Timeline of Grace

I love being with him.

I put him down to bed….I rush off…late, as there is never an exact time I know I will have him down by. I am out, I see people, I chat, I enjoy nice food….I do the social thing…it’s….fine really. Yet I find as I’m driving home, there is a sadness in me, a melancholy. I am so looking forward to being home…to seeing him in the night. It sounds crazy…but I am. I walk in the door, and my husband tells me that he must have heard the car door shut, because he’s only just started to cry. Secretly I’m relieved. I run upstairs and take him into my room…he immediately calms down upon being picked up and nuzzles himself in to me. I pull him close and he starts to feed from me…and I have this sense of relief. Total peace. It’s bliss almost. I never thought I’d feel this way…but I do. It’s not because anyone has told me I need to feel it…I just do. I savour him there in that moment…so tiny. I stroke his arm, knowing one day it will be so big and strong…but for now, he’s my little baby boy in my arms, and I’m the centre of his world. What a privilege.

Life does not afford me these moments often. Usually when he wakes in the night, I either fall asleep feeding him or I lay awake after he’s gone back to sleep desperate to sleep myself. There are those times I struggle just to cook the dinner, tidy the kitchen, get ready to go out….times when it isn’t the most lovely blissful thing to have a little creature totally dependent on you. When it’s hard work….when it’s stressful…when they decide they need to feed while you’re having your teeth cleaned and you just know the dental hygienist thinks you’re nuts.

So when I do actually have these moments where I’m sitting there holding him, feeling like I can’t get enough of him..I’m so thankful….

Having children has been the one thing in life I’ve experienced that has made me stop dead in my tracks…and seriously not wish for the time to pass. Even though I long for a full night’s sleep sometimes, or a day to finally properly clean my house, or work on my writing or practice my music…..those things I feel I need to do…there is nothing that compares to holding a baby in a quiet dark room at night…while he is half asleep, feeding and comforting himself in your arms.

I love my little boy xxxx

When I first told one of my friends that our offer had been accepted on a house in Congleton. She was happy for me, but then said, “now the roller coaster begins”

And so it has. I think right now I’m probably coming down the highest hill, with no end in sight. It’s one of those roller coasters that goes all the way underground into a dark scary cavern.

This is all happened so fast. While I was in the states, I knew I was heading home into some sort of limbo, and I was dreading it. My heart longed to be settled, somewhere. To start making a home for my family. I know you can make a home in whatever sort of place you dwell, but there needs to be some sense of permanence about the place, some sense of having arrived. It seems since I left home, I have not lived in any one place for more than two years, and some places I’ve lived less than six months.  Life simply has not stopped. There has always been some big change looming on the horizon, and that’s kind of fun when you’re young, or when that change is something you can get your head around, like marriage, or having a baby, or living overseas for a year….but when that change is inevitable, but unknown, you start to carry around this creeping sense of unsettledness about you, and it eats away at your peace.

So when we found ourselves looking at houses one Saturday shortly after arriving back here in the UK, I was happy, but scared. I could not believe that it was going to just happen like that, so easy. I was even more scared when we seemed to find a house that had most of what we wanted out of a home, and in our price range. It wasn’t just the home either, it was in a location I had previously dismissed in my mind, but was now warming to for a number of reasons. Everything felt really right. I tried to be low key about it, but then I felt guilty for not being positive, for not believing it was going to happen. So then I actually started to get excited. Sure it was stressful, there was tons of paperwork, and anxiety over getting it all completed on time. But overall, I was not too worried. It would have been nice to be able to just give 30 days notice after it was all completed, but our landlord would take no less than a six month lease at a time so this meant we needed to be out by the end of August.

Then last Monday, I got a phone call from the bank. At first it was just sounded like some little niggly jobs I needed to do, but then she said “oh and there is one more thing” right. “the valuer has been to see the house and has valued it at quite a bit less than what you were going to pay for it…” meaning, the bank would not give us the mortgage we’d applied for. We would be looking at upping our deposit, (which was already stretched pretty far) or taking out a different product with rubbish interest rates. Right. Ok. It did not help that it was Jon’s birthday and he was out with Iona at the time watching a movie. Suddenly our run of happy days came to a grinding halt.

The vendor of the house was already quite grumpy for having bought the house two years ago for a certain price and already he was losing money on it. The estate agent we’d been dealing with seemed pretty defensive of the current price and did not really seem keen to help us out at all. He was supposedly talking to the vendor all this week but then admitted to Jon on Friday that the vendor was actually on holiday in Poland and that he hadn’t spoken to him until that day. The valuation was challenged but unfortunately due to the current market, it looks like the valuer was right based on the price of other properties sold in the same area in the last six months.

So basically…the vendor will not come down in price, and we can not afford to up our deposit anymore, and in reality do not want to overpay for the house. I suppose the bank views any house purchase as an investment…which this one really isn’t…it seems to have reached it’s ceiling of value…but…for us, we’re just looking for a home….not something to “do up and sell in five years time”

So then on top of all this, I get a call from the letting agency from this house wanting to take some “desperate woman” around who needed it as soon as possible. The woman came and immediately signed up for 12 months and put her deposit. As the estate agent and this woman poked around the house, I was hit with the reality that this really is not our home. It belongs to someone else and they have every right to poke around. I felt judged and guilty as I knew the carpets were in a state. I’m terrible with keeping carpets clean and I suddenly felt like some irresponsible student. After they left I felt so low, almost like I was about to be evicted. We knew we’d be cutting it close with the current house we were buying so this of course leaves no time find another house to buy. It looks like we will need to rent again. We spent yesterday looking at other houses, just trying to get some more options, but I found it was so hard. I had started to visualize our family in a certain house, and the other houses we looked at seemed a million miles away from that ideal. I then started to feel guilty that I was being too picky and needed to just accept the reality that the other house was unique and we’re simply not going to find anything else like that in our price range.

Whatever…I suppose it’s hard because I had a taste of this period of unsettledness coming to an end…of being able to finally start settling down….and it seems not to be. Of course everyone keeps telling me “there will be something so much better” and all that…but in the mean time, I just feel pretty stupid. We dared to take this step…and now we just have egg on our face…facing eviction at the end of the month with no where to go. So Monday morning will have me on the phone to various estate agents trying to find a place to rent, and I’m sure we’ll find something and we will get through this…but it feels really rubbish right now. We’ve prayed every step of the way and it’s hard when you really thought you heard God’s voice in it all.

Boo

It arrived in the post today. A fresh copy of the newly revised “Womanly Art of Breastfeeding”.  As I stared at the front cover….I felt this excitement well up in me. It’s like I have this giddy zeal inside me that makes me want to share it with the first pregnant mother I see. Yet, with that excitement and zeal, I feel this sense of…sadness really.

When I first decided I wanted to help other mothers breastfeed, I was so excited. I remember running around the hills of Mt. Pleasant, my daily workout while living in South Africa…and my mind always drifted back to the antenatal class the NHS provided on breastfeeding, and the mothers to be who sat in a circle less than enthusiastically. It felt a bit like school really. It was not inspiring, and in no way was it empowering. The midwife did her best but the general response in the group was a resigned “well..i’ll give it a go…but if it doesn’t work out…it’s fine” Breastfeeding was presented and understood as some sort of lofty ideal, that some magically seemed to be able to do, but that the majority struggled with, and that many simply “couldn’t do”. This is not what was said in words but it was how it felt really. So as I did my daily run, my mind would swirl with ideas….what would have made that session more productive? What would have really inspired those mothers? what would have empowered them? What would have opened their eyes to consider this issue as something really worth doing?  I had all sorts of ideas.

I came back to the UK and hit the ground running. I joined the world’s leading and most longstanding breastfeeding support group, and threw myself into digesting information and learning as much as I could about the subject so that if anyone needed help or advice, I would know what i was talking about and actually be able to help them.

But the further I have gotten into it, the more mixed feelings I have. It is simply not straightforward. It is not just enough to enthusiastically encourage someone, provide them with information, support, and whatever they would need. It sort of feels like I am up against a great big wall. I want to help people, but I worry about being pushy, about being judgemental, about being pressurising. I suppose I naively think most woman  want to be helped. I was not prepared to hear while helping out at a breastfeeding cafe “If i had to do it over again, I wouldn’t do it” or for this general feeling that the breastfeeding experience is a hard slog that we have to get through  and when we’ve “done our bit”  we can breathe a huge sigh of relief and get on with our lives. I also did not expect to hear such inaccurate information at times with regards to the subject, often given by health professionals.  I knew that I fell somewhere on the attachment parenting spectrum when it came to my parenting but I didn’t expect to get labelled as “extreme”. As much as the issue was important to me, I didn’t realize how quickly it would define me as a person in other people’s eyes.

It sort of dawned on me recently…that a lot of women, simply do not want to be helped. They know in their own minds what they want to do, and they simply do it and get on with it. If they have a question…they’ll ask their health visitor…so just stay away..you’re being pressurizing, interfering…extreme…even if all you have done is say “how are you getting on with it?”  Even quietly modelling it around other mothers can be interpreted wrong….

It’s been a hard lesson, but it’s made me take a step back and realize that all I can do is simply be there for those who want help. It’s hard. It’s always hard when you hear misinformation being given or certain perceptions expressed on the subject.  Yet,  we do live in the Western world…and this is just how it is here. It almost makes me want to give up on the whole thing and just forget that it was even an issue that was important to me. “it’s not worth it” I tell myself…surely there are other things that are more important in life…..other causes I should get stuck in to.

But when I opened my parcel and pulled out the crisp new edition….and saw that beautiful picture on the front, tears welled up in my eyes. My heart tells me, it IS important…it IS what I should be doing….it does actually matter.

It’s my last night in the states….it’s hot, humid, and loud. Fireworks are going off…and really, all I want to do is get the kids to bed and spend one last evening with my parents, watch episodes of 24. and get a good night sleep.

It’s been such a long trip. So long in fact that it feels strange to be leaving. Although I’m not really living in any kind of reality at the moment. In some ways I’m a kid again. I’m back home having meals cooked for me, being taken out to eat, and not having to really worry too much about anything. There are extra hands to help with the kids, and I’m not doing any laundry.

I’ve eaten way too much food and when I come back, I’m sure people are going to think I’m pregnant…but alas, it’s just a “food baby”…or “food triplets’ more like it. I think we have eaten out nearly every night this last week. I’ve discovered Mike’s Hard Lemonade…which I’m sure is responsible for a lot of extra calories…as well as rediscovering things like salt water taffy, chai tea frappucinos, ranch dip, taco dip, beer cheese dip, and various other high fat/high sugar treats. I’ve also had lots of home cooked meals between my mom, my sister, and the incredibly talented Leah Westbrook. So detox…here we come.

It was great seeing old friends. Some that I have not seen in a serious amount of years. It showed me that it really is worth it to keep in touch…people really are the most important thing, and time spent with an old friend is never time wasted.

I discovered I really liked Fish Tacos, and was determined to eat them everywhere I went.

I have decided that british people act a bit less annoying at musical festivals than americans.

I really do miss american customer service at times and the child friendliness of restaurants.

I will so miss my frequent visits to the chiropractor…..I want to bring him back with me!

Highlights of the trips were….

Seeing Iona surrounded by all her cousins at Jake’s graduation…all of them waiting for her to start talking.

Sitting at the outdoor fountains at Bayshore Mall with Nicole, catching the sun, watching Iona and Lexi play together.

Watching Fox New with Julie and Joe and not being able to stop laughing.

Leaving Iona for the afternoon with Granny and coming back and finding them both still in the water!

Watching the DVD of david’s sky dive and listening to him talk about it.

Walking outside and seeing Jon, Iona, and Judah all in the water…Judah happily floating in the baby ring.

Seeing Iona out with Sophia and their ATV….happy and confident.

Helping my sister put food out at her kid’s birthday party

Staying up late talking with Russell and Leah…later than any of us had stayed up since we can remember. It was like we were in college again.

Eating my mom’s grilled wild alaskan salmon for dinner the first night I arrived.

Being reminded of what good pizza tastes like.

Watching Iona playing the restaurant game with my dad.

Eating a totally over the top rich peanut butter chocolate concoction while out with Chris and Jen

Listening to Chris and Dave reminisce about Summerfest in bygone years…while at summerfest

Eating an everything bagel.

hmmmmm I could go on.

Not so great moments.

The whole nursing in public confrontation….the blog that ensued, and the drama that followed….still bothering me.

The long drives everywhere!!! nothing is ever a simple trip out!

The Iona meltdowns…..due to jet lag, staying up late with cousins, more sugar than she’s ever ingested…

Feeling like even though I was on holiday..I wasn’t really on holiday….as in…..I still had two young children to take care of….even though I had help.

Feeling like a foreigner…and realizing that when I go back home…i’m still an outsider….that panicked feeling of “ahhh where do I belong???” which most of the time I just live with

Anyway..thanks to all my family and friends in the States for what was a really amazing visit. It was the longest stretch of time I’ve spent in the States since leaving in 2001!!! It was worth it!

So after three and a half years of nursing in public without incident….I experienced what far too many women have experienced in the western world. The “confrontation”

The sad thing was..it happened in a place where I would have least expected it.  It happened at my parents church. It was just at the start of the service here in the States. (this is after three and a half years of active church involvement in the UK and South Africa..so my experience up to this point has been nothing but positive)  

I was in the back corner,  nursing my 7 month old little boy when one of the elder’s wives came up to me and said “do you have a shawl or something you can put on?” I said “no I don’t actually” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I will spare you the blow by blow of the conversation but I was basicaly asked to “consider the rest of the people there over my own right to nurse in public” When I pointed out that I was not even showing anything she said something along the lines of “yes…but,just the fact that you’re doing it” whaaaaaaaaat? Again. shock. My only response was to say “that is just really really sad that people here feel that way”

I walked to one of the sunday school rooms, feeling a bit shocked and shakey…I couldn’t believe it. When I sat down to finnish feeding Judah I just started to cry. I really don’t know why it affected me so much…but it did. About ten minutes later this woman came and found me and was wanting to talk to me and make sure there wasn’t anything “funny between us” I actually felt sorry for her. She really did not have a clue who she was talking to. She knew my parents but she didn’t know anything about me.

In our exchange, I was confronted with the two big buzz phrases that some Christians use on this issue.

1. Modesty and causing a brother to stumble (romans 14:29)

2. Causing offense and how we’re not supposed to do that.

I managed to communicate some points to her and ask some questions.

The first being, if people have an issue with breastfeeding, even if it’s not showing anything, why would a shawl help? She then told me that many of the women in the church have issues with other women breastfeeding in the main meeting, full stop. That their husbands are uncomfortable with it. I asked why? are they worried their husbands are looking at other women’s breasts? no no, nothing like that…they just feel strongly about modesty.

Ahah. There you have it. Modesty. I am not going to even go there right now and explain how I feel about that particlar issue…and how that word is used…but I did ask her this.

What is modesty? Is it being covered head to toe?? No of course not..that’s extreme right??? Well…where do you draw the line then? Do you let culture define it? Fasion trends? literal passages from scripture? (braids are not allowed then)

It seems as though Jesus spent a lot of time talking about the heart. He was very condeming of those who trusted in simply following the letter of the law, and seemed a lot more concerned about what was going on in someone’s heart. So when it comes to modesty. I believe it is more about an attitude you have in your heart, not always about what people see on the outside.

For example, if you see a woman sitting in a coffee shop, feeding her baby…and the baby suddenly pulls of the breast and decides to look around, and you get a flash of the woman’s breast. Is she being immodest? No, she’s probaby mortified and does what she can to cover herself up before anyone else gets an eyefull of a breast that she is most likely self concious of and not particularily proud of. Is she more modest if she’s not attractive and her breast isn’t exactly appealing? Is she less modest if she happens to be beautiful as well? How do we measure modesty? On how beautiful and appealing someone happens to be?

If we are talking about immodesty, as regards to dress, to me, the term would refer to someoe who trusts in their body, and uses it to get something they want….compliments, attention, love, sex, admiration, power, whatever that happens to be, but for crying out loud, NOT to a mother showing a bit of skin while she feeds her child.

It makes me wonder if people simply have a huge issue with a child sucking on a breast…if the act itself is what is unappealing and makes them cringe. I wonder if certain christians are using the ”modesty” excuse for the fact that the idea of a child nursing is in itself off putting.  If that is the case, then people need to really search their hearts and ask themselves what in them makes  natural function like feeding a child so uncomfortable to them. If they can not get over the oversexualization of the breasts to accept their first and primary function, or if they struggle with lust, and the mere sight of a breast sends them into a tizzy, then to me, the problem is with THEM, not the mother nursing.

They have options. They can look away. They can simply not come. Do these same people not go to the supermarket during the summer when skimpy clothes are everywhere and breastfeeding women are protected by the law? I suppose then they could pull up the ”but this is a church” argument. To which I say…the church is not a place or a building, it is the body of Christ gathered together, and it is meant to be a safe haven for all to come no matter what.  When Jesus was on earth, he hung out with the poor, and the down and outs, and those with bad reputations….he managed to hang around prosititues and never sin…and we know he reached out to them and they felt nothing but love from Him. He went for their hearts…and he won them. But that’s nothing to do with breastfeeding in public really. I get the impression that breastfeeding was a non issue back then….as it should be now. The Bible mentions it in the most normal terms possible. It’s simply what mothers did for their children, not only nourishing them physically, but creating a bond that is compared to the love that God has for us.

God designed our bodies to feed our children..and it must make Him really sad to see a culture that has allowed such a normal everyday invaluable tool in mothering, undervalued. So people may get defensive here and say “well it’s very much valued, but we shouldn’t have to look at it” or “it’s inappropriate to do in public” Sorry. It doesn’t wash. When a mother is told she needs to cover up she usually feels mortified, embarassed, ashamed, and like SHE has done something wrong. That’s not a way to value something.

If more teenagers and boys in particular were exposed to mothers nursing in public, it would become less of a taboo, and perhaps men and boys would start to recognize the primary function of the breasts, and perhaps girls would be more motivated to succeed at breastfeeding when their turn comes around. I’m so glad that if anything, my children will grow up knowing and experiencing first had the reason for breasts.

Not everyone who breastfeeds always does it discreatly 100% of the time. I admit there are times I have thrown some clothes without thinking on that are not totally condusive to feeding and suddenly found myself needing to nurse my baby. I’ll admit the previous Sunday this happened I was in a sun dress which isn’t the easiest to feed in…maybe not the best choice..but I think we mothers need a bit of grace and don’t need to be jumped on the moment we show too much skin. We’re not trying to make anyone stumble. We’re mothering our children. It’s sad that people immediately get a bit wierded out by seeing breasts used for their primary purpose. Why should we have to be bannished to another room and miss out on the service because our children need us?

If men are struggling with lust, we can help them out by not parading half naked in front of them, but….they need to train their eyes. In this day and age they simply will not escape skin exposed to them. If the bit of skin they see when a mother feeds their child is really causing their minds to spin out of control…then they should look away, and also seriously consider never going out in public again, especially in the summertime.  If the fact that a child is breastfeeding makes a man uncomfortable…even if it’s covered up…that’s pretty sick and sad and he should pray and ask God to heal his warped mindset on the matter.

It’s like in China..when they used to bind women’s feet….feet back then were the big turn on…the value of feet for sexual attraction was valued more than the ability for women to be able to walk, and many times women could barely walk as a result. So what would this church have done in ancient China? not let women walk in front of men? So now breasts serve a double purpose….and the culture’s value of them for sexual purposes seems to have trumped their primary purpose and made mothers who are using them in that way feel uncomfortable unless they are hidden away out of sight. In China the women were cripped by their practices…..and I wonder how much our society today has suffered because of our culture’s oversexualization of the breasts.

I realize I’ve touched on the larger issue of breastfeeding in public…but my main purpose was to address the issue with certain fellow Christians who seem to be using verses about not offending, not causing people to stumble, and modesty…..in a way that in the long run, does nothing to empower mothers, and normalize the normal way to feed children. It simply reinforces the warped mentality of the western world….and validates it.

When you start making rules in a church about breastfeeding, you’re heading down a legalistic path…and not winning any hearts. Sure you may have the odd mother (like me) who shows a bit too much skin one sunday because breastfeeding is now such a normal part of her life, she sometimes puts on a dress without thinking that was not made with lactating mothers in mind. But most of the time…we’re pretty good about it…because honestly…the last thing we want anyone to see is our post pregnancy tummy….so the odd indiscreat nursing episode is in no way justified as a reason to make women who are feeding their children feel ashamed, embarassed, and like they are doing something wrong…or causing someone else to sin. As far as causing offence…I just don’t think this issue is one that any sane person has a legitimate reason to be offended about.

It’s nearly 7:00 am…and I think i’ve been up for a long time. Well I know I have. I just don’t know exactly when I woke up. There was a real midwestern thunder and lightening storm last night that lit up the sky and woke Iona up. I remember waking up in similar such storms. When I was younger I used to get up and jump into my parents bed. As I got older I used to wake up in a thunderstorm and feel strangely warmed and comforted. Anyway, in a family home, having your daughter snuggle into your bed in the middle of the night is not really an issue. However when you are asleep on a single air mattress on the floor…it’s a little more of an ordeal. She of course had to be right up against me, wrapping her sweaty little arms around me, and of course I was not allowed to move. So I don’t think I ever really got back to sleep. Then of course just as I was dozing off, Judah woke up. I went to get him, and it was then a complicated mess of the three of us trying to fit on one air mattress, me getting annoyed, Iona crying and dramatically wailing that “maybe I will just go sleep with Lexi” (since i’m not wanted here anymore) uuugh. So after several attempts at getting back to sleep…we’re now up. My friend and her two kids who have slept through the night are still sleeping!

I’m with my friend Nicole who I’ve known since I was 16 I think. We are now both married women with two children. Very scary. Neither of us feel grown up enough to have kids. We look around at all the other mothers and we feel like we’re imposters….no way could this be us!! We both have an older daughter and a baby son. Yesterday we packed a picnic and walked down to the local shopping district where there is this really great pedestrianized/park area with one of those flat water fountains where the water shoots up at various times in various ways. Kids are allowed to take their shoes off and run around in it, and there is a DJ on sight that plays music. It’s a lovely way to spend an afternoon. The kids got tan and I got a bit burnt.

We are enjoying loads of nice food. I have discovered these honey roasted sesame sticks from Trader Joes which are just too nice…and for dinner we ordered out from California Pizza Kitchen and had really yummy Mediterranean salad and wraps with fish tacos.

I like how in Milwaukee..when it’s summer..it really really feels like summer. It’s scary how England is starting to feel like some sort of distant blury dream. I know all too well it’s not. I’m actually living in the unrealistic dream at the moment…..

I want to start writing about a subject that I’m sure everyone has a completely individual opinion on. The truth is, I’m still trying to figure out my opinion, and in my mind I have this huge long piece of work written which perfectly articulates all my current thoughts and feelings on the subject, but unfortunately, if I waited for that perfect image to become a reality, I would never write it down. So I’m going to just start rambling a bit I’m afraid…

So how do we do this raising kids thing? Or in other words…how exactly do I get through the day without having a meltdown (me)  at a 3 year old??? Where do I take a stand? Which battles do I fight?

As much as I have really felt comfortable with the attachment parenting model of raising a baby, there are times when I find its expectations  exhausting.

It feels like we are expected to endure nights on end of interrupted sleep, make time during the day to nap with our children, and not really mind about our houses being in a state of chaos. Then on top of feeling tired most of the time we are expected to deal with our children’s behaviour in a gentle peacefull way. It’s the kind of thing can sometimes make sense on paper but in reality…it doesn’t seem to work out. I know that when I have had a night of interrupted sleep, even if the children have been in bed with me, I am exhausted, and I am a shouty cranky mother who is not interested in playing or drawing or reading stories and will flip out over the littlest thing.

I would love to be more gentle, less shouty, more in control of my anger, more reasoned and balanced and wholistic in my parenting…but it’s tough. Some days I am convinced I am on the right path…other days I have this fear that I’m really going to do my kids a disservice…and let them down really.

I suppose this is a bit disjointed. I know that any discpline strategy is only as good as your relationship with your child…and I do believe the best way to forge that relationship starts when they are babies…and being that primary need meeting attachment figure in their lives

So that is why I have done things the way I have. Because I figure I am going to make a lot of mistakes as they grow, and I’m not going to get it right a lot of the time…but..if that relationship is there….and nurtured from the start…that will hopefully see me through the ups and downs of my parenting methods….but in the mean time…..how do we do this thing???

When you read some parenting forums they seem to shun any sort of method of getting your kids to behave as evil, controling, and  manipulative..damaging your children’s sense of worth, self esteem, and personality.

Then there are those who feel that if you do not start implimenting smacking by the age of 18 months that your children will have no sense of self control, will never respect you, and will turn into delinquent terrors.

One thing I know is important whatever you do is consistancy…but it’s hard to be consistant when you’re unsure what you want to be consistant about.

I know one thing that plays into this whole thing is my faith. I do believe it is right to teach our children in the “way they should go”.  I also do not believe that “man is basically good”  I believe that we are all born with the tendancies to behave negatively if not guided or modeled to in another way. this is where I know I probably part ways with my peers in the AP camp, so that leaves me out in limbo a bit, because I am then left with tradtional  ”christian parenting” options which traditionally are highly punative in nature.

I suppose it makes sense if you believe that kids in themselves are perfect beings until society screws them up…then you may be happier to let them find their own way with as little intervention as possible. But if you think they are not born basically good, then you would spend most of your waking moments in a highly intentional state of mind,  directing and teaching them in the right way they should go.

One point of view seems far to lax, the other far too controlling…..depending on which perspective you take.

I want children who are respectful…but also have genuine respect for themselves and others, who are loving, but who do truly love others, and feel loved. I don’t just want kids who know how to behave on the outside, but children who behave well from the inside out..but also have the self control to behave well when called upon. Am I asking too much? Is it impossible?
I want them to have manners, say please and thankyou, greet people, look adults in the eye, etc. I don’t want it to be forced upon them, but i don’t want them to just do it when they feel like it either!

I want the best of both worlds I think.

Children who feel loved, secure, and who know how to behave….not that they always will of course

Tonight I sat on the porch while nursing Judah to sleep. I just stared at the lake and took advantage of the evening’s calm and coolness. I noticed the families of Canadian geese making their way accross the water to our property and I remember the year that my mother and I developed a realtionship with our local geese and followed their journey from their arrival on the lake, mating, having little tiny babies, and then through to the Autumn when they flew away with their full grown familes.

A friend from my teenage years came to visit today with her two kids and both of us remarked how odd it felt to be standing on our property..so many memories. I was always such a day dreamer. I think I must have spun countless daydreams while sitting outside looking at the lake.

I looked down the shoreline to where Iona and Granny were paddling. Its such a strange feeling seeing your little girl taking in the familiar sights of your childhood. I have not quite worked out how i’m feeling about it right now. I’m just still pretty jet lagged and trying to take it all in.

So far I’m loving all the health food, drinking tons of Kombucha. and enjoying the power shower.

So I’m back here in the home of my youth. *yawn* I’ve been up sporadically through the night with my little jet lagged and bewildered boy. Its nearly 6:00 am here, but 12:00 noon UK time. It’s funny how I am so used to being exhausted that I don’t feel completely terrible.

With much anticipation, we woke up early and made our way to the airport. Jon lingered as we checked in and it was kind of emotional saying goodbye. I know he’s going to miss us. So we then went into the gate area and Iona got all excited about the planes etc. I then showed her the special colouring book I’d bought especially for the journey. The thing is, I hadn’t really been dreading the plane trip. I mean, long haul travel is kind of easy these days. Easyish. I mean. The British airways website boasted of sky cots and children’s entertainment. The standard I’d been used to on long haul flights for quiet some years now.

So you can imagine my shock, when we boarded the plane and I was faced with only one aisle stretched ahead of me, with simply three seats on either side. It was a small 757 plane. The kind you usually take when you have internal connection at the end of a trip, or the kind you take when you’re going on holiday just a few hours away. No sky cots, no personal tv’s….nothing. I was terrified. How in the world was this going to work? Thankfully I was seated next to a guy who didn’t mind being next to two kids. He was quite pleasant and helpful. Iona was a star. really. I mean, me being her cranky frustrated mother got snappy with her from time to time, but overall, I am amazed she coped as well as she did. She simply coloured in her new colouring book for most of the time.

Going to the toilet was tricky as I had to take both kids with me as Iona did not want to be left. Then there was the whole breastfeeding thing. I was exhausted and once I actually dozed off with Judah feeding, only to wake up, with him passed out, me exposed, and the woman in front telling me to please tell Iona to stop kicking her seat. Whoops.

There were no special on board toys for kids, no kids meals. A full adult meal was unapologetically slapped in front of Iona which in some ways was a great excitement for her. She got to spread laughing cow cheese and butter on everything. She’s never tasted the evils of processed cheese before and thought she’d gone to heaven saying “this is very tasty mummy!” The flight attendants were in that totally not bothered mood. You could just tell.

All in all though, we survived. It was have been SO much easier on a proper long haul carrier. I’m convinced Judah would have passed out in the sky cot for most of the time and Iona would have had a lot more fun. She concluded at the end of it that she did not like flying very much. I don’t blame her. Poor thing. Speaking to Jon later..he actually rang up and spent the day complaining to BA and American Airlines about our experience….felt so protected and loved! he he

I made it through immigration where the officer told me I was crazy to be traveling with kids, after gruffly asking “are these your children”???  However at the end, I made it through customs and it was a happy reunion with Granny and Uncle Dave (a surprise) The weather was hot hot hot and soon we were back at Lake Shangrila.

I was suddenly overwhelmed really. Back home…so excited to be showing Iona where I grew up…so excited to be back myself. It’s so beautiful here, and I love being close to the water. Granny had of course stocked the house with new clothes for the kids so Iona was in infused with fresh energy and excitement as she insisted on trying half of them on. She was also quick to strip off and go wading into the water. (was so pleased at this and glad for her being brave….am getting sick of the mollycoddling that seems to be happening to her at nursery and other places back in England)

I couldn’t get over how the kids stayed up the rest of the day. They were so full of energy. We took them to Wal-Mart, and I was overwhelmed again. So much stuff!!! So many clothes so cheap…so many different kids of toys and games and so cheap. So much food…so cheap but also soooooo processed..yet lots of cool healthy stuff too. It’s like America has both extremes….aisles of hamburger helper, but also the latest raw vegan essential ingredient. I even found a “low acidity” Tropicana orange juice! which great as I love orange juice but Judah doesn’t seem to like it in the milk.

So eventually we got the kids to bed. I was excited to buy Iona a proper box of Crayola crayons…the kids with a zillion colours in it. Something I just never seem to see anywhere in England…or at least not in Congleton. I suppose that’s the difference. You can get most things in England..and it’s fine, and I don’t necessarily miss all that much anymore from the states…but there is something so great (even though we all hate the evil superstore) about being able to drive a few minutes down the road and having everything you could possibly need right there at your fingertips…24 hours a day seven days a week. Yes, it’s being spoiled…but at least I’m aware that it’s being spoiled and I don’t take it for granted!!

So after getting the kids to bed, I had my mother’s wild alaskan salmon and a nice salad with spinach from her garden. So yummy. Then I watched some episodes of Glee on my parent’s computer through the big screen. (something Jon and I have not managed to figure out how to do yet) All this time, I wasn’t tired! I finally went to bed, only to be woken up several times in the night by Judah. He’s sleeping in the little Graco travel cot. I tried bringing him into bed with me but the bed is like 100 feet off the ground and very squishy so he was even unhappier in there! It was ok though. He eventually got down and there was a lovely thunderstorm rumbling through the night as well. Something else I really have missed.

So today it’s raining and dark….it’s different here. Whenever we have a rainy day in the summer, it’s really really dark..but it’s still warm, except for the breeze of the cool rain. I really love it actually.

So i’m about to get get a shower, and get myself some breakfast. Today I’m going to see my sister!! I can’t wait!

Tonight we caught up with some old friends. Not your normal run of the mill friends…but a certain breed of friends…….ones that are very close to my heart and have been since I’ve been a teenager. Missionaries. When one hears that word several different ideas come to mind. Most people probably think of super holy people who float around doing wonderful deeds at every turn and live in the darkest parts of our world.

When I was thirteen years old I had the chance to experience first hand what missionaries were really like. My parents put me on a plane, and off I flew south of the border to the little country of Guatemala, where I spent three weeks with a missionary family learning all about the various aspects of missionary life. Not just their lives, but several different missionaries lives in that country. From front line church planters, to the behind the scenes skilled workers, from Bible college professors, to mothers, looking after the home. In three short weeks i managed to get a taste of several of the things missionaries find themselves “doing” but what made the biggest impression on me…was not what they were doing….but who they were…their “being” so to speak.

I remember sitting around the dinner table with two different missionary families one evening, and just listening to them easily chat about everything from the everyday, to the extra-ordinary. I realized that I was sat among normal everyday people…they were not super humans, they were not super spiritual…but they were living incredibly rich lives…lives that were emptied out…but yet..were so overflowing with the goodness of God.

There is this kind of life we all see glimpses of…in TV adverts, and films…the kind of life our soul longs for….that we are scared to hope for because it feels unrealistic and foolish to dream of……but I can honestly say I’ve been the closest I’ve ever been to that sort of life….when I’ve been among missionaries. It doesn’t make sense. The TV adverts and films are usually trying to sell us something….telling us we need to have more in order to achieve that feeling..but missionaries…they live by completely different rules…but their lives are so full…so rich…it’s almost unreal…but it’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.

And it’s not that missionaries live in some sort of alternative reality with their heads in the clouds, out of touch with reality…in some ways they are more in touch with reality than many of us…it’s just…who they are. I suppose i’ve been striving to put my finger on that all my life. Because when I sat there as a 13 year old that evening…I knew my life would never be the same….I wanted to be one of them. I wanted that life.

So tonight we had some missionary friends over. They’re only in the UK for a short while and we were lucky enough to catch them for an evening. Their kids are growing up and areall nearly teenagers now. It struck me how easygoing they all were. As they are used to visiting lots of different people in many different places, they did not at all find it strange to be having dinner in a house they’d never been to with people they hadn’t seen in nearly three years. They chatted easily with us and offered to help out. They were still kids. Playing up, being loud, a little wild….but they were in this lovely middle ground where the life had not been beaten out of them….(over disciplined) yet they were not completely wild (under disciplined)

I hope to get that balance right in my own parenting. I don’t want to be constantly shouting at my kids and sitting on them so that they never ever embarrass me or make me  or themselves look bad, picking on them over every little thing…yet at the same time I don’t want to be so permissive that they are out of control and actually unpleasant to be around. Many times when I am so called “disciplining” I wonder what my motives are. Often, it’s my own irritation, my own impatience, and my own fear of how I’ll look, or how they’ll look. Am I really trying to teach a lesson or am I simply “reacting”. Then there is the side to me that lapses. When I’m too tired to be consistent, when I opt for an easy life….when I miss opportunities to really teach. What a complex maze we have to navigate through as parents. But anyway…this is all quite random but I suppose the connection I am making is that….I’ve always loved missionaries, missionary families, missionary kids….etc. I spent some time with some lovely people tonight, and it was enjoyable having their kids around…and it reminded me of the kind of person I want to be…and the kids of kids I hope to raise..and it’s challenged me to keep living in that way…working towards that…even though the details of my own life are not so cut and dry right now….I’m still going to live with the same attitudes and principles that I admired so much as a teenager.