New Year's Resolutions

Yeh, I'm late. So sue me. If you know me, then you know lateness is a state of being for me. Yeh, this blog is trite. Again, sue me. Sometimes I'm trite. I also have sentimental moments, and I can be incredibly cheesy. Oh, and I'm ditzy, too. And a horrible speller. Now, let's finish this disclaimer and get down to business.

Most of my life I have been a huge goal setter. I used to set goals, put them on index cards, and tape them to my mirror so I would see them every morning. Every night I would pray over the goals and give myself a mental (and hypercritical) update. I would try to do crazy things like only eat 1,000 calories a day. And then when I would fail miserably, I would feel miserable. So a few years ago, I quit goal setting cold turkey. It wasn't a conscious decision. It just kind of happened. I had just had a baby and I was happy. For the first time in my life, I felt truly content and OK with myself. I didn't want to mess it up with stupid goals.

Then along came Logan. Sweet, cuddly Logan, who was a fabulous sleeper and eater. Who was the perfect baby, until--ear infections. Then my sweet, cuddly fabulous sleeper and eater became a challenging baby, and my life was spent trying unsuccessfully to help him to be comfortable and to sleep. It was also spent eating--a lot. I didn't really gain a whole lot of weight, but I didn't loose any of my substantial baby weight either (let me write that in capital letters, SUBSTANTIAL BABY WEIGHT). I was kind of maintaining.

But again, my life was full to the brim with being a mother. When you have a baby who wakes up every hour screaming, well, your personal stuff just has to be put to the side. In a way, I lost myself. It was necessary. For a period of time, I needed to be totally focussed on my kiddos.

Over Christmas, I realized something. I WAS SLEEPING!! Finally, Logan, Brad, and I had achieved a huge success: Logan was sleeping through the night (it was a group effort). With sleep came clarity. I have spent 4 years totally immersing myself into my children. It was a necessary and important immersion. They needed me desperately (and I LOVED being that needed), but now, they are striving to be their own people. They don't need me as much. Oh, I still make the best peanut butter sandwiches, and I am the only one who knows the secret location of the diaper bag (under the kitchen counter) and the tape (in the junk drawer), but I have a lot more free time now. Time I could/can use to get a little of me back.

So without further adieu here's the list of things Jami is going to do to reclaim herself this year:

1. Lose this freaking baby weight (and this weight is totally not Logan's fault. It is totally the fault of a Dunkin Donuts being built on my way to school--and maybe my own decisions). I have had the goal to lose weight before, but that goal usually came from the place of self-yuck-feelingness. Now, I don't feel like a horrible human being because my waistline is larger than I would like. I just want to be able to fit into my cool, smaller-sized pants in the back of my closet, and (this is the big one) I want to be able to play with my grandchildren one day. I really want to be a cool grandma, and to be that, I have to get healthier, and to get healthier, I have got to get my large behind off of this incredibly comfortable couch.

2. Get my feet back. Somewhere along the way, I have REALLY let my feet go. Emma is soooo bothered by my cracking heels. She gives me daily updates and encourages me to moisturize. I figure if my 4-year-old has noticed my gnarly feet, maybe I should do something about them. Really, they are just a symbol of how I have let myself go. Really? I don't have time to slather lotion on my feet? So today, I painted my toenails. Emma approves. I also bought new socks. They are actually made for women and they did not come in a pack of 100. Let the Heaven's rejoice!

3. Daily Bible Reading. I know from times in my life when I have been a daily Bible reader that being Spiritually intune with God makes my life better. It fortifies my soul and gives me strength. Just like I have let my waistline go and my feet go, I have put my Spiritual life on auto-pilot. This year, I am going to feast on God's word. I want to have a family who loves the Lord, and I desperately want to have all of us in Heaven together one day. I know that in order for that goal to be met, I myself have to have a wonderful relationship with God. So I'm going to read the Bible. And I'm on day 15, and I have to say, I am loving it!! I have never done the One Year Bible before, but it is excellent. And I am reading the New Living Translation, and so the language feels different(ly?) than what I have read before. Plus, I am older and a parent, so I am reading it through new eyes. Weren't those Old Testament people HORRIBLE? My goodness!

4. Not yelling unless someone is in danger or I am cheering someone's success. I don't yell often. I'm a pretty even-keeled person. I like my life and I enjoy it--most of the time. However, when I am upset, I AM REALLY UPSET. It is NOT pretty, people. I have told Emma that if she will work on whining, I will work on yelling--and like the feet thing, she is really holding me to it. So I am going to enjoy my life, calmly address things that are upsetting to me, and not let things fester to an overwhelming point.

And while I'm at these, I'm going to go to bed at a decent hour, beat Shelley Woodward at Scrabble, blog more often, and floss :-).

Goodbye, 2010!

Phew! 2010, what a year!

January-- It began with two emergency room visits. Apparently, Logan caught RSV from Emma over Christmas and developed breathing issues. I took him to the doctor because he was not feeling well and ended up having to take him tothe hospital to get breathing treatments. Later on in the week, he began to wheeze again, and we were back at the ER. This time, though, we left with our own nebulizer so that we could do breathing treatments 3-5 times a day--Yay! Brad missed the first week back to school, and Logan was really sick for around 10 days straight.To put it mildly, our year began with a bang, but not a good bang :-).

February-- In February our family took a trip to Florida with GACS on a mission trip to help my old stomping grounds, Christian Home and Bible School. My kiddos got to spend some quality time with their grandparents, and Brad and I spent some quality time with some sweet, hard working GACS middle schoolers. I don't think the gym at CH&BS has ever been so clean. Logan also turned one this month. Unfortunately, he was sick yet again with an ear infection. The poor thing looks pitiful in all of his pictures.

Emma at her preschool play

March-- I don't remember March. I'm sure it was a good, solid month, and I am sure one of us was sick :-).

April-- April began with a trip to the hospital yet again. This time to get tubes for Logan's ears--Hallelujah! The Dentons could not have been more eager for a break, and we enjoyed our Spring Break immensely. We went to the Yellow River GameRanch and the park, and we just rested and enjoyed one another. In our fog of sickness that began the year, we had forgotten how cool we really are and how much we love each other :-). After break, Emma participated in her spring ballet recital. My little three-year-old performed twice in one day and did not have a melt-down until we were on the way home. Then she screamed half the way home (that she did not want to go home; she wanted to go to Monkey Joe's) and mid-scream fell deeply asleep.

May-- The best thing about May was that school was over. I had a fabulous group of students whom I loved and still love immensely, but our family had been sick non-stop since October. We had had food poisoning, ear infections, bronchitis, RSV, and colds. Brad had missed TWENTY DAYS of school taking care of our kiddos (I had used up all of my days on maternity leave). Because of all of his ailments, Logan was not sleeping through the night. And that is to put it mildly. He was actually waking up every hour on the hour. I was more exhausted than I have ever been. I now have more of an appreciation for mothers of chronically ill children. At least, I saw light at the end of my tunnel. My children were building their immunities, and they were mildly sick and uncomfortable. I can not imagine how mothers with severely ill children cope.

And sometime around the end of May, Logan started to walk. I don't remember when (see comments about me being in a fog), but he was running by the time we went to the beach at the beginning of June.

SUMMER!!!!-- During the summer, we rested and recuperated. Brad and I went for a couple of days alone to the beach, we went to grandma and grandpa's, we took the kids to the beach, and I went with two of my friends to the beach. We also had Emma's first friend birthday party in our backyard. I am definitely not a party planner, but I had one objective--just to have some kids over and have fun. We bought two sprinklers--a wiggly worm and a beach ball sprinkler--and a big, blow up pool. I made cupcakes, we had popsicles, and the kids just played. Oh, and we had a pinata; I can't forget the TWENTY DOLLAR pinata. I did not realize they were so pricy until Emma had already fallen in love with one. Emma had a blast (and had only a mild melt-down 1/2 way through the party :-)). I meant to have the kids take swimming lessons and have Emma take gymnastics during the summer, but I was so exhausted that I was lucky to get my summer organizing and cleaning finished. Plus, this summer was HOT, HOT, HOT. We spent more time inside than I would have liked, but we sweltered when we left the house.

Fall-- Emma began K-4 at GACS in August and could not have loved it more. She has loved her teachers, the centers, carrying her tray on Fridays, the bathroom with the dragonfly on the wall, and going outside to play on the playground. I have loved having her on the same campus with me and driving her to school every day. And uniforms. I really have liked uniforms. She has looked so cute in them, and I don't have to think about what she is wearing--everything matches! Logan continued at Ms. Margie's, but he has had only had one sick month--October, evil, yucky, October. However, Logan's ear tubes have seemed to be working, and he has been relatively well. A new friend started to go to Ms. Margie's and Logan loves his "Lolly" (Charlie).

September brought visitors to the Denton house. Grandma came to visit, and we went to Tribble Mill Park to feed the ducks, have a picnic, and play. Michelle also came, and she and I got to have some girl time (and we bought Logan's beloved monkey).
Even though our October was difficult (we all got the stomach virus, Em and Log had ear infections, etc), we still had a blast. We went to the corny corn maze Corn Dawgs with Mimi, we went to a pumpkin patch, we carved a pumpkin, and Grandpa came to visit! We also took him to Tribble Mill Park and the awesome Bass Pro Shop. I also made awesome roasted pumpkin seeds. They were truly fabulous (last year's, not so much). Emma was Alice in Wonderland for our church's Trunk-n-Treat, and Logan was a ferocious lion.

We were well in November. It is the first month since Logan has been born that we haven't gone to the doctor for a sick visit. Everyone exclaim! We had a fabulous Thanksgiving. We began our week off by taking Mimi to Gaitlinburg, and we had so much fun. We went to the aquarium, ate lots of great food (Pancake Pantry--what? what?), and just enjoyed nature. It was a great family trip, and the first we have had has a whole family.

In December, I did something that I have not done in my 13 years of teaching--I finished my grades the last day of school. It has been fabulous not to have grading to do when I get back to school in January. Emma had her winter recital for ballet, and she had a K-4 Christmas production. She had one line in her K-4 program-- I want to hear sleigh bells right now and ride along with Santa. She said is perfectly (and knew everyone else's line as well as her own).

We also had our first white Christmas. It truly was magical and the kids had a blast making snow angels, eating snow, and touching the cold. Emma and her daddy made a fabulous snow man, and Logan put footprints all through our yard. He just loved running in the snow. We went to Florida after Christmas, and we were able to visit the grandparents and Aunt Kay-Kay as well as my uncle Steve and aunt Carol who have retired and moved to Florida. It was so nice to have everyone together. I think this may be one of my favorite Christmases.
An update on the kids--

Logan, 22 months

He can say his first sentence, "I love you" (melt my heart). He is finally sleeping through the night, and he puts himself to sleep every night. He has really come in to his own and is starting to develop a sweet, quiet personality. He is a snuggler. He loves cars (when he says, "cars," he rolls his "r" in the most delightful way), running, eating strawberries, saying "nigh nigh," mimicking Emma (Ahma), his bottle (bawble), his monkey, swinging, brushing his teeth, and watching The Wiggles. He does not like other people hugging or sitting on his mother's lap, cheese, milk in a sippie cup, clothing that does not have a car on it, sweaters, or pants.


Emma, 4 1/2

She is usually a delightful child. Her delightfulness only wanes when she is tired, hungry, or when someone is doing something that she perceives as against the rules (she firmly believes everyone should follow them). She gives me daily updates on whether or not she has had to sit on the red line (punishment in K-4) because she a week period of time when she was too loud in the house center:-). According to her, however, she has not had to sit on the red line in "years." She loves chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, chocolate milk, bacon, drawing, painting, doing art projects, organizing, playing dress up, bossing her brother around, going to the pet store with Daddy, painting pottery and cooking with Mommy, picking Logan up from Ms. Margie's, spending the night with Mimi, learning about germs, reading, and telling stories. She does not like getting up in the morning, leaving Mommy's classroom in the afternoon, nap time, flushing the toilet or automatic flushers, Toy Story 3, Sponge Bob, or sitting still at supper time.

Failure--A Confession

One morning as I was trying to get Emma out of bed and into the bathroom to brush her teeth, I said, "Come on, Emma, move. Mommy's at the end of her rope." Emma then groggily turned over and moaned, "It's not time to say that yet. You say that in the car." Out of the mouth of babes!

I am working right now on my ever shortening temper. You see, I like perfection; however, I am horrifically imperfect. This provides me with constant internal conflict. I know how I SHOULD be. I should fold the laundry right when it gets out of the dryer; I should make the kiddos bags before I go to bed at night; I should get up before 6 AM and not hit snooze 500X; I should treat my family like they are the loves of my life rather than an imposition; I should be a good 20 lbs. thinner; I should work out; I should talk to my husband rather than bark at him, etc. I have a bunch of rules that I feel I should follow, but rarely do.

For example, this weekend I got most of the laundry washed, dried, and folded. The clothes didn't make it to the drawers. So yesterday, I come home to find the laundry baskets taunting me. Almost, but not quite, perfect. And then, Emma starts to talk about having cookies for Brooke's birthday at school, and I realize--Ouch! I forgot about Brooke's birthday part on Saturday. And then I open her school bag and find that in our frenzied morning (because I overslept, yet again), I forgot to fill out her reading log. And then I start making super--spaghetti. While I am making it, I'm thinking, "At least one thing I am doing right. Everyone but Brad likes spaghetti!" As I am making spaghetti, I put Emma to work at the kitchen table on the homework paper that we forgot to do last week, and Logan to work on taking all of my nicely folded laundry out of the laundry baskets (not the activity I had planned for him, but he was safely occupied while I cooked). Then Emma, who has decided that this is the perfect time to assert her will, tells me that she no longer likes spaghetti. She wants macaroni. I tell her to stop telling me she wants macaroni; she's getting spaghetti. And she won't stop telling me she wants macaroni. In fact, she is incredibly 4. Over and over again, she says, "I want macaroni, not spaghetti." Well, about her third time in her chant, which to me sounds like, "You can't do anything right; you can't do anything right; you can't do anything right," I lose it. I mean totally lose it. Shouting, sending her to her room, screaming at her to be quiet, etc. And then, the guilt. She's 4. She's behaving like a 4 year old. I, however, am acting like a, well, a complete crazy woman, and probably like a 4-year-old myself. Brad comes home in the middle of this, and I have to admit that I didn't win any "perfect wife" awards either. I wanted to run out of the house and leave him with supper, screaming kids, and all the nightly duties. But some sanity prevailed and I realized that he is tired too and that leaving the mess wouldn't make the mess go away.

So now, not only am I not perfect, I am dreadfully a failure. No one is eating the supper I have prepared (except Logan; that delightful child eats anything), Emma's probably scarred for life, and the laundry is no longer even kind of folded. Therefore, I spent the rest of the evening building back the bridges I had burned because I am not perfect and couldn't deal with it.

Where do I go from here? I am going to try to accept that I am not perfect and to not allow my imperfection to cause such frustration that I give up and become a screaming banshee. That's enough for now.

Emma, 4; Logan, 19 mos; Jami, 35

Emma at 4 is
curious--
One entire morning car ride comprised of Emma asking me 1.2 billion questions about how viruses are formed, how they are spread, what they look like, etc. That child NEVER stops asking questions. Once I asked her to just stop for a bit, and she cried, "But I WANT to know, Mama!" And she truly does. The only two real problems with this are 1. it is constant and 2. I don't know the answers to half her questions, and she doesn't believe me when I tell her I don't know. I guess it is good that she has such confidence in me, but I really don't know what a virus looks like and if it has a mouth. Maybe it does?

whiny--
AAAAAAAAAAh! This morning Emma crawled in bed with me for a morning cuddle. At first it was kind of nice, warm, and cozy. AND then, the whining started. She didn't have enough pillow. She wanted my arm just right above her head. She needed more covers for her feet. My leg needed to be on top of her feet, but not like that. It seems I cannot do anything right. I am trying to be patient with this. I know it is just a stage, but man, sometimes. . . I just want to scream (and sometimes I do :-)). We have a deal, though. If she will try not to whine, I'll try not to get frustrated and yell. It works 75% of the time.

helpful--
Emma loves to help. She throws things away for me, wipes down the kitchen table, does the dishes, puts her clean clothes away, and puts her dirty clothes in the dirty clothes bin. She really is eager to please. Every morning she brushes her teeth and dresses herself. And she is so proud of herself. She'll run into the kitchen when she's ready and present herself to me. It is such an adorable sight. Hair and collar askew, face beaming, she announces, "I'm ready!"

artistic--
That child loves to draw. Right now, she can draw a cat that looks like a cat, a spiny sea creature of some sort, her family with faces, arms, legs, hair, and sometimes hands and feet, a spider, a lady bug, a house, flowers, and rainbows. She adores painting and playing with play doh, and she will draw and do "school work" for hours.

spongy--
She absorbs everything and her memory is 500x better than mine. She knows when everyone's birthday in her class is! And she knows this from the cupcake bulletin board in her classroom. She is obsessed with the calendar, and we must mark off the days just like they do in her classroom. When we are approaching the last day of the month, she excited prepares for it, and the second she wakes up on the first day of the next month, she is so excited.

Logan at 19 mos is
delightful--
Oh my goodness, this child is CUTE! His eyes are big and blue, he has eye lashes that go on forever, he has two adorable teeth on the bottom of his mouth and four on the top, and his feet are FAT and scrumptious. He walks on his tippy-toes, and although, we might have to work on changing that later, now it gives him a springy gait that brings a smile to my face. He runs everywhere, especially everywhere Emma does. He is quiet, but energetic and will play for a long time by himself. He loves to throw a ball, put together and take apart things, and color on the upholstery.

flirty and cuddly--
He will put his arms out and go to anyone. He truly has not met a person he does not love, and if you are willing to cuddle with him, he is delighted to cuddle with you. He knows how to get his way by being adorable. He just looks up at you with his big blue eyes and grins. He will go from me to Brad, from Brad to me, flirting with us, trying to get his way. When you are holding him, he clings to you, scratches your neck, and buries his head occasionally in your chest.

bruised--
He has a black eye, a bump on his nose, and his legs no longer are the pristine, white chubby legs of an infant. He is definitely a toddler, on the run, bumping into things, falling down, and fearless. When he hurts himself, he cries for maybe 10 seconds and then he is ready to go again. He moves with reckless abandon, sliding down the slide head first, and jumping off of and on the couch. The only thing he is tentative about is walking in our master bath. There was water on the floor one day and he took quite a tumble and so now he will stand on the carpet before the linoleum and survey the floor before he slowly steps onto it.

SLEEPING, mostly--
He is sleeping mostly through the night, which for Logan who was waking up every hour is quite an accomplishment. He now sleeps until at least 3, and if he wakes up at 3, he usually puts himself back to sleep in about 15 minutes and sleeps until 5. We are working on getting him to sleep until at least 6, but he has come a long way from where he was. I have learned some things about him--1. If he cries during the night, it is usually because he is mad to be awake, not because he is sick. 2. If you tell him to stop crying and go to sleep, he usually will before 5, after 5, he's up :-). Getting him to sleep has been a parenting adventure.

Talking, some--
Logan is taking his time talking. He usually gets his way without talking (see paragraph about flirting), so his parents are having to make him ask for things rather than just batting his eye lashes to get his way. He can now say "please," "thank you," "juice," "bottle," "apple," "moo," "peek a boo," "more," "mama," "dada," "drink," "that," "this," "no," "bye," "hello," "Mimi," "eieio," "uh oh," "night night," and "weeee." He love the song "Old MacDonald's Farm," and he loves to sing and clap.

Jami at 35 is
tired-- That is obvious. But I am feeling a little bit bored. My day is filled to the brim, but it is actually filled with a lot of mindless activity. I do a lot of things, but I am not thinking much. Before kids, I was in graduate school classes, reading education philosophy books, watching movies, and talking to my brilliant husband. I was also creating curriculum and figuring out this teaching thing. Teaching is, of course, every evolving, but I have tons of resources to use now, and I know kind of what I am doing. It is not as challenging as it once was. The newness of raising children has worn off, and we are in a bit of a routine. And although, it is always challenging, it is a different challenge then I am used to. I need a hobby :-)

chubbier than I would like--this is self-explanatory, but for some reason I can't get a hold of it. After Emma, I lost weight relatively quickly, but the Logan weight is trickling off (mostly because I am still eating like I am pregnant).

happy--Even though, I am a bit bored and fat, I am happy. I truly do love my life more than I ever have. Being a parent gives me more fulfillment than I ever expected or could have ever imagined. Every day has moments of intense joy, whether I am listening to Emma tell a story or rocking Logan to sleep. Life is good.

I am not proofreading these. I don't really care :-) Don't judge, just enjoy (I think this may be the motto of my life :-)

The Infrequent Blogger

Here I am reading other people's blogs, clandestinely, in the shadows. Sometimes I post a comment, but most of the time I lurk and laugh. I connect from a far.

Friendships in this new millennium are an interesting thing. I feel connected to people who I really don't "know" all that well through Facebook and from reading blogs. I truly do like reading other people's statuses and their blogs. I like writing my own status updates. I have to admit that sometimes I spend far to much of my limited emotional energy trying to come up with pithy Facebook status updates. I think I participate in reading blogs and Facebook because otherwise this motherhood/teacher/wife business would be incredibly lonely. It's hard to connect with people via the phone or the drop by visit because at any minute my life could potentially explode. When I come home, I put on my supermom cape and soothe kids, cook supper, wash dishes, and put kids to bed until I collapse into a puddle of mush at around 9:00. And my day MIGHT be finished then, but it also might be pausing. Emma might wake up with a nightmare, Logan might wake up with an ear infection, Emma might wet the bed, Logan might poop in his sleep (who knew that was possible?) and then wake up screaming to be changed. I barely have time to talk to my own husband who is right there beside me, wearing his own cape, bathing children, being a human camel, and bringing incredibly boring children's books about turtles to life.

So thank God for Facebook and blogs. I am able to get support from mom's like me who are dealing with ear infections, throw-up, and temper-tantrums, read about the fabulous exploits of my single friends who jaunt off to Las Vegas and meet Tim Gunn, and form powerful connections that I otherwise would have a hard time keeping up with. I can post a status update at 4 AM while I am cleaning a mess of astronomical proportions and find out that there is another mom across town who is up as well soothing a teething baby.

I wish I had the emotional energy to blog as well. But alas, this meta-blog is all I have today. This was supposed to be either a blog about motherhood guilt or about how cute my kids are right now, but, alas, this is what I have.

Love my Facebook and blog friends, even if you don't know your my friends. :-)

My Reality

It's here. The weekend before pre-planning. I feel like I want to hyperventilate, scream, curl up into a little ball with the covers over my head. The newness of being a working outside the house mom has worn off. I am a woman, but I do not roar (unless you spill tea on my newly steam-cleaned carpet). Being a mother is hard work, being a mother who works outside the home? It can drive you to the insane asylum. The guilt. The lack of sleep. All the people who tug at your skirt all day long.

Yet. . . I choose to do it. And it is a choice, of sorts. Brad and I are broke, but we could be better with our money. I could clip coupons. We could, gasp, not have a cleaning man. I could cut all of our hair, shop at Goodwill, and do the many other things that stay-at-home mothers do to keep their households running. I could break the spine on the Dave Ramsey book and stick to a budget. However, working outside the home is not just about the money for me.

When I was going through my awkward period in JH (like I ever grew out of it:-), I used to fervently pray that God would show me what I was good at. I felt so untalented and worthless. The things that gave social value to a JH student alluded me. Beauty--I had horrific acne, a horrific perm, and braces. Money--well, my parents were both Christian school teachers. I dressed like I lived in a commune. Style--refer to commune comment. Athletic prowess--HA! I couldn't kick a ball without pressure let alone try to kick it while people where holding their breathes waiting for me to fail.

And then. . . one summer I taught the two-year-olds at church. There it was. My talent. Teaching kids just felt right. I felt like I fit.

Before I had children, I had 8 years of fitting, excelling as a teacher. I loved it; I lived it; I breathed it. I stayed willingly and with glee in my classroom until 9 or 10 at night. I set off the alarm in the building at 2 AM working into the wee hours. And none of it was drudgery. The work invigorated me and gave me purpose.

And then. . .my precious Emma was born. Wow. Wow. Wow. How to describe the change that took place inside me? Suddenly with one push and one radiant cry, I was a mother. Every sinew in my body changed. I looked at her and I understood the phrase, "took my breath away." And again, I fit. I loved motherhood. It just felt right.

And then. . .adorable Logan made his quiet entrance into our world, nuzzling, cuddling, cooing, and just melting all those around him into a puddle of goo (or at least me).

And so. . .why am I not staying home with my precious, adorable children? Isn't life complicated? Even though having children changed my purpose, it did not change the fact that I am a teacher. I am not domestic. I don't cook well. I don't clean well. I don't keep a house well. However, I teach and lesson plan (and occasionally grade essays) extraordinarily well. Something within me does not feel that God has called me (although those words make me a little nauseous) to stay at home. I feel he called me to teach. He created this talent within me.

But. . .he also made me a mother.

And so. . .how do I do it? Here's were the hyperventilating comes: I HAVE NO FLIPPING IDEA! But I feel I have no choice. So I do what mothers have done since the beginning of time. I take a deep breath (and a bubble bath), stack my blocks (as my mother says), put my big girl panties on (as so many are saying these days), and I just do it (as Nike says).

Luckily, I have a Brad who loves me no matter what and who fills in the blanks when I am a blubbering puddle on the floor because I feel like I am a complete and utter failure at all that God has called me to do.

Disclaimer--I don't feel like proofreading. Don't judge my comma usage or spelling. I am an English teacher, but I am not perfect.

The Three-Month Old Logan

Adjectives that describe the three-month old Logan:

1. Content. Logan is one of the most content babies I have every met. He very rarely cries, and if he does, it is because of something serious--like his sister decided that she should see what would happen if she stuck a pin in his soft-spot. When we are out in public, after people comment about how absolutely adorable he is, they then usually say, "And he is so content."

2. Social. Logan loves to smile and interact with others. His favorite activity is to make noises and to have those noises imitated. If you lean in to him, he will try to touch your face and grab your shirt. If he wants to get your attention, he will wave his hand, almost like he is saying, "Hey, look at me." He wants to make connections with those around him.

3. Cuddly. When you hold him, he grabs a hold of the collar of your shirt and will not let go. He loves to place his cheek on mine. When he is being fed, he wants to hold your hand. He loves to wrap his arms around your neck.

4. Awkwardly haired. His hair is growing and falling out in unfortunate patches and the hair on the back of his head is darker than the hair on the front and it oddly frizzes. Usually his hair is sticking up and out in all directions. He also as a good bit of hair in his ears :-)

5. Chubby. Emma was a skinny baby who had little toothpick legs. Logan is all rolls and crevices. He has a belly and meaty thighs, and his feet, oh his feet. They are gloriously FAT!!

6. Hungry. If you are holding him, he is constantly looking for a food source. When I pick him up, he immediately smiles and me and opens his mouth wide, like he is thinking, "Oh, goody! Here's the food lady!" The boy loves to eat!

7. Intense and observant. He loves to sit in his bouncy seat and just watch the activities of the family. He will track as Emma moves around the room and watch her intently as she dances, plays puzzles, or reads to him. He searches for her so that he can watch her every move. When she talks, he turns his head to find where she is.

8. Easy. He rides in the car well. He sleeps well. He eats well. You need to set him down in the bouncy seat, fine. He'll sit and observe the world. You want him to swing, fine. He'll swing and giggle and coo. You want to lay him on a blanket on the floor, great. He will flap his arms and try to turn over. You need to put him in his crib for a moment, terrific. He'll look at his mobile and sing. He finds something to delight in in almost every situation.

This little man is pure delight. He giggles, coos, cuddles, and smiles most of the day. The other part of the day, he sleeps or sits quietly, watching the family at work around him. He is delighted by simple things--being held close, being wrapped in a cuddly blanket, taking warm baths, being sung to, and being talked to. He is so easy to love, and man, I love him.

Self Definition--Oldie, but Goodie

Self definition

I just had a very successful bubble bath. During this bath, I drafted a letter to Dr. Fincher, Dr. Overman, and the GACS board about the fact that the heater/air conditioning in my classroom does not work. This letter was witty, succinct, articulate; in short, it would have changed the world, or at least fixed my air conditioner. In the midst of drafting this letter, I also read chapter 4 of Yellow Brick Roads: Shared and Guided Paths to Independent Reading 4-12 by Janet Allen (a must read for reading teachers). As I read this book, I created a curriculum for a new class in which reading would be the focus. Not only would this new class be instructive, but it also would be fun, fun, fun. After this class was created, I drafted a new letter to Dr. Fincher, Dr. Overman, and the GACS board. This letter still included my witty, succinct, articulate argument for a fixed air conditioner, but it also included an equally appealing argument for a new class at GACS and extra money to create this fabulous class that would aid GACS in recruiting students and satisfying current students. As if all of this letter writing and reading was not productive enough, I also spent some time defining myself as a woman--Whew! All of this and I emerged clean, relaxed, and refreshed. I LOVE BUBBLE BATHS!!

Now why am I suddenly posting a real blog? What subject has driven me out of the desert of blog fear and into the lush, green land of blog passion? Of course my pet passion--women's issues. Last week my delightful, smart, funny, awfully cute, and steadily shrinking husband (did you guys realize how much weight he has lost? I am so jealous) Bradley Scott Denton asked the question, "So what do you think a woman's role is in the church?" during our Sunday school class. This is an issue that has been bandied about for years in church circles with different religious groups coming to different conclusions. Some feel that women must remain silent, submissive; some feel some silence must occur, but women may occasionally stand up and pass the collection plate, sing alone, or read a scripture (usually if she is sitting down or flanked by men who are technically "in charge"); some feel that the flood gates should be opened and women can do whatever men can do, doggone it! Some feel liberal about a woman's role in the church but conservative about her role in the home. Women can do anything in the service, but they must be subservient to their husbands at home.

After a strange discussion about this issue in our Sunday school class (if you had not already guessed, all the above arguments were made to some extent with the conservative argument more or less being made more loudly), Brad noticed that I was quieter than usual on our walk to the church auditorium. I think he expected that his liberal-minded wife would want to revisit all the issues discussed in the class in a passionate way. I, however, was contemplative. This contemplative attitude remained all through the service (I had a hard time singing, listening, really doing anything). When he asked me after service what was wrong, all I could think of to tell him was this is serious business to me. Discussing a woman's role in the church is discussing my role not only in the church, but in society as well. Basically, if I mentally dismantle traditional female gender roles, then I have remantle something. This definitely is serious business. This debate does not just have to do with text explication; it has to do with who I am, who I am allowed to be, and how I define myself. It also has to do with who I have historically been allowed to be. There are scars that this debate exposes. Times when I have felt less important because I am a woman; times when my voice was not only not listened to, but it was considered shrill, offensive, wrong; times when I have felt patronized because of my gender.

So all of this comprises my past, but right now and in the future, how do I define myself? I could give the labeled definition: I am a Euro-American, conservative, liberal, Republican, Fundamentalist Christian, post-modern, intelligent, middle-class, heterosexual, married woman. But as most know, those labels do not mean diddly-squat; and is "woman" a label? In my very liberal grad classes, I am told that gender is socially constructed; there is no "real" male and female. The conservative, fundamentalist Christian side of me, however, cannot accept this. I was created woman by God, not by society, and thus I have unique properties that only God can imbue. I used to militantly rebuke the traditional idea of "wife." I returned the crock-pot that Brad and I had been given as a wedding gift because I most assuredly was not going to cook. When Brad I were first married, I did not cook, clean, and I actively rebelled against anything traditionally wifey. I told my mother I would not be having children, and if I did, I would not be a traditional mother. Why would I want to "give up" my identity and submit to the label of "mother?" "Mother" seemed like such a limiting label. As I have gotten older, though, I have begun to see "mother" as well as "wife" differently.

I did not expect to, but I have enjoyed being a wife. In the early years of our marriage, Brad and I had to define what "wife" meant together. I began to see that serving and loving someone else could be liberating and fulfilling, and my view that being a wife would stifle and repress me changed. I still would not traditionally define myself, but I have taken on some traditional roles. I now feel Brad and I could define "mother" together and that others' definitions of this term are good and valid. I have begun to appreciate traditionally female ideals, while redefining this ideal for myself. I see women around me who maintain and enhance their uniqueness while raising their children, and motherhood is looking less like a burden to me. I see the creative genius and importance of motherhood, and I can see mothers who stay home with their children as not giving up their identity but as adding another layer to their identity. Being a mother does not have to be a self-sacrifice; it can be an act of self-improvement while serving others. This idea is liberating to me.

The issue of a woman's role in the church is difficult for me because my seeking to define myself in all aspects of my life has to coincide with my seeking to fulfill God's will for me. The issue is not just about my role "in the church;" it is about who I ultimately am. And to be truthful, I am still trying to figure that one out.

Emma as the teacher; Momma as the student

Motherhood is definitely a learning experience (there's an understatement, right?)
One of my fears about motherhood was that it would limit my opportunities to grow intellectually. I feared that my mind would be so filled with dirty diapers, bottles, and sippy cups that there would not be room for anything else.

In some ways this is true. Some nights (like last night), I come home, change clothes (I have a spitter), change Emma's diaper, feed Emma a bottle, create a wonderful and satisfying meal that Martha Stewart would envy for my family, play a rousing game of peek-a-boo or try to teach Emma to clap (it isn't going so well), feed Emma cereal and some brightly colored vegetable, feed myself and say at least ten words to Brad, clean the brightly colored vegetable off the table, the high chair, the floor, Emma, and myself, experience bathtime with Emma, feed Emma another bottle, rock Emma to sleep for exactly 30 minutes, put Emma in her crib, wash bottles, prepare the Margie bag, straighten up the house (or at least remove all the embarrassing clutter--diapers on the bed, bottles underneath the couch cushions, spit up stains EVERYWHERE), and collapse into bed. In that nightly routine, there is very little time for profound thought; in fact, to be honest, there is very little time to go to the bathroom. Yet at the same time, I am learning more now than I ever did in graduate school, and it is more satisfying.

Emma, teacher extrordinaire. She has taught me:

1. To stop and smell the top of an adorable baby's head. If I want Emma to sleep through the night (and I DESPERATELY want her to sleep through the night), she must be rocked exactly 30 minutes, not a second less. There is something within her that needs this nightly cuddle time, and if she does not get all of it, she will cry inconsolably and will take an hour or more to get to sleep. If she gets this 30 minutes, she will go to sleep and sleep until Brad wakes her up in the morning. So I must sit there quietly in the dark and just be. I can't clean up that spill that I see on the coffee table from earlier in the evening; I can't start on the sanitizing of the bottles; I can't wash the supper dishes-- I must just rock and hold my baby tight and remember that soon she will be 13 and she'll be too busy to just be with her mother. And she'll smell like Clearisil which I doubt is as intoxicating as baby lotion.

2. To enjoy the present because it quickly will be the past. Emma has grown so fast! It seems to me that God makes it so that each stage of a child's development has delightful attributes and not-so-delightful attributes. When Emma was a newborn it was delightful that she would snuggle up and fall asleep on my chest. Now it takes more work for Emma to fall asleep and she really is not a snuggly baby; she is a wiggly baby who wants to play until she just can't stand it any more and then she cries (wails) until she finally falls asleep. Not as fun as having her snuggle into the perfect position in my arms and blissfully fall asleep. Yet, when she was a newborn she would have days when she would fuss all day long. Now she cries with purpose. She also giggles, squeals, flaps her arms, looks intently at things, and takes delight in everything. Each stage is short, so I best delight in it.

3. To check periodically to make sure that Emma's diaper is covering what it should. Having pee or the other matter that is expelled from my daughter (and it is expelled and propelled) run directly down my leg is NO FUN!! Plus, the first time it happened I feared I had lost control of my bladder.

4. Learning takes practice and it is fun. One day Emma spent the entire day teaching herself to sit up. She practiced certain movements over and over again until they were second nature, and then suddenly she was up (and oh so proud!) She is now working on crawling. It is amazing to me to watch how she develops skills and how she practices them until she can do them effortlessly. It also amazes me how interested she is in exploring her environment. If I just give her experiences in which she will experiences different types of stimulation, she will explore, try out new things, and learn. She has taught me a lot about what I should be doing in my classroom. I should be giving my students more time to explore and use their new found skills in an environment where falling down is part of the learning process.

5. To smile at as many people as I can and try to get them to smile back. This is a little game Emma plays (especially at church). She will find someone who is not looking at her and she will smile wholeheartedly at them until they notice her. And then she will smile even harder at them until they smile back and her. She loves to make this simple connection with people, and shouldn't I love to do this too?

6. To be flexible. Emma is an ever changing creature. Everyday is different for her. As soon as I think I have the game figured out, she changes the rules--she doesn't want a nap at 10 anymore; she wants a nap at 12 (or not at all). So plans mean nothing in my house right now. I have to be willing to adapt because my baby is not the same each day.

7. Life is amazing. There is something new to learn and be astounded by each day. The miniblinds intrigue Emma--so does the fireplace hearth, the remote control, her baby brush, the spoon I use to feed her, the bulletin at church, my sweater, my hair, her daddy's stubble, the quilt on our bed, the computer key board, the basket that her toys are in, etc. She is delighted by everything new and different that enters her world. I should have the same attitude; I should look daily for things I can delight in.

8. I am the adult. Emma looks to me for guidance. She looks to me to make sure things are safe, and she likes to explore new and somewhat scary things (like the vacuum cleaner) from my lap. Therefore, I have to take care of myself. I must get enough sleep, eat right, and exercise (although the exercising right now is just getting her in and out of the car and carrying her around to the various mirrors in our house so she can look at herself). I am the one incharge of creating learning environments for her, of shaping her world view, of introducing her to God, of organizing her socialization. If I indicate that she should be scared of something, she will. If I indicate something is safe, she will believe me.

9. Parenting is important, but God creates people. I am not creating Emma. She is already created and she is her own person. She responds to me, listens to me, analyzes my behavior, but she also interfaces with the world in her own unique way. Her personality is her own and very little of that is influenced by me or Brad. It is just her, delightfully the way God made her. She is happy, not because I am a wonderful mother, but because she just is. She sleeps through the night, not because I have "night-time parented" her correctly (I definitely have done EVERYTHING wrong), she just does. She is observant, not because I have taught her to be so, that is just her. She came out that way. I detest those books, now, that seem to blame parents for their babies not sleeping through the night or being fussy. Some babies fuss; some don't. Some babies sleep through the night; some don't.

I could probably go on indefinitely. I feel that Emma is the best graduate school experience that I could ever have. Yet instead of creating papers and projects, I am watching and experiencing the creation of a toddler and then a child and then a teenager and then an adult by God.

Goodbye, Stay-at-home Mom! Hello, Margie

Since June 23, I have been donning the hat of "stay-at-home" mother. Today, I took that hat off and hung it next to my other discarded head coverings-- the baseball cap of a college student, the cowboy hat of a Nashvillian, and the floppy, sunbonnet of perfect wifedom.

It was a bittersweet day. I savored each adult interaction and felt invigorated the moment I stepped on GAC's campus. This past four months, I have not allowed myself to think of school, and I really have not wanted to. Emma and I have thoroughly enjoyed each other. But when I stepped on campus, the old energy returned. Suddenly, lesson plan ideas were running through my head, and I was wondering how past students were doing. I did not just don the hat of mother and wife--I was wearing the hat of teacher as well. It felt fabulous.

Yet, I missed my little angel. When it was time to pick her up, I was more than ready, and I spent the rest of the afternoon kissing her, holding her, really just devouring her.

I am glad I am starting back to school because I need this time away from Emma so that I can truly miss and appreciate her.

My hat is off to all of those mothers who stay at home with their children. You are a creative bunch of folks. If I had to do it, I could, but I am so happy for ladies like Ms. Margie who open their loving homes to little ones like Emma so that their mommies can go recharge their batteries.

Emma does not know which hats she will don just yet. As you can tell from these pictures, she is not such a big fan of wearing one at all.

A Face Anyone Can Love

Adjectives that describe the three-and-a-half-month-old Emma:

1. Ecstatic-- This describes Emma's reaction when I come to get her up in the morning. She flaps her arms, smiles the biggest toothless grin, and giggles. I usually am a grump in the morning, but when I see her little face light up, I feel like the luckiest and happiest woman in the world.

2. Social-- Emma loves places in which she can engage people. During church, she tries to see how many people she can smile at and get a smile in return. The other day I took her to Babies-R-Us. She started to fuss a bit, so I decided we best check out quickly and leave. The minute we hit the check-out counter, though, she was a different child. She smiled at each person and was gleeful to be in line with all these nice, smiling people.

3. Observant-- When you are holding Emma, she is very rarely still. Her little head is constantly moving taking in all the sights around her.

4. Wiggly-- Emma adores grooving, preferably to music with heavy bass. Put her in her bouncy seat, and she goes to town, kicking up her heels and flapping her arms.

5. Musical-- The one thing that consistently quiets and calms Emma is music. She is O.K. with the run of the mill kiddie music, but she prefers something she can rock to. So far U2 seems to be her favorite, but she also likes Duran Duran and Outcast. I feel we are really going to have to monitor her Ipod (or whatever new device they have when she is a teenager) for lyrical content.

6. Happy-- This adjective might not have adequately described the two-month-old Emma(fussy or gassy may have worked), but Emma entered her third month with delight. She smiles a lot throughout the day and delights in her stuffed animals, her bee mobile, and looking at herself in the mirror.

This little girl has my heart. I never knew I would have to suck things out of her nose; clean her spit-up off my face, out of my hair, and out of my mouth; wash defecant (sp) out of curtains, sheets, clothing, carpets, the tub, and her bouncy seat (two words: Soy formula); feel her pee-pee run down my leg (diaper malfunction--kind of like the Janet Jackson clothing malfunction, but different); and I never knew I would do these things without a second thought. Me--the germ-a-phobe, the perfectionist. Every time she scoots, rolls, smiles,whines, cries, pulls my hair (something new that is oddly endearing), holds my hand--really every time she does anything--I become more and more deeply in love with her. And look at that face, who couldn't love it? Definitely not a face only a mother could love. I pray that when she is older that cute won't be the only adjective decribe her. Hopefully, others will call her Christian, kind, generous, compassionate, wise, and loving.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Emma ADORES bathtime, and I adore sharing this time with her. As Brad lowers her into the water, her face relaxes and she squnches herself into a little ball so as to increase the amount of water that is covering her body (being a rule follower I make sure there is only three inches of water in the tub as the manufacturer recommends). She then looks at me with the sweetest expression. It is a look of utter contentment.

I thought I would share a few pictures of the experience with you. The first one is of Emma in all her almost 3 month old glory. She is really beginning to show a lot of personality. And the second is from her first bath after that dreadful umbilical cord dropped off. I have about three posts in the works, but my writing mojo is just not flowing.

Emma is Brilliant

Oprah (a stay-at-home mom's best friend) told me the other day that we shouldn't just offer compliments about looks to our daughters. So now I don't just tell Emma how beautiful she is (I can't help telling her she is beautiful--I hope that does not insure anorexia in her future); I also tell her how brilliant she is. And she is brilliant. Here's my proof--

1. She can say, "Hi." I know you don't believe me, but I heard it with my own ears. When I came to get her out of her crib the other day, she squealed and said, "Hi!" Brad says that she says "analogous" (he thinks she was looking at his SAT prep stuff for his ninth graders). I think he may be exaggerating a bit, though.

2. If she does not have a burp when she is in burping position, she will fling her self downward so that she is back in feeding position. She will then look up at you with a coy grin. The first time she did this it scared the bejeesus out of me. Now, however, I can recognize the brilliance of this move.

3. She can roll from front to back AND back to front. Last night, again, she scared the bejeesus out of me. While I was trying to go to sleep, I could hear her fussing a bit in her crib. Then, all of a sudden, it was silent, deathly silent. Confident that she had smothered herself in the bumper pads, I leapt from bed and ran to her room. What did I find? Little Miss Em contentedly sound asleep ON HER STOMACH!! Apparently, she had not heard of SIDS yet. I promptly told her about it and warned her not sleep on her stomach until after her first birthday. Since she is brilliant, I am sure she will take this as a lesson learned.

4. She can crawl. Of course, you have to place her face down, place your hands behind her feet, push a bit, and say, "Come on, Emma!" but it is a crawl. I promise.

5. She likes U2. Yesterday she was a bit fussy in the afternoon, so I was playing lullabies on Brad's stereo and swaying with her. I tired of the kiddy music, so I put on U2. She immediately quieted and listened intently. Between each song she would whimper, but when the music started again, she would be fine. The girl has good taste in music.

6. She leans in for kissing. If either Brad or I is being the "Kissy Monster," she will pull away after a few kisses and then coyly lean in for more. I keep using the word "coy," but it is really the only word that describes the look she has.

7. When she wants the mobile in her crib turned on, she will look at you with a smile and then look up at it expectantly. It is like she is saying (politely, of course), "Make it work, Mommy."

8. She has a toy bar on her bouncy seat that has two little handles that when you pull them down, they make a noise. She will grab hold of one, pull down, and look up at you for help in making the noise (she is not strong enough yet to do it herself).

9. When she notices that the bath water is getting to cold, she will promptly urinate in it so as to warm it up.

10. She intuitively knows when formula is too old or when it is cheap (or free). She knows the good stuff and has no time or patience for anything but the best.

And she has Brad's observant eyes ( and long and luscious eye lashes)-- Nuff' said. Isn't that a precious picture of my two loves sharing a book?


I think we have the next female president on our hands, people.

For Better or for Worse-- I'm Back!

I don't know if my writing mojo is gone now that I am on the mommy track. We will call this the "grand experiment." Am I still funny? Do I still have "important" things to say? Am I still opinionated? Can I spell any more (not that I was really all that great at it before)? Can I put words together that formulate a sentence that makes a lick of sense? To keep you coming back, I promise to pepper my faulty prose with cute pictures of Miss Emma. I have entitled the one to the left "Daddy's Girl." Look at that face!

I came a bit late to this motherhood business. Not super late. I'm not like that French woman who had that baby at 60-something (she was, however, my role model for a while). Just late enough that my mother said, "It's about time," when I told her Brad and I were expecting. To be truthful, I was scared of motherhood. I was scared that somehow as the baby was pushed out of my body, so would my identity, my soul--that all of the other aspects of me would disappear and I would become a MOTHER. Plus, it seems that I have heard a lot of bad pregnancy, bad birth, and bad early baby years' stories.

I approached motherhood like I approach most new aspects of my life--I feverishly, from the moment the dipstick sported a plus sign, began reading and studying about birth and motherhood. The last month of my pregnancy my "nesting instinct" did not encourage me to clean the house from top to bottom. It encouraged me to clandestinely watch every show about birth and child rearing on the Discovery Channel and TLC. ("Clandestinely" because Brad was horrified when he came in to the family room to catch me watching "The Baby Without a Face.") Because of my research, I was prepared for every grisly event that might happen. I was ready to have a baby with birth defects, to have my body ripped apart, to have a baby who never slept, to hate my husband, to hate my life, to be so tired my eyes bled, to be overwhelmed-- you get the picture.

What I was not prepared for, however, was the joy. I guess it makes sense that motherhood is joyful--I mean, why would people do it multiple times if it were not? But I wasn't prepared for how I felt when I held Emma for the first time, how I felt when I brought her into our house, how I felt the first time I sang to her as I rocked her, how I felt when she truly smiled at me for the first time. Sure, it's scary being a parent (each time she coughs, I am sure she has Tuberculosis), but the joy, the pure joy--Wow!!

I truly did not care that first month whether I would ever sleep again; as long as I had my baby in my arms, I felt strangely complete and at ease. I don't really remember feeling tired; I was exhilarated. She was just so beautiful (and she still is). I could stare contently at her for hours, and I did (and do). Of course, with the second month came the tiredness, but for me, that first month was blissful. I adored her, and she seemed to adore me. I jumped into this motherhood business, and instead of feeling constrained, I felt complete-- like a part of me that wasn't there before was now there.