Sisterhood
26 May 2011 Leave a Comment
When I first learned we were pregnant with our second child, I was thrilled. It took us a year to get pregnant with Hannah and almost as long to get pregnant with Katelynn. I desperately wanted Hannah to have that special connection that only comes from a sibling. And I quietly was hoping for another little girl because I knew first hand the special bond that forms between sisters. This post is in honor of my sister, Jessica, whom I love beyond words.
Sisters are excellent confidants. You can tell them all your deepest, most intimate feelings and they listen intently, drinking in every word. If you don’t feel like talking to her during a particular moment, don’t stress. She will surely search your room for your diary so she can find out all your treasured secrets. She won’t share them with a soul, unless they are embarrassing or you are together at a large family gathering, whichever comes first.
A girl who can’t find her favorite pair of shoes or her new purse surely has a sister. Sisterhood buys you unauthorized and unlimited access to your sister’s closet. However, it does not come with the promise of stain removal.
Having a sister is to blame for all the hideous, yet matching, dresses and jumpers you had to wear when you were little. They were just too cute for your mother to resist.
The ferocious sibling rivalry that comes along with sisterhood is the reason you always received the same toys at Christmas time, just different colors.
If you have ever drawn a line down the center of your bedroom with the threat of bodily harm to anyone who dared to cross, you have a sister. If you were smart, your side would include the closet full of clothes or the toy box. However, don’t make the mistake of leaving the doorway on her side of the room or you will have just put yourself at her mercy each time you want to enter or leave.
Sisters should never have to share a bathroom. It’s just a cruel joke your parents play on you when you’re teenagers.
A sister will steal your barbie doll, your make-up, and your car keys…but never your boyfriend. Actually, if she is a true sister, she will find your taste in boys somewhat disgusting, which she will insist on reminding you of that fact each time he calls. Loudly.
When your parents are heavy on your case, just point out all the things that are wrong with your sister. They will instantly become distracted.
Woe to the parents against whom sisters unite.
There is no pain for which a sister cannot provide comfort. A sister is a lifelong friend. She will always stand by you when the world is falling around you. She is there to offer hugs, a joke or two, and remind you that you need to return the shirt you borrowed from her three months ago.
I adore my sister. When we were children we would spend the afternoon playing school, fighting over play dough, sharing Barbie dolls, ratting on one another, and all the various joys of being siblings. We laughed together, cried together, and tried to kill each other on occasion. There were times when we hated each other and times we couldn’t live without each other. My sister and I will always remain best friends and there is an abundant love that exists between us that no one can tarnish. I love you, Jess! My prayer as a mother is that my own daughters will learn to love each other in the same fashion, forever friends.
Ice cream & presents from Jesus
20 May 2011 1 Comment
I love new moms! They are so excited about joining the special ranks of motherhood that we all hold so dear. They celebrate the accomplishment of each developmental milestone with sincere joy and pride. One of the most anticipated skills that a mother waits for her child to master is the art of speech. When you hear that first, “Muuum Ma,” mumbled from between their fat little, rosy cheeks, your heart fills up and overflows through your eyes. It is truly one of the most cherished memories you will have of your child.
However, let me express to you how soon your excitement will turn into laughter. And a little bit (okay, sometimes a lot) of embarrassment. I was thinking about this the other day after hearing a story from a friend about her two year old that made me double over in a fit of giggles, even now, as I am writing this. Her little heart strongly desired an ice cream sandwich, and in her beautiful and infinite two year old wisdom, she yelled out her demand as, “I WANT A BLACK HAMMMMMMBURGER!!!”
Twos are so fun, as they are rapidly developing their vocabulary and sense of understanding of the world. Mostly, they understand this: Ask and you shall receive. If you don’t receive, scream. Louder if you are in public. And they will say the most socially inappropriate things while you are out that catch you so completely off guard, you have no choice but to laugh and duck your head as others stare in amazement. When Hannah was two, we were in Target and a Latino gentlemen walked by us in the toy aisle. In all fairness, I was a little surprised at his appearance myself. He was a short man, not even as tall as me, wearing skin-tight wranglers, snakeskin boots, and a ten-gallon Texas-style hat. Hannah looked directly at him and yelled, “HEY, COWBOY! WHERE’S YOUR HORSEY???” All I could do was snort with convulsions of muffled laughter. Luckily, I don’t think he could speak English because he never even blinked an eye of acknowledge at her outburst. Or, perhaps, he was terrified I was being possessed by demons from the way my body was contorting in an effort not to laugh out loud until my sides hurt.
Now that Hannah is three, her understanding and vocabulary have reached a point that she is beginning to wonder about and discuss much more complex topics. Sometimes, we have discussions and it doesn’t seem like she “gets it” or is paying a lick of attention to the words that come out of my mouth. How many times does a person need to be told, “Don’t put your toys in your baby sister’s nose! She won’t be able to breathe!!!” But every now and then, I get a little glimpse of the impact of what I have to say has on her. Lately, we have been discussing God, faith, and prayer. Yesterday, when she was playing with her 4-year-old cousin in the backyard, I overheard this conversation:
HANNAH: “Who made you?”
JAYDEN: “Spiderman.”
HANNAH: “Who else made you?”
JAYDEN: (pondering the question for a moment) “I made myself.”
HANNAH: “No Jayden. God made me and God made you. God makes everbodies and dogs.” (just dogs? none of the other animals?)
JAYDEN: “Oh. God made dogs?” (apparently, we think alike)
HANNAH: (completely ignores his, in her mind, ignorant question) “Who MADE you, Jayden???”
JAYDEN: “God made me!”
HANNAH: “I love God.”
And as quickly as it began, it was over and they were fighting over the bubble wands. My ears could not believe it! My heart melted. All I wanted to do was jump on the table and yell, “HALELUJAH! CAN I GET A WITNESS!!!” It was a proud mom moment to hear your three-year-old discussing something so incredibly important with another child and gave me a sense that maybe she is listening to me. Although, before we went to bed last night, I asked her to say her prayers and she wanted to know why we say prayers each night. I told her it was to give God thanks for everything He has given us and ask Him for the things we want or need. She then clenched her little eyes and clasped her small hands together as tightly as she could and said this prayer, “Dear God, Thank you for this day and please bring me a surprise tomorrow. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.” Then she turned to me and said, “Mom, God will bring me presents tomorrow.”
Soooooooo……we’ll keep working on it! I’m going to finish eating my black hamburger as I think about how I’m going to address her concern that God did not leave her any presents tomorrow morning.
Memories from the past
17 May 2011 Leave a Comment
When I cancelled my old blog, I kept some of my original posts. I decided since there are many of you who may just be getting aquainted with me and my special sense of humor, that I would post some of those original posts for your reading pleasure. For my friends who have read these before, rest assured new material is coming soon! For those who have not read these posts before, now is your chance to hit the UNSUBSCRIBE button before it’s too late.
For me, it was nice reading through some of these posts. Therapeutic almost. There are lots of cherished memories within them that I would not trade for a winning lottery ticket. To access these posts, just visit the link at the top of the page called “Oldies, but goodies” and choose one from the drop-down menu.
The blog is back!
17 May 2011 2 Comments
…by popular demand! Okay, I made that last part up, but at least one or two people have asked me about whether I was going to start another blog. So in my own special world that means somebody cares what I have to say. And that’s all that matters.
Why blog? Why now? Well, my therapist says I should start a journal. (Yeah, she went to school for over a decade and costs me half a fortune to bestow those words of wisdom. Thanks, Doc). And seeing as how I am not the “Dear Diary…” type, and way too obsessed with technology to be considered sane, I decided it was the perfect time to jump back in. Consider this fair warning: I was genetically engineered without a social filter and I find my imperfections hilariously funny. And maybe a little embarassing for my children. Maybe. So read at your own risk.
What’s my blog about? In general, the mess I refer to as my life. More specifically, parenting, which I do fabulously in conversation. Ask anyone who knows me. I am SuperMom: faster than projectile vomit, more powerful than a blow-out diaper, and can leap Lego buildings in a nanosecond when I see a spider. I’m quite talented. I have never child-locked myself in the backseat of the car, lost my child in a department store fitting room, or fed my child strawberry cake for dinner and counted it as a daily serving of fruit. Nope. Not me.
This blog is a celebration of motherhood! It’s a reminder that no mother is perfect, every mother screws up at some point or another, and that we all should take the time to laugh a little at ourselves. Being a mother means you are in a perpetual state of “on the job training”. There are no experts. (No, not even that Duggar lady with 28 kids from Arkansas). We are all unique in our parenting styles and each of our children responds just as uniquely. It’s also the greatest job in the universe and deserves to be in the spotlight: the good, the bad, and the embarassing.
And if I say anything in my blog that embarrasses or devastates my children as they get older…well, I will buy them a diary to save them a few therapy sessions.
Enjoy!
