sometimes reluctant
Friday, July 21, 2006
Shock and Horror!
We've been having some parenting challenges at our house. Our family seems to do really well with the structure imposed at school, so the mismatched days of summer are not looking good on us. During the childrens' ten-odd years on this green earth, we've tried a number of ways to help them develop strong character. Some have been more successful than others. Lately, we've had reason to question if any of our best laid plans have had any value.
With recent bouts of defiance, the rules have gotten tighter, as small deviations are not accepted. We've become very purposeful about keeping everything clear, consistent and even tough. Of course, our children feel persecuted. Truthfully, one of them feels persecuted much of the time... something aint right about that.
So, I have sought help. I've discussed the issue with trusted friends and family, gotten references for various materials, and I ordered a book from the internet. The mailman brought the book yesterday and I've started reading. It's pretty radical, but we're discussing all perspectives just now. I've been running the principals past my hubby to see if he thinks the ideas, or some pieces of them, could effect positive change. We've been talking lots about what changes we need to make to create the environment we all want for our family.
An interesting thing happened when the children caught wind of the new book. My best boy, asked if he could look at it. Stiffly, he picked it up. He carried it with his arms extended, far from him. He went straight to show it to his sister, saying, "Look, Mom's reading a book about how to get us to behave!" With an expression of shock he asked, "Are we that bad?!?" She got wide-eyed and said, "Why would Mom need a book?"
They were aghast that extreem measures are being employed. Horror of horrors - Mom's gone and bought a BOOK!
¶ 10:54 AM 9 comments
With recent bouts of defiance, the rules have gotten tighter, as small deviations are not accepted. We've become very purposeful about keeping everything clear, consistent and even tough. Of course, our children feel persecuted. Truthfully, one of them feels persecuted much of the time... something aint right about that.
So, I have sought help. I've discussed the issue with trusted friends and family, gotten references for various materials, and I ordered a book from the internet. The mailman brought the book yesterday and I've started reading. It's pretty radical, but we're discussing all perspectives just now. I've been running the principals past my hubby to see if he thinks the ideas, or some pieces of them, could effect positive change. We've been talking lots about what changes we need to make to create the environment we all want for our family.
An interesting thing happened when the children caught wind of the new book. My best boy, asked if he could look at it. Stiffly, he picked it up. He carried it with his arms extended, far from him. He went straight to show it to his sister, saying, "Look, Mom's reading a book about how to get us to behave!" With an expression of shock he asked, "Are we that bad?!?" She got wide-eyed and said, "Why would Mom need a book?"
They were aghast that extreem measures are being employed. Horror of horrors - Mom's gone and bought a BOOK!
¶ 10:54 AM 9 comments
Monday, July 10, 2006
The Right Tool for the Job
Interesting events started early at our house.
It all started with spooky, unidentified banging sounds. One hit a basement window getting my husband's attention, and he went to investigate for intruders. Assuming his role as household warrior, he armed himself with a giant flash light and located the offender. It was a young raccoon, who had a ravioli can stuck on its head. It occasionally beat the can on something, like our house, but the effort was to no avail. The can did not budge. By the time I arrived on the scene, it just wandered until it bumped something, then changed directions. Walking again... bam... turn right.... bam.... turn left.... It seems opposable thumbs are overrated when one's head is that stuck. (When my head is stuck where it shouldn't be, any skills in the world can't help me!)
The hubby roused me around 5:30, saying, "I'm sorry to wake you, but I need your help..." As I climbed out of bed, he appraised me of the situation. My first thought was, 'You wake ME for this crisis? Do I have some special ability I'm unaware of?' I thought he should call Steve, the crocodile-hunter-guy. He could have run down our street in the early morning twilight, wearing khaki shorts and boots, knowing there was a wild animal in crisis. He could have said, "Crikey!" when he saw the Chef-Boy-Ardee can. And, "We're just in time to lend a hand!" In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't verbalize my initial musings.
As I made my way to the back yard, I grabbed a towel. I learned this little trick years ago when I had a mean-spirited cat who particurlarly hated the vet. The wise doctor always threw a towel over him to keep injuries to a minimum. So we tossed the towel, and the hubby grabbed the moving lump. It growled. Once the squirmy thing was stabilized, I pulled on the can. Nothing happened. Wow! I tried again, but harder. Nothing. Wow again! That thing was REALLY stuck!
My next bright idea was to cut the can off. There was space enough on the top of the head for me to stick my finger in, so why not some tin snips? (I think that's what they're called.) So I charged off to the garage, successfully finding tools: pliers, scissors and a branch cutter for trimming trees. None of these were designed to cut metal, but I was in a terrible hurry. I headed for the back yard to give them a try. I feared beautiful thing would have a heart attack if we didn't do something soon.
None of the tools worked against the rigid lip of the can. I wasn't terribly surprised; I hadn't brought the right tool. And the raccoon had almost stopped struggling. I was concerned.
What to do? Look again for a more appropriate cutter? Call the Humane Society? Where was Steve?!? We had been struggling with this for quite a while, so we got a crate to put it in for safe keeping while we tried again to figure something out. When we put it in a small dog carrier, it flew into a panic. It freaked out at being enclosed and blind. It beat the can against the sides in rapid succession.
So, we brought it back out and I pulled again. It seemed like the raccoon pulled too, and Wil pulled - it was like Winnie the Pooh in the rabbit hole. And, with a wet 'POP!' I was holding a can. The raccon looked at me with surprise. It was adorable, with an oversized head and big eyes. It hadn't growled or fought us in a while, and I was tempted to pet it. Fortunately, I resisted.
When we released it, it ran away, glancing back over it's shoulder. I wondered what it thought of the out-of-the-darkness experience. Which was more scary, the darkness, or Wil and me? I wonder if it will decide that a can that size is just too small to get to the bottom of any more. I wonder if it will avoid our yard forever, remembering the terrifying experience? Or shrug it off, going on like nothing happened.
As I went back to bed, I was thankful that having the wrong equipment did not result in bad outcome. I don't know anything about animal rescue, and I didn't have a tool that would cut metal. I was not prepared.
How often I am unprepared in life! I don't know what's around the corner so I'm repeatedly unprepared! As I drifted off to sleep, I remembered this:
¶ 5:56 AM 4 comments
It all started with spooky, unidentified banging sounds. One hit a basement window getting my husband's attention, and he went to investigate for intruders. Assuming his role as household warrior, he armed himself with a giant flash light and located the offender. It was a young raccoon, who had a ravioli can stuck on its head. It occasionally beat the can on something, like our house, but the effort was to no avail. The can did not budge. By the time I arrived on the scene, it just wandered until it bumped something, then changed directions. Walking again... bam... turn right.... bam.... turn left.... It seems opposable thumbs are overrated when one's head is that stuck. (When my head is stuck where it shouldn't be, any skills in the world can't help me!)
The hubby roused me around 5:30, saying, "I'm sorry to wake you, but I need your help..." As I climbed out of bed, he appraised me of the situation. My first thought was, 'You wake ME for this crisis? Do I have some special ability I'm unaware of?' I thought he should call Steve, the crocodile-hunter-guy. He could have run down our street in the early morning twilight, wearing khaki shorts and boots, knowing there was a wild animal in crisis. He could have said, "Crikey!" when he saw the Chef-Boy-Ardee can. And, "We're just in time to lend a hand!" In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't verbalize my initial musings.
As I made my way to the back yard, I grabbed a towel. I learned this little trick years ago when I had a mean-spirited cat who particurlarly hated the vet. The wise doctor always threw a towel over him to keep injuries to a minimum. So we tossed the towel, and the hubby grabbed the moving lump. It growled. Once the squirmy thing was stabilized, I pulled on the can. Nothing happened. Wow! I tried again, but harder. Nothing. Wow again! That thing was REALLY stuck!
My next bright idea was to cut the can off. There was space enough on the top of the head for me to stick my finger in, so why not some tin snips? (I think that's what they're called.) So I charged off to the garage, successfully finding tools: pliers, scissors and a branch cutter for trimming trees. None of these were designed to cut metal, but I was in a terrible hurry. I headed for the back yard to give them a try. I feared beautiful thing would have a heart attack if we didn't do something soon.
None of the tools worked against the rigid lip of the can. I wasn't terribly surprised; I hadn't brought the right tool. And the raccoon had almost stopped struggling. I was concerned.
What to do? Look again for a more appropriate cutter? Call the Humane Society? Where was Steve?!? We had been struggling with this for quite a while, so we got a crate to put it in for safe keeping while we tried again to figure something out. When we put it in a small dog carrier, it flew into a panic. It freaked out at being enclosed and blind. It beat the can against the sides in rapid succession.
So, we brought it back out and I pulled again. It seemed like the raccoon pulled too, and Wil pulled - it was like Winnie the Pooh in the rabbit hole. And, with a wet 'POP!' I was holding a can. The raccon looked at me with surprise. It was adorable, with an oversized head and big eyes. It hadn't growled or fought us in a while, and I was tempted to pet it. Fortunately, I resisted.
When we released it, it ran away, glancing back over it's shoulder. I wondered what it thought of the out-of-the-darkness experience. Which was more scary, the darkness, or Wil and me? I wonder if it will decide that a can that size is just too small to get to the bottom of any more. I wonder if it will avoid our yard forever, remembering the terrifying experience? Or shrug it off, going on like nothing happened.
As I went back to bed, I was thankful that having the wrong equipment did not result in bad outcome. I don't know anything about animal rescue, and I didn't have a tool that would cut metal. I was not prepared.
How often I am unprepared in life! I don't know what's around the corner so I'm repeatedly unprepared! As I drifted off to sleep, I remembered this:
"If I have the gift of prophesy
and can fathom all mysteries
and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing."
Armed with love, I embrace this day, expecting this powerful love will be enough.
¶ 5:56 AM 4 comments
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Cake
I came across this peom, composed by my daughter for a 3rd grade writing assignment. Since we don't hear enough about cake, I thought I'd share this ode:
Cake
Chocolate, Vanilla, German Chocolate cake,
yummy icing cooling from the bake,
you will feel warm inside when you eat the cake,
it will smell good after the bake,
do you taste the icing... mmmmmm cake!
yummy icing cooling from the bake,
you will feel warm inside when you eat the cake,
it will smell good after the bake,
do you taste the icing... mmmmmm cake!
.
I wonder how many calories are associated with reading about the warmth, the smell, the taste of your favorite cake.
¶ 5:51 AM 3 comments
