Just.
Say.
NO.
Get Real
There are some truly fabulous people in the world.
Today, a woman I know slightly, a woman who knows my husband professionally, called me. She works not far from my home on Saturdays, and after work she wants to come over to watch the children for me while I go out and run errands or have dinner with a friend or do whatever. She wants to do this regularly, not just a one time thing.
It’s such a nice gesture. Just the very offer makes me all happy. It is enough. I don’t really need her to do it. But that she thought of me and came up with a plan was so very sweet.
So, as she continued to explain how everything would all work out, I rehearsed in my mind polite phrases to decline her offer. I am fine, after all. Managing quite nicely. He’ll be home soon. We’re almost halfway there.
But then the Real Me spoke up (to that Prideful Me in my mind). The Real Me is the one that dispenses sage advice to other mothers like “stay home for at least two weeks after having a baby” and “you can’t homeschool and have an immaculate house, too.” The Real Me is the one who wrote an article about coping with deployment wherein I write: “Get help. If you can afford it, consider lawn care, a cleaning service or a regular babysitter. For non-routine jobs, swallow your pride and ask for help. If friends or relatives ask if there is anything you need, come up with something. It is good to be strong, but it is better to be humble.”
The Prideful Me attempted to ignore the Real Me, but the Real Me is obnoxiously persistent and just won’t leave it alone. When the nice woman paused for a breath, the Real Me jumped in and accepted her offer before the Prideful Me even knew it was coming. (The Prideful Me thought some things which I won’t repeat here, because the Real Me is never that vulgar.)
Both the Prideful Me and the Real Me love to do nice things for other people. Doing good deeds makes everybody happy.
The Prideful Me hates to accept other people’s good deeds. It is so very hard. I don’t know why.
The Real Me sees how this whole thing is win-win: the nice woman gets to do a good deed (or two or three) and she gets to feel good knowing that she made a difference, and a big difference, in one person’s life. And I get to have a much-needed break. I could run errands in peace. I could get my Christmas shopping done. I could eat a leisurely meal. I could sit still for 20 minutes at a coffee shop. I could get a hotel room and take a nap.
And I could practice the virtue of humility, which is to say, I am fine, but I am tired. I am managing quite nicely, except my patience is wearing a bit thin. Soon is a relative thing. We are almost halfway there, but three months is still an awfully long time.
My point is that there are some really nice people in the world, and I need to let them do their thing. And I need to listen to my own advice.
Oops.
Remember those cookies the kids made and the toddler destroyed?
The ones we mailed to Afghanistan?
The ones with the Army black beret?
They arrived, which is nice. My husband is sharing them, which is nice.
Did I mention he was working with Special Forces soldiers?
You know, the ones known as the Green Berets…
It’s all Mattel’s fault
New Government Policy Imposes Strict Standards on Garage Sales Nationwide
You make me promises, promises.
Remember when we all went crazy over the new laws for lead in toys and other products for children?
Why do I believe promises, promises?
It won’t apply to resale, they said.
Knew you’d never keep all of your promises.
We’ll still be able to shop at thrift stores and yard sales and eBay, they said.
We didn’t really believe that, did we?
Is anybody else looking forward to Christmas yet?
They had Advent calendars and specialty Christmas candy out at the commissary today.
Isn’t that w o n d e r f u l ?
Only 80 more days until the Feast of St. Nicholas. Just in case you were counting.
Feeling Enlightened
I recently blogged about problems with Neighbor Girl and how I told her to go home one day. Since school has started, we see her much less. But when she is here, the problems, especially with Jenny, continue. Sunday evening, just before dinner, my 6 year old is once again in tears; it was her turn to pick the game, but NG wouldn’t let her.
I made it clear to Katie and NG that dinner was in 10 minutes and NG was to go home at that time. She likes to stay for dinner, but I think the rule will be “not on school nights.”
At dinner, I discussed the girls’ treatment of Jenny. “When was the last time Jenny got to pick a game?” I asked.
“We never get to pick. NG always picks,” explained Katie, unhappily.
“What are we going to do about this?” I asked. I’m not surprised that this is happening. I’m only surprised that my daughter isn’t complaining about it. I have had to realize that she is too nice to put up a fight. Her sense of politeness is overruling her sense of justice.
All the kids, even the boys, suggested a “House Rules” list, written down, that they could refer to. My kids know the house rules. They want the power that comes with pointing to a written rule and telling someone else they have to obey it.
So I typed up some house rules and then asked the kids for their ideas, some of which matched mine:
“Share and take turns.”
“No name calling.”
“Clean up when you are done playing.”
Some of their ideas, I never would have thought of:
“Clear your own dishes from the table.” (Apparently, NG makes the girls clear her stuff.)
“Close the door behind you.” Now that the colder weather is approaching, I have been on the kids’ cases about leaving the door open. The field mice will be seeking warmer lodging.
The boys wanted “Leave the boys alone” but I already had a rule “No excluding others.” I suggested “Ask before joining ongoing activities” and said that they could ask for 10 minutes before having to include them. Most of the time, the girls don’t want to play, they want to harass. If they have to ask to join in, and then wait 10 minutes, they will likely move on to other games.
Most interesting: while I was listing generic rules that apply to everybody (“Do what you MUST do FIRST. Play comes after work.”), the kids were thinking exclusively in terms of NG.
We’ll see how this goes.
Unless the house is on fire
What time was it? Perhaps 4 am.
I am vaguely aware of my bedroom door opening. I hear, “Mommy?” It’s Katie. I am so far down in the depths of slumber that I don’t answer.
Again, “Mommy?” She doesn’t sound hurt, frightened, sick. I know what she wants. I’m still silent, but I am also more awake now.
A third time, “Mommy?” I realize she just won’t go away without a response. I manage to garble out a muffled, “Huh?”
“I had a bad dream. Can I sleep on your floor?” Years ago, she would repeat this request every.single.night. We finally told her she always had permission to sleep on our floor, using our decorative shams as pillows, as long as she came in without waking us up. And so she did, often bringing Jenny in tow. But sometime, I don’t know when exactly – 6 months ago perhaps – her nighttime game of musical beds tapered off and stopped.
Since Bill left, I expected her to start up again, but she held off until the last week or two. Apparently, she has forgotten the do not disturb rule.
It amuses me when people ask about how old babies are before they sleep through the night. In the last 3 months, each of my children, except for Billy, has disturbed me at least once in the middle of the night.
This is probably another one of those things that people with grown children assure me I will miss one day. I’m not buying it.
Santorum for President 2012
Santorum Admits to Pondering Run for Republican Presidential Nomination – Asks for Prayers
I’ll give him my prayers…and my vote, and my money, and my time.
Only because Margaret asked
The other day my mom told me that George Will had written a column about why we should get out of Afghanistan. I couldn’t do more than glance at it. I love George Will and respect his opinion, and so I can’t bear to read his reasons why my husband is wasting his time right now and why my family is suffering for nothing.
I guess with the recent 9-11 anniversary, the whole issue is on the minds of many.
The ever wonderful Minnesota Mom emails me:
Love to you all. I am offering up my Mass today for your family. How is Bill doing? I just read that there was another outbreak in Afghanistan which made me wonder, why are we there? Forgive the dumb question, but really? Do they want us there? Are we winning?
I know you’ll have an opinion.
First of all, I know there are many of you who are praying for my husband and me and my family. I thank you all. It helps us, truly.
Secondly, Margaret knows me well. I almost always have an opinion. I have a vague recollection of not having an opinion once. It’s not a common experience.
So I respond:
Why are we there? Are we winning hearts and minds? Are we making a difference? Should we make a difference? Should we care about these people a world away? Do they want us there? Should we stay or should we go?
I can’t answer all of these with any political correctness.
And I don’t know how other wives or mothers feel. I speak only for myself.
We have a poor country whose only hope for survival is to grow poppies and sell them to the world to support its drug habit. We have a country with a government too weak to keep out corruption or evil influences that would use the land to harbor, train and support terrorists and their structure. We have a country that went backwards in development and made educated women quit their professional jobs to wear burkas against their will and stay at home.
From a social justice standpoint, is it not the obligation of the strong to help and defend the weak? Are the rich not to help the poor? Do we stop ministering to the downtrodden because THEY have lost hope? Is it not possible to teach people how to better their lives, and at the very least make a difference in one person’s life for one day? To fill a hungry belly for just today, to put shoes on one child’s feet, to show them the promise of the future by embodying all that is good in the world for one day?
Why Afghanistan? Well, from there arose the center of attacks against the US. If we leave, they will simply reestablish their bases. The Taliban is still there. They are fighting and waiting for us to go. They won’t stop until they are decimated. That, unfortunately, means death, for us and for them and for civilians who harbor them and for civilians who are in the wrong place at the wrong time. War is awful. Better our soldiers (less than 600, I believe, since 2001 – most of the soldiers have died in Iraq, not Afghanistan, although that is changing**) than our civilians.
From there is the supply of most of the world’s opium. Drug use is a serious problem in this country and in others. Drug addiction destroys people, lives and families. We can and should fight a two-front war: prevent drug use by educating people and prevent drug use by making the supply scarce and expensive.
Do they want us there? It depends. If you like making easy money from poppies, NO. If you like the Taliban, NO. If you fear the Taliban and know that if you are friendly to US Troops they will kill you and your family, then it may be difficult to welcome US involvement.
What should we do? I don’t know. We can’t save the whole world, and certainly not all at once. I am glad I do not have to make these decisions.
All I know is this: if 5 or 10 or 20 or 40 years from now, Afghanistan is a better place due to our involvement, then I will believe that my husband’s sacrifice (whether that is simply missing his family for 6 months or if it ultimately takes a limb or his life) and my family’s suffering will not have been in vain. If we walk away, and Afghanistan goes back to the way it was in 2001, then this was all for nothing. The 600 dead, lost for no good reason. My children’s pain at having no father, even if temporary, will be for naught. We would have done better to have simply dropped a few bombs a la Bill Clinton and left it at that.
We have had no more attacks on our soil because we have been keeping them engaged elsewhere. Where should we fight them? Afghanistan? Iraq? New York City? Or should we let them win? Do you want your daughters or granddaughters wearing burkas? Would you like your children or your grandchildren to see the cathedrals of Europe? Would you like to see the cathedral of Notre Dame turned into a mosque? Europe is the frontline for the cultural battles and they are seeing a fair number of deadly attacks on civilians as well. If Europe collapses, then the new frontline is HERE. We won’t leave our country a better place for future generations if we can not respond to this fight now. We may not think this is a holy war…but they do.
So that’s my two cents.
I like to bounce my thoughts off my husband because he usually provides a different angle on issues and helps me hone or alter my opinion. Unfortunately, I don’t have that option right now, so these thoughts, which he will read long after most of you, are unshaped by his experiences and opinions.
At the conclusion of my rant, I asked Margaret if I just shouldn’t turn the email into a blog, and she thought yes, because she would like to hear other people’s thoughts. So, let us know how you feel. Should we stay or should we go?
** As of September 10th, there have been 746 deaths in Afghanistan and 4,343 related to Iraq.
Photo downloads
I had to get a shot of Mary before those last two top teeth come in. She has a cute gap up there, but her canines have erupted. The gap will be closing soon. Her eyes are looking pretty green here.
This is the final product of those “Army guy” cookies. I realized when I boxed them that I had not decorated a single cookie. Some were obviously decorated by a four year old. They are all cute.
Not satisfied with plain white clone troopers, Billy took magic marker and customized these guys. I have more of his artwork that I must scan and post. He is hysterical. Maybe he’ll make comic books some day.
Bill’s brother came down last weekend and right after he walked in the door, he said, “First of all, do you have any chores for me?” Need I say that he has leaped into first place on my favorite people list for this month? Here he is, reading to all the kids.
He also took my van in to get a new tire – a four hour ordeal. Thank goodness it wasn’t I and six kids sitting there. He’s a good guy, and I’m very grateful for his help.
And he’s single. If you know any intelligent, Catholic girls who LOVE the Big Apple, let me know! (And since he reads my blog: I’m there for you, bro.)
Reit This Way 