Sacrifice?

I've been thinking about happiness a lot lately...specifically, my own! There are those that feel that mothers become so preoccupied with their children that they forget themselves and what makes them happy. Being a mother certainly brings out the selfless side, but I don't feel that I am making major sacrifices. When people feel that their lives are full of sacrifice, while their children are in their care, they become bitter about life. Bitter about the little things they are having to give up, that would certainly bring more comfort to their lives. And what happens when the kids grow up and leave? The parents then try to make up for lost happiness, by making everything about themselves. But does that mean they are happy? They may spend their days with a minimum of discomfort, but I don't believe in living life in service to myself. When I was a single childless person with a good job, my life was empty. Sure, I could buy a lot of stuff, I could watch whatever I wanted on TV, I could take a nap, I could keep my apartment spotless, I had no responsibilities to anyone. But it didn't mean very much to me. Being responsible for my family gives meaning to my life. Yes, they drive me nuts sometimes. Yes, there are times when I wish I had a remote control hooked up to my child, my husband, and my dog! But I never want to experience again a time in my life when I'm not somehow in service to others. And not in spite of the fact that I may be uncomfortable or inconvenienced, but BECAUSE of it. It gives you a respect for others and an ability to empathize that you don't get when you are just looking out for yourself. And when you get back more than you give (as hokey as that sounds), it's not sacrifice.

Quote of the Day.

"Take the hand of your child and invite her to go out and sit with you on the grass. The two of you may want to contemplate the green grass, the little flowers that grow among the grasses, and the sky. Breathing and smiling together-that is peace education. If we know how to appreciate these beautiful things, we will not have to search for anything else. Peace is available in every moment, in every breath, in every step."

Thich Nhat Hanh,
Peace is Every Step

The trials of the mechanically challenged.

I thought I had mastered my Dyson vacuum. Apparently not. I decided that I would take advantage of the beautiful weather today and vacuum out my nasty station wagon. (I no longer pay for full-service car washes, nor do I have a gym membership. This is how the bad economy has affected me. Other people can't buy Christmas gifts this year because they don't have jobs. So we're pretty lucky.) Anyway, Dave brings out the vacuum to the garage for me, empties the receptacle thingy, and plugs it in. He does this not because I'm incapable, but because he's being nice and helpful. I presume he also knows that I do not believe I need to empty it, nor do I believe I need the extension cord, so he's saving me the trouble of my own stubbornness. Thank you, Dave. You were right. Everything's going along swimmingly, with Mia running around in the yard perfectly content to play "Homeward Bound" with her stuffed animals. Then the swearing (inside my head) ensues, due to the fact that I can't get the extension wand to suck up the junk between the seats. The swearing ends with a major bonk to my head. I go inside all huffy, complaining that the Dyson does not work for cleaning out the car. Dave calmly comes over and takes the wand apart, showing me that it will in fact work quite well if you do it right. (Really, Dysons are awesome vacuum cleaners.) So I go back out and finish the job. But, wait, there's more. Then Mia comes over and I show her how we can examine the contents of the receptacle thingy to make sure we didn't suck up anything of value. I'm holding it up and turning it around, going "What is that? Do you need that button?," at which point, half of the contents spill out into my lap. Oh, goody. I guess there has to be a hole in it in order for the crap to get in there in the first place! Ugh. At least I had a good vacuum nearby.

Gingerbread house.

Yesterday Mia's neighbor friend came over and we made a gingerbread house. Well, I should say we put together a pre-fabricated gingerbread house. I don't want to give the impression I'm some kind of supermom. I went to Costco and bought a box. That was the extent of my preparation. Anyway, it was fun. They made paper bag puppets while they waited for the icing to harden. And her friend asked me a bunch of questions about homeschooling. School is such a huge part of a kid's life that homeschooling completely boggles their minds. Mia told her, "When I go to school, I lose my mind and hit kids and scribble my papers." Well, there ya go...

Quote of the Day.

"When we adults think of children there is a simple truth that we ignore: childhood is not preparation for life; childhood is life. A child isn't getting ready to live; a child is living. No child will miss the zest and joy of living unless these are denied by adults who have convinced themselves that childhood is a period of preparation. How much heartache we would save ourselves if we would recognize children as partners with adults in the process of living, rather than always viewing them as apprentices. How much we could teach each other; we have the experience and they have the freshness. How full both our lives could be."

John A. Taylor
Notes on an Unhurried Journey

Must ditch the homophobe dentist.

I just found out that my dentist donated $10K in support of Prop 8 in California. Actually it was his wife who did the donating, so I'm sure that was to protect his business. He doesn't want those perverts getting married, but he'll charge them thousands for veneers. This reminds me of the Cinemark boycott. Apparently the CEO gave a bunch of money to this cause as well, but he doesn't mind making money off of Milk, the movie just released about the first openly gay man elected to office. Anyway, I need a new dentist.

The Tale of Despereaux.

I finished reading this book to Mia tonight. I highly recommend it. It is a wonderful story and I can see why Kate DiCamillo is getting Newberys. It was a joy to read, and educational. The concept of a "vicious circle" has intrigued Mia, and she tries to point them out in our ordinary experiences. Anyway, next we'll return to the Chronicles of Narnia. We still have 3 more to go...I can't believe it.

Thanksgiving Craft Fair in Elm Mott, TX.

This is going to be out of order, I know. I wish I could postdate blog entries. But this was a fun thing we did over Thanksgiving weekend. We drove down to a little town north of Waco for their annual heritage craft fair. Mia wore the old-fashioned dress that Grandma made her so she fit right in. Her favorite thing was weaving the basket. I knew she was worried she wouldn't be able to do it. I love it when that happens...every time she exceeds her expectations, we make progress. She also dipped a candle, made a pretzel, and made a ball of soap. It was a fun day. Mom went with us. It turns out that we were both thinking the same thing when the girl was helping her weave the basket...that she was offended by her nail polish. These people are serious fundies. Dresses down to the ankles, long hair in braids, no makeup...you know, homeschoolers! :-b

This year's Christmas card.

I took the quick and cheap route this year. It was not a planned shot. Dave was actually laying on the ground next to her groaning in the windy cold, struggling to tie down the reindeer. For some reason, our yard decor is blowing all over the place while the neighbors are having no problem at all. And they have more...so every day I hear, "Why can't we have all that stuff in our yard like they do? Theirs looks much better." Well, Mia, we suck. Might as well face it now. We'll never keep up with the Joneses, nor do we really want to.

Gracie the big white dog.

This is our dog Gracie. Mia took this picture, and I love it! I didn't know about it until I uploaded the pics. That sneaky kid.

Building a ziggurat.

So, we are studying Ancient Mesopotamia right now, and here's the ziggurat we made. They didn't actually put gold balls on them...that was Mia's little flourish. While we were discussing that a ziggurat was a temple that the people built as steps for the gods to use to come down to earth, Mia was fascinated. I could tell she was envisioning the gods doing just that. She wondered why they didn't just send written messages to the people saying what they wanted, instead of the people having to examine sheep livers. I said, "Well, Mia, the gods weren't real, so they searched for divine meaning in everyday things, like the weather." Man, did that not go over well. I got a lecture on the existence of gods and goddesses, and Narnia, and Aslan, and unicorns. Anyway I've had "Stairway to Heaven" stuck in my head for 3 days. And I'm wondering if the Mesopotamian ziggurats are still there, in Iraq, or if we blew them to bits.

Santa!

Yeah, so why'd I have to start out with such a negative, judgmental post? Let's move on to better things...Santa Claus. We went to Northpark last week and visited the ultimate Santa. The posed picture won't scan, but it's boring anyway. Here's some of the little chat they had:

Santa: "So have you been good this year?"
Mia: (long pause) Yes.
Santa: "What sort of good things have you done?"
Mia: "What?"
Santa: "Have you taken care of your toys and listened to your mom?"
Mia: (even longer pause) "Yes."

The whole time she was absentmindedly fiddling with his beard. And trying to avoid my gaze. She told me beforehand that she was going to tell him that she didn't want anything for Christmas because she loves her life. And she wishes on stars every night for the secret things she wants (which are not so secret, I tell you...more on that later). But, in the heat of the moment she asked for "an automatic dog". Huh.

Okay, I'm finally doing this.

I've never been good at keeping a diary or any sort of record of daily events and random thoughts. But I think this could work. We'll see what happens. Anyway, today I went shopping. Ugh. Lots of people and lots of stuff. I was waiting in line at Marshall's behind a mom about my age and her infant child. She (the baby, not the mom) was wailing incessantly, from her car seat stroller thing. After a couple of minutes, the mom made a comment to others in line: "As soon as I pick her up, she'll stop, I swear." I thought this meant she might pick her up. But she didn't. It then occurred to me that the mom was only making sure that everyone knew she wasn't denying her baby of any legitimate need like food or a diaper change. She only wanted to be held. Ugh. But I kept my mouth shut. Didn't want to put a damper on all that Christmas spirit.