MommyCoddle

to be or not to be (independent)

These little guys are headed to the kiln today for their first firing. The downside of being part of this pottery workshop is that my kiln-firing schedule is at the mercy of others. I have no real say over when my things get fired, especially when the things I’m firing are so tiny and not worthy of their own firing in a big kiln. One of these days, I’m going to get myself a tiny little kiln and start working from home. One of these days…for now, I’m just happy to have clay in my hands again.

Over the weekend, Ms.CampCreek and I were discussing my experiences with Emma and her observational drawing lesson. If there is one word to describe Emma it is independent. (well, actually I might describe her as determined first, but independent is a close second). Lori and I were talking about how we strive for our children to be independent, to be able to do things on their own. But in the next breath, we’re requiring them to do things "our way". It’s that fine line–figure this out on your own, see if you can do that by yourself….no, you need to do this MY way!

I think I felt that imbalance last week, when I myself was feeling a bit frazzled. I’ve noticed that when Emma senses my stress, she gets into independent mode–make my own breakfast, clean my rubber boots in the bathroom sink, get out the paints by myself, etc. And in return, I become more frazzled because sometimes her independent outbursts leave a wake of confusion and mess. I heard myself saying over and over last week, "would you please just ask for my help?? That is what I’m here for!" Yet at other times, I’m the one pushing her to do things on her own–sometimes even those same things I just told her to do only with my help. "Emma, you can pour your cereal by yourself."

Does that make any sense?

Her independent spirit is bittersweet when it comes to home schooling. In one sense, she’s completely driven. She’ll figure things out on her own. Start things on her own. And work until she finds a solution. On the other hand, if I want to sit down and actually instruct her (heaven forbid!), she interrupts with a hand on my arm and a, "But mommy, what if we tried to do it this way?"

Parenting. It’s all about give and take. Adjusting. Finding balance. Seeing each child for who they are. Finding their gifts and talents and encouraging them. It’s also about guiding and instructing and disciplining. Now if I could just figure out how to do all those things, and do them well.

******And I almost forgot! Check out the wonderful treats we received from our miniswap partners:

here,

here ,

here,

and here. We were so spoiled!! Even if you didn’t take part in the swap, there’s lots of inspiration to be found in the flickr group.

Does that make any sense?

******And I almost forgot! Check out the wonderful treats we received from our miniswap partners:

here,

here ,

here,

and here. We were so spoiled!! Even if you didn’t take part in the swap, there’s lots of inspiration to be found in the flickr group.

8 Comments

my friend friday

Ahhh, it’s Friday. It’s been one of those weeks that I’m ready to have over with.
One of those weeks where the smallness of our living space seems to be closing in on me. One of those weeks where your children play with everything but toys–plastic containers, your spices, toothbrushes, hand lotion and yarn.
One of those weeks where your children decide to climb into the overflowing closet and pull everything out of a tub of newborn baby clothes, looking for dresses for their dolls.
One of those weeks where while you’re on your hands and knees cleaning up spilled orange juice that a 10 month old pulled down off the table onto herself and the floor, the cat jumps up onto the counter and knocks the whole tub of cat food on to the floor behind you.

So I’ve been a little distracted, dazed and frazzled. But it’s Friday. And despite it all, I’ve managed to find little moments of peace and retreat.

Last night we had our first-ever paid babysitter. My cousin, who is worshiped by my children, came to watch the girls for a few hours. Unfortunately, Dan and I weren’t using that babysitting time to go somewhere together–me a home schooling get together on lapbooking, Dan and my grandmother at a class at church. The lapbooking get together was like one big origami session (not that that’s a bad thing)–and gave me lots of great ideas on how to bring some of our learning into more concrete, visual, finished products. (especially when a state review is looming in my future.)

Speaking of school, one of the bloggable bits that I never found time to write about this week was that Emma and I worked on our first Camp Creek art lesson–observational drawing. Emma was a bit of a stubborn student–didn’t want to draw what I chose, wanted to erase, didn’t want to include much detail. She’s not one who likes to be given a lot of direct instruction. I’m always struggling to find the balance between getting things done with her that I feel we need to do, and letting her guide our learning. In the end, after I was up from the table and working on supper, she sat back down and did her own observational drawing of a little corner of our living room. I should know by now that almost everything is done on her time.

Well, I’m looking forward to a slow weekend with hints of a warm up. Today it’s a snow/ice storm that lost a lot of steam over night. But we’ve still hunkered down for the day, lots of logs in the wood burner, knitting, getting out some clay, and soup for lunch.

Happy Weekend, everyone. More upbeat next week, I promise.

So I’ve been a little distracted, dazed and frazzled. But it’s Friday. And despite it all, I’ve managed to find little moments of peace and retreat.

Happy Weekend, everyone. More upbeat next week, I promise.

11 Comments

home / life (in general)

sweet reunion

Do you ever have dreams that make you wake up in a funk? Early this morning I woke up from a dream where Dan told me I should start looking for my own place to live with the girls, that I needed to move out. He was so polite and emotion-less. It was horrible. Then, in the dream, I was crying to my sister about it all and Dan walked in–"Listen," he said to my sister, "I didn’t want to be in charge of leftovers, but she made me. I’m sorry." To which I remember, in the dream, looking down at a container of whipped cream cheese that was in my hand.

Ah, yes–those early morning, weirdo dreams. But I still made Dan get in bed with me for two more minutes before he left for work, just to be sure he wasn’t leaving me over cream cheese and leftover spaghetti.

The picture above is how Sunday evening ended for our family–the girls taking turns standing on the desktop and having church. They’re actually quite good at it. "Dear Jesus, I hope you are proud of all we’re doing here today." And she makes us recite a little liturgy, too. Mary handles all the singing. And for the record, they do it with completely sincere hearts. So much so, that I almost feel uncomfortable, if I sit on the sofa and flip through a book while they have "church".

And after everyone was in bed, I had a little reunion, all alone, at my kitchen table. It was so good.