There is a question that I try never to ask myself. It is just dangerous to go there and so I choose not too. The question?
"Am I a good mother?"
It makes me panic.... The things is, what is a good mother? Each child is different and so each mother has to be different. I have good days and some bad days and some days when my husband walks in the door and I walk out! I hope that the good days out weigh the bad. I think they do. The thing with being a mother is that you really are making it up as you go along. There is no manual. Well, actually there aer about 1000 manuals but none of them are about me and my children. I have to write that one as I go along. And just about when you have it sussed and all is running smooth you breath a little to deeply and your child goes into the next phase and you start back at "WHAT IS GOING ON?"
There are really only two (soon to be three) people who could answer the question with any authority. They are the ones who live with my successes and mistakes. I might not ask how they think I'm doing while they are 4 and 2. Unless I have just fed them chocolate cake, of course. I hope that when they have children they will forgive me the mistakes as they make their own. and build on the success that, I hope, I will be more remembered for.
In the mean time I just do my best. I have the help of a fantastic husband and a gracious God. And when it comes to "that" question I just have to say... "Whether I am having a good or bad day, I am the mother God has given my children. He has his reasons. And I will trust them."
Saturday, 7 June 2008
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
It is amazing what God thinks of
I love God. Some people see him as this floaty thing in the sky who bobs in and out of our lives, wafting around a bit. I don't see that. I think that he is so practical. So down to earth. He knows us so well and is willing to help us so much. If only we will let him. I heard someone say in a sermon for everyone to turn to Leviticus in their bibles. He followed this by saying ... "look at the edge of the pages and find the clean bit!" It is true. We kind of brush over all those laws and rules and regulations. And part of that is that we have forgotten that God has told us what to do and the best way to live. Not just the big moral things but the way to avoid mildew too.
I came across one of these yesterday. It is in Exodus and talks about building an altar. This is a paraphrase...
"Don't build your altar up some steps".... WHY? WHAT? Does it really matter? wait for it....
"because some one might see up your robe and see your nakedness!"
Well, if that isn't a practical God, I don't know what is. SO next time you are struggling with practical things remember that God knows all the answers and see what he has to say... Even if it is "Make sure you can't see your pants!"
I came across one of these yesterday. It is in Exodus and talks about building an altar. This is a paraphrase...
"Don't build your altar up some steps".... WHY? WHAT? Does it really matter? wait for it....
"because some one might see up your robe and see your nakedness!"
Well, if that isn't a practical God, I don't know what is. SO next time you are struggling with practical things remember that God knows all the answers and see what he has to say... Even if it is "Make sure you can't see your pants!"
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
A perfect age?
I have realised that I really do have favourite ages for my children to be. Some bits are just harder than others. I realise that this will be different for everyone and every child but this is my blog!
I have known for a long time that I love little babies, all yummy and squishy.
And then I love the age Tilly is now (18 months to about 2 1/2 ish) She can do loads, has a longing to be helpful and kind and hasn't got to the point where she has discovered screaming NOOOOOO really loudly. She can also talk well and make herself understood. Lovely yummy age.
Then there is the bit that I find really hard. That bit where sense hasn't kicked in but will power has. The bit where you watch, helplessly as your child throws themselves on the floor screaming because you asked them to do something unreasonable like not hit there sister. The bit where you hear the word NO all the time. And "My DO IT". The bit where you realise that you really do sound just like your mother did when you shout back because you have lost it too. This is, in my book, one of the hard bits. And this is the bit I have slowly realised that with Martha we are just about coming out of. And I cannot tell you how pleased I am. I know that she has bad days, when she is tired, or hungry, or poorly. but by and large we have got over this bit and I have discovered that the next bit of time is a really fun one. ...
Martha is now 4 and once again loves helping. But the bonus is that now she actually can do a lot. We have been planting seeds, watching them grow, making food, baking bread, cleaning the bath... you name it. She wants to be a part of things and loves being involved. I just need to remember that things will take longer and I will need a bit more patience and it really works and we have a lovely time. She has also reached an age where she is very content to play on her own. Her imagination has kicked in and she spends ages playing with the dolls house, totally entranced. She also is very kind and helpful towards Tilly. Always trying to include her.
What can I say... the hard work in the hard bit seems to have paid off. (I know that I am letting myself for a tough few days saying this!)
All I can say (and pray) is that they stay in these good phases until about 6 months after the baby is born. Then I might, just, be able to cope.
I have known for a long time that I love little babies, all yummy and squishy.
And then I love the age Tilly is now (18 months to about 2 1/2 ish) She can do loads, has a longing to be helpful and kind and hasn't got to the point where she has discovered screaming NOOOOOO really loudly. She can also talk well and make herself understood. Lovely yummy age.
Then there is the bit that I find really hard. That bit where sense hasn't kicked in but will power has. The bit where you watch, helplessly as your child throws themselves on the floor screaming because you asked them to do something unreasonable like not hit there sister. The bit where you hear the word NO all the time. And "My DO IT". The bit where you realise that you really do sound just like your mother did when you shout back because you have lost it too. This is, in my book, one of the hard bits. And this is the bit I have slowly realised that with Martha we are just about coming out of. And I cannot tell you how pleased I am. I know that she has bad days, when she is tired, or hungry, or poorly. but by and large we have got over this bit and I have discovered that the next bit of time is a really fun one. ...
Martha is now 4 and once again loves helping. But the bonus is that now she actually can do a lot. We have been planting seeds, watching them grow, making food, baking bread, cleaning the bath... you name it. She wants to be a part of things and loves being involved. I just need to remember that things will take longer and I will need a bit more patience and it really works and we have a lovely time. She has also reached an age where she is very content to play on her own. Her imagination has kicked in and she spends ages playing with the dolls house, totally entranced. She also is very kind and helpful towards Tilly. Always trying to include her.
What can I say... the hard work in the hard bit seems to have paid off. (I know that I am letting myself for a tough few days saying this!)
All I can say (and pray) is that they stay in these good phases until about 6 months after the baby is born. Then I might, just, be able to cope.
Sunday, 1 June 2008
She may need to grow a bit.
A few weeks ago I was showing Martha some of my wedding photos. She loved my pretty dress, so I asked if she would like to try it on....
Just for the record... she is standing up in the first three and sitting down in the last two.
A moan and some blessings
I realise that once again it has been a while since I blogged. The reason for this is simple.. I have been far too moany! And in truth I really didn't just want to sit here and whine. There have been some good reasons for this glumness: My Grandpa dying, my tummy getting bigger and really getting in the way, having to have an extra growth scan as they were concerned the baby wasn't growing well (it was as perfect as it could be!), noisy neighbours, discovering yet more stretch marks on my tummy, Martha being... er... challenging, Tilly waking up at 5am every morning.
So you see there is a lot to moan about. But I didn't really want to share the glumness. And I wanted to think of funny ways to moan but it just didn't work out... hence the blogging silence.
I have been thinking about this and feeling a bit bad because I really have a lot to be so thankful for. I really can see God at my side in all this and that is the bit that I should be sharing.
So I thought I would try and find 10 things/ways that God has blessed me. Hopefully this will jolt me out of the gloom and back into cheer...
1) God has been making his plans for our housing really clear. One step at a time.
2) Martha loves the baby in my tummy and loves kissing my tummy and watching it wriggle.
3) God has given me such a lovely, supportive husband.
4) During my Grandpa's funeral I felt so surrounded by prayer and love and God. It was amazing.
5) I get to see one of my best friends on Tuesday (she lives in Africa, so it is a big deal to see her)
6) ...and I get to see Hairspray!
7) Tilly's smile.
8) I have a very healthy, lively baby growing inside me.
9) I have Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the freezer (Phish food - for whose who are interested!)
10) I am truly loved.
Not a bad list really. And do you know what? That list really didn't take long at all to do. I really am blessed. It all depends which way you look at it.
So you see there is a lot to moan about. But I didn't really want to share the glumness. And I wanted to think of funny ways to moan but it just didn't work out... hence the blogging silence.
I have been thinking about this and feeling a bit bad because I really have a lot to be so thankful for. I really can see God at my side in all this and that is the bit that I should be sharing.
So I thought I would try and find 10 things/ways that God has blessed me. Hopefully this will jolt me out of the gloom and back into cheer...
1) God has been making his plans for our housing really clear. One step at a time.
2) Martha loves the baby in my tummy and loves kissing my tummy and watching it wriggle.
3) God has given me such a lovely, supportive husband.
4) During my Grandpa's funeral I felt so surrounded by prayer and love and God. It was amazing.
5) I get to see one of my best friends on Tuesday (she lives in Africa, so it is a big deal to see her)
6) ...and I get to see Hairspray!
7) Tilly's smile.
8) I have a very healthy, lively baby growing inside me.
9) I have Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the freezer (Phish food - for whose who are interested!)
10) I am truly loved.
Not a bad list really. And do you know what? That list really didn't take long at all to do. I really am blessed. It all depends which way you look at it.
Sunday, 18 May 2008
My Grandpa
My Grandpa died a week ago today. He was 90. He had been ill for a while. And so his death, whilst sad, was not unexpected. For the last week I have been trying to write something about him on here. And it hasn’t really worked so far. (As you will be able to tell as you haven’t read anything yet!)
I think what his death has made me think about is what we leave behind. Our inheritance. Here in the UK there are a lot of people ranting and raging about inheritance tax. I don’t really understand it at all. It just seems a bit unfair. But whilst the government can take money away from us when a loved one dies there are many things it cannot.
So what I have inherited from my Grandpa:
Love. The bible says that love never dies. This is not just true of the love we give. But of the love we receive. I know that my Grandpa loved me and my brother, and his son and daughter (my dad and aunt). He was a quite old fashioned and wasn’t a hugging and kissing type. But he loved us. And he showed it. By providing for us. By spending time with us, being interested. By telling us stories. I feel this love as I sit here and type. It is with me. And so part of him goes on.
Memories. No one can take these away either. Towards the end my Grandpa was very frail. But that is not how I think of him. I think of him in the canoe when we were little. I think of him refusing to join in games at Christmas, but getting lots of enjoyment out of the rest of us playing. I remember the look in his eyes when he found out my daughters were not only to have my husbands surname but my maiden name (as a middle name). They are his only great grandchildren and I could see the pleasure and pride that we had chosen to connect them with the past and with him. I remember him whenever I speak their full names.
Crafts. My Grandpa whittled wood. He made the most beautiful wooden carvings. I haven’t carved wood but the creativity has come down the line and I love crafts of all sorts. I wouldn’t be surprised if I carve the odd duck of my own as the years go by.
There are strange things we inherit. I, like my Grandpa, am allergic to penicillin. I inherited a huge love of my country. He was Canadian and proud of it, even though he has lived in England for a very long time. His connection to his country has rubbed off on me. I am always proud to say that I have a Canadian Grandpa. This has, for some reason I can’t explain, got something to do with why I love England. I have inherited this love of country. I love photography, which he did too. And particularly photographing flowers.
These things just pass down, father to daughter, mother to son, father to son, mother to daughter. You never know where they will turn up next.
As I see my daughters grow up I know I will see them change and develop. I will see Grandpa’s traits come out in them. They, sadly, will not know the man I was so proud to call Grandpa. But they do have his name, a little piece of the inheritance. And when they ask me “Why, oh why” they have such strange middle name. I will stop and say, with a smile: “Well, there was this man called Russ and he was my Grandpa…”
I think what his death has made me think about is what we leave behind. Our inheritance. Here in the UK there are a lot of people ranting and raging about inheritance tax. I don’t really understand it at all. It just seems a bit unfair. But whilst the government can take money away from us when a loved one dies there are many things it cannot.
So what I have inherited from my Grandpa:
Love. The bible says that love never dies. This is not just true of the love we give. But of the love we receive. I know that my Grandpa loved me and my brother, and his son and daughter (my dad and aunt). He was a quite old fashioned and wasn’t a hugging and kissing type. But he loved us. And he showed it. By providing for us. By spending time with us, being interested. By telling us stories. I feel this love as I sit here and type. It is with me. And so part of him goes on.
Memories. No one can take these away either. Towards the end my Grandpa was very frail. But that is not how I think of him. I think of him in the canoe when we were little. I think of him refusing to join in games at Christmas, but getting lots of enjoyment out of the rest of us playing. I remember the look in his eyes when he found out my daughters were not only to have my husbands surname but my maiden name (as a middle name). They are his only great grandchildren and I could see the pleasure and pride that we had chosen to connect them with the past and with him. I remember him whenever I speak their full names.
Crafts. My Grandpa whittled wood. He made the most beautiful wooden carvings. I haven’t carved wood but the creativity has come down the line and I love crafts of all sorts. I wouldn’t be surprised if I carve the odd duck of my own as the years go by.
There are strange things we inherit. I, like my Grandpa, am allergic to penicillin. I inherited a huge love of my country. He was Canadian and proud of it, even though he has lived in England for a very long time. His connection to his country has rubbed off on me. I am always proud to say that I have a Canadian Grandpa. This has, for some reason I can’t explain, got something to do with why I love England. I have inherited this love of country. I love photography, which he did too. And particularly photographing flowers.
These things just pass down, father to daughter, mother to son, father to son, mother to daughter. You never know where they will turn up next.
As I see my daughters grow up I know I will see them change and develop. I will see Grandpa’s traits come out in them. They, sadly, will not know the man I was so proud to call Grandpa. But they do have his name, a little piece of the inheritance. And when they ask me “Why, oh why” they have such strange middle name. I will stop and say, with a smile: “Well, there was this man called Russ and he was my Grandpa…”
Thursday, 15 May 2008
Martha's view
Martha got a kids digital camera for her birthday. She LOVES IT! And took over 120 pictures during the day. Here are some of her photos...
Her new clock - the bunny wakes up when it is time to wake up! 
Me taking a photo of her.
The messy toy pile in their bedroom
Tilly drawing before breakfast
Special birthday coissants and chocolate spread
Martha wearing her "I am 4" badges
Our friend (and Tilly's God daddy). Martha kept telling him what faces to pull and then take a picture. We have a series of these. Thought I would share these 2.
First being a lion
Then his sad face
Granny (my mummy)
Me in my favourite chair
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