tell ya, they are the easiest kids to babysit! They were so good for us. We got there around 5:15, and then we fed them some dinner. They ate most of their food, and then asked if they could watch a movie (mind you, the boy is 4 and the girl is 2, and the newborn is 2 months.) So, we popped in the movie "UP" and got comfy on the couch to watch it. Ella (my niece) cuddled right up to my husband with her blanket, and fell right to sleep. Henry (my nephew), sat through the whole movie and laughed- and was content. When it came time for bed at 7:30, they got a little ornery. They didn't want to go to bed yet. Once we got up there though, they went right to sleep!
They have this routine- they brush their teeth, say prayers, read a story, and have their mom sing a lullaby to them. After that, they go right to sleep. So, last night, I got to the lullaby and was nervous that they would cry because I didn't know the song. Instead, I sang a different song, and they sat through it all. They did complain a little- and Henry said "Gillian, I want you to learn mommy's lullaby for next time you put us to sleep." Ok, how cute are these kids?! This time, putting them to bed was SO much easier than last time. Maybe it's because they were in their own beds.
It amazes me that kids that young can get into routines and get right to bed after that. I think when their routine changes, it's a lot harder for them to get to sleep. Routines are good. They are comfortable. Do you have a special routine when you put your kids to bed? What do your kids have to have to go to sleep? A song? A back rub?
On a side note- I still think my niece and nephew are cuter than yours. :) My niece called me this morning (well her mom did...). She told her mom she wanted to call me before they left for California over the holidays. *I'm now a favorite....* And- I will admit it, my husband loved babysitting last night. I quote him "I hate babysitting kids that are so dang cute that it makes us want babies...." hmmm.....
What's your routine?
Thursday, December 17, 2009
How the Pee Monster Wet The Bed
This story was submitted by Adrianne Richards- (My older sister) from Ohio.
This story is written in the point of view of her little boy Isaac.
An original story by Michael Isaac Richards
Later, when it was bedtime. Mommy went to put me in bed. She noticed a terrible smell coming from my bed. It smelled mysteriously like pee. I was surprised. Mommy felt my bed and it was wet. How did that happen? She did not seem very happy. There weren't any more sheets for my bed so mommy put down a little blanket while my sheet washed.
Mommy is making me wear diapers to bed at night and during naptime. I don't know why. I am pretty sure a pee monster came in my room and wet my bed so mommy would think I lied to her. That bad monster! She looked for my wet underwear and couldn't find them. I told her the truth, they fell in the toilet and I flushed them."
Haha- Do your kids say funny things to get out of trouble when they know they have wet the bed? I can't wait to have kids and hear the funny things they have to say!
Kid's Say The Darnest Things...
This post was submitted by Amy Rasmussen from Spanish Fork, UT.
"My son Coleton is hilarious and says the funniest things. He is 3 years old. Here are a few.
This is Coleton. What a cutie!
One day my youngest son Gage was crying Coleton got down on his knees looked at him held out his arms and in the sweetest voice ever said...
"Come here sad baby".
One day Coleton and my oldest son Remington were working on a puzzle on the kitchen table. Gage climbed up and starting throwing pieces coleton looked at him and said... "STOP IT Gage you naughty baby"
One day I walked into the living room and there was Coleton a yellow sharpie marker in his hand and a beautiful masterpiece all over the wall I looked and him and he said...
"TA DAH!!"
When he gets out of the tub he does a dance and says..
"Check out my sexy bum" This may not be so funny when he is older but for now I laugh!
I love this little man!"
This is Amy and her family.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I Would Lay My Life Down For My Child...
This story is a very personal story from my mother. My little Brother has suffered from Spina Bifida all his life. He has had over 34 Major Surgeries and has lived most of his life in a hospital. He has been brave and happy through his journey in this life- and will continue to be happy because of the way he has chosen to live his life.
"What was supposed to be a routine, simple surgery with a three day stay in the hospital turned into a nightmare of gigantic proportions. Our youngest son, Ammon, had been admitted to have a simple shunt inserted along the mid-portion of his spine to release a pocket of fluid that was putting pressure on the nerves, causing low muscle tone in his upper body. The neurosurgeon assured us that this was simple and we’d be able to go home within three days. Ammon was about 10 months old at the time. He had been born with Spina Bifida and had already had numerous surgeries and medical procedures performed on his tiny body.
I did make my way back to her to assure her that Ammon would live and that she should never lose hope in a loving Savior.
Having read this story- It shows that there is no greater love than the love a mother has for their children. Yea, maybe I haven't been in a life threatening situation where my mom has told God that she would take my place if he would only save me- but I know if I was in that situation, she would. Honestly, I can say I would do the same thing if I had a child. Would you? Have you ever had a situation where you wished you had the cold or the ear ache or the sore throat or the flu so that your child didn't have to suffer? What are your thoughts?
Anyway, you can check out Ammon's personal blog. They keep a blog for him to keep others updated on his life. He does post sometimes by himself, and they are usually sweet short posts. Check it out for yourself: www.ammonsjourney.blogspot.com
"What was supposed to be a routine, simple surgery with a three day stay in the hospital turned into a nightmare of gigantic proportions. Our youngest son, Ammon, had been admitted to have a simple shunt inserted along the mid-portion of his spine to release a pocket of fluid that was putting pressure on the nerves, causing low muscle tone in his upper body. The neurosurgeon assured us that this was simple and we’d be able to go home within three days. Ammon was about 10 months old at the time. He had been born with Spina Bifida and had already had numerous surgeries and medical procedures performed on his tiny body.
Ammon after getting 10 Disks removed from his back and getting rods up his back
(Age 12)
The surgery was performed and all seemed to be going well. On the third day, as I was planning to go home, I noticed that Ammon seemed more lethargic than usual. He began to make little whining noises and I could tell he wasn’t feeling very well. I asked the nurse to come in and look at him to see what she thought. She decided to call the doctor to make sure he came up as soon as he could.
Ammon in the PICU after getting his Trach Removed-
(Age 14)
Earlier that day, and in the previous two days spent in the same room with another patient and her mother, I had gotten to know the mother quite well. The patient, a 12 year old girl, had multiple disabilities. She was blind and deaf and could do nothing for herself. They were from Montana. The young girl had had some comprehensive work on her teeth while at the hospital. The mother and I began to talk about our children and our hopes for their futures. We talked about our beliefs. The mother knew many Mormons and was somewhat interested in our beliefs, but she didn’t really have a religion that she called her own. She had five other younger children at home. Her husband was disabled because of an earlier motorcycle accident. He was able to do the chores necessary to take care of the children as long as he read and followed the list this woman left for him. My heart went out to her! She was in serious need of help and support. I began to wish she didn’t live so very far away. We began to talk about death because we both knew it would be inevitable for us to face with our children. I told her I wasn’t really afraid of death, but was a little afraid of the process of dying and the pain associated with it. I told her that the reason I wasn’t afraid of death was because of the deep-felt belief that I would see my little boy again and would be re-united with him after our mortal bodies had died. This young mother expressed her profound fear of death. I tried my best to help her talk it through and feel a little better about it.
Ammon- really happy to be alive.
(Age 12)
The doctor came in the room and examined Ammon. He said we may not be going home that day because he wanted to watch Ammon, but that if things looked fine, we might be able to leave that afternoon. Very shortly after he left the room, Ammon became more and more agitated. He was never a screamer. He was like a tiny wounded animal that would crawl away to be left alone and whimper to himself. But I knew Ammon and I knew he was not feeling well at all. I stood by the side of his crib and began to softly sing to him, hoping that would help. I stroked his arms and talked quietly to him. Soon he was having difficulty breathing. I spoke his name to get him to look at me and could tell that he couldn’t seem to see me. His breathing was getting more and more shallow. I hit the nurse’s button and when she came in I cried, “Something is very, very wrong here. I don’t think he can hear or see me!” She took one look at him and then shot out of the room. Instantly I heard the loudspeaker say, “Code blue, room 4138. Code blue, room 4138.” By this time, I was pleading with Ammon to hang on until the doctor could get there. And I began to plead with my Father in Heaven. I said this prayer, “Heavenly Father, let me trade places with this tiny child! Give me his pain. His life has just begun. I have lived a good life and would gladly give him my life. Please! Please! Keep him here with me, but let me take his pain!” Tears were running down my cheeks because I knew my baby was very near death. Suddenly, a powerful thought came into my mind that said, “You cannot give your life for your son, but I did.” I was stunned because I got a clearer view of the sacrifice of Christ in my behalf. He could give his life for me and He did so that I could live.
A swarm of nurses and residents descended on the room. A few nurses moved our little roommate out of the room, ushering a very, very frightened mother out with her. Here was my test – I had just told this woman that I didn’t fear death. But I was terrified that I would lose this precious child! Suddenly, words were actuality and I was taking back my words in my mind. I was more frightened than I can ever remember. More nurses started pushing me out of the room. I begged to stay in to be near him so I could comfort him with my voice but they would not let me stay. A neurosurgeon resident, whom we truly loved, came streaking in the room. I thought it was so cruel that I could not be there to comfort this child! The minute I was out by the nurse’s station, at least four social workers were surrounding me, like a group of angels protecting me, softening the blows and directing me as to what to do next. They suggested I call my husband and family and see if he could get up there as quickly as possible. I couldn’t remember my phone number. One of them looked it up and dialed the number for me. As I was talking to Jim, the doctor and nurses whisked Ammon passed me to take him to the Intensive Care Unit. The social workers were ready to accompany me to the new room that was to be Ammon’s for the next 5 months as he struggled to live, having eight surgeries in the next six weeks. I looked over at the mother of our roommate and saw the horror on her face. I waved at her and said I’d try to get back to her.
A swarm of nurses and residents descended on the room. A few nurses moved our little roommate out of the room, ushering a very, very frightened mother out with her. Here was my test – I had just told this woman that I didn’t fear death. But I was terrified that I would lose this precious child! Suddenly, words were actuality and I was taking back my words in my mind. I was more frightened than I can ever remember. More nurses started pushing me out of the room. I begged to stay in to be near him so I could comfort him with my voice but they would not let me stay. A neurosurgeon resident, whom we truly loved, came streaking in the room. I thought it was so cruel that I could not be there to comfort this child! The minute I was out by the nurse’s station, at least four social workers were surrounding me, like a group of angels protecting me, softening the blows and directing me as to what to do next. They suggested I call my husband and family and see if he could get up there as quickly as possible. I couldn’t remember my phone number. One of them looked it up and dialed the number for me. As I was talking to Jim, the doctor and nurses whisked Ammon passed me to take him to the Intensive Care Unit. The social workers were ready to accompany me to the new room that was to be Ammon’s for the next 5 months as he struggled to live, having eight surgeries in the next six weeks. I looked over at the mother of our roommate and saw the horror on her face. I waved at her and said I’d try to get back to her.
Ammon After he got his Trach.
(Age 13)
I did make my way back to her to assure her that Ammon would live and that she should never lose hope in a loving Savior.
Ammon with his Pediatrician- His doctor for his whole life thus far- who has saved his life many times.
(Age 13)
Why did this trial come to me? I believe it was to enable me to more clearly appreciate Christ’s sacrifice, but even greater, the sacrifice it would have been for our Father in Heaven to turn His back on His son at the very end to let happen what must happen. As a parent, there can be no greater pain than to see a child suffer. I knew at that moment that I truly would have laid down my life for Ammon had I been able. No greater blessing can came to an individual than to have that realization that Christ loves each of us enough to have suffered and died so that we could go back to our parents in Heaven if we so desired."Having read this story- It shows that there is no greater love than the love a mother has for their children. Yea, maybe I haven't been in a life threatening situation where my mom has told God that she would take my place if he would only save me- but I know if I was in that situation, she would. Honestly, I can say I would do the same thing if I had a child. Would you? Have you ever had a situation where you wished you had the cold or the ear ache or the sore throat or the flu so that your child didn't have to suffer? What are your thoughts?
Anyway, you can check out Ammon's personal blog. They keep a blog for him to keep others updated on his life. He does post sometimes by himself, and they are usually sweet short posts. Check it out for yourself: www.ammonsjourney.blogspot.com
Dreams and the Scent of Face Cream
"Some people are dreamers. They have dreams to comfort or dreams to warn them of things that may come. Through a dream many come to know the gender of their next baby--or that there even is a next baby! I believe dreams come from God. Some believe they come from the devil. Whatever you believe doesn't dampen the reality of what the dreamer comes to know through their midnight miracle. Maybe you're a dreamer. I'm not.
Well, most of the time I'm not. I did have one dream and it was about my mom...
For an extended period of time, I lived in the small country of Taiwan. The conditions which brought me there didn't necessitate returning home to visit or even calling home more than a few times a year. I learned basic Chinese and felt that the people of Taiwan were gracious and patient as I tried to communicate with them. They were also very kind and accomodating. I even got an occasional, "Herro, I ruvva you" from over the shoulder of a daring Chinese school boy zipping by on his bicycle. This was usually followed by that same Chinese youth crashing into another bicyclist or motor scooter (traffic's insane in Taiwan) and running, blushing and injured, until safely out of sight. Though the people were amiable and I was happy to be there I remember one night feeling terribly weary of fried rice, frustrated to be speaking and listening to a language I could barely--if at all--understand and, well, awfully homesick.
I couldn't sleep. I tried to muffle my crying that night since none of the friends surrounding me seemed to be struggling as I was. It was a long, lonely and eternal night. Just as the sun was creaping it's head in between the the tall gray buildings that all looked alike in their dismal foreignness, I must have fallen asleep...
I walked into my living room barefoot. The thick warmth of carpet was the first thing that startled me; I was used to cold, hard tile everywhere. Next, I walked to the sliding glass door and looked out at the life surrounding me. Gone was the city of concrete I had been so strangled by. Clean air and green freshness surrounded me. Rays from the undiluted sun sprinkled across my face and I breathed in their welcoming warmth. Then I heard the sound that my mind had almost forgotten but my soul could never. It was mother.
I walked quietly toward her voice, unsure of what conversation I may be interuppting. Then there she was, as I'd seen her many times, beside her bed with her head bowed gently in prayer. Her porcelin hands were folded humbly. From where I stood, I could smell her face cream and thought of when I'd gazed adoringly at her while she prepared for the day. She was wearing her favorite sweater; had I ever told her how lovely it was on her? She was so intent on what she was saying that even she, with her mother's sixth sense, didn't notice I was there. I wanted to know what it was that mother was worrying about. What person needed help? What personal tragedy might she be facing? I listened closely. She spoke so quietly, I could barely make out the words. She was praying that wherever I was, whatever I was doing that day, I would be happy and safe. I sat in her doorway, looking at the flowery bedspread, the lacy curtains and the same old bottle of perfume on her dressing table. I recorded her prayer in my mind--with all the other little things that made her mother--and knew it was time to go. I crept back down the hall and my eyelids fluttered open. Mother and home were with me no more.
Though Taiwan and fried rice remained the same, something changed in me after that dream. My heart was warmer somehow and my joy deeper. I've always thought it was telling that the one dream I needed to help me in my moment of darkness was one of mother. Thank you, mother."
Well, most of the time I'm not. I did have one dream and it was about my mom...
For an extended period of time, I lived in the small country of Taiwan. The conditions which brought me there didn't necessitate returning home to visit or even calling home more than a few times a year. I learned basic Chinese and felt that the people of Taiwan were gracious and patient as I tried to communicate with them. They were also very kind and accomodating. I even got an occasional, "Herro, I ruvva you" from over the shoulder of a daring Chinese school boy zipping by on his bicycle. This was usually followed by that same Chinese youth crashing into another bicyclist or motor scooter (traffic's insane in Taiwan) and running, blushing and injured, until safely out of sight. Though the people were amiable and I was happy to be there I remember one night feeling terribly weary of fried rice, frustrated to be speaking and listening to a language I could barely--if at all--understand and, well, awfully homesick.
I couldn't sleep. I tried to muffle my crying that night since none of the friends surrounding me seemed to be struggling as I was. It was a long, lonely and eternal night. Just as the sun was creaping it's head in between the the tall gray buildings that all looked alike in their dismal foreignness, I must have fallen asleep...
I walked into my living room barefoot. The thick warmth of carpet was the first thing that startled me; I was used to cold, hard tile everywhere. Next, I walked to the sliding glass door and looked out at the life surrounding me. Gone was the city of concrete I had been so strangled by. Clean air and green freshness surrounded me. Rays from the undiluted sun sprinkled across my face and I breathed in their welcoming warmth. Then I heard the sound that my mind had almost forgotten but my soul could never. It was mother.
I walked quietly toward her voice, unsure of what conversation I may be interuppting. Then there she was, as I'd seen her many times, beside her bed with her head bowed gently in prayer. Her porcelin hands were folded humbly. From where I stood, I could smell her face cream and thought of when I'd gazed adoringly at her while she prepared for the day. She was wearing her favorite sweater; had I ever told her how lovely it was on her? She was so intent on what she was saying that even she, with her mother's sixth sense, didn't notice I was there. I wanted to know what it was that mother was worrying about. What person needed help? What personal tragedy might she be facing? I listened closely. She spoke so quietly, I could barely make out the words. She was praying that wherever I was, whatever I was doing that day, I would be happy and safe. I sat in her doorway, looking at the flowery bedspread, the lacy curtains and the same old bottle of perfume on her dressing table. I recorded her prayer in my mind--with all the other little things that made her mother--and knew it was time to go. I crept back down the hall and my eyelids fluttered open. Mother and home were with me no more.
Though Taiwan and fried rice remained the same, something changed in me after that dream. My heart was warmer somehow and my joy deeper. I've always thought it was telling that the one dream I needed to help me in my moment of darkness was one of mother. Thank you, mother."
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
If Found, Please Return to Owner
"If Found, Please Return to Owner"
(Picture of David with Missionaries while on Choir Tour in CA.)
"Yesterday I heard on the radio that a state senator was proposing a law to make it a crime if an owner of a dog kept the dog tied up longer than 10 hours. He feels that it would be negligent and abusive to keep a dog locked up that long. That report made me reflect upon an experience we had with one of our children and the struggle we had to keep him safe.
We faced a pretty big dilemma when our 8th child refused to stay put – at age two. This child was curious beyond belief. He was very tall for his age and always seemed older than he really was. By the time he was two he could unlock any door or window. He would pull chairs up to the doors and climb up where he could reach the locks. It didn’t seem to matter what kind of lock we used – he figured out how to unlock them. We moved to a new area of town shortly after he turned 2 years old. It was not a good area of town, either. We had 8 children living at home at the time, our oldest being 17 years of age. One evening my husband and I went out to dinner with relatives that were visiting from out of town, leaving our 17 year old in charge.
When we arrived home, we found pandemonium reigning! The kids were scattered everywhere in the neighborhood searching for this little boy. He had wandered off. The kids that were playing in the back yard thought he had gone into the house with those that were watching TV. They had been looking for him for about 45 minutes before we arrived home. I freaked out and started to cry. I was uncontrollable! My husband was smart. He immediately called the police to report a missing child. They asked him to give him a description which he did. They then reported that a child by that description had been picked up near the freeway and they had him in custody at the Children’s Shelter in Sacramento, CA. We could come down there and see if this was our son.
We were appalled but hope sprang forth and propelled us toward the car. As soon as we arrived at the center, we saw him playing with some adults. He was dressed in different clothes. He had on different shoes. He was having the time of his life. I ran towards him with my arms out wide, knowing that he would acknowledge me as his mom. Instead, he turned away from me and said, “Go away.” It took us a little convincing to get him to acknowledge us. He liked being there because they gave him new clothes and new shoes – why? Well, because when they found him, he was standing at the corner of a shopping area with only a dirty diaper on and he was hopping on his feet saying, “Hot! Hot!” They figured they had an abandoned boy. He had wanted to go to dinner with Mom and Dad and so he tried to follow us and find us.
Well, later that evening, we had a visit from the police to verify our story, to observe our thousands of kids to see if they were living in squalor or to see if we were abusive or negligent parents. To say this was embarrassing is to put it mildly. We told the police that we had a very difficult time keeping this child locked in anywhere and asked what they would suggest. We ended up getting some hospital identification bracelets. We put one on his arm. It said, “If found, please return to…..” with address and phone #. Just like a dog!!
We were so uncomfortable living in that area that shortly thereafter and, partly due to this mishap, we moved to a place we considered to be safer. The first thing we did was to take our little boy on a walk around the circle and knock on every door and introduce him to the families. We said, “This is our child. His name should be Houdini but it is David. If you ever see him wandering away from our house, would you be willing to help us and call us or get him back to our house? If you see him tied up to a porch post, please don’t think it is because we are abusive – we are just trying to figure out ways to keep him safe. Thank you.” And then we went to the next house.
We purchased a child’s harness, much to my horror. We had to turn it backward because he could unzip it and get out of it. When he went outside to play in the backyard, we attached him to the clothesline so he could only go as far as the harness and clothesline would allow him to go. We didn’t dare tie him up in the front yard because we didn’t want another visit from authorities checking on our background and living conditions.
David finally grew up. He did not stop wandering. He would stay over at a friend’s house on any given school night when he was in high school and wouldn’t tell me where he was. I would find myself calling various moms asking if David was there. He would sneak out his bedroom window (he doesn’t know I know he did that) after we had gone to bed. He didn’t like being in one place. He had to be surrounded by buddies; he had to be busy; he had to be entertained. Grounding was about the only way we knew to get him to slow down, be safe, be respectful, and be home once in a while. He was a good boy – but he didn’t like to be home. As a mother I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. I mostly felt like we had failed him in some way because we definitely weren’t fun. We were old parents and we were tired. I used to say, “I love being a parent, but I’m sure tired of parenting.
The day we dropped him off at the MTC to go on his LDS church mission, I felt euphoric because I actually KNEW where he was every night for the next two months. I knew he would be safe and he would be doing good things with his life. Some kids need to be independent – some parents need to lock them up."
We faced a pretty big dilemma when our 8th child refused to stay put – at age two. This child was curious beyond belief. He was very tall for his age and always seemed older than he really was. By the time he was two he could unlock any door or window. He would pull chairs up to the doors and climb up where he could reach the locks. It didn’t seem to matter what kind of lock we used – he figured out how to unlock them. We moved to a new area of town shortly after he turned 2 years old. It was not a good area of town, either. We had 8 children living at home at the time, our oldest being 17 years of age. One evening my husband and I went out to dinner with relatives that were visiting from out of town, leaving our 17 year old in charge.
When we arrived home, we found pandemonium reigning! The kids were scattered everywhere in the neighborhood searching for this little boy. He had wandered off. The kids that were playing in the back yard thought he had gone into the house with those that were watching TV. They had been looking for him for about 45 minutes before we arrived home. I freaked out and started to cry. I was uncontrollable! My husband was smart. He immediately called the police to report a missing child. They asked him to give him a description which he did. They then reported that a child by that description had been picked up near the freeway and they had him in custody at the Children’s Shelter in Sacramento, CA. We could come down there and see if this was our son.
We were appalled but hope sprang forth and propelled us toward the car. As soon as we arrived at the center, we saw him playing with some adults. He was dressed in different clothes. He had on different shoes. He was having the time of his life. I ran towards him with my arms out wide, knowing that he would acknowledge me as his mom. Instead, he turned away from me and said, “Go away.” It took us a little convincing to get him to acknowledge us. He liked being there because they gave him new clothes and new shoes – why? Well, because when they found him, he was standing at the corner of a shopping area with only a dirty diaper on and he was hopping on his feet saying, “Hot! Hot!” They figured they had an abandoned boy. He had wanted to go to dinner with Mom and Dad and so he tried to follow us and find us.
Well, later that evening, we had a visit from the police to verify our story, to observe our thousands of kids to see if they were living in squalor or to see if we were abusive or negligent parents. To say this was embarrassing is to put it mildly. We told the police that we had a very difficult time keeping this child locked in anywhere and asked what they would suggest. We ended up getting some hospital identification bracelets. We put one on his arm. It said, “If found, please return to…..” with address and phone #. Just like a dog!!
We were so uncomfortable living in that area that shortly thereafter and, partly due to this mishap, we moved to a place we considered to be safer. The first thing we did was to take our little boy on a walk around the circle and knock on every door and introduce him to the families. We said, “This is our child. His name should be Houdini but it is David. If you ever see him wandering away from our house, would you be willing to help us and call us or get him back to our house? If you see him tied up to a porch post, please don’t think it is because we are abusive – we are just trying to figure out ways to keep him safe. Thank you.” And then we went to the next house.
We purchased a child’s harness, much to my horror. We had to turn it backward because he could unzip it and get out of it. When he went outside to play in the backyard, we attached him to the clothesline so he could only go as far as the harness and clothesline would allow him to go. We didn’t dare tie him up in the front yard because we didn’t want another visit from authorities checking on our background and living conditions.
David finally grew up. He did not stop wandering. He would stay over at a friend’s house on any given school night when he was in high school and wouldn’t tell me where he was. I would find myself calling various moms asking if David was there. He would sneak out his bedroom window (he doesn’t know I know he did that) after we had gone to bed. He didn’t like being in one place. He had to be surrounded by buddies; he had to be busy; he had to be entertained. Grounding was about the only way we knew to get him to slow down, be safe, be respectful, and be home once in a while. He was a good boy – but he didn’t like to be home. As a mother I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. I mostly felt like we had failed him in some way because we definitely weren’t fun. We were old parents and we were tired. I used to say, “I love being a parent, but I’m sure tired of parenting.
The day we dropped him off at the MTC to go on his LDS church mission, I felt euphoric because I actually KNEW where he was every night for the next two months. I knew he would be safe and he would be doing good things with his life. Some kids need to be independent – some parents need to lock them up."
Have any of your kids ever ran away? I know I used to run away from my mom! You can ask her about that one too!
A Mother's Love
This story is from my sister Adrianne. She has two blogs- you can check them out here and here .
"I remember two Halloween's. One was in California--I was Olive Oil. The other was in Indiana. I remember that Halloween in particular because that was the Halloween I spewed my guts. My mom always made us put our candy in a communal pot. When you turned 12 you weren't allowed to go trick-or-treating anymore and since the younger kids could still go trick-or-treating my mom made us put it in the pot so the older kids, no longer allowed to trick-or-treat could still enjoy the fruits of their siblings labors.
That Halloween I must have been my last Hallowed because I was 11. My mom let me go to Logansport to trick-or-treat with my friend Amy (Samuels) Rowbury. I was so excited and had such a good time. And I ate a little too much candy--I threw up. I don't recall if I threw up before or after I got home and I don't remember all the details of the evening. There are three important pieces of this memory though. One is that we were living in a warehouse. We slept in office rooms on mattresses. We ate in the break room. We used the hand driers as our hair driers. The next piece of importance is that my mom was 8 months pregnant. She also slept on a mattress on the floor. And the final important piece is not a concrete image at all. It is the memory of a feeling. I clearly knew that night that my mom was interested in my night and that she took care of me that night. I imagine that my mom whispered sweet, consoling words to me that I would feel better and that she was sorry my fun night was ruined.
The memory has become important to me over the past few weeks. My mom's behavior under the circumstances of that memory leave me in wonder. At the time I was aware of living in a warehouse. I knew my mom was pregnant. I knew I threw up. But now, after having been pregnant three times, moving four times in five and a half years, and taking care of a few sick kids, I understand a little better.
The past month has been hard for us. Moving is hard. I moved a lot growing up. We joke that my dad was a gypsy. The moves my family made growing up were different than this current move. We were living in that warehouse because we had no other place to move. My dad was in between jobs (maybe he had just started his new job) and things were pretty uncertain at the time.
There was a secure job with secure pay waiting for us in Oho. The Air Force paid for our stay in the hotel. Living in the hotel for three weeks was stressful. Not knowing where we were going to live was stressful. But, I slept on a Queen size bed these last three weeks. We had a continental breakfast provided for us. We had a full bathroom. They were pretty nice hotels. We also stayed at my sister's house. She made us meals, provided towels, blankets, entertainment, and conversation, among other things.
My mom was eight months pregnant sleeping on the floor!! But more than that, she was eight months pregnant sleeping on the floor and extending her love to a daughter that made a silly choice by eating too much candy. I don't remember my mom ever complaining about living in that warehouse. I was oblivious to her aches and pains and stresses. All I knew was that I felt my mom's love. And now, with all my experiences, that loves takes on a deeper meaning.
She must have complained, right? Though, not everyone whines about things like I do. I wish my mom had kept a journal because I'd love to know how she really felt about those days. The worries my poor mom must have had.
I hope that my kids are as oblivious to my feelings about moving and other trials I might go through as I was to my mom's."
Mom's really have that unconditional love for their children and always put others in front of themselves. It's amazing how much mothers go through for their kids too- most mothers would really do anything for their family.
Thanks Adrianne for sharing your story!
"I remember two Halloween's. One was in California--I was Olive Oil. The other was in Indiana. I remember that Halloween in particular because that was the Halloween I spewed my guts. My mom always made us put our candy in a communal pot. When you turned 12 you weren't allowed to go trick-or-treating anymore and since the younger kids could still go trick-or-treating my mom made us put it in the pot so the older kids, no longer allowed to trick-or-treat could still enjoy the fruits of their siblings labors.
That Halloween I must have been my last Hallowed because I was 11. My mom let me go to Logansport to trick-or-treat with my friend Amy (Samuels) Rowbury. I was so excited and had such a good time. And I ate a little too much candy--I threw up. I don't recall if I threw up before or after I got home and I don't remember all the details of the evening. There are three important pieces of this memory though. One is that we were living in a warehouse. We slept in office rooms on mattresses. We ate in the break room. We used the hand driers as our hair driers. The next piece of importance is that my mom was 8 months pregnant. She also slept on a mattress on the floor. And the final important piece is not a concrete image at all. It is the memory of a feeling. I clearly knew that night that my mom was interested in my night and that she took care of me that night. I imagine that my mom whispered sweet, consoling words to me that I would feel better and that she was sorry my fun night was ruined.
The memory has become important to me over the past few weeks. My mom's behavior under the circumstances of that memory leave me in wonder. At the time I was aware of living in a warehouse. I knew my mom was pregnant. I knew I threw up. But now, after having been pregnant three times, moving four times in five and a half years, and taking care of a few sick kids, I understand a little better.
The past month has been hard for us. Moving is hard. I moved a lot growing up. We joke that my dad was a gypsy. The moves my family made growing up were different than this current move. We were living in that warehouse because we had no other place to move. My dad was in between jobs (maybe he had just started his new job) and things were pretty uncertain at the time.
There was a secure job with secure pay waiting for us in Oho. The Air Force paid for our stay in the hotel. Living in the hotel for three weeks was stressful. Not knowing where we were going to live was stressful. But, I slept on a Queen size bed these last three weeks. We had a continental breakfast provided for us. We had a full bathroom. They were pretty nice hotels. We also stayed at my sister's house. She made us meals, provided towels, blankets, entertainment, and conversation, among other things.
My mom was eight months pregnant sleeping on the floor!! But more than that, she was eight months pregnant sleeping on the floor and extending her love to a daughter that made a silly choice by eating too much candy. I don't remember my mom ever complaining about living in that warehouse. I was oblivious to her aches and pains and stresses. All I knew was that I felt my mom's love. And now, with all my experiences, that loves takes on a deeper meaning.
She must have complained, right? Though, not everyone whines about things like I do. I wish my mom had kept a journal because I'd love to know how she really felt about those days. The worries my poor mom must have had.
I hope that my kids are as oblivious to my feelings about moving and other trials I might go through as I was to my mom's."
Mom's really have that unconditional love for their children and always put others in front of themselves. It's amazing how much mothers go through for their kids too- most mothers would really do anything for their family.
Thanks Adrianne for sharing your story!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Putting Your Kids To Bed
No, I am not a mom, but I have been a nanny/babysitter many many times- and have had to put kids down for naps or bedtime at night. Bedtime is one of the hardest things when it comes to kids. Why is it so hard for them to go to sleep? By the end of the day I am wiped out, and so ready to hit the sac. You would think that with all the energy kids have during the day that it would be drained out by bedtime!
So is there an easy way to put them to bed? Or does everyone struggle in one way or another?
I babysat my niece and nephew a few weeks ago for the weekend with my husband. My niece is 2 and my nephew is 4. The first night- (a Friday) was a lot of fun. They were cute, and loving, and getting along great. They didn't argue with us or dis-obey us at all. I asked my niece who her best friend is and she said "my brother!" It was so cute- and they were playing so well together. We took them to McDonalds for dinner and then watched a movie at our apartment. By the time we watched the movie, it was around 9 PM and I thought the movie would definitely put them to sleep.
Well, I was wrong. They sat as close as they could to the TV and watched and laughed the whole time. After 30 minutes of the movie- I knew there wasn't going to be any sleeping. So, we turned it off. We sang them songs and brushed their teeth and said prayers. We have a guest room but no extra bed (we are newlyweds) so we put out our million blankets and made a comfy little bed for them to share. (1st mistake- they were sharing a room!) We then said our goodnights and we went to our room. We stayed up to listen to them talking and laughing- until it got to be 10:30 and they were STILL talking. It was driving me nuts. They weren't being bad, but I was worried that they would still wake up early and be cranky! I kept going in there and taking away toys that they had grabbed or bribing them to go to bed.. (haha, not a mother yet, so I can bribe them since they aren't my kids). But really. It took them almost two hours to fall asleep! I think I fell asleep before they did! The next day, my niece was good, but my nephew was cranky. I knew they were so tired- and that it was my fault! I had no idea how to put them to sleep. However, they still acted OK for the rest of the day and were still fun to have until we had to drop them back off that night at my brothers house.
That being said- Do you have problems like that?
What are some things you do to get your kids to bed?
So is there an easy way to put them to bed? Or does everyone struggle in one way or another?
I babysat my niece and nephew a few weeks ago for the weekend with my husband. My niece is 2 and my nephew is 4. The first night- (a Friday) was a lot of fun. They were cute, and loving, and getting along great. They didn't argue with us or dis-obey us at all. I asked my niece who her best friend is and she said "my brother!" It was so cute- and they were playing so well together. We took them to McDonalds for dinner and then watched a movie at our apartment. By the time we watched the movie, it was around 9 PM and I thought the movie would definitely put them to sleep.
Well, I was wrong. They sat as close as they could to the TV and watched and laughed the whole time. After 30 minutes of the movie- I knew there wasn't going to be any sleeping. So, we turned it off. We sang them songs and brushed their teeth and said prayers. We have a guest room but no extra bed (we are newlyweds) so we put out our million blankets and made a comfy little bed for them to share. (1st mistake- they were sharing a room!) We then said our goodnights and we went to our room. We stayed up to listen to them talking and laughing- until it got to be 10:30 and they were STILL talking. It was driving me nuts. They weren't being bad, but I was worried that they would still wake up early and be cranky! I kept going in there and taking away toys that they had grabbed or bribing them to go to bed.. (haha, not a mother yet, so I can bribe them since they aren't my kids). But really. It took them almost two hours to fall asleep! I think I fell asleep before they did! The next day, my niece was good, but my nephew was cranky. I knew they were so tired- and that it was my fault! I had no idea how to put them to sleep. However, they still acted OK for the rest of the day and were still fun to have until we had to drop them back off that night at my brothers house.
That being said- Do you have problems like that?
What are some things you do to get your kids to bed?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Mothers Poem
Mothers
Mothers are people who cook things
Like breakfast or lunch or a snack;
Dexterous people who hook things
Which button or zip up the back.
Mothers are people who blow things,
Balloons and kisses and noses;
Green-thumbish people who grow things
Like Ivy and puppies and roses.
Mothers are people who send things
Like letters and strawberry tarts;
Magical people who mend things
Like blue jeans and elbows and hearts.
Mothers are people who find things
Like mittens and homework and germs;
Fussbudget people who mind things
Like cusswords and snowballs and worms.
Mothers are people who sweep things
Like porches and cobwebs and rugs.
Softhearted people who keep things
Like artwork, report cart and hugs.
Mothers are people who nurse things,
A boy, or a girl, or a spouse.
And all in all there are worse things
Than mothers to have in your house.
-Author Unknown
This poem was featured in "Nobody's Better Than You, Mom" by Debbie Bowen. You can purchase it right here.
Christmas Promo
We now have promo/coupon codes to share with our facebook friends and blog readers!
We will have 4 or 5 (maybe more) books on the promo- and you will get a percentage off of each book. This will change periodically and will be different books, percent off, and different promo codes each time we change it. Take advantage of it!
Right now, (December 10, 2009) we have 5 books on promo. They are:
-Discovering The Magic Of Christmas by Heather Holm
-A Child Is Born by W. Jeffrey Marsh
-Always An Elf by Kimberly Jensen
-Santa's Secret by Christy Hardman
-Hopiland Christmas by Bob Lonsberry
All 5 of those books are Christmas books- and the promo for these books is 40% off EACH book! You don't want to pass this up. The website has summaries about all the books if you would like to know more about them.
All you have to do is this:
-Go to our website (www.cedarfort.com)
-Find these books by using the search engine on the top right hand side of the website
-When you are finished shopping, click on Checkout
-Add this code: CFI1225 in "Enter Coupon Code" box at the top, click submit. You will see the change in price AFTER you hit submit.
-Note: These coupons ARE case sensitive. Enter it exactly how you see it on here.
You do not have to buy all 5 to get the 40% off, however, those 5 are the ONLY ones on the promo code right now.
Hurry fast while this lasts- the promo code ends on December 24th, 2009! (That's only TWO weeks from today!)
If you need help or have questions, call us at 801-489-4084
We will have 4 or 5 (maybe more) books on the promo- and you will get a percentage off of each book. This will change periodically and will be different books, percent off, and different promo codes each time we change it. Take advantage of it!
Right now, (December 10, 2009) we have 5 books on promo. They are:
-Discovering The Magic Of Christmas by Heather Holm
-A Child Is Born by W. Jeffrey Marsh
-Always An Elf by Kimberly Jensen
-Santa's Secret by Christy Hardman
-Hopiland Christmas by Bob Lonsberry
All 5 of those books are Christmas books- and the promo for these books is 40% off EACH book! You don't want to pass this up. The website has summaries about all the books if you would like to know more about them.
All you have to do is this:
-Go to our website (www.cedarfort.com)
-Find these books by using the search engine on the top right hand side of the website
-When you are finished shopping, click on Checkout
-Add this code: CFI1225 in "Enter Coupon Code" box at the top, click submit. You will see the change in price AFTER you hit submit.
-Note: These coupons ARE case sensitive. Enter it exactly how you see it on here.
You do not have to buy all 5 to get the 40% off, however, those 5 are the ONLY ones on the promo code right now.
Hurry fast while this lasts- the promo code ends on December 24th, 2009! (That's only TWO weeks from today!)
If you need help or have questions, call us at 801-489-4084
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Betsy Love's story: The Case Against My Mommy"
Betsy Love sent me this story that was originally written by her on her blog. You can read more of her stories and blog by clicking here.
"Some of my earliest childhood memories include Mommy tortures. What mother sends her child into the yard to be eaten alive by ants, or forced to choke to death on lima beans, or provides electrocution items to play with, or ties her child to a tree? Let me explain...
The house we lived in, to the best of my recollection, had a gigantic oak tree in the front yard. The yard was mostly dirt with only small patches of grass. Mommy would give me a half of a Popsicle (the kind with two sticks) and make me eat it outside. On this particular day, I sat in the dirt eating my treat and having finished it, decided that the remaining wood made a great digging tool. I proceeded to unearth whatever might lie beneath the soil. Surely someone had left some treasure for me to discover. Now for whatever reason, those toddler eating critters could smell my flesh, now dripping with melted sugar water. They made their way into my coveralls and panties and began munching away on my legs and bum and tummy. Screaming, I pranced into the house doing the ant-bite dance.
Even though I managed to survive that ordeal, I did not lose my hunger for Popsicles. My mommy knew how much I loved them but utterly detested lima beans. Nothing would make me suffer through the torture of eating those dry, nasty, green, deplorable, marble-sized, disgusting things that someone, somewhere had the outrage to call "vegetables." I know vegetables well, and love everyone of them (ok, not okra or brussel srpouts, but that's a story for another day). Picture this, a beautiful spring day, the weather is perfect outside, and it's my lunch time. What better way to ruin a perfect morning than to place these..."things" in front of me, and then tell me that in order to get my Popsicle, I must eat each and everyone of those "things". I stared at them long and hard. They stared back. I choked down every last one of those...(say it with me)..."Things". And before I had the last one chewed, those THINGS came racing back out of my stomach and gagged me with such force they spewed all over my plate.
THOSE NASTY,
MASHED,
MASTICATED....
TTTTHHHHIIINNNNGGGGSSSSS!
Mommy, in her desire to torture me, takes one look at those...THINGS and says. "Oh, Sweetheart, your tummy must be upset. I can't give you a Popsicle if you're not feeling well." Where is the justice, I ask you?
The next tragic event happened while I should have been napping. I hated naps...but not as much as lima beans. Every day after lunch Mommy put me on her bed to sleep, most days I have no recollection of falling asleep. But...on that fateful day I got electrocuted. From my vantage point I saw the most interesting slots in the wall about nine inches from the floor. They were just the right size for a bobby pin to fit into, and as destiny would have it, several of those probes sat on the night stand within easy reach. To test my theory that they would fit, I grabbed one, slid off the bed and poked that tormentor into the outlet. The demon inside grabbed my chubby fist, shook it, blackened it and the wall around socket before throwing me across the room (okay it wasn't all the way across the room, perhaps it didn't throw me at all...but hey, it's my story and that's how I chose to remember it.) Where was I? Oh, yes in the death grip of the monster in the wall. The beast then belched out flames and had the audacity to laugh at me. If Mommy saw me out of bed, I knew she would have probably inflicted more pain on my backside. The ants and lima beans had been enough torture, not to mention getting electrocuted. Nursing my burned hand I crawled back onto the bed and cried myself to sleep.
The next torture inflicted on me at Mommy's hands was ultimately the cat's fault.But I still blame Mommy. Our house, remember the big oak tree in the front, was situated close to the highway, which ran through the center of our tiny town. (Cows...a bazillion, population...my family, including cousins, distant cousins, and a few even more distant cousins. Mommy was new to town, therefore new to the gene pool, hence I escaped the inbreeding. Again a story for another time.) Where was I again? Oh, yes...the oak tree and the cat. Our gray tabby had a severe case of wander-lust. No one could explain why it never stayed around? Perhaps because of its long pull tail, ears and whiskers. If the cat and I were in the same vicinity, I made it my mission to stalk it. I'd seen it do that plenty of times with innocent field mice. Mommy's punishment for following the cat was to tie me to the oak tree. Here I have to admit my memory is very fuzzy. I actually don't recall being tied to the tree, but I've heard Mommy tell the story enough times to get a vivid picture of exactly the kind of torture she inflicted on me. I imagined myself trussed up to the tree with my back against the trunk, screaming "Daddy, save me, save me." I'm surprised the ants didn't hear me and seize that opportunity to have me for breakfast. Alas, I was only set free to come inside to choke on lima beans and be electrocuted.
It wasn't until years later that I confronted my source of pain that I realized that the things my mother was doing were "for my good." The ants in my pants...purely an accident, and I don't remember Mommy covering me in calamine lotion. The lima beans...again another accident. She really did think I was sick. The electrocution...another accident. How was she supposed to know that a curious toddler would poke those bobby pins into an outlet. She discovered the blackened socket, my burned fingers and doctored me up with as much love as a mother would. And the trussing I received? She tied one end of the rope to the tree, the other end to my waist much like a leash. This was the only way she could get anything done without me under foot. The cat? Killed crossing the highway.
I guess my mommy loved me. She's been gone now for seven years. I miss hearing her tell me of how she rocked me as a baby, how she loved dressing me up and taking me places because I was such a pretty baby. (I have the picture to prove otherwise). That has to be love. I know my mommy loves me. Now when my children come to me and say..."Do you remember the time you hit me in the head with the brick? Or the time you left me at a gas station in California? Or the time you pushed me out the kitchen window? Or the time you...?" I smile...because it really was an accident. And if that child only knew how much I love him, he certainly wouldn't keep bringing it up.
So why am I bringing it up now? Because, Mom, I love you. It must have been hard to be 18 and so very far from your own mother. and then raise me in a town that didn't love you back. You were a great mom, and hope I've been just like you!"
Thanks Betsy for sharing! I think we all feel that way about our mom's at some time or another, just to realize that everything they did was for the benefit of us- and because they love us! Mom's are the greatest!
"Some of my earliest childhood memories include Mommy tortures. What mother sends her child into the yard to be eaten alive by ants, or forced to choke to death on lima beans, or provides electrocution items to play with, or ties her child to a tree? Let me explain...
The house we lived in, to the best of my recollection, had a gigantic oak tree in the front yard. The yard was mostly dirt with only small patches of grass. Mommy would give me a half of a Popsicle (the kind with two sticks) and make me eat it outside. On this particular day, I sat in the dirt eating my treat and having finished it, decided that the remaining wood made a great digging tool. I proceeded to unearth whatever might lie beneath the soil. Surely someone had left some treasure for me to discover. Now for whatever reason, those toddler eating critters could smell my flesh, now dripping with melted sugar water. They made their way into my coveralls and panties and began munching away on my legs and bum and tummy. Screaming, I pranced into the house doing the ant-bite dance.
Even though I managed to survive that ordeal, I did not lose my hunger for Popsicles. My mommy knew how much I loved them but utterly detested lima beans. Nothing would make me suffer through the torture of eating those dry, nasty, green, deplorable, marble-sized, disgusting things that someone, somewhere had the outrage to call "vegetables." I know vegetables well, and love everyone of them (ok, not okra or brussel srpouts, but that's a story for another day). Picture this, a beautiful spring day, the weather is perfect outside, and it's my lunch time. What better way to ruin a perfect morning than to place these..."things" in front of me, and then tell me that in order to get my Popsicle, I must eat each and everyone of those "things". I stared at them long and hard. They stared back. I choked down every last one of those...(say it with me)..."Things". And before I had the last one chewed, those THINGS came racing back out of my stomach and gagged me with such force they spewed all over my plate.
THOSE NASTY,
MASHED,
MASTICATED....
TTTTHHHHIIINNNNGGGGSSSSS!
Mommy, in her desire to torture me, takes one look at those...THINGS and says. "Oh, Sweetheart, your tummy must be upset. I can't give you a Popsicle if you're not feeling well." Where is the justice, I ask you?
The next tragic event happened while I should have been napping. I hated naps...but not as much as lima beans. Every day after lunch Mommy put me on her bed to sleep, most days I have no recollection of falling asleep. But...on that fateful day I got electrocuted. From my vantage point I saw the most interesting slots in the wall about nine inches from the floor. They were just the right size for a bobby pin to fit into, and as destiny would have it, several of those probes sat on the night stand within easy reach. To test my theory that they would fit, I grabbed one, slid off the bed and poked that tormentor into the outlet. The demon inside grabbed my chubby fist, shook it, blackened it and the wall around socket before throwing me across the room (okay it wasn't all the way across the room, perhaps it didn't throw me at all...but hey, it's my story and that's how I chose to remember it.) Where was I? Oh, yes in the death grip of the monster in the wall. The beast then belched out flames and had the audacity to laugh at me. If Mommy saw me out of bed, I knew she would have probably inflicted more pain on my backside. The ants and lima beans had been enough torture, not to mention getting electrocuted. Nursing my burned hand I crawled back onto the bed and cried myself to sleep.
The next torture inflicted on me at Mommy's hands was ultimately the cat's fault.But I still blame Mommy. Our house, remember the big oak tree in the front, was situated close to the highway, which ran through the center of our tiny town. (Cows...a bazillion, population...my family, including cousins, distant cousins, and a few even more distant cousins. Mommy was new to town, therefore new to the gene pool, hence I escaped the inbreeding. Again a story for another time.) Where was I again? Oh, yes...the oak tree and the cat. Our gray tabby had a severe case of wander-lust. No one could explain why it never stayed around? Perhaps because of its long pull tail, ears and whiskers. If the cat and I were in the same vicinity, I made it my mission to stalk it. I'd seen it do that plenty of times with innocent field mice. Mommy's punishment for following the cat was to tie me to the oak tree. Here I have to admit my memory is very fuzzy. I actually don't recall being tied to the tree, but I've heard Mommy tell the story enough times to get a vivid picture of exactly the kind of torture she inflicted on me. I imagined myself trussed up to the tree with my back against the trunk, screaming "Daddy, save me, save me." I'm surprised the ants didn't hear me and seize that opportunity to have me for breakfast. Alas, I was only set free to come inside to choke on lima beans and be electrocuted.
It wasn't until years later that I confronted my source of pain that I realized that the things my mother was doing were "for my good." The ants in my pants...purely an accident, and I don't remember Mommy covering me in calamine lotion. The lima beans...again another accident. She really did think I was sick. The electrocution...another accident. How was she supposed to know that a curious toddler would poke those bobby pins into an outlet. She discovered the blackened socket, my burned fingers and doctored me up with as much love as a mother would. And the trussing I received? She tied one end of the rope to the tree, the other end to my waist much like a leash. This was the only way she could get anything done without me under foot. The cat? Killed crossing the highway.
I guess my mommy loved me. She's been gone now for seven years. I miss hearing her tell me of how she rocked me as a baby, how she loved dressing me up and taking me places because I was such a pretty baby. (I have the picture to prove otherwise). That has to be love. I know my mommy loves me. Now when my children come to me and say..."Do you remember the time you hit me in the head with the brick? Or the time you left me at a gas station in California? Or the time you pushed me out the kitchen window? Or the time you...?" I smile...because it really was an accident. And if that child only knew how much I love him, he certainly wouldn't keep bringing it up.
So why am I bringing it up now? Because, Mom, I love you. It must have been hard to be 18 and so very far from your own mother. and then raise me in a town that didn't love you back. You were a great mom, and hope I've been just like you!"
Thanks Betsy for sharing! I think we all feel that way about our mom's at some time or another, just to realize that everything they did was for the benefit of us- and because they love us! Mom's are the greatest!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Welcome to the Mommy Blog!
I am not personally a mother yet, but I aspire to be one someday. My mother was a stay at home mom until I was in middle school- and I am the 9th of 11 Children. That’s a long time to be a homemaker!
Not only did she take care of us kids, but she did the laundry, made food (ALWAYS a big breakfast… eggs, biscuits, bacon, pancakes…) cleaned the house, and ran us around to anywhere we needed to go.
Us kids were always worrying about ourselves, and wanting attention. We hardly ever thought about how our mother was feeling. It’s sad to say, but when you are a kid, you don’t understand that so well. Even then, my mother always loved us, and never quit on us.
Cedar Fort, Inc. has a good collection of books on mothering, finding joy in the journey, and embracing your call as a mother. In this blog, we will share personal stories from mothers- funny, sad, happy, mad... you name it. We will also share mothering tips and books to help you along the way.
We hope you are enjoying motherhood- and know that being a mother is one of the most important roles you can play as a woman. Enjoy it while you can… soon your children will grow up, and be out of your home.
If you would like to share a story about your experience with motherhood, please share with us. E-mail them to gmohlman@cedarfort.com.
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