Monday, March 30, 2015
Stuff in a Pan #2
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Day in the life
I wrote this a year ago, but could have easily written it yesterday, or three months ago, or tomorrow or really any point in the last year or more. When I realized that, that I've been feeling like it's been the baby blues for longer than I can remember, I decided to get the prescription filled, swallow my pride and join millions of others on antidepressants. My kids deserve a mom who's "there" in the present more than just sometimes.
I still chalk so much of it up to hormones, but that doesn't mean I might need a little help kicking this junk to the curb and moving on. I feel like I'm on a treadmill. I make some good progress, talk to Jesus and confess sin, but at the end of the day maybe it's something more than that. I don't want to be the crazy mom. I know I am a sinner and my kids for sure know that, but I don't want my kids to say of me, "she never asked for help even though she needed it." I hope they say, "because my mom asked for help, she got help and now I understand Jesus better because of it."
8pm- Kids are in bed, Calvin is down for the night (almost) and I get to snuggle with my husband and read "Call the Midwife."7pm- Everyone's eaten dinner, and we all watch "Little House on the Prairie." It's becoming a regular thing. History lesson and literature lesson--check!!530- Food arrives. Hooray! I forgot to set the rice-cooker. This almost sends me into a tailspin, again. Husband gets home and he jokes that I've failed because I forgot about the rice. I totally know he's joking, but the tears begin again. He feels horrible.4pm- The day is looking up, the kids are playing well, someone's bringing us a meal and I am drinking wine. I spontaneously decide to do a sorting activity with the kids, sorting the winter and summer olympic events.230- Come home and put Della down for a nap, Calvin is napping in his carseat and miraculously the big three agreeably do quiet time in this rooms for a whole hour! I got to read a book and surf the internet!2pm- at the orthodontist, trying to put on a nice face for all the "wow, 5 kids" "he's so cute" "what are their ages" and "how do you do it" so I don't give into the hormones in front of unsuspecting strangers.1pm- Get everyone dressed so we can go to the orthodontist for a surprise visit because Caley's retainer fell out. This is like the 5th time it's happened and it's starting to get really annoying. I think I wore yoga pants and my grubby high school swimming sweatshirt.noon- lunch- PB&J, our usual. I don't remember what I frantically ate because I was probably starving. Also pretty sure I was on my 6th cup of coffee at this point.1030- pull myself together enough (I realize now I didn't go to Jesus, really at all) to "do school" with the kids. Baby Calvin is napping. The little ones (Wes and Della) are doing who-knows-what. In keeping with our "Grace Year" theme, I only ask them to do the minimum- math page and language arts workbooks and handwriting. They are becoming surprisingly independent!9- kids run off and play and for the next hour I nurse baby and walk around my house crying. The hormones are back. It's hard to distinguish truth from lies during this time. I know my thoughts have some truth to them, but how much of it is true and how much is the enemy exploiting my hormonal instability and exhaustion?830- kids eating breakfast, baby wakes so I get him, eat my breakfast.815- make lunch for the husband and get started on breakfast for kids, kiss husband goodbye, holding off tears as I face the next day of uncertainty and feeling guilty for saying some things during last night's hormonal issue.Tuesday8am- Got to "sleep in" until 8am, but really have been up since midnight feeding the baby, falling asleep in the nursing chair, waking to put baby back in bed, only for a few minutes before he wakes again and the cycle begins again. Nevermind that we didn't go to sleep until midnight because the postpartum emotions and tears were like a wild fire that I couldn't contain.It wasn't such a bad day after all.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Art for Art's Sake
I am struggling. It seems this is a theme to my blog so far. I write here when I'm struggling. Whoever reads this probably thinks I'm melancholy all the time and suicidal. Well, no, but I do come here to write and process my thoughts. Usually it helps. Until the next time.
Thinking about art tonight. "Art" being used loosely to include writing, fiction and non-fiction, painting, music, film, photography, really any creative expression. Why art? Why do people create art? Why to people consume and digest art? What's the point? More personally, why would I spend time doing something so frivolous, when I could be using my time to accomplish something?
The way I see it, art is our attempt at being like our creator. Creating something. Using the mind and body God gave us to create and have dominion over something. In that sense, you can argue that parenting and marriage is an art. It's having dominion and creativity in something outside of yourself. This sentence I'm composing right now is art. It's an outlet, an attempt to connect with something, or sort out myself.
Some would argue that, and in American culture today more specifically, art can be made to cause change. A poingnant film may inspire action, changing ideas and changing culture. A book can do the same. Art can make a statement about an inequality or a sterotype or prejudice. A song can change the way people think.
But...what if art can just be art? What if the details aren't really that important, like what the book or film or painting represents and it's just pretty or enjoyable? What if it's going to take me years and years to process a painting or book or film? Do I really have to dissect something immediately after interacting with it?
I think this idea that we need to read or observe or experience something and then immediately tell about it really affects education. There's so much pressure on producing something, like a book report or presentation or taking a test to "show" you know something. I think that's doing a disservice to the students, our children, and on a greater scale it's doing a disservice to each other when we demand "proficiency" in the form of showing something. Yes, I understand that proficiency tests are necessary in some ways, like a driver's test, but as a whole it's overused.
I noticed this with my kids a few weeks ago. We visited the state capital buildings and campus. The architecture was impressive, very Roman and grandiose. Statues of important historical figures. When we were driving home I really wanted to drill the kids on the importance of the state capital and why the buildings were constructed in that way, the three branches of government and such. But on the way home they watched a movie in the car. I didn't even really talk about what we'd seen for several hours. And I didn't lecture about facts and dates and such. I made comments about what I noticed. Like, "I love all the columns on the buildings and how everything was made from granite." Who am I to drill my kids on the specifics?
Such as with art. I need time for my brain to process the things I consume throughout the day. Reading a book and one concept will stick out over and over and my brain will chew on it. Then suddenly it will make sense or I can apply it to something in my life and then maybe I will be able to tell about it, or write about it. This may have been a process that takes days or weeks. The on-the-spot discussion is anxiety-producing for me. It almost takes the enjoyment out of the art. I'd like to form my own opinions and not be corrected. If I need to be corrected, be kind, be gracious, and maybe it doesn't matter if I'm "wrong" because IT'S ART.
Thinking about art tonight. "Art" being used loosely to include writing, fiction and non-fiction, painting, music, film, photography, really any creative expression. Why art? Why do people create art? Why to people consume and digest art? What's the point? More personally, why would I spend time doing something so frivolous, when I could be using my time to accomplish something?
The way I see it, art is our attempt at being like our creator. Creating something. Using the mind and body God gave us to create and have dominion over something. In that sense, you can argue that parenting and marriage is an art. It's having dominion and creativity in something outside of yourself. This sentence I'm composing right now is art. It's an outlet, an attempt to connect with something, or sort out myself.
Some would argue that, and in American culture today more specifically, art can be made to cause change. A poingnant film may inspire action, changing ideas and changing culture. A book can do the same. Art can make a statement about an inequality or a sterotype or prejudice. A song can change the way people think.
But...what if art can just be art? What if the details aren't really that important, like what the book or film or painting represents and it's just pretty or enjoyable? What if it's going to take me years and years to process a painting or book or film? Do I really have to dissect something immediately after interacting with it?
I think this idea that we need to read or observe or experience something and then immediately tell about it really affects education. There's so much pressure on producing something, like a book report or presentation or taking a test to "show" you know something. I think that's doing a disservice to the students, our children, and on a greater scale it's doing a disservice to each other when we demand "proficiency" in the form of showing something. Yes, I understand that proficiency tests are necessary in some ways, like a driver's test, but as a whole it's overused.
I noticed this with my kids a few weeks ago. We visited the state capital buildings and campus. The architecture was impressive, very Roman and grandiose. Statues of important historical figures. When we were driving home I really wanted to drill the kids on the importance of the state capital and why the buildings were constructed in that way, the three branches of government and such. But on the way home they watched a movie in the car. I didn't even really talk about what we'd seen for several hours. And I didn't lecture about facts and dates and such. I made comments about what I noticed. Like, "I love all the columns on the buildings and how everything was made from granite." Who am I to drill my kids on the specifics?
Such as with art. I need time for my brain to process the things I consume throughout the day. Reading a book and one concept will stick out over and over and my brain will chew on it. Then suddenly it will make sense or I can apply it to something in my life and then maybe I will be able to tell about it, or write about it. This may have been a process that takes days or weeks. The on-the-spot discussion is anxiety-producing for me. It almost takes the enjoyment out of the art. I'd like to form my own opinions and not be corrected. If I need to be corrected, be kind, be gracious, and maybe it doesn't matter if I'm "wrong" because IT'S ART.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Stuff-in-a-Pan #1
A new journal-esque plan for this blog: Stuff-in-a-Pan
A friend suggested I keep a log of the various random meals I feed my family. We call it Stuff-in-a-Pan. I didn't make up the name, a friend told me about it. The meal ideas though are "original." I say "original" because it's not like I really have any creativity, it's just stuff in my fridge that I need to magically turn into food to feed my family. They're different every time.
To make Stuff-in-a-Pan, you need a pan and some stuff. Usually a meat or protein, vegetables, and a cream or sauce to pull it all together. Sometimes you can bake the stuff like a savory pie or serve the stuff over some other stuff like rice or quinoa or noodles.
So here's Stuff-in-a-Pan #1. I don't have a picture, but intend on including pictures with my future stuffs.
Ingredients:
Ground maple pork
minced garlic
onion slices
cabbage slices
tomato chunks
chicken broth
sour cream
paprika
curry
salt
pepper
cooked rice (white)
Brown the meat, then add garlic, onion and cabbage. Saute until soft. Then add tomato chunks. Add chicken broth and let it all soften and mix flavors. When it's kind of soupy, add the sour cream and spices and mix throughly. Let cook until thickened. Serve over rice.
This got rave reviews from my husband and five kids!
A friend suggested I keep a log of the various random meals I feed my family. We call it Stuff-in-a-Pan. I didn't make up the name, a friend told me about it. The meal ideas though are "original." I say "original" because it's not like I really have any creativity, it's just stuff in my fridge that I need to magically turn into food to feed my family. They're different every time.
To make Stuff-in-a-Pan, you need a pan and some stuff. Usually a meat or protein, vegetables, and a cream or sauce to pull it all together. Sometimes you can bake the stuff like a savory pie or serve the stuff over some other stuff like rice or quinoa or noodles.
So here's Stuff-in-a-Pan #1. I don't have a picture, but intend on including pictures with my future stuffs.
Ingredients:
Ground maple pork
minced garlic
onion slices
cabbage slices
tomato chunks
chicken broth
sour cream
paprika
curry
salt
pepper
cooked rice (white)
Brown the meat, then add garlic, onion and cabbage. Saute until soft. Then add tomato chunks. Add chicken broth and let it all soften and mix flavors. When it's kind of soupy, add the sour cream and spices and mix throughly. Let cook until thickened. Serve over rice.
This got rave reviews from my husband and five kids!
Liking What Looks Back at Me
I have been afraid and obsessed with mirrors for as long as I can remember. In the house I grew up in, there was a little desk I would do homework at in the guest room. It had a mirror on the wall next to it. I remember looking in that mirror and making funny faces and making myself laugh. Laughing so much I didn't get any homework done. I don't think that was the first time I felt drawn to the mirror, but it's one of the times I didn't feel despairing or prideful because of the mirror.
For so long I have avoided a mirror. It never reflected me accurately. Either I felt great and my reflection was horrible, or I felt horrible and looked not-so-bad. When I say horrible or not-so-bad, I mean my body size and shape. I look in the mirror and my tummy is too poochy, my butt is too big, or my chin has too much fat.
I saw a meme on Pinterest a while back that said, "I wish I was as fat as I was when I first thought I was fat." It's so true! Even at 130lbs I thought I was fat. Heck, even at 119lbs in high school right after I'd lost 50lbs going to Weight Watchers I thought I was fat. I've always been dissatisfied with my weight or pants size or something about the way I look.
The more I think about it, the more I think it's not a dissatisfaction, it's a disorder. I have a disordered way of looking at my body. Changing my body won't necessarily change my view of my body. I just have to change my view of my body. Having five babies in the last 10 years has helped change my view of my body, if even a tiny bit. Like, it's okay that I'm not 130lbs, I've had five babies. The cumulative time my body has been my own in the last 10 years? Probably less than a year. When you count pregnancy and breasfeeding, I've had probably 12-18 months in the last 10 years in which my body has only supported me. Learning to not hate my body is practical grace to myself. It's practically walking that I'm already pleasing to Jesus. Holding onto dissatisfaction with my body is the equivalent of "I'm not able to forgive myself." It's simply pride.
Does this mean I should stop exercising and eat crap? Not at all. But it took 10+ years to get this body, so it's going to take a while. In the meantime, I get to enjoy the body I have, not be afraid of what reflects in the mirror.
For so long I have avoided a mirror. It never reflected me accurately. Either I felt great and my reflection was horrible, or I felt horrible and looked not-so-bad. When I say horrible or not-so-bad, I mean my body size and shape. I look in the mirror and my tummy is too poochy, my butt is too big, or my chin has too much fat.
I saw a meme on Pinterest a while back that said, "I wish I was as fat as I was when I first thought I was fat." It's so true! Even at 130lbs I thought I was fat. Heck, even at 119lbs in high school right after I'd lost 50lbs going to Weight Watchers I thought I was fat. I've always been dissatisfied with my weight or pants size or something about the way I look.
The more I think about it, the more I think it's not a dissatisfaction, it's a disorder. I have a disordered way of looking at my body. Changing my body won't necessarily change my view of my body. I just have to change my view of my body. Having five babies in the last 10 years has helped change my view of my body, if even a tiny bit. Like, it's okay that I'm not 130lbs, I've had five babies. The cumulative time my body has been my own in the last 10 years? Probably less than a year. When you count pregnancy and breasfeeding, I've had probably 12-18 months in the last 10 years in which my body has only supported me. Learning to not hate my body is practical grace to myself. It's practically walking that I'm already pleasing to Jesus. Holding onto dissatisfaction with my body is the equivalent of "I'm not able to forgive myself." It's simply pride.
Does this mean I should stop exercising and eat crap? Not at all. But it took 10+ years to get this body, so it's going to take a while. In the meantime, I get to enjoy the body I have, not be afraid of what reflects in the mirror.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)