Anything strange in the syntax below can be attributed to stinking blogger. Anything strange in the content must be attributed to me.

Alas!

It is to which Lydia is resorting.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/03/1031/

OK, I just posted something complaining about blogger, posted it and it didn’t post except the title.

This day has been challenging. It is a cloudy, cloudy day.

Christopher has been picking at his sisters.

Lydia has been resorting to physical and mean words.

Eden is whiney uncombed and undressed. (I guess I would be whining too.)

Fortunately I am now a scientist. Rather than slip into a depression and question my profession I am charting the behaviors of my colleagues, the environment, the weather and my hormonal cycle. The last TERRIBLE day we had was February 9. Paul had been gone for five days, I was completely hormonal and we hadn’t seen the sun for weeks. I seriously began to contemplate how I could quit mothering Christopher without it being abandonment. Couldn’t come up with anything and then had the brilliant idea to note the day and the outside factors to try and get some clarity, maybe see a pattern.

In the past I got into a lot of trouble comparing myself to other mothers. I never seemed to measure up. Looking back I can see the warped way I measured: I didn’t count anything I did do for my kids but only what I didn’t and what other moms did.

I think it is important to check in with the way I mother, to listen and watch and be willing to shift and change, but I think that is different than measuring, especially when I don’t weigh everything. So much of what I do do I have shrugged off with, “Of course I do that!” and then been knocked down trying to lift all I don’t do onto the scale.

These are the things I do for my kids:

I get up every day
I feed them
I teach them
I love them
I pray for them
I stay with them
I fight for them
I listen to them
I talk with them
I hug them
I kiss them
I help them
I love their father
I am faithful to him

I am going to go dress my toddler, hug my daughter and then my son and start this day again.

1. I am alone in the house. Paul is getting the kids from his mother’s where they spent the evening while we worked on a budget.

2. I feel good because I am not terribly behind on laundry, my room is quite neat, as are the living room and kitchen – crap – forgot the dining room – the piano is a mess of little pieces of things from all over the house. Oh bother, was, going to say for #3 that there is nothing I “have ” to do and relish that.

3. Am going to go throw a load in the wash and then clear off the piano. It sounds so boring but I know it will bring peace and comfort to me and my family. It is amazing when you consider how powerfully the mundane chores of daily life shape how we feel and, in part, who we are.

It snowed today. The fall was heavy but soft and slow. It was peaceful, as if God was gently shaking cotton balls on us.

We have been having a lazy day. The kids begged for a break and so I released them to play and I read and cuddled a sleepy Bean.

Christopher popped a button on his pants. Normally when this happens I like to leave the item that needs mending to marinate somewhere in the laundry until I have lost the button. Today I asked Christopher to fetch the sewing basket and immediately sewed the button back in place. Christopher was terribly pleased. He and Eden began playing with the contents of the basket. He organized needles while she put all the buttons in a box then happily dumped them on the ground.

It reminded me of playing with my mother’s button box when I had the chicken pox during the Blizzard of 78. I made a long necklace that was so beautiful and pleasing. I remember fingering it with a certain longing. I don’t know why I didn’t ask if I could keep it. I think it was implicit that that buttons would be returned to the box.

Lydia was happily cutting pictures and relating helpful tips from a magazine.

It was relatively quiet and very peaceful. I didn’t make up anything I “ought” to be doing. I enjoyed it and them and was grateful.