Had to Share

I read this today, and I had to share it with you.  I can totally relate to all of the thoughts listed in this article.  Yes, I have four boys, but if you know me, you know that a daughter was in my dreams.  During each pregnancy, I was always ready to fire up my monogramming machine to put Mary Catherine on any and everything.  I am so richly blessed with my dear boys and will wait for wonderful daughters-in-law one day, instead. 

Enjoy...

Wanting Daughters, Getting Sons

By LISA BELKIN

When I set out to find guest bloggers, my goal was to find parents whose life equations were made of different variables than mine, to reflect the range of ways to be a parent. Enter Allison Tate, who, lives in a house full of boys, and sometimes feels lost amid the testosterone.
Yes, Allison’s life is different — after a career in TV and film development, she is now a stay-at-home mom in central Florida, while I stayed in the work force. She has three children, I stopped at two. But the true difference is that she’s in the middle of it — raising three sons ages 6, 4 and 16 months. My tales of those stages are memories while hers are immediate. I have the benefit of hindsight; she has the edge of the moment.
Listening to her describe her feeling that she is not living the life she’d expected brought a particular pang of recognition. Like Allison, I always assumed I would have daughters. And I admire her honesty here in describing how she is still coming to terms with the fact that she will not.

BY ALLISON SLATER TATE
When I conceived my first child, I wanted more than anything for him to be a girl. I whispered at night to my burgeoning belly, “Be a girl,” much to my husband’s horror and dismay. It’s not that I didn’t want a son. It’s just that I wanted to know for sure I would be able to have a daughter, and so having one first would get that worry out of the way.

I had been planning my whole life to be the mother of a daughter. I had mothered 22 Cabbage Patch Kids, named all my Madame Alexander dolls, and signed imaginary Christmas cards with the names of the children I would someday have.

My future daughter had a lot of Anne of Green Gables and Ramona Quimby to look forward to, as well as French braids and tutus and Mary Janes and apron dresses. She was going to watch “Felicity” marathons with me and ogle the new J. Crew catalog and have annual viewings of “It’s a Wonderful Life” with me under a blanket with hot chocolate and lots of whipped cream. She was going to be, I thought, my best friend. You know, until she reached her teenage years and all. But that would take a loooong time, and then she would come back to me and we could plan a wedding together and I could watch her fall in love and have babies of her own.

My worst nightmare, back then, was that I would end up being a Mom of Boys, one of those women with a “practical” haircut and flat shoes who spent her afternoons at the baseball field and washed a lot of sweaty athletic clothes. A Mom of Boys bought a lot of boring clothes for her children — polo shirts and khaki shorts and Nike trainers. She was looked on with pity by the Moms of Girls, who color-coordinated with their daughters and took them on trips to the American Girl store and “The Nutcracker” and who had princess birthdays and tea parties with their mommy friends.

As you have probably guessed, my first child defied me, as he continues to do to this day, and was, indeed, a boy. And I loved him with all my heart. But when I conceived my second child unexpectedly, I thought for sure it was fate. I wasn’t yet ready for another, so surely this one would be a girl. …

Nope, another boy. A sweetheart of a boy. A really, really good little guy. Then we had our third child, our last child, a child I thought for sure would be a little tomboy sister and … all of a sudden, here I am: Mom of Boys.

I now see it as a challenge to redefine this whole Mom of Boys thing. I’m not giving up my ribbon flip-flops and I am not giving up my Vera Bradley diaper bag. I still wear lip gloss and I do not in any way have a practical haircut. I can play Star Wars and Transformers, but I draw the line at Pokémon — I don’t do anime.

I trudge out to the soccer fields, and root for teams where the girls are the stars, if only because they are heads taller than the boys. I drool over their cute little pink Pumas and make sure my own boys have the cutest soccer water bottles and cute haircuts and cute backpacks. And I am making new literary lists full of Henry Huggins and “Superfudge” and the Hardy Boys and Magic Tree Houses. I’m still going to read them “Anne of Green Gables,” because they need to know about strong female characters (like their mother). They are still going to have to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” with me so they can see what a wonderful character George Bailey is. I want sons like George Bailey — sons who make good, close friendships and who can dream big dreams and who fall in love.

As I raise my children, I am forever conscious that I am raising little men. I want them to be men who take responsibility, who aren’t afraid of commitments and who thrill to the thought of a challenge or an adventure. I want them to be both spontaneous and thorough. I want them to be able to cry and show emotion. I want them to love and be loved.

They’re all the same wishes I would have had for daughters, when it comes down to it.

The clothes just aren’t quite as cute.

A True Friend

But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely.  Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away. 

~Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

It was the first day of eight grade.  It was a first step into a new middle school.  It was a scary morning.  It was a venture from years of a comfortable private school to an unknown land, a new public school.  It started with stepping up onto a bus. 

She was in the back.  This had always been her ride to school.  She knew all the people.  She never thought to be scared.  She shouted from the back of the bus to the new girl, "My mama told me to tell you hi!"  And then she grinned really big and sat down.

She was my future best friend, and I was mortified and shocked.   I hadn't ever really lived out of my bubble before.  I had never been forced to meet new friends.  I was shy and somewhat skittish to new people.  But, none of that mattered to her.  She just wanted to say hi in her own way.

To this day, that's how she rolls.  She always says hi (and everything else) in her own way with a big old grin.  She's one of the most comfortable things in the world to me.  She knows all about me, my family, and my idiosyncrasies.  There' never really a reason to explain my thoughts to her, as she already knows.  I don't have to apologize for geeking out on her in a middle-school kind of way, as she was right there with me. 

You can always tell a real friend: 

when you've made a fool of yourself,

he doesn't feel you've done a permanent job. 

~Laurence J. Peter

 

A best friend is cheaper than therapy. 

It is called true friendship and it makes the world go round.  It soothes the heart.  It eases an insecure spirit.  It's the old oak tree in the back of the yard that offers shade on a sunny day.  You don't have to question the love or doubt the care.  You know it will be there in times of sorrow and sadness.  You don't have to call every day to know that she's there for you, unless you just need a new giggle.  

Our friendship makes me smile as I think of an inside joke or hear someone say something familiar to our kinship.  It is like a piece of old silver that is cherished and placed on the nicest shelf for display and gentle care.  It is a rite of passage.  I wish for it every day for each of my boys.  The Committe has a friend just like mine.  When our boys meet someone with potential, I tell him how maybe this might be One-of-a-Kind's friend forever.  

In the quiet of night, when you think of all that might be wrong in your life, knowing that you have someone that knows all of your secrets and loves you tremendously, makes looking for the early morning light a little bit sweeter.  New friends are great, but that aged old friend might be one of the nicest prizes you get in your life.

The best kind of friend is the one

you could sit on a porch with,

never saying a word,

and walk away feeling like that was

the best conversation you've had. 

~Author Unknown 

 

Lent Promises

Each year, we all look at the calendar and see the date for Easter.  Then, we might glance at the forty days prior to this most special day and wonder about what can be given up this year.  Well, I really wasn't sure I wanted to give up anything this year.  I wasn't having these feelings because of angst toward the Church.  No.  The Committee and I gave up carbs, soda, and any other hateful (yet, extremely tempting) food known to man at the beginning of 2011.  So, I really wasn't sure what else to drop.  In years past, I've tried shedding harsh words, gossip, chocolate, etc.  Usually I give out somehwere around day 25.

"Show me, don't tell me."

So this year, I decided to give in rather than give up.  I decided to "give in" to the mothering around here.  I know you are thinking that I mother every single day, and I do.  But, I also tend to run from the mother-ish activities, most of the time.  Want to play on the floor?  Check with your brother.  Want to read a book?  Maybe tomorrow night.  Need to go to the theater and see a new movie? Let's call your grandmother.  Having four boys and a close grandma at hand has provided constant playmates around the clock and generally lets me off the hook.  So, during these 40 days, I'm trying to give in to the acts that make up my job description.

"Live life and live it good." 

I know it sounds easy.  But, let me tell you it isn't always easy at all.  It's easier to carry on with my other chores than giving up marking things of the "list" of life.  But, it is also easier to slow down my life and take the moments to love on those around me.  The sweet moments on the floor having match box cars run up and down my legs won't last very long.  One day, these boys will be driving away from my house in their own cars, and all I'll have are the memories from yesterday.  So, "giving in" isn't nearly as easy as "giving up" has been in the past.  But, it is proving to be much more memorable!

Here I Am!

I'm gearing up for a guest post at {in}courage.me at the end of the month.  So, I had a little housekeeping to do.  The first box that needed to be checked off...getting a decent photo of me.  So, here I am!  My dear, dear friend Shannon took a quick pic of me at her house at the very last minute.  She is a precious jewel to me.  I'll keep you posted on the date that my post will debut over @ {in}courage!



Ode to Crabgrass

Well, it is that time of year again.  When we chose this house to purchase, one of the things that I instantly loved was the established flower beds.  I don't have the greenest thumb, but I do love the luscious hydrangeas that are planted outside my bedroom window.  I enjoy clipping the fresh flowers from the other shrubs throughout the entire summer season.

However, I absolutely detest the crabgrass that grows deep within the dirt of these beds.  I spend hours on my hands and knees each month digging for the creepy weed growing within the earth.  While I'm totally destroying any hopes of having overly feminine hands, I am thinking very hateful words. 

Each time our beds need weeding, I draw many similarities between the crabgrass and real life.  I know it seems like a stretch, but this is what I have come up with.  At some point in a life turned awry, a person makes a conscious effort to accept the bad.  They begin to live solely for the bad and no longer fight to be the better person.  Some might say the bad is the devil working within each one of us, and perhaps I believe this too.  I'm not sure; I go back and forth.  But, none the less, the bad gets into our life. 

Like the crabgrass, the bad lives down deep in a dark place.  If you have been out weeding too, you know that the crabgrass that grows in the depths of the soil is colorless.  It is no longer green and somewhat healthy looking.  Instead it is almost white and disturbing.  It makes you wonder how it is living without the sun. 

Isn't what the bad is like?  Isn't it growing down deep?  One might try to hide the traces of the bad to the exposed eye.  Maybe the bad is drugs, alcohol, infidelity, or any other game-changer.  From a distance it might not be noticeable to those strolling along.  At some point, someone walking by is going to get a closer glimpse of the crabgrass.  Small clues will be seen and a curious eye will certainly delve deeper into the soil to see what is happening.

"Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper,
but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy."

Proverbs 28:13

Hopefully the weed can be extracted through work or the possibility of a total do-over.  That really is left up the person and their true will.  Just like in my garden, the crabgrass can be kept at bay with a little perseverance and hard work.  As I have learned, it's never easy to be rid of all of the troublesome weed, but over time, it can be cleaned out and washed anew.   

It Doesn't Come to Me...

When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."
~Author Unknown
For the past week, every time I sit down to write words about my thoughts, my mind goes to Japan.  I think of all of the devastation that the people of that vibrant country are facing every day.  I can't imagine the despair.  I pray for hope for all the men, women, and children throughout the land of Japan.  I'm not sure what else to write...the words just don't seem to come to me.  My heart is full of sadness. 

Therefore we do not lose heart.
Though outwardly we are wasting away,
yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.
For our light and momentary troubles
are achieving for us an eternal glory
that far outweighs them all.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,
but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal.
-- 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Struggling to do all of the Juggling

Last night, I read this latest blog from Clover Lane...Questions to Ask Ourselves.  The perspective focuses on looking for the simplicity in life and asking ourselves the hard questions of what really matters and sloughing off the things that don't matter.  This phrase struck me to my core...struggling with the juggling.

How many times as mothers, or people for that matter, in this crazy, hectic world do we struggle to be a master juggler?  So many times throughout a day, I switch roles in order to fulfill the needs of all of those around me.  It gets stressful, overwhelming, and hard.  But, there is no one that tells me that I have to do all of the things that I do.  I do it to myself.  I put the stress upon myself, and I have never been a happier person. 

After reading the blog post last night over at Clover Lane, I really sat and thought about my personal journey...you know, where I am and how I got here.  Let me share a bit with you. 

When we were living in Memphis, I was a worker bee.  I thought that I could do it all.  I imagined I could have a family and a career and get it all done and please everyone.  As our family grew, I quickly realized that I could not meet all the deadlines and definitely couldn't please all of the people all of the time.  So, I tried stepping back from parenting for a bit to focus on my job of teaching the students in my classroom.  Then, I would realize that the little people in my home were struggling, so I would try to step back from the job and focus upon my parenting.  It was so very hard to juggle the two.

So, after some time, I stepped out of teaching.  I decided to try my hand at solely parenting.  It was a very hard step to take.  I had some major identity issues for a while.  Then, The Committee took a job out of Memphis and we moved to a rural area outside of Nashville.  After analyzing where we were as a couple and family, we decided to lay down some parameters of our roles in our world.  The Committee would step out to work every day doing the best he could in that arena, and I would commit my all to running our home and raising our children. 

Live simply. Love generously.

Care deeply. Speak kindly.

Leave the rest to God.

~ Ronald Reagan

I felt so 1950's-ish establishing these rules in my head and in my home.  I felt a little like Mrs. Cleaver, yet so not her because I am in no way organized.  I have given it my all, and I have truly never been happier in my life.  I know what my job is each day.  I only have to please my family and trust that I'm doing exactly what I am supposed to do. 

I am telling you this, because I want to emphasize that this was a very intentional decision by The Committee and me.  It didn't just occur one day.  We had "the talk" and decided that this is what was best for us.  We truly work together to share in the progress for our family.  It wasn't always an easy journey to get to this place.  We struggled along the way a great deal.  We have hit some bumpy patches along our way, for sure.  I was always torn about my role in our family and in this world.  But, now I am at great peace about my role. 

We are very blessed to have been able to make this choice.  We have been given blessings in all forms to allow us this peace.  Please don't get me wrong and think that we live a life of luxury at all times.  There are many times that we go without in our little world.  There are many trade-offs in our life.  We haven't taken a family trip in over 3 years, and my children have not ever seen the beach.  But, they are picked up everyday in carpool by their mama.  We don't have the latest and greatest toys.  But, they are able to run wild in a rural area each afternoon living in a world of make-believe.  We live paycheck to paycheck, being as frugal as possible, and we are all the better for it.  We don't paint the town red very often.  However, we fling open our doors, invite friends over every chance we get, and have an old-fashioned bonfire and cook-out.  These are all moments we won't forget and have been intentionally chosen by my husband and me as parents.   

If you are just tuning in, let me give you the CliffNotes version of this post...we have chosen to be intentional in living our life.  We wanted to simplify everything to make a better world for our family.  We want to live simply, and our little group has never been happier in our life.  We give many thanks for our blessings and pray that we will continue to do what is right for our family and all of those that have been graciously placed in our world.