This morning, Rachel didn’t get up until right before we left to take Hayden to school. I dressed her quickly, but she made it clear she wanted breakfast, too, when she brought a box of Trix over to me.
I promised her she’d be able to eat when we got home. That wasn’t enough, so I assured her, “Okay, you can have some cereal in your stroller.”
I meant on the way to school, in the stroller’s tray.
But she took me literally.
In case you can’t tell; it’s a ton. It’s a whole box.
A blast from the past here on MamaBlogga
We’re often told raising our children isn’t enough: we should be “productive.” We should have “real jobs.” Strangers ask us to justify raising our children when we’ve obtained higher learning. We should “contribute to society.” I promised you a rant on how nothing contributes more to society than raising children will, but lovely guest blogger G.K. Chesterton (at right) has taken that up for me.
He was way ahead of his time, you know. I mean, the man died seventy years ago, and he had the foresight to write this post for me. Okay, okay, so really this is just a long quotation. Emphasis, images and paragraphs breaks added.
Woman is generally shut up in a house with a human being at the time when he asks all the questions that there are, and some that there aren’t. It would be odd if she retained any of the narrowness of a specialist.
Now if anyone says that this duty of general enlightenment (even when freed from modern rules and hours, and exercised more spontaneously by a more protected person) is in itself too exacting and oppressive, I can understand the view. I can only answer that our race has thought it worth while to cast this burden on women in order to keep common-sense in the world.
But when people begin to talk about this domestic duty as not merely difficult but trivial and dreary, I simply give up the question. To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labors and holidays; to be Whiteley within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it.
How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the Universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, because it is gigantic, not because it is minute.
G. K. Chesterton, What’s Wrong with the World, p 118-119
Thanks, G.K.! (Note that this is taken slightly out of context, but seriously, it’s a lot better this way. Don’t bother reading the stuff that comes before or after it; it’s not quite so “enlightened.”)
Photo credits: question mark—Svilen Mushkatov; globe—Sanja Gjenero
The other night, my mom and I were driving home from the grocery store and pulled onto my road. We made it like 50 feet down the road when someone pulled onto the road, swinging ridiculously wide—right into our lane. I stopped, but they didn’t, heading straight for us until we were like ten feet apart.
Mom and I were both quite righteously indignated (yep, I like that word), even after the other driver finally figured out what side of the road they were supposed to be on. “Do I not have headlights?” I exclaimed.
And then I realized—they weren’t on.
Later that week, Ryan was sick and needed some saltines, and we were out of milk. He fielded the kids for a bit while I ran to the grocery store.
I forgot the crackers.
So after a few minutes, I took Rebecca back to the grocery store. We picked up the saltines—and then I realized:
I forgot my wallet.
So after a quick battle bedtime, I went back to the grocery store for trip #3 and finally successfully procured the saltines.
I got back to the car—and found the packet of saltines that has been there all week.
Awesome.
How is your life equally awesome??
Photo by Justin Garland
Every once in a while, we pause and take a look at our life, wondering how others might remember us, taking stock of what we’ve accomplished. We’ll think of our degrees and our jobs and our accomplishments. But a friend recently quoted a story in church that made me think a little deeper.
When Clayton M. Christensen was diagnosed with cancer, he had one of those life-measuring moments. He was a Rhodes Scholar, the
I have a pretty clear idea of how my ideas have generated enormous revenue for companies that have used my research; I know I’ve had a substantial impact. But as I’ve confronted this disease, it’s been interesting to see how unimportant that impact is to me now. I’ve concluded that the metric by which God will assess my life isn’t dollars but the individual people whose lives I’ve touched.
I think that’s the way it will work for us all. Don’t worry about the level of individual prominence you have achieved; worry about the individuals you have helped become better people. This is my final recommendation: Think about the metric by which your life will be judged, and make a resolution to live every day so that in the end, your life will be judged a success.
There are a lot of great insights in the full article, which was originally a speech given at the Harvard Business School, and next month will be published (expanded, of course) as a book, How Will You Measure Your Life?.
But when my friend shared that thought in church, I instantly thought about not just friends and neighbors whose lives I hope I’ve touched, but the people who are the most important part of my life: my family. As a mom, my top priority is helping these individuals become better people. And as long as I remember to do that, I think it doesn’t matter what measuring stick anyone else uses: I will have done the most good, earned the biggest achievements and enjoyed the most success that anyone can hope for.
What do you think? What does this quote mean for you?
Photo by Vitor Antunes
Rebecca is pretty dang cute—and she’s the reigning Princess of Precociousness around here. Her latest cute saying:
“Mommy, can I p’ay a game with you? Wike ‘Who Can Hide Da Most’?”
“Ah, my c’ean, wef’essing waday.” [Water]
We visited the St. George LDS Temple this week, and Rebecca was talking with one of the missionaries. He asked her why she thought the Christus statue had his hands outstretched. She replied, “I dunno. Mayme he’s a angel or sumping?”
Her first talk in the children’s Sunday School (“Primary”) was this week—she did great!
(Okay, this is from Easter, but she mentioned it in her talk!)
The Easter Bunny remembered how in years past, Peeps have not been very popular with my kids. Fortunately, the Easter Bunny (well, the EB’s mom) erred on the side of caution, and pink Peeps garnished their baskets Easter morning. Rebecca promptly bit their heads off:
Ate them, and then asked for “Mowe ‘mingos?”
“Mingos?”
“F’amingos.”
Flamingos, folks. And last night, she proclaimed “Fuh-fuh-f’amingos stawt de same aw Fuh-fuh-F’ancesco!”
True.
Christus statue photo by arbyreed
You have to constantly remind yourself that your grass is greener than the grass on the other side because you have tended it with love and care.
from a comment on The next stage of life
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but life is a package deal, and when it comes down to it, we wouldn’t want to trade our package for anyone else’s.
So what can we do to tend our own grass?
A few ideas:
How do you tend your grass?
Photo by Stephen