Pink Roses II: Life, with children...

Two days ago, I made a post about the difference a vase of flowers made in my housekeeping. The beautiful pink roses are still standing next to me and making me smile. However, I vowed several times that in this blog I would be honest about the realities of homemaking and motherhood.
Quite often in the past I've visited wonderful homemaking blogs and come out feeling inspired but also hopelessly inadequate and doomed to failure, because I never would be able to get it all together and do all these wonderful projects like those women did. Their children never seemed to throw tantrums, their house never seemed a mess, and there always was a crockpot with something delicious on, so they never... ever... stood frazzled before the freezer and decided that they could get away with pizza this evening. And if they did, it would be homemade, wholesome, whole wheat pizza dough of course, with toppings layed out in a shape that portrayed the liturgical season or their current bible reading or homeschool project.

In the few years that I have been a wife and mother I have learned that life simply does not work that way. These women DO all these wonderful projects and I commend them for it, but often they are of the opinion that when things go wrong... you do not announce it to the world. I can respect that opinion, especially in this tell all generations where people seem to find it necessary to share every little detail about their lives, even the ones we REALLY did not want to know.
For some of us first generation homemakers however, this works discouraging. We have no other rolemodels to look at for full time homemakers than either old television shows (which we at least KNOW to be unrealistic) and the women we get to know through the internet who go before us.

So I made the commitment that while I want to share my inspirations and triumphs and joys, I will also share the ah... less pretty side.
On sunday... my house looked beautiful, the roses beamed at me in approval and I felt satisfied with the world. Three days, two doctors appointments, a husband with a busy time at work and a son with a cold later... these are the changes:

- Miscelanious objects have managed to congregate on my desk. I do not know how or why, because I certainly did not invite me, but from where I sit right here I can see a homeschooling book, a stick of deodorant, two childrens books, an empty box of tissues, a box of dried prunes, a necklace, a box of crayons that should be in the desk not on it, a mug, a can with an energy drink, a pretty tea cup, a childrens cup and a half worked scribbled drawing that my son made while talking with his grandmother on skype, as well as some junk mail. It's a big desk.

- The crystal bowl with the pretty red apples had to be removed because my son kept helping himself. That would not be so bad, after all, fruit is good for you, if he would actually eat one apple, and then go to the next one. Instead he selected one, bit in it. Took it along... left it somewhere and when whim stroke stretched his hand out for the next one. We went through three apples before I caught on and intervened. Two of the apples are now on Joseph's own plastic table to hopefully be finished off by tonight.

- There is one basket of duplo's upended on the carpet, and Joseph's shoes are laying next to them where I put them after I took them off to put him down for his nap. For some reason, my husband's tie is also laying on the carpet.

- The pretty white table cloth is unfortunately no longer pretty and white. Two days ago my son wanted to play with the coin box and help pick up the coins from the table and put them back in the jar. We 'counted' money for literally an hour and a half. Dirty coins leave residue on a white table cloth.

- To finish off the table cloth, came our daily practice of independance and self reliance: the idea that we should allow a child to do things for itsself so that he can become more independant and a greater help to mommy and daddy and he learns to do an effort. It's a great thing to stimulate at the age of two and a half where children actually LOVE to do things by themselves. It's also a sticky thing to stimulate, literally. Because while Joseph is learning how to spread cream cheese or choco spread on his own crackers or bread, the once white table cloth suffers in the two seconds there are between mommy realizing the impending disaster and the moment where she can hand a whipe to her son after having hauled her pregnant body from the chair in an unseemly display of haste, rushed off to the kitchen, found the whipe and offered it while exclaiming "NO Joseph, you're being a good boy... keep your hands up... no... keep it... oh..."



Now after I have finished up this post, I WILL actually put that tablecloth in the washing machine... I will clean up the clutter on my desk and it will probably only take ten minutes. But some days, I am too tired and by now just need a nap. Or some soothing time to knit, and some days it grows from this little bit of disorder to more extravagant proportions. Then I need a bouquet of pretty pink roses or another reminder that even in this season, even with limited time, I can create some order and pretty - ness amidst the choco smears. At least for a few hours.

Be soft of voice..

The signature line I use on message boards or other ways to communicate on the internet is always the same: "Be soft of voice and gentle of bearing.."
Somehow that sentence seems to radiate with people because I often get questions about it. Where does it come from? It's the beginning line of the following poem, which to me, describes what I want to be as a woman:

Be soft of voice
and gentle of bearing
be kind of heart
and tender of hands

be bright as the morn
and still as the evening
within you they'll find
God's love reborn.


It's a reminder to myself of what I should be. Of course I fall short more often than I would like to. But over the years that little poem has had a profound influence on me. I remember as a teenager priding myself in a razorsharp wit that could cut people to the quick if they were being 'stupid'. And in truth, if I do not keep a strong hand on the reigns of my tongue, sometimes a sharp analyses of someones actions, understanding, or opinions would fall out. I am working towards ridding not just my tongue from these unkind words, but over time I hope my heart as well will simply banish such thoughts as unworthy. That doesn't mean becoming blind to other peoples faults, but simply not feeling the need to dwell upon them, not feeling the desire to point them out unless in the greatest love and in a way that for them is not humiliating but helpful.
We all know some people who delight in "telling it like it is" "calling a spade a spade" and "I say this with great love, but what you are doing is ..." and so on. Calling a spade a spade is great for gardening tools, but people are somewhat different.

There are countless quotes in the bible that show God's desire for us to speak kindly, with foretought and without malice or even anger. Just to give you a few, here are some examples:

Psalm 34:13
Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking lies.

Proverbs 22:11
He who loves a pure heart and whose speech is gracious will have the king for his friend.

Ephesians 4:29;31
Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers... Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.

Psalm 19:14
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Phillipians 4:8
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

I am not there yet, but I have made progress. My students, when I taught highschool a few years ago commented on the fact that I was "always in a good mood" and had "such patience". I was glad they could not look into my heart every single day, because I often felt impatient. My words however and the way I spoke them seemed at least to show them the reflection of something more beautiful. And that 'something' I believe is the Lord at work within me.

Of course, the Lord asks for my cooperation with this great work he is doing within me, and some days it feels like a lot of hard work. But recently... I have been getting some more unexpected rewards through a little mirror. It actually brings to mind yet another quote:

Proverbs 23:15-16
My son, if your heart is wise, then my heart will be glad; my inmost being will rejoice when your lips speak what is right

At twenty seven months, Joseph is in many things a little mirror. He likes to help us, he likes to mimic what we are doing, and above all when he speaks, my husband and I can find our own phrases and words sounding back to us. This goes from little phrases like "Yay, it fits" when we are doing puzzles, to even the intonation of the "muhuh" that I sometimes use as a murmur of assent if I am trying to agree with something but have my mouth full of food or do not want to interrupt my husband while he is speaking. When I dropped a cup of orange juice and let out a cry of dismay followed by a "Oh, silly mommy!" I found Joseph gleefully repeating "silly, silly mommy" and I had to smile. Because I realized that "silly mommy" is probably the worst word he can pick up here in this house. That and "stupid computer", which is only aimed at the machine in front of me in utter frustration when it refuses to work. Still... I'ld like to get that one out of my vocabulary too. There is no need for Joseph to start labeling things as 'stupid', just because I am impatient when the computer locks up.
It is wonderful however to hear our little word mirror say things like "How are you, sweetie?" when dadda comes home, and while we chuckle and tell him to say "how are you, dadda?" to realize that what he picks up in this house are terms of endearment. That the songs he hears are alphabet songs and allelujah's, Berlioz and songs that actually have a melody and can be repeated before anyone without us blushing.

I find a reward now, that I never would have thought to have in seeing my son pick up our words and mimic our behaviour towards others. He is two, and a rough and tumble, high energy boy, but there is often such tenderness in some of his gestures that I can only praise God for what he is working in me, and fulfilling in my son.

Where are our real rolemodels?

Lately, I have been on my soapbox a bit on this topic. I try not to repeat myself too often, but now and again I see a post out there in blogland that just makes me return to it. I usually try and post a reply on the blog itsself and am always pleased to see that I get a gracious reaction. Recently one of my blogreplies seemed to have turned in a little post by itsself, so I just copied and adapted it slightly here for your delight. *chuckles* I promise I will get off this soapbox soon.

Many of us, young homemakers (I've been married almost three years, have a wonderful young son of 18 months) have no rolemodels for what being a homemaker is. We fall on oldfashioned TV shows or blogs by default because we were not raised to be homemakers and often didn't even expect to be one, until we became convinced of the great value that lies in staying at home and raising our children.

But we really don't know what to expect or where to begin. So then we are going out to look for people to model ourselves after. And looking for encouragement we only find those oldfashioned TV shows or sites and blogs that extoll the virtues of homemaking. Now we come to my little petpeeve. A lot of blogs, especially in the conservative Christian circle that I love, seem to believe they still need to prove their point on how worthwhile and wonderful homemaking is. They also often get the advice not to complain because otherwise 'the others' might tell hem that they are unfulfilled and need to look for a job. And so, they leave out the 'hard stuff'.



So there we come... new homemakers... and we see as our only model before us these seemingly perfect women who do creative projects at home with their children, who show us pretty pictures of the flowers in their garden, the organicly grown vegetables and homemade food that they feed their children and we are still at the beginning of a learning curve with no one to look up at but the seemingly impossible to attain ideal. They seem to be scrapbooking, knitting, quilting, finishing projects and keeping up with the lately published good books as well.

With a child that didn't sleep and refused to be put down until he was nine months old, I was ready to scream in overexhausted pain and frustration at the next person who told me to 'enjoy this time because they are only little such a short time'. I used to have intelligent conversation, but I was so utterly tired that I couldn't even find words anymore to express my thoughts. The simplest words like 'fridge' 'food' 'spoon' 'diaper' escaped from my brain. And I thought it would never end.
Everyone around me (on blogs or sites that encourage homemaking) seemed to be doing homeschooling phonetics, while spinning a laundry basket on one hip, humming classical music for the todlers that adoringly watched or tried to help, rocking a baby cradle with one foot and patiently reading the gospel to a teenage daughter. So it had to be just me, right?



Where were the tales about the screaming baby that I seemed to have? The sleep deprived nights? The fact that it is okay not to enjoy certain things as long as you do them with love? I saw the posts about frugality and lovingly restored cabinets. But where were the stories about the todler who ued the five seconds you needed both of your hands to close the pot of varnish to get in trouble and ruin the finish of the cabinet as well as your skirt?
Where were the stories of the lovingly heartshaped made toast with strawberry jam you made when you finally found the energy to do something that seemed like a creative, pretty project? And the story of how that toast consequently got turned upside down on the carpet, which you halfway expected, but then somehow also was rubbed in there and on you five minutes before your husband came home. And while you just had tidied up the floor, the usually well behaved child that you love more than life itsself used the time that you were scrubbing the carpet to dump all his blocks, get sixteen books out and pull three magazines from the couch, which he consequently started to shred?




I wanted to hear those stories. I needed to hear those stories to know that I was not alone. I was at the verge of just giving up. Clearly some women were not good at mothering, some, horribly pathetic women were not equipped to be a stay at home mom, and I was one of them! Which made me feel both guilty and a failure. I stuck with it, and now I understand that those blogs present a false picture. Yes, homemaking is wonderful, but it IS also frustrating, just like a job. Except that it is more. It is a vocation. But whether you go to library story hour or have to read "Maisy takes a bath" or "Jesus loves the little children" sixteen times... neither of those will be intelectually stimulating every day. You will now and again feel bored. And that IS okay. It doesn't have to be all sunshine and roses everyday, because suffering (even small sufferings like handprints on newly washed windows or not finding five minutes to sit down for a cup of tea) is part of life. Just like the wonder of a little body snuggled up close to you is part of life. And it has it's own value in refining you and making you a better person. But talk about the struggles please as well as the refined part.
There are wonderful days in which everything falls into place. And there are picture perfect moments to write about and enjoy the memories of. But there are also the many, many moments where things seem to fall apart.



In telling people NOT to complain, there comes an image out there that no one can live up to. And those of us that are new to homemaking and do not have strong personal rolemodels of homemaking in our lives... we start to feel as if it is not for us, as if we can not do this and better just give up.
Now and again, I wish people would just complain about a bad day. People who have an office job complain too, so why would we be afraid to offer a real image of homemaking as a rewarding, sanctifying experience... that isn't always restful or easy or even pretty. I want to hear the bad stuff as well as the good stuff. I understand and admire a certain reticence in 'putting it all out there in all it's glorious misery' and I certainly don't advocate blogs to become a town crier for every little marital discontent or a constant litany of woes. But I want to know that I am not the only one who struggles. That I am not the only one who tries to colour with my little fellow to see him lose interest after two minutes and instead try to eat one of the crayons, or scribble on the tv. (As in my previous post on this subject, I refuse to believe I am the only one who has had that happen! *G*)

Inspiration, another rabbit trail

I am upset with Preppy Cricket. Well... not really upset. But does she not know how dangerous it is first to post such magnificent foto's of childrens bedrooms. And then to mention the new website in which the furniture for these photo's is to be found? Leading me to discover a whole new website with cute and interesting childrens toys and furniture?
I am convinced she is in on a conspiracy! Emma started it with this play kitchen. For a while I had noticed my sons interest in stirring his own pot and so far I had nurtured it by leaving a few cabinets accessible to him so he could get out (unbreakable) pots and pans. I offered him a spoon and that was that. But Emma's playkitchen led to more ambitious plans. My son might like a playkitchen of his own. And I might like the freedom of movement to cook while he cooked alongside with me!

This was the result of my first brainstorm:



Yes, that is a shoebox that makes him a little stove and a big magnet (too big to swallow) as some food, as well as an empty box of macaroni to play with. I remembered the little kitchen in preschool which was stocked mostly with empty boxes and jars from parent's shelves. Then Kelly led me to her new website, full of plans and hopes to 'feather her new nest'. And the planning and decorating bug bit hard. Oh, it had been gnawing for a while now, leading to the earlier reorganising of my desk and the plans for a learning room. But now it truely started buzzing around my head as well with all kinds of possibilities to improve and beautify our house. Small projects here and there. Would that little shoerack that is just holding a box of diapers in the hallway not be better solution for a little stove than a shoebox? Hmmm... it could hold a small pot underneath and a spoon or such on the shelf and then on top he could be cooking... now that would work for now.

Already I had ordered a new Ikea catalog and had been looking at the clearance section of Pottery Barn for Kids and ToysRus furniture.
But now the Preppy Cricket added another website to look at. And guess what they have?



Is that not the cutest little toykitchen imaginable? It's portable which is perfect for our on the move boy. It's not too big, and best of all, it's only 35 dollars at
land of nod.

I think this actually might become the first toy mommy and daddy buy for our little boy. And there are so many cute new ideas and oportunities opening up for new improvements to our home. A learning room. Soon an end to the highchair and hello to booster seats. Crayons and paper and books are slowly replacing rattles and stacking rings. A whole new phase to adjust to and enjoy.

I wish I had seen this post a few years ago...

Being an only child and the first in my generation of acquaintances to be a homemaker with children, my images of what my life as a homemaker would be came mainly from blogs. It seemed smart to listen to what other women, several with many more children than I, were doing during their day and find out what life as a homemaker would be like.

I wish I would have read this post, at a most excellent blog, several years ago. It may have saved me months and months of doubt and emotional heartache because I just felt like an utter failure as a homemaker and mother for not being able to create that same blog picture home here, while my baby didn't sleep for more than three hours during his first nine to ten months!
I honestly was ready to go back to work to pay for daycare because I was clearly not capable of doing this mothering thing. I hung in there, thanks to some people who were honest to me. Who told me that, while people may tell you to 'just enjoy this time because they are so tiny only so shortly', it sometimes simply isn't possible to enjoy it, because you are overexhausted. And the only thing you then have to do is love your child and survive. You don't need to love the situation, to love your child.
Seeing what a happy, healthy boy my Joseph is, I must have done something right.

I really want to encourage the women further along the mothering and homemaking path to be true Titus 2, 3-5 women:

"Older women likewise are to be reverent in their behavior, not malicious gossips nor enslaved to much wine, teaching what is good, so that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored."

Please encourage us to love our husbands and children, by showing us the beauty of being a homemaker IN the chasing of crumbs, the overexhausted days, the giving up of hobbies and sometimes even of our brain. My world has always turned around words, and sleep deprivation actually robbed me of the ability to find even the simplest words like 'fridge'. And I did not expect it. I didn't know being a mom and a homemaker was like that.

Many young women of my generation never had a real homemaker as a rolemodel. I tumbled into homemaking expecting hours to scrapbook, embroider pretty towels, set my table with linnen napkins, always have 5 shirts ironed for my husband, ready with full make up and perfume to greet him with a kiss when he came home while happy children crooned around my skirts exclaiming 'papa, papa' showing him the homemade cards and cupcakes we had made during the day.

And I am sure some glorious days will be like that. I have had days of utter contentment, playing with blocks after all the chores were done in a snap, towels folded, dinner in the crockpot, hair pinned in a pretty do and just happy, to enjoy my little boy. I have had a few days of that. But mostly I have had mere moments of that, in between chasing a todler, chasing crumbs, trying to cut up bell peppers for supper, to add to storebought sauce while someone is tugging at my leg saying 'mama, mama, mama' a hundred times over....
And I have days in which it all seems to fall apart and I am just whispering to God "please give me patience, please give me patience" in an unending prayer to just get through the next hour.

By now I accept this. I've adjusted the picture and I learned to love the reality. But I was very close to giving up on being a stay at home mother and homemaker all together, because I wasn't able to pose next to the 'glamour shot' of homemaking that I found in several blogs.
Sometimes it is easier to hang on if you know that you are not the only one who just found a five day old moulding banana hidden in the pan you were about to use for dinner for which you are already late, while the child you love more than life itsself is trying to get on your last nerve by tugging on your arm incessantly..
Or IS that just me?

A glorious day

Last Saturday was not my most wonderful day. Yet I am proud of myself for being able to look past the borders of that day, even while it was going on, and look to the better days and even the magical ones.
Today was one of those gold bordered days it seems. And I had actually been dreading it. To avoid a long wait at the doctors I had snagged the second spot of the day, which was at 8.30 am. But since I had to bring my husband to work first (we chose to be a one car family) We needed to leave the house at 7.30 am. Two hours before Joseph's usual wake up time. And I do not like to tamper with his sleeping or nap schedule.

I could have spared myself all the worrying. Joseph behaved perfectly. He played nicely in the waiting room. He charmed all the nurses. And the doctor. Weight and height are in perfect proportion and he is way ahead of his 16 month development. In fact he would be ahead for his 18 month check up in cognitive as well as physical skills, and has a vocabulary triple of what an average sixteen month old has. Aside from that, he cried only for about five minutes when getting his shots and then was back to his sunny self.

He behaved incredibly well the entire day, playing a lot, bringing books and just being very sweet. It was so visible to me what a little sponge he is. And I feel so blessed to be able to spend this much time with him. I saw him select four puzzle pieces that together made up a yellow truck out of a whole box of puzzle pieces. He somehow knew that these pieces went together, even if he can't yet fit them together perfectly all the time. It just amazes me how much he can do already, how much he anderstands and how much every little game of blocks, puzzles and itsy bitsy spider helps him learn more things.
And as the most wonderful bow around the package, he is such a happy, affectionate boy, friendly towards other people, and loving towards his parents.

Ah yes, today is one of those gold border days!