“Open Mouth, Insert Foot”

Posted on May 17, 2012 by

The following is a letter I have drafted over and over again in my head recently. Not always quite the same exact words to be sure, but close enough…

Dear Jack and Jill (but especially Jack),

Must you say EVERYTHING that pops into your sweet little minds?! Really now, darlings! Hasn’t anyone- namely me- ever told you, “Some things are better left unsaid!” Or what about the one that goes: “Think before you speak!”

Lately, you seem to have “forgotten” some principles we have tried to instill in you since you could speak. Let me refresh your memory or better yet, how about if you open your mouth and I will INSERT MY FOOT! :)

Do you even understand this adage? Let me break it down for you. When you open your mouth to speak, gushing folly, inappropriateness or stupidity is akin to putting a stinking, filthy, foot into your mouth. Still don’t get it? Let me make it even clearer: foul words= yucky mouth.

How about if I say it poetically?

Talking trash,

speaking rash,

and blurting crass,

Makes you seem like a real @**.

Oh my! I just broke my own rule, but for good cause and I am a reasoning adult, so don’t try to use that faulty reasoning on me!

Please, just try to remember that words mean something. And more importantly, your dear mother doesn’t need to hear every sordid detail of things that you are thinking. Thank you very much! Sometimes I think my ears might melt right off the sides of my head…

If you don’t want to heed my advice, (which it seems you darlings are so adept at ignoring most days), maybe you will listen to the famous, wise Thomas Edison. He said:

“You will have many opportunities in life to keep your mouth shut: You should take advantage of every one of them.”

Here’s to a closed mouth!

Hugs and Kisses,

Mom (aka-Jane)

PS. For good advice, go to the book of Proverbs as well. It has LOADS of things to say about our speech.

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Mother’s Day 2012

Posted on May 12, 2012 by

Funny how, when I got pregnant 17 years ago, no one warned me of the impending work that lay ahead. Instead, everyone patted my tummy, smiled and assured me of the many delights the darling little bundle of joy would bring. And there I was, dumb as a sheep, going along with them all. Motherhood was this ethereal idea I had, sure to bring all the warm fuzzies everyone talked about. The road before me looked all shiny clean and in pristine condition, ready to be trodden by likes of “ignorant is blissful” me. Little did I know…

 

Recently, I had the privilege of going to a baby shower. Haven’t been to one of those in a while. It was such a pleasure to watch the beaming mommy-to-be opening up the micro-sized outfits. “Oohs” and “Aahs”  abounded. What is it about baby clothes? They are so tiny, soft, and “cutsie”. Then there were all the baby accessories- diapers, pacifiers, washcloths, blankets- and the list goes on. I sat there thinking about what the imminent future would hold for this young lady. Little does she know what monstrosities will fill those diapers or how little sleep she will actually have to function on. There is the crying; those moments when you have tried everything and to your chagrin the ceaseless screams prevail. I won’t even begin to describe the joys of those early days of nursing. Oi.

 

Thus begins this blissful journey we embark on called “Motherhood”. The one the books make look so deceivingly delightful, yet from the moment sweet Junior arrives, life is set on an unalterable course. But lest you think I am all pessimist, there are countless joys along the path as well. Strewn all over are hidden treasures; lovely things that you may have to strain your eyes to find sometimes. Precious, beautiful moments, like rare exquisite flowers, grow along our path- delightful to the eyes, beheld with fondness and affection by the beholder- the one known as Mother.

 

The early years are characterized by all the “firsts”: first smile, tooth, steps, potty on the toilet, etc. With each milestone Junior makes our motherly pride swell. We feel a sense of soaring as our little person grows and experiences these things. Then comes the years of school and all its accomplishments: reading letters then words, knowing colors then painting them, learning numbers then doing math with them. This time of exploration brings a sense of wonder to every parent. Along with development of intelligence, a clear personality emerges from our little one- the good, bad and ugly are seen on a variety of levels. This is where the rubber meets the road so to speak: training and discipline meet strong will and bents.

 

March onward down the path of motherhood and so far the journey has been fairly level with just smallish stones here and there; nothing that can’t be walked over or averted. Enter the pubescent child. Our road takes on a new characteristic entirely, so much so that sometimes you think, “What happened to that sweet darling I gave birth to not so very long ago?” The path slowly morphs into a rocky road, complete with potholes and large crevices. It takes a bit more maneuvering now than it had before because frankly, it seems that has almost disappeared completely- shrouded in shadow and mist. Sometimes you wonder if you or your offspring will make it safely out on the other side.

 

Somewhere between the bouncing baby on your knee and the large, all grocery consuming, adult look alike, a change took place. The job description switched and no one told you. Who signed you up for this motherhood thing anyways?  And more importantly, will you make it out with your sanity intact?

 

You press on. Committed. Undaunted. (Not really, but what mother is going to let on to this fact.) Faint, yet pursuing the goal.  Tired because, well, let’s face it- the old grey mare ain’t what she used to be and DANG IT, this road has started resembling Mt. Everest. Was this mountain here before, like on the day of that fateful pregnancy test when the 2 pink lines appeared? I can’t quite recall because lately things are all jumbled up in my brain.

 

Once the arduous climb has been completed, the journey isn’t over. The road just morphs in a totally new direction. But no matter what titles are bestowed on us in life, we always answer to the name of “mother”. This is one job that never ends.

 

Seventeen years ago, I stared down a path.; curious and scared, thinking I understood the journey at least well enough to muddle through.  I reflect on that now with a chuckle! Little did I know the joy, elation, pride, gratitude, love, affection, pleasure, sweetness, protectiveness and many other feelings this job would bring. It is worth every night of lost sleep, wrinkle, worry or grey hair. One day there will be a moment when the world melts away as you gaze at your child and realize that this is the BEST job in the world!

 

 

 

 

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X & O

Posted on May 9, 2012 by

Our world is full of messages aimed right at teens. And one message speaks louder than just about all the others: Sex sells.

It is, in my opinion one of the most blatant, overt marketing techniques and it pervades every form of media. It bombards them in the form of airbrushed pictures, provocative ads, explicit lyrics, even friends who have been around the block and like to “tell all”. It is everywhere with its alluring nature and our kids are surrounded.

What can we parents do???

Well, besides teaching our kids the truth from God’s perspective from an early age- yes, I believe because of our culture, we need to start younger than generations before us- we must show them affection and I mean shower them with it- as much as will be tolerated!

I am finding with my own Jack, Jill and cJ this showering gets harder to do. Oh, how I long for the simpler years when, like it or not, they could be squished up in my lap all snuggly-like and FORCED to unabashed loving; kissable cheeks that called out to be smooched on, a body easy enough to pick up and swing onto my mama perch- aka-hip :) , snuggling at bedtime, etc.

Sitting in my lap tends to be a bit more of a challenge when they weigh more than I do; not to mention hugging a hairy, smelly teenaged boy can be a rather unpleasant experience. Then there is the “too cool for hugs and kisses” phase.

Don’t be deterred though!!!!! Although it may not happen as often or especially in front of their friends, sneak in lovin’ whenever possible. They will bristle and prickle, but don’t give up!

Physical touch is a great way of affirming our love for them, even though we would sometimes like to wring their neck. It is also gives them that sense of being treasured and valued that they are so desperate for during this stage of life. 

So, dear reader, go on. Get ahold of your teen.  Bestow some hugs and kisses on ‘em. It may secretly be just what their weary soul needed!

 

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Walking Oxymoron

Posted on May 3, 2012 by

I’ve known it for a while now. Some days are better than others. Then something happens and it becomes glaringly obvious…

Teenagers are walking oxymorons!

I’ve been familiar with that term since high school literature class. It was introduced to me alongside the onomatopoeia. Oxymoron comes from the Greek ὀξύμωρον- meaning “sharp dull”. Teens are just that- walking contradictions;  a personified oxymoron.

I have heard and seen it time and time again. This actually came out of one of my darlings mouths once: “I am hungry, but I am not too.” OK. How can one be both hungry and not at the same moment? Hmmm.

Bless their hearts. This IS a confusing, befuddling time of life. Their brains are on overdrive every minute. It is like the world is caving in from every side and they stand in the middle, their hands over their heads trying to take cover. It is a bombardment of emotions, a torrent of feelings, a dump-truck load of bodily hormonal changes, not to mention a cataclysmic time of decision making about their futures.

All this, and they don’t even fully know who they are or what they stand for yet!

It is no wonder they are infamous for their inconsistency and tendency to swing like a pendulum in their moods and thought processes.

So my challenge to myself and you, dear reader, is to give grace to our little (or big) walking oxymorons. Next time you feel- like I so often do- the bristling in your own emotions as you deal with yet another yin/yang moment, remember this:

You were once right in their shoes.

 

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Grey Matters

Posted on April 29, 2012 by

Oh, how I miss the days of black and white!

No… I am not talking about movies or photos. I am talking about the rather “greyish” nature of parenting teens.

When they were younger, the lines were drawn so clearly. There were rules and consequences when those rules were broken. But now, Oi! Parenting makes my brain hurt. The choices usually involve issues of much greater magnitude. Rules are often bent or twisted. Words fly around the room that make your hair stand on end. They can throw down logical arguments like there is no tomorrow. Doors even sometimes slam- and not because the wind picked it up and shut it.

And sometimes, you face a situation confidently, head on, only to find yourself completely baffled and bamboozled; scratching your head and pondering… “What just happened?” Or, “Who won the battle anyways?” At desperate moments, I have heard myself thinking, “I miss the good old days” or “Can’t I just fast forward several years past this whole teenaged curse?”

I really liked it when things were neat and tidy with discipline, when issues were dealt with in 10 minutes instead of 2 hours. I don’t like blurry lines or grey areas. *SIGH*

Not only that, but sometimes I have an overwhelming sense that time is running short. Clearly, the hourglass sands are heavier on the bottom. The time of intensive nurture and training is almost at an end. My darlings are speeding toward adulthood and there is nothing I can do to slow it down. My days of control are numbered!

 

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Delighted

Posted on April 24, 2012 by

The following is an excerpt from Proverbs 23 that I read this morning:

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

17 Do not let your heart envy sinners,
but always be zealous for the fear of the LORD.
18 There is surely a future hope for you,
and your hope will not be cut off.

19 Listen, my son, and be wise,
and set your heart on the right path:
20 Do not join those who drink too much wine
or gorge themselves on meat,
21 for drunkards and gluttons become poor,
and drowsiness clothes them in rags.

22 Listen to your father, who gave you life,
and do not despise your mother when she is old.
23 Buy the truth and do not sell it—
wisdom, instruction and insight as well.
24 The father of a righteous child has great joy;
a man who fathers a wise son rejoices in him.
25 May your father and mother rejoice;
may she who gave you birth be joyful!

I read these words and thought, “Psh, yeah right?! How many parents  are rejoicing and delighting in their teenagers?”

Realistically, now people!

While I have moments when I feel glimmers of joy and delight, many more are the moments of frustration and ripping out my graying hair. Unless you have kept your children locked away in a perfect, Christian home spun cocoon, away from every worldly influence (and they happen to be perfectly compliant, obedient and submissive), you do have moments or days of grief. I mean the real kind of gut-wrenching grief that makes you cringe and feel rather nauseous.Those are the moments you hope and pray that they will come to their senses and remember the good things they’ve been taught.

We teach, instruct and guide. We fret, worry and hope. We love, dislike and are indifferent. We feel baffled, disgusted, proud, concerned and adoring. All this and more is our daily lot in life in this in between time when our children are not quite adults and not quite children anymore.

The goal in parenting truly should be to one day have a child to look at, all grown up and be delighted in. But in truth, there is not a 100% money back guarantee that all the right training will yield this result. Our children are not marionette puppets to whom we hold the wooden sticks and strings, controlling them until their dying day.

Jack, Jill and cJ each have a will and a soul. They forge a path ahead of them and will -for better or worse- choose to walk it. They may ask for advice or approval- and they may not.

My desire is that the one who gave them birth- that’s me, Jane- will have cause to rejoice and be delighted!

 

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WYN Moment

Posted on April 16, 2012 by

Where to begin… Let’s just say this past week has seemed to go from one WYN moment to another. Today would be the cherry on top of last week.

For starters, I found out that Jack’s grades have- well, to put it nicely- slipped beyond stellar. In fact, one class has done a complete nose dive. A couple meetings with teachers later and I think he is on track to right this wrong. Life as he knew it at the beginning of last week, has changed. “LOCK DOWN MODE” is what a friend of mine called it. I like that term! You see, bad grades are not an option at this house. My only regret is that it took us so long to figure out. The upswing? I am now locked and loaded with my parental arsenal of weapons should he let this happen again- which I doubt!

Jill added her two cents into the mix by getting her makeup taken away for 2 days. Her eyes had begun to resemble models on the catwalk and I warned her to stop, lighten up and look critically at herself in the mirror. She “tried” *cough*, but just couldn’t seem to stop that darn mascara wand from stroking more black goo onto her lashes. So, the makeup went bye-bye for a little while. When we gave it back, we had a little “how to” lesson, complete with stern warnings.

cJ even has a part in this WYN post. Today someone on the PS 3 network sent him to a bad website. They told him that it would give him something free for his account. It was a trick- a dirty, rotten, disgusting, sick joke they tried to play on him. When I found out, I came unglued, unhinged and otherwise livid! Mama Bear came out swiping with her razor sharp claws! I really, truly did want to wring that pervert’s neck. Unable to do so, I had cJ sign on and I sent the person a message expressing my displeasure. (Let’s just say, it mentioned the word castrate.)

SIGH… My brain needs a vacation to a sunny tropical place- just for a day or so…

Anybody else have a week like mine? Do tell. Nothing like a little commiseration. :)

 

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Antiquated

Posted on April 12, 2012 by

The other day I was frustrated with repeating myself numerous times to my darlings, when I blurted out, “I sound like a broken record!”

Suddenly, I thought about what I had said and realized how irrelevant that expression probably sounded to my kids. What kid in this generation even knows what a record is? Or if they do, do they know what it sounds like when it is broken or scratched? (I even thought about the absurdity of this idiom in the first place, since a truly broken record could not have been played! I will henceforth change it to: “I sound like a scratched record!”, to better reflect an actual word picture of how one sounds when words are spoken over and over again).

I reflected on how many such idioms I quote to my darlings. Have I mentioned that I blame this habit on my mom. She had an expression for everything- weird ones too, like: “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.” What does that even mean?!

Then I thought about how comical it is that even idioms need updates. In my lifetime music has gone from black vinyl disks, to cassette tapes, to compact disks, to MP3 players. Now all you need is money, a device and a pair of headphones- and voila!- limitless music at your finger tips. No more scratched, skipping records. No more taking a pencil and winding that flimsy piece of tape back into the cassette. No more careful storage of shiny CD’s to protect from scratching.

Try as I might, I could never make my kids imagine the annoyance of a skipping record and how you had to walk over, pick up the needle and move it over that spot on the record- gently, so as not to make another scratch! Just like I couldn’t understand why my parents were always reminiscent about soda fountains and penny candy.

Dear readers, I would love to hear some expressions that you use, so I know I am not the only one with this problem :) !

 

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Hail Jane, the Taxi Driver

Posted on April 6, 2012 by

Seriously.

I NEED A TIP JAR.

Or a cute bobble headed hula dancer for my dash.

Out and in I go all day long. School. Ballet. Filming sessions. Hanging with friends. Math tutoring. Youth group. Running errands. Grocery shopping. 

Funny thing happened a while back- our garage door broke. When our landlord came to fix it he commented that garage doors get opened 4 times a day on average. I smiled. Inside my head I said, “More like 10-15 times!”

Coming from a homebody like me, this is an excruciating amount of driving. My gas bill is equally painful. I cringe at the pump.

It is a wonder I get anything done in fact! I am just thankful for music to plug in and no need to endure the days of fuzzy FM radio anymore.

I am seriously considering a new paint job for my mini van; thinking of a checkerboard motif. Oh, and a time meter. And a tip jar that reads:

Drivers are not paid an hourly wage.

If you feel that I have given 

superior service, please tip accordingly. 

Starbucks cards are accepted in lieu of cash payment.

 

 

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Rubbing Shoulders With Humanity

Posted on April 3, 2012 by

Dear Readers,

Sorry things have been quiet here at Ltjj. No WYN moment posted last week. (Rest assured that I had several such moments though- just no time to get one typed up!) Life gets busy like that.

The family and I were on a short vacation in the bustling city of San Francisco. It was delightful; much needed family time away from the usual hub-bub of life.

Not only were we able to visit several educational museums, Jack, Jill and cJ got a different kind of education- a look at humanity the way they never could in our small city.

We chose to use the public transit system and ride all over the city- and not just for the sake of convenience. On and off the bus we hopped, sitting next to people who smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, women with long facial hair, very elderly passengers and kids whose sentences were punctuated with F-bombs every 3 or 4 words. Part of our vision for parenting has been to let our children see the real stuff that humans, created in God’s likeness, are made of.

These are things that some parents may try hard to shelter their kids from, insulating them from the less-than-desirables of the world. We WANT our kids to rub shoulders with people of all races, religions, cultures, etc. Why shouldn’t we? God made them and loves His created beings- so should we.

Yes, there were a few times we held more tightly to their hands, asked them to avert their eyes, chose a different path back to our hotel or avoided certain streets. We never placed them knowingly in danger.

But we did: walk down streets that wreaked of urine. We walked over many makeshift beds. We carefully avoided a broken “brown bag” bottle of something pungent. We walked a faster pace around a man who was yelling slurs in the faces of the casual passer-by. We laughed when the bus driver argued with a woman about letting another passenger on his already overloaded bus. We found it ironically odd that our Asian bus driver used more ghetto slang than we’d heard  from someone of that ethnicity.

The city captivated us with its energy and reminded me of Tim Keller’s  perspective on the role of the Christian in relation to living in the city.

We are home now and back into the swing of life, not forgetting the sights, smells, and sounds of San Francisco’s urban life.

Here’s to a week of purposeful living,

Jane

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