I've been reading The God Seed: Probing the Mystery of Spiritual Development by M. Catherine Thomas. There's a lot in that book and I'm going to have to read it again but for now, I have two thoughts about it. #1 I like the idea it presented of being present in the moment. No judgements, just being present. Most things that happen in my life aren't good or bad they just are. I put the judgement into it. Which then creates the emotion. What if I just accepted it and allowed things to happen instead of trying to control it or push it away.
For example, my kids were playing and my almost 3 year old did something which caused my 1 year old to cry. I could rush in, place judgement and control the situation or I could wait and be present with situation and see what happens. It turns out that they figured it out on their own and continued playing. Everyone was happier.
Another time was when we were leaving a store and I wanted to go back to the car to go home. My 2 1/2 year old had other plans. I decided to just be present and allow him to lead us where he wanted to go. Low and behold he found a safer way back to the car. No tears, no fuss and we both got what we wanted.
Now for the 2nd thought. Why can't I remember to do this all the time? It works great when I do it. I am less angry and more compassionate. I love who I am when I am just present without judgements. Why can't I remember any of the great things that I've tried to incorporate into my life over the years. It is so interesting to me how an idea, person or thing can have such an impact on my life and yet when I'm not surrounding myself with it, I forget. Maybe that's why the Lord commanded us to read the scriptures and pray daily. Not because He needs it, but because He knows we do, or else we'd forget.
Showing posts with label What did you learn today?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label What did you learn today?. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Sunday, February 14, 2016
What!? I have to do it?
When I was little my mom and dad could fix everything. My toy was broken and they fixed it. I skinned my knee and they fixed it. I wanted to learn to ride a bike and they helped me. I had a sad heart and they healed it.
As I got older we had to branch out to others, but again they could fix everything. My teeth were crooked and the orthodontist straightened them. I felt sick and the doctor gave me medicine. I had a speech impediment and the speech therapist fixed it. My bike was stolen (because my brother left it unlocked at a school overnight) and he bought me a new one.
Up to that point in my life if something went wrong someone else could and would always fix it. Until one day I got mono. Not the fun way either. I went to the doctor and he told me he couldn't fix it. "I's a virus and has to run its course," he said. I couldn't take that for an answer. Doctors are supposed to fix everything! So I went back, THREE times. I was really hurting! In my past doctors could always make me feel better. Maybe if I just went back enough I'd find one who would "really" help me. In the end I really did just have to wait for it to run its course. And that's when I began to understand that sometimes they only person who can fix it, is me.
My broken heart isn't healed by my mother's warm embrace anymore. My husband's embrace works a little bit better nowadays. Seriously though, if I really want to heal my emotional wounds I have to do it. I have to find them, look at them, appreciate them and let them go. My mom, sister, friends, and husband cannot fix it for me.
Another area I struggle with is eating. I want to eat more healthy foods and teach my family to do the same. I am the gate keeper for the food my family eats. I've read cookbooks, listened to dietitians, and watched fad diets come and go. I think I have a pretty good idea what healthy food is. The problem is that the cookbook, dietitian and diet are not going to fix my problem. I choose what to buy, prepare and ultimately eat.
In summary, I'm so grateful for the helpful books, videos, experts, etc who help me learn and grow in areas that I am weak, but ultimately I'm the only who can "fix" me.
As I got older we had to branch out to others, but again they could fix everything. My teeth were crooked and the orthodontist straightened them. I felt sick and the doctor gave me medicine. I had a speech impediment and the speech therapist fixed it. My bike was stolen (because my brother left it unlocked at a school overnight) and he bought me a new one.
Up to that point in my life if something went wrong someone else could and would always fix it. Until one day I got mono. Not the fun way either. I went to the doctor and he told me he couldn't fix it. "I's a virus and has to run its course," he said. I couldn't take that for an answer. Doctors are supposed to fix everything! So I went back, THREE times. I was really hurting! In my past doctors could always make me feel better. Maybe if I just went back enough I'd find one who would "really" help me. In the end I really did just have to wait for it to run its course. And that's when I began to understand that sometimes they only person who can fix it, is me.
My broken heart isn't healed by my mother's warm embrace anymore. My husband's embrace works a little bit better nowadays. Seriously though, if I really want to heal my emotional wounds I have to do it. I have to find them, look at them, appreciate them and let them go. My mom, sister, friends, and husband cannot fix it for me.
Another area I struggle with is eating. I want to eat more healthy foods and teach my family to do the same. I am the gate keeper for the food my family eats. I've read cookbooks, listened to dietitians, and watched fad diets come and go. I think I have a pretty good idea what healthy food is. The problem is that the cookbook, dietitian and diet are not going to fix my problem. I choose what to buy, prepare and ultimately eat.
In summary, I'm so grateful for the helpful books, videos, experts, etc who help me learn and grow in areas that I am weak, but ultimately I'm the only who can "fix" me.
Friday, February 12, 2016
Potty Training
My oldest is now 3 months away from being three. We've been potty training for a month and a half. Everyday he's learning a little bit more and getting a little bit better. For us it's just a matter of time and patience. That's not how it started though. Here's our story...
Last July I read up on a three day potty training program. I'm not going to go into the details of it here, but I am a program follower so it was a perfect fit for me. We started July 16 and it went just as outlined. By day three he had no accidents and was telling me when he needed to go potty. It was awesome! I was so happy.
Then day 4,5,6 happened and the accidents started. I wasn't prepared for this. The program told me he'd be potty trained and now I was extracting urine out of my carpet 2 to 5 times a day. Thankfully he still did all his bowel movements in the toilet. Sadly, his inability, lack of desire, or defiant control tactics (he always seemed to wet himself whenever I started spending time with his little sister) got the better of me and I got mad. So much so that our relationship to each other and with the bathroom were becoming very strained to say the least. Finally, two months later I gave up and put him in pull-ups. A month after that I reverted all the way back to diapers. (Thankfully, he continued to have bowel movements in the toilet all the way to November, despite the diaper.) I felt so defeated. But more importantly I felt so ashamed that I got so angry. My lack of something: patience, control, empathy, love, long-suffering... caused a hard thing to become even harder.
January rolled around and I knew it was time to start again. This time had to be different. And the thing that needed to be different was me. My son is a perfect little boy: Full of fun, excitement, wonder, laughter, and love. I didn't want to hurt him or our relationship this time. Happily, I learned a few things in the intermediate months. Like potty training underwear. I bought five pairs of those and I pulled out my cloth diapers, that I had used a year before, for extra coverage during naptime and nighttime. I knew I didn't want to use pull-ups because he already equated those with diapers. I also wanted both of us to know when he went to the bathroom. I just didn't want it to get on the floor. An unexpected bonus is that it is winter so he wears pants and they help catch his urine too, unlike shorts. With all these changes I felt ready to start again.
So we began and it did not go according to the program this time. Day three was just as bad as day one and I started to feel my resolve slipping. So I decided to change my thinking. "I'm not potty training, I'm putting him back into cloth diapers that happen to be underwear and if he goes to the bathroom in the toilet we celebrate. If not, we change him as I normally would." For a week or two my mental and emotional state were good, but his apparent lack of progress was slowly getting to me. So I reverted back to a new program. I tried the "fill him up with liquids so he has to use the bathroom a lot and put him on the toilet every 30 minutes or so"method. To be honest I kind of just pieced together things I had heard. Needless to say it was an utter fail. More miserable than last summer. My remorse overcame me that night after the kids were in bed and I just cried. How wonderful it was to have a husband bear me up that night. He gave me his full support both emotionally and physically, as I was leaning on him as I cried.
The next day we started again with my "I'm not potty training..." method. Yes, obviously I am potty training him. I ask him if he needs to go potty. I help him to the bathroom when he wakes up, before bed, before we leave the house, etc. There are still some tense moments and brewing battles, but if ever I stop feeling patient and loving I step back and remind myself that if he does wet himself I'm just changing his underwear instead of a diaper.
We are a month and a half in and everyday he learns a little more and gets a little better. We are much happier with each other and the bathroom. He continues to be my perfect little boy, full of smiles, laughter and love. And that, for me, is the best part.
Last July I read up on a three day potty training program. I'm not going to go into the details of it here, but I am a program follower so it was a perfect fit for me. We started July 16 and it went just as outlined. By day three he had no accidents and was telling me when he needed to go potty. It was awesome! I was so happy.
Then day 4,5,6 happened and the accidents started. I wasn't prepared for this. The program told me he'd be potty trained and now I was extracting urine out of my carpet 2 to 5 times a day. Thankfully he still did all his bowel movements in the toilet. Sadly, his inability, lack of desire, or defiant control tactics (he always seemed to wet himself whenever I started spending time with his little sister) got the better of me and I got mad. So much so that our relationship to each other and with the bathroom were becoming very strained to say the least. Finally, two months later I gave up and put him in pull-ups. A month after that I reverted all the way back to diapers. (Thankfully, he continued to have bowel movements in the toilet all the way to November, despite the diaper.) I felt so defeated. But more importantly I felt so ashamed that I got so angry. My lack of something: patience, control, empathy, love, long-suffering... caused a hard thing to become even harder.
January rolled around and I knew it was time to start again. This time had to be different. And the thing that needed to be different was me. My son is a perfect little boy: Full of fun, excitement, wonder, laughter, and love. I didn't want to hurt him or our relationship this time. Happily, I learned a few things in the intermediate months. Like potty training underwear. I bought five pairs of those and I pulled out my cloth diapers, that I had used a year before, for extra coverage during naptime and nighttime. I knew I didn't want to use pull-ups because he already equated those with diapers. I also wanted both of us to know when he went to the bathroom. I just didn't want it to get on the floor. An unexpected bonus is that it is winter so he wears pants and they help catch his urine too, unlike shorts. With all these changes I felt ready to start again.
So we began and it did not go according to the program this time. Day three was just as bad as day one and I started to feel my resolve slipping. So I decided to change my thinking. "I'm not potty training, I'm putting him back into cloth diapers that happen to be underwear and if he goes to the bathroom in the toilet we celebrate. If not, we change him as I normally would." For a week or two my mental and emotional state were good, but his apparent lack of progress was slowly getting to me. So I reverted back to a new program. I tried the "fill him up with liquids so he has to use the bathroom a lot and put him on the toilet every 30 minutes or so"method. To be honest I kind of just pieced together things I had heard. Needless to say it was an utter fail. More miserable than last summer. My remorse overcame me that night after the kids were in bed and I just cried. How wonderful it was to have a husband bear me up that night. He gave me his full support both emotionally and physically, as I was leaning on him as I cried.
The next day we started again with my "I'm not potty training..." method. Yes, obviously I am potty training him. I ask him if he needs to go potty. I help him to the bathroom when he wakes up, before bed, before we leave the house, etc. There are still some tense moments and brewing battles, but if ever I stop feeling patient and loving I step back and remind myself that if he does wet himself I'm just changing his underwear instead of a diaper.
We are a month and a half in and everyday he learns a little more and gets a little better. We are much happier with each other and the bathroom. He continues to be my perfect little boy, full of smiles, laughter and love. And that, for me, is the best part.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Eat Everything
I recently read the book, French Kids Eat Everything by Karen Le Billon. There is a lot to the book, but my main takeaway was that while I love food, I don't enjoy it. According to Karen's book, it seems that the French "eat everything" because they enjoy their food and their meal times. I'm no expert on the French or their lifestyle, but that is something I want to learn to do: Eat everything because I enjoy it, not for mindless satiation.
In the recent past I've been known to eat for emotional reasons, graze a bit and gluttonously eat desserts. In fact, I recently made a goal to only eat dessert once a day instead of after every meal. It didn't last long. After reading French Kids Eat Everything, I realized that I don't slow down to savor my food. If I did, maybe I wouldn't be as tempted to put the processed faux-chocolate in my mouth. I just stuff it in there as fast as I can so I can put another bite in my mouth. Much like my 1 year old. Once I feel slightly sick from all the bread, crackers, cake or cookies I "love", I stop. Oh how "I loved food".
I've now been trying to enjoy my food and my meal companions a little more. We only eat 4 times a day: breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner. No more grazing or snacking. Except for the planned snack. I'm trying to make each meal something to look forward to. Not fancy, just something we like and something new to try. I have coupled these changes with an attempt to eat more real foods, so we have a lot of new things to try. It does take a lot more planning, time in the kitchen, and longer to eat, but I've found it very rewarding. My son eats carrots and cucumbers now. Our family has tried spinach, beets, and leeks. We've experimented with squash and I even cooked a whole chicken. I've still got a lot of experimenting and practicing to do, but I'm glad to say that as a family we are starting to eat everything and enjoying it.
In the recent past I've been known to eat for emotional reasons, graze a bit and gluttonously eat desserts. In fact, I recently made a goal to only eat dessert once a day instead of after every meal. It didn't last long. After reading French Kids Eat Everything, I realized that I don't slow down to savor my food. If I did, maybe I wouldn't be as tempted to put the processed faux-chocolate in my mouth. I just stuff it in there as fast as I can so I can put another bite in my mouth. Much like my 1 year old. Once I feel slightly sick from all the bread, crackers, cake or cookies I "love", I stop. Oh how "I loved food".
I've now been trying to enjoy my food and my meal companions a little more. We only eat 4 times a day: breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner. No more grazing or snacking. Except for the planned snack. I'm trying to make each meal something to look forward to. Not fancy, just something we like and something new to try. I have coupled these changes with an attempt to eat more real foods, so we have a lot of new things to try. It does take a lot more planning, time in the kitchen, and longer to eat, but I've found it very rewarding. My son eats carrots and cucumbers now. Our family has tried spinach, beets, and leeks. We've experimented with squash and I even cooked a whole chicken. I've still got a lot of experimenting and practicing to do, but I'm glad to say that as a family we are starting to eat everything and enjoying it.
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