zoe and her lip gloss smile

zoe's home school day.....

we put up the Christmas tree.  we made snowflakes ornaments.
we did her hair, i let her try make up- it was girly- it was fun.

we made faces.  and we smiled a lot.

she has a great smile.
i love to see that girl smile.

"We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today. " ~Stacia Tauscher

the mystery

People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle.--Thich Nhat Hanh: 

sometimes i think we've lost the mystery.

we are uncomfortable with what we can not explain- we are so trustful of our minds and chose them over all else.  one of the best things about kids is there comfort with the magical- their desire for it-their need of it.  it makes me wonder if we are socializing away from the truth- away from the places of miracle.  children hold on to it- and slowly, it fades away.

this time of the year especially, and at the ages of 4 and 6 and yes, even 12 (but it is zoe) the magical comes into question.

i hear the kids conversations in the back seat of the car where early logic meets faith.
"but everyone knows he can't fit down the chimney, so he uses the door."
"yeah and sometimes there isn't even a chimney."
"but does he really have reindeer?  and do they really fly?"

several times this week i've been asked the dreaded question, "mommy is santa real?"
this pains me.
maybe i'm over thinking it, but i feel like i'm torn between looking my child in the eyes and lying to him or, alternatively and probably worse, stealing the pure joy of possibility and mystery from his precious little heart.  this is where it begins.

and it slowly fades away.  oh the loss of it.

so as parents, this time of the year makes us question the absoluteness of truth-telling and appreciate the complexity of moral ethics.  but we also go through our own faith vs. logic battle.  instead of the existence of a man dressed in red, we struggle with whether a baby could also be God, and how a virgin could give birth. we are quick to denounce the mystery of Jesus, the miracle of the transcendence of the spiritual into the ordinary.  we like to keep the beauty of a snowy night, a bright star, a young family on a donkey, some wise men.  but that is often where it is left and we just celebrate the guy in the red suit flying through the night sky and putting presents under our tree.   

but don't we still crave the mystery?  i do. and i still believe fully in miracles- small ones and big ones.  as a medical student, a resident, a friend and a mother, i've been to many, many births.  and even though i understand and can teach the biology of the creation and growth of a fetus and it's maturation to a full term baby, every time i've watched a baby born, i've cried.  because there is something you can't describe in the biology that is so clearly present at birth and so clearly absent right after death- a soul.  the mystery of the life inside us.

this time of the year is ripe for returning to that place of our original selves.  to embrace our children's vision that maybe there is more to life than we can see with our eyes, or even understand with our minds.  to believe that all around us is miracle and magic if we look- if we chose to engage in the possibility.

let's hold tight to the mystery.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.—Unknown

I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it. -- Harry Emerson Fosdick

We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and to know the place for the first time. --T.S. Eliot

I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now. --Bob Dylan

it's late

today was annoying.  it just was.  life seemed like it was getting lost in the living.  because the living takes longer here- even the basics.  running an errand takes 4 stops instead of 1, the traffic that should take 20 minutes takes 40.  the lady with a rigid, painful belly is delayed all morning getting to the hospital because the clinic cashier hasn't arrived with the key to get money for her transportation.  these things make me want to have a george banks moment from 'father of the bride' when he just loses it because of the systems- or maybe here, the lack of systems.   

but the lavender/ camomile tea is helping. so is being still, being quiet and just sitting down. 
what usually helps most is to think of what i have to be thankful for- and there is so much.
the top three of the day are:
- kampala has an apple computer store and i was actually able to get my charger fixed,  in less than 24 hours- remarkable
- the lady with the Christmas tree from yesterday, the one who thought i was crazy, she actually called me back, saved the tree for me, and today we chopped it down and brought it home (sorry to my faithful tree loving friends, but i can't do fake, at least not yet).
- and for these guys- who make me laugh.

Let these be your desires

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise be upon your lips.


Khalil Gibran

the haggis and the christmas tree

you might think that if you can taste your first haggis in uganda, then you'd be able to find a Christmas tree, however, this isn't true.

this weekend i ate haggis.
















i think it's been given a bad wrap because of what's in it and how it's prepared, but it was actually delicious.  (although 'maggot cheese' came up as a related search on google).  i even had seconds.

it's funny that i ate this in uganda of all places, but we were at the scottish ball- so it was perfectly appropriate.

haggis, i've learned is made of sheep parts mixed with onions, oatmeal and spices, then cooked inside of the sheep's intestines.  the parts aren't even your typical parts, they're organs.  and not even your typical organs.  the vital organs, heart, lung, and liver. it tasted like a really good pate.  the whole event was fabulous complete with kilts, plaid, readings from robert burns, and a bagpiper.  (it was all i could do to not shout out 'we've got a piper down!' from that 'classic' movie - honey i married an axe murderer- must see if haven't).   of course the reason the haggis may have been so good was the old 18 year old whiskey that we poured over it.  i'm just saying.

so given that i can be in the middle of africa and be at a scottish ball, how hard could it be to buy a Christmas tree in a land that can grow anything- even pine trees.  but no.

i have this obsessive part of my personality, and i do love the Christmas tradition of tree decorating, and i've already bought the little white lights, so i went on a mad search today.  i went to several different nurseries.  i even went to the national forestry association, both branches.  first of all people couldn't understand why i wanted to buy a tree, why it needed to be over 1/2 a meter tall, and why i'd need to hang anything on it.  they kept walking me around and showing me all sorts of random plants- most of which were tropical.  someone one even said, "what about a rose bush- don't you like roses?"  what?? when i finally did find some pine trees that were over 3 feet tall and might be able to support lights and a few ornaments i was told,
"oh, these ones, they aren't for sale". 
of course they aren't.
"but why?" i asked.
"they have already grown the roots."
"i know.  i want to chop it down.  i don't want the roots, unless you want me take it with roots, in which case i will."
i got no where.
another place had some trees- i mean like 4- that you might be able to call 'trees'.  i was all ready. i circled them a few times and picked the one for us.
"no- you need to come back in a few days- the man who sells these isn't here."
"but you're here- and i'm here now- and so are the trees.  lets call him."  i begged.
"no- you come in a few days."
"but i know how this works- they won't be here in a few days- they'll be all chopped down.  i had this same thing happen with a washing machine."  i was grappling.
"look crazy muzungu- you're not buying that tree! i don't know why your talking about washing machines- but you can't buy that either - now go."  well, that is what her smile said.
"will you at least take my phone number? will you save my tree?  will you call me and confirm?"
right. sure lady. i'll waste my expensive airtime calling your nutball tree cutting muzungu self.  hells naw.

so i came home empty handed and mildly despondent.
today.
there is always tomorrow.
because if i can find haggis, there must be a half way descent pine tree somewhere.

if not, looks like it'll be a charlie brown Christmas for us.
which will at least fit our scottish pocket book.

little white lights and hope

today is the first sunday in advent.

i treasure these sundays.  there are only 4 of them, and this year, the last sunday of advent is on my birthday, december 18th.
i'm still finding it hard to "feel" christmas here.

i grew up in new england- with cold and snow and chestnuts and roaring fires and hot cider.  there were even real reindeer at the natick outdoor mall during chrismas time.  people put up their trees and their lights and christmas 'yard art' and built snowman.  there were candles in windows, wreaths on doors, poinsettia plants on mantels and smoke coming from chimneys and everyone listened to christmas music and strung cranberry and popcorn strands and made paper chains and watched the same christmas specials over and over year after year.  frosty, rudolf, a charlie brown christmas, 'twas the night before christmas, and of course, the grinch.  church lawns had creche scenes and kids enacted christmas pageants.  schools did plays of dickens 'a christmas carol'.  we baked cookies and decorated them, we pulled out stockings and made ornaments and sang carols in nursing homes for old people who weren't with their families.  but perhaps my favorite part of all is the little white lights.  the ones that are wrapped like scarves around those naked leafless trees.  they make me fell warm inside. little white lights in the dark of night.  we also celebrated advent. our church and our family.  we collectively both acknowledged the season and purposefully remembered the reason behind christmas, to be sure it didn't get lost in the wrapping paper or buried in the gifts. 

i'm okay with out the cold and the snow, but i miss most of the rest of it.  american culture is very good at celebration.  we even start preping for the weekend on wednesday- as if it's a rare event- as if saturday and sunday are holidays.   i'm not finding this a big part of ugandan culture so far.  in fact when i get to work on monday and ask how peoples weekend was or what they did- they look at me funny.  'it was fine'.  and they usually did the same things they always do- live their lives.

christmas here feels the same- it feels ordinary.  i have found some shops with a few mangy fake trees displayed, advertizing their for sale christmas items- today i even heard christmas music in a store- but most of uganda looks exactly the same as it did in august. 

today we tried a new church.  it was nice in some ways- the music was familiar- it was a good mix of people, ugandan and expat- but it made me so homesick.  i missed my church and my people- those who i've grown to love dearly and grow with and celebrate with.  people who help me remember the reason behind things. today there was no mention of this sunday being a special sunday, no mention of it being the first sunday in advent.  they mentioned in 'announcements' about the childrens christmas play- but there was no focus on the process of 'His arrival' no acknowledgement of the need to prepare our hearts for the arrival of a baby who changed the world.

i gravitate toward the seasonality of life.  it's rhythms and patterns, the things that are reliable and steadfast- almost like old friends.  maybe it's because i'm not inherently organized, maybe it's because i don't buy the same things at the market each week or have a meal schedule, i currently don't even have a calendar.  i think this is why i crave the larger, external patterns or seasons.  why i love the sunrise and the sunset and the moon.

i need advent this year. 
i need to spend these weeks remembering the hope and the promise.  the hope that our life has meaning and purpose beyond our present daily experiences.  the promise that it does.  that God does big things with small people- makes beauty out of brokenness, creates light out of darkness.

so i'll do with out the tv specials and the icicles and the smoky chimneys and the excessive christmas  decor.  but maybe not the little white lights- i might need those to remind me of light in darkness and to keep me warm inside.

yet another saturday poem

Absence

I have scarcely left you
when you go in me, crystalline,
or trembling,
or uneasy, wounded by me
or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes
close upon the gift of life
that without cease I give you.

My love,
we have found each other
thirsty and we have
drunk up all the water and the blood,
we found each other
hungry
and we bit each other
as fire bites,
leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me,
keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
a rose.

 Pablo Neruda

Handel's messiah

today is one of my favorite days of the year.  the day that i first listen to handels messiah.  one of my few hard and fast 'rules' is that the music, the movies, the decorations of christmas, all of it- happens only between the day after thanksgiving and the new year. 6 weeks.  Christmas is special, it's sacred and it deserves our waiting and  then our full enjoyment.  it deserves to be unique and packaged back up and put away- it deserves anticipation and eagerness.  it deserves to be missed in january.  at least that is what i think.

today i have to admit, i was in bad form.  i woke up exhausted and in no mood to encourage and motivate three children and myself to dress and eat and pack up for the day.  i was in no mood to corral.  i was in the mood to sit in my house all alone and drink a good hot cup of coffee and listen to the messiah in full with out interruption.  but.  no.

when we got in the car,  i was already to enforce silence and listen.  but.  the tape attaching the iphone to the car stereo kept being spit out of the tape deck.  finally i was able to get it to work and we began our drive- but the iphone was stuck on repeat- so i kept having to skip to the next song manual- which doesn't work well while driving.  then i remembered that jude needed to go over his spelling words on the way to school- so the messiah experience would have to wait.  ugghhh.

after dropping the boys i was able to fix the iphone repeat problem and zoe and i drove through kampala to the orphanage with that beautiful music.  and while listening and driving- or stopping and starting which is what we were really doing, i had a moment.

out my window was a very thin ugandan man pushing two giant bags of charcoal on an old bike in the drizzle.  he looked sort of sick, his clothes were old, his flip flops were at least 2 sizes too small and he was working so hard to push this bike and maintain his cargo that kept slipping off the seat.
the chorus sang:

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.

i was driving in a large SUV with only one other passenger- my load was light- i was protected from the wind and the rain. i am thankfully healthy.  my shoes fit me.

And ALL flesh shall sing TOGETHER.

mine and his, dark and pale, black and white, rich and poor, heavy load or light load, barefoot or rainbooted.  when God looks at us- we are loved the same.

For the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.

the moment was in remembering our unity, our sameness.  that one day we'll stand together holding hands.  that one day we will sing together. he and i.

yesterday a man came to my door- well not my door, my porch- the place where people hover.  no one knocks- they just hover  or linger and wait until they're noticed.  this drives me crazy.  i never know how long they've been hanging out there or what they want- it's so passive.  so i went out to see.  he actually wasn't even on the porch, just on the path right off the porch.  he had tears in his eyes.
i had another moment.

i had rushed out my door, ready to defer him- to deny him- to send him on his way.  i was annoyed at him and i hadn't even met him.  he was one of so many who linger, who want for something, who ask with out even asking, who need.  but when i saw the tears in his eyes- the moment spoke to me- yes he's one of many, but he's ONE.  he is a person.  an individual.  a life.  a someone who is loved.  someone who is worthy.  so i asked him to come and sit on the porch with me and tell me what was happening in his life.  he tried to take off his shoes- just to walk on the porch. this told me something.  in uganda everyone takes off their shoes when going into the house- they leave them on the porch- but he felt he couldn't even wear his shoes on the porch.  he felt unworthy.

he told me about himself and his family.  they all have AIDS, he also has TB, he's been too sick to work,  the are on ARVs but haven't been able to take them reliably because they haven't had food to eat.  this week they were chased off their rental property for not paying the landlord in 6 months.  he was hoping for some money.  he's trying to get back to the village where they can live with extended family.  he'd been to the church in town, they'd given him 5000 shillings (less than 2$). he kept crying- unable to look me in the eye.  he said that no one wants people with HIV living in their homes- he spoke of rejection and humiliation.  he was full of hopelessness and brokenness.

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.

this is why Jesus came.  for the brokenness.  his.  mine.  the guy on the bike.  all of it.
this is what Christmas is about.


And ALL flesh shall sing TOGETHER.

i told him i thought his plan was wise to return to his family and have food and shelter.  i asked about his HIV care and he can get access in the village.  i told him i could give him some money but was worried about his spirit.  he was so depressed- so hopeless.  i told him he was loved and worthy- just as worthy as me, just as worthy as someone with out HIV.  i gave him enough for them to get back to the village and i prayed with him for healing and for hope.  and i thanked God for speaking to my heart that day- for reminding me of our oneness.  for reminding me that Jesus cared for individuals- the woman at the well, zaccheus, the disciples as separate people.
for showing me that one person at a time is how 'it's possible'. 

For the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.

music speaks and moves us.  and with handel's messiah, it's not just me.  watch this 'random act of culture' sort of collective performance art from last Christmas in a mall in philidelphia.
it makes me cry. happy cry.

 

MOvember mojo

i must start with this.
bryn lost his first tooth today.
he bit into an apple at school- out it came.  he was so excited that he wouldn't let the teacher keep it safe.  he had to have it with him at all times.  but at recess it fell into the mud- gone for good.
my baby is starting to lose some of his baby things. 

i got my first haircut in uganda today.  and with it, i got my mojo back.
i'm not sure exactly what that all means, except that i needed those inches chopped badly- they were weighing me down.  and i have to admit the whole experience of being pampered is lovely.  there was good music and magazines, i mean current magazines. magazines that had accurate information about the the beckhams new baby, several of the kardashians (who ever they really are) and jessica simpson being pregnant. i hadn't seen an up to date fashion or gossip magazine in .... okay it's only been 3 months, but it was so nice! and what's funny is that it felt so thankfully foreign.  i had temporarily stepped out of uganda- at least the parts i'm mostly in- and into that other kind of beautiful place.  the place it's it's fun to visit but not live in- the world of the spa- focusing on the outards that really don't matter at all.
then the woman washing my hair did some fabulous shampoo, conditioner, massage combo, with the majority of time being spent on massage.  heavenly. totally relaxing- totally unexpected- i actually fell asleep with my head back in that sink of hers.
and i left feeling all around good.













 

and ready to eat some turkey. fresh turkey. the turkey that has been gobbling around our neighbors yard until last night when much to my boys delight and zoe's appall, he was transformed from one who gobbles, to one who will be gobbled.  yes, this is the bird.

which reminds me of one of my two favorite bumper stickers: 
(apologies ahead of time to my dear vegetarian friends)

"if we're not supposed to eat animals then why are they made out of meat?"

the other one is a few years outdated (apologies to any "W" fans in my family)
"somewhere in texas, a village is missing their idiot."

tonight will be our first thanksgiving meal in uganda.
me with my mojo and mike with his first ever mustache. because it's "MOvember".  meaning grow a mustache in support of men's health month- or specifically prostate cancer awareness month.  it's awesome.  there are mustaches everywhere.  i feel like i'm back in the 70's or even the 80's living with magnum PI.

we're off with our toothless child, some mojo and a stache.
off to eat some bird.

goodness

in a few weeks i will turn 41.  yikes. 
i've been thinking back over this past year- the first in my 5th decade. yikes.
but.  here i am in east africa. 

exactly where i want to be.
where cows cross the highway.

and for that i'm so very thankful.
not everyone can say that.

and i have babies that i love, even if they are no longer babies.

and i have a husband that i love, even after 22 years.

and i have friends and family that i love, ones near and ones far, that help me to be happy. to be thankful.  to remember all these things.

and i have a God that i love and who loves me, even though i'm far from perfect.

i've also got a bathtub. 
and some kickin' rain boots.

what more is there?

is it possible

this was the billboard i passed on the way to town today.

i'm not sure. 


today i got mad at the many things that are broken around here and the lack of fixing. i was driving home from clinic, on some back, barely paved road with a slow*** tanker truck in front of me.  it was spewing black diesel smoke from one side and pouring what i hope was water, from it's tank which had stenciled in small letters H2O.  it was like the little engine that couldn't.  the thing could barely get up the small hills.  i really wanted to get away from it- for all the obvious reasons especially that who knows what was really in that tank.  the thing wouldn't let me pass- every time i tried he moved over into the middle of the road.  now i usually have road zen here- it's not worth getting mad- but today i was mad.  swearing out loud mad.  thankfully i was driving alone. 


then i came to a place where i knew they were doing some road work but it was in a dead stand still. like, put your car in park, stand still.  in typical fashion all the cars behind me began pouring onto the other side of the road and forming another lane going in the same direction.  this infuriates me, because of course it creates a bottle neck and we're stuck longer.  when we finally move a little i see that they'd begun to do more road work and had some how created a  lot of mud and the road was now two levels that an ordinary car couldn't go between, but several had tried and were stuck laterally - as in across both lanes stuck.  as had a matatu and that stinking H2O truck.  of course there is no signage and no police helping to direct traffic.  instead there are several road workers in hard hats pointing and commenting to each other about which car would make it out of the mud first. 

i began to reflect on why i was so annoyed and i realized it was about much more than the leaking, broken down old truck and the bad road work.  it's being constantly faced with the broken systems all around me.

today at clinic i saw a woman for the second time.  the first time is saw her she came in for her regular visit and thought she had malaria which i tested her for but she didn't have.  i happened to also take the time to look through her chart and saw that she'd been sent for a work up over the summer for dysfunctional uterine bleeding, lots of it, enough so that her hemoglobin was 4 (less than half normal).  when i asked about what had happened, in typical fashion, she wasn't sure- she may have had surgery, she did have some lab tests done, and maybe a biopsy.  no follow up had happened.  i rechecked her blood, put her on iron supplements and told her to go get her records, her results, all of it from the hospital.  i gave her my phone number and wrote a note to the doctor who was 'treating' her with the questions we needed answered. 


today she showed up looking pale again, and with her results.  a cervical biopsy had been taken, it showed severe dysplasia- it was from 4 months ago.  no one had followed up- not the person who had ordered it- nor the pathologist reading it.  i know this situation can and does happen in the states- but somehow it seems almost the norm here.  as i'm discussing with her the need for treatment and that likely it will be more aggressive given her HIV status, i realize that i can't fall back on the promises i'm used to giving.  i can't promise that she will have very little post operative pain- i can't promise that this is a routine surgery that will go perfectly smoothly with very little chance of a bad outcome.  i don't think either are true! this is a country where women die in childbirth while in a hospital from lack of blood or sutures!  a place where you pay first and if you don't have money you lose.  a place where the drug you need may not be available- or where there might not be enough nurses to get your pain medicine.  i sat there trying to explain why it was so necessary for her to go back to the gynecologist and get treatment but i just kept thinking about trust.  how can she trust this system to not fail her?  how can she trust a doctor to cut her belly open if the same doctor didn't even follow up on the tests ordered in the summer?  how can she be sure she'll not have intense pain, or that she'll even survive the surgery?  it made me sad and mad and feel quiet helpless.

after that i saw a man about 60 years old who had been on ARVs for over 2 years.  i looked as his CD4 count it was 30.  we put people on ARV's when there count drops below 350, he'd been put on ARVs when his was 25, but over two years ago.  it was now only 30.  i couldn't find any work up about why this was and what we were going to do about it.

while i was talking to him about adherence, the woman who had the baby with the seizures stopped over to give me an update.  i'd given her money last week and she'd taken him to get a work up with a CT scan of his head and an EEG, but was told she was supposed have come on a monday not a thursday and sent away.  he'd had another seizure that night (although not sick) and she'd had to bring him to a small local hospital where they treated him for guess what..... malaria as usual- and then IV antibiotics because they needed to 'treat his infection' (although they couldn't tell what or why or even if he was infected) before any scans or further work up could be done.  so all the money for the work up was now spent on probably a lot of unnecessary medical 'care'.

so driving home i passed the sign again. "is it possible?"  it stood there looming over me- asking an ambiguous but hard question.  and after my day, i wrestled with my answer.   is it possible?  i don't know, but i have to believe yes.  something is possible on some level.  some things must be possible- over time things are possible.  and then a matatu sped by and i remembered all the wise old sayings that i pass numerous times each day written on their rear windows.  they are expressions of hope- reminders of our place in the universe, phrases of encouragement and i'm beginning to see why they are so prevalent.  i'm not the only one in the country wondering 'is it possible?'  so it's good to read - 'God is able', and maybe tomorrow i'll see my new favorite, 'with God, it's possible'.

you catch more flies with honey...

i have had my head deep inside a book for the past few days- it was consuming me- but i've put it down for a moment.  i'm back.

lately i've been having some parenting issues.  issues with my kids, issues with my response to my kids, issues of parenting.  part of it is that parenting zoe is a completely different experience than parenting jude and bryn.  she just has different issues- strengths and struggles.  so unlike most parents who can get to child number 2 and at least have a reference from child number 1 about how most 6 year olds act, we don't.  it's new territory all over again, aside from certain physical milestones like when to begin solid food and loose teeth.

with the boys right now, i'm struggling with the balance between setting them up for success and punishing them when they misbehave.  let me explain.  every morning we have to get up reeaaaallllyyy early to drive the boys to school.  we get up at 5:45 and get their juice and breakfast and lately, hot chocolate, all set up.  their clothes are laid out on their floor the night before, and their bags are already packed and by the door.  we let them sleep until about 6:10 and all they have to do is slip on their clothes and come to the table where a meal awaits them.  now.  i would consider that setting them up for success.  how hard is that?  the only thing better would be breakfast in bed!

today this is what i got,  "MAAAAMMAAAAA!!! i SAID i wanted you to put my clothes IN my bed so i can get dressed under my COVERS."  bryn.

or "MOMMMYYYY!  i didn't want the bread TOASTED with nutella, i just wanted REGULAR  bread with nutella!!" jude.

i almost grabbed them by the hair and knocked their little whinny heads together.  are you kidding me?? now i know that they are tired and that they are 4 and 6, so one possible response would be to just love right through- to use some version of ' you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.'  i could attempt to diffuse the situation with, "oh king bryn i'm so sorry! here your royal highness, here are your royal clothes!"  at which i know he'd laugh and probably get dressed.

but somehow it was all so bratty, and so assuming, and so neglectful of the fact that we got up much earlier and puttered around to make their life easier, (mom i'm sure you must be totally laughing right now), that i couldn't do that.  i ended up in punishment land.  i ended up explaining to a 4 and 6 year old that i am even more tired and i'm not whining (of course at that point i kind of was).  i ended up asking them which of their ugandan friends even gets breakfast let alone hot chocolate?  and then i ended up taking  away the hot chocolate- resulting in even more whining and many tears - causing me to say things like 'oh i'll give you something to really cry about!'  as if i'm on "leave it to beaver"- although those kids never back talked to their mom.

the thing is, on paper, i'm a big believer in diffusing the situation when you can (especially with the young ones).  but i'm also a big believer in children being polite and respectful.  on paper i'm a believer of parenting out of a calm and mature and non-reactionary place- but ohhhhh do i struggle with this!
i get so angry.


as we drove school, after a hot chocolate-less morning, i realized we need a plan. 
maybe it needs to be having them go to bed even earlier- although that is nearly impossible.  or maybe the opposite.  maybe they need to get up earlier and get their own clothes from the closet, get their own bag packed.  or maybe i should feed them grool for a week.  i don't know.

but one thing i believe in more than the method of diffusing or punishing, is that children simply need boundaries. they crave them, and will push and pull until they figure out where the buck stops,  where the line is really drawn, until they figure out exactly who is in control- and they don't want it to be themselves.   parents who are in control and consistent- parents who set clear boundaries, give their children 'the safe feeling'. and children who feel safe are better behaved.

so looking back on our morning, or our mornings, i'm realizing that we may need to set clearer, and better maintained boundaries.  why i struggle with this is because i love to give my kids things that make them happy.  but boundaries will lead to long term happiness much more than even chocolate.

and although i'm in the business of growing boys into respectful men and not catching flies, perhaps i'll put some honey on their toast tomorrow and see what happens....

a poem and a picture

 

Clenched Soul by Pablo Neruda

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.