the kind queen (sometimes)

 

It’s crazy how much I see myself in my children.  And it scares me sometimes how my actions, my words, my way of doing things significantly influence all those things in them.  There are lots of times when I beam with pride as I watch Sis check on one of her friends who’s sad because she has such keen sensitivity allowing her to put their worries above her own needs or desires.  Or  when I see brother just loving on people because why else do you feel love if not to show it? But there are lots of times I feel the very opposite of pride.  Like when I watch Boo, overwhelmed with anger, scream and hit, scratch and yell.  Or when Brother  barks and bosses his sisters into next year because how else do you get them to do what you want?  The icing on the cake is when he employs counting, “Sis, I’ll give you ’til three: one, two….”  Where’d he get that anyway?

And on days like today I pray that they pick up more of the good than the stuff I’m ashamed of.  I hope Boo forgets how horribly I growled at her for getting in my way while I was working out as she attempted to work out alongside me.  I hope Sis forgets how loud I yelled when I wanted her to listen to me.  I find myself apologizing to them a lot on days like today.

“I love you so much. And I’m so sorry I treated you like that.   That was wrong.  I don’t want to be like that anymore.  I will work hard to be different.”

Today, as I apologized to Boo, Sis reminded me of something she’d said last week.   We went to the children’s theater and the play was about two sisters.  The king was looking for a queen and both were invited to come before him.  One of the sisters was selfish and conniving, but the other was loving and kind.  Of course the king chose the second.  Afterwards we were talking about why she was chosen.  I was emphasizing her goodness because Frida often focuses on outward beauty (dresses, hair, jewelry, shoes).  I said that a true queen or princess (because she often prefers to be this) is loving and kind.  And it was then that she said, like only a child can, “Mom, you’re sometimes a kind queen, but sometimes you’re mean.”   At the time I acknowledged the truth in what she said, but I told her I try really hard to be kind.  And as she reminded me of my wicked queen tendencies today, I felt ashamed.  I hugged her.  I told that that it’s true.  Mommy messed up today.  I reminded her of how much I love her and of my commitment to keep choosing kindness. Of course she turned on her heel and was back to her game before I’d even fully processed our exchange.

On days like today it is helpful to pause, breathe,  reflect, and of course cry a little.   I recognize that just as my children are formed and defined by all the wonderful things I do, I know that my faults rub off on them too (and form them and change them).  I am an woman far from perfect.  That is my confession.  But I am also a woman full of hope.  I have hope that tomorrow will be different from today.  I have hope in grace – that even though I fail sometimes, we’re not all going to hell in a hand basket.  I have hope in the kindness and love, creativity and joy that my children bring to me, our family, our friends, and this world.  And I have hope in God’s power to transform me (a little at a time) into a kind queen (all the time).  At least, that is my prayer.

a fleeting moment

I was driving home from the store.  I think I’d gone to pick up a few craft items for class the next day.  I was in my second year of teaching 6th grade Language Arts at a middle school in Austin.  It was an evening in early spring, so the weather was not yet crazy-Texas-hot.  Jake and I were on the verge of engagement.    As I drove back to my apartment, I rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. I took a long drag and exhaled.  I stuck my hand out window and floated it on the wind as it blew into my car, into my face and through my hair.  I remember that moment so vividly because suddenly I was overcome by an overwhelming appreciation for my life.  I started to cry .  I felt like my heart was going to explode, it was so full of love and passion and every good thing that I’d seen in my young life up to that point.  I felt so grateful to be alive and living a life I loved.

And  the next day was one of the most hellish of my teaching career – complete with a failing lesson and a student standing outside my portable after screaming at me with the mother of all expletives. I went home that day in tears struggling to dig deep inside myself for the strength to return and stand in front of my students the next day.

It’s crazy how I remember it like it was yesterday even though it was like twelve years ago. I think it sticks because of the incredible juxtaposition of emotions from one  day to the next. How does that happen?  But in my life, it seems like that’s the way these things do happen.

Yesterday I was meeting a friend at the park. It was a gorgeous day.  The sun was shining, the kids were clean, I was actually wearing make-up.  On the way, we were listening to music, my music, with the volume up.  And the same kind of feeling caught hold of me.    It’s like thankfulness overtook my entire being. I was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes brimming with tears, as I sang Closer to Fine at the top of my lungs with the Indigo Girls.  My heart felt full of all the goodness, love, and passion I’ve experienced in my life.

And then, when I returned  home, I had an interesting (I’m still trying to figure out words for it) exchange with my husband.  Somehow during a routine afternoon debrief, I lost all the satisfaction and hope I felt just hours before.   I was in tears several times last night.  I felt guilty, angry, and disappointed.  I questioned who I am and how I live my life.  I felt completely knocked down. [As an aside, and to be fair, after talking through it with JC, I realize I misunderstood much of what he said during that conversation.]

Maybe all this speaks to my emotional volatility.  I can own that to a certain degree. I’m a lot more up-and-down than anyone I know.   But that’s not really the point. My point  is that even though they inevitably come paired with some really low lows, those fleeting moments of feeling utterly fantastic and completely satisfied are beautifully inspiring. I’m thankful that I can occasionally  glimpse a depth of love that is mystifying and so much bigger than myself.

Raising Girls

I’ve been thinking recently (as I do from time to time) about the blessing and responsibility of raising daughters.  I don’t think I really considered how weighty it would feel before I became a mother to girls.  But once my first daughter was born, I began to get a sense of what a responsibility we have as parents to raise children (boys and girls) who understand, at the very basic level,  their own incredible value.  My hope is that my children (my daughters and my son) understand how very intelligent, talented, creative, unique, and beautiful they are.  I want them to start there – to have a sense of self and to be secure in it. Because it’s from that place, I believe,  that they can live uninhibited without the compulsion to oppress others or allowing themselves to be manipulated or oppressed by others.

But what terrifies me, what weighs so heavy, is that in my experience of  world we live in – our culture, our society’s values – I think my son will be more likely to grow up with confidence than my girls. And it breaks my heart and makes me mad and inspires me to be all the more proactive about what my daughters believe about themselves.  Before I go on, let me clarify:  as much as I am aware of it, and to that extent, I do my damndest to parent my children irrespective of sex.  We don’t categorize activities, play, or privileges based on gender:  Joaquin gets his toenails painted if he requests it and has his own baby dolls to parent, and the girls play with cars and go fishing and play football.  But as much I know that Jake and I are a powerful influence on our children and their beliefs about themselves, we don’t live in a bubble (although sometimes I wish we did).  And I’m flabbergasted at the lies and manipulative power of  toy companies, and clothing retailers and the average Joe American who we relate to on a daily basis.  How is it they feel empowered to decide what my girls’ most valuable assets are and tell them how they should use them, or how they should feel about themselves because of them?  I notice how often my girls are praised for their beauty, but my son is praised for his intelligence or goodness. The selection of clothes for girls at any given store makes me a bit nauseous in part from their inescapable pinkness (don’t even get me started on color-coding kids based on gender), but mostly because of the over sexualization of girls, and women for that matter, in the US .  And then there’s the more blatant messages in what the clothes actually say .

I guess it really all boils down to the messages my daughters receive about who they aspire to be and who they believe they are.   It’s really important to me that my girls have confidence in who they are as people, that they believe in their ability to make decisions and solve problems, that they know they are strong and are comfortable in that strength, and they can recognize beauty beyond glittery, fancy dresses and make-up. I feel conflicted every time we go to a little girl’s birthday party, or even when we go play with our friends sometimes.  How much princess stuff will there be?  How will the girls interact with those things?  How much will their play involve being rescued?

And it scares me that our society it trying to put my daughters in a big pink glittery box and telling them to wait there ’til the man of their dreams comes to rescue them.  I’m sick of Disney princesses who’ve all invaded the toy aisle at Target and who’re strategically creeping into our lives communicating the same thing – that if you’re pretty enough, and helpless enough, someday your prince will come and find you.   And as much as I try to resist it my girls are enticed.

How do you raise confident, independent, self-assured girls?  I know it’s not all about the toys they play with or movies they’re exposed to, but all that stuff  certainly plays a role.  I know I sound a bit neurotic or maybe controlling.  And I realize there is a certain amount of my girls’ experience that I can’t control, because it comes from inside them.  But I happen to believe that the messages we send to our daughters and sons as little children change them, influence them, form them in their views about themselves and the world.  So much of who they’ll be is influenced by what they experience in these formative years.  And so it is important that I communicate to them that they are strong, capable, and complete in who they are.  And we do talk about that  - A LOT!!   They’ll probably be rolling their eyes as teenagers when I start the “you’re a capable, intelligent, strong girl”  speech.  But you know, I’m gonna keep saying it, because really who else will?

Christmas gifts and traditions

For the last several years, maybe since we’ve had kids, maybe since El Salvador, maybe since we are living on one income, Christmas has taken a different face for our family. It’s not that Christmas has changed, though, you know.  It’s us.   This year I actually made our Christmas gifts (but more on that later).  For the last few years, instead of the crazy race that begins on black Friday and lasts until Christmas day, we’ve been intentional about creating traditions that help us focus on what Christmas means.

Usually sometime the week or so after Thanksgiving we sit around and add rings to our Thanksgiving chain.  We each get 1 or 2 strips of paper and write a few things we’re thankful for on them.  We’ve had our chain since 2004 – our first Christmas after Joaquin was born.  Early on we hung it over windows or dangled it from doors, but now it’s long enough to circle our tree beautifully.  I love that this centers us at the beginning of advent – allowing us to focus on how much we   have to be thankful for and teaching us to practice the attitude of thankfulness.

The last three years we’ve marked advent with our kids by numbering and wrapping our collection of advent books.  These are basically books we’ve chosen that communicate our values about the season.  They open one each night and we sit together and read it, and reflect together on our expectations of Christmas.  We started out with this list three years ago.  It has changed a bit as we’ve found other books that are more in line with the messages we want to send our kids about Christmas.  A few we’ve added in the last couple years are: The Christmas Gift by Francisco Jimenez and Charro Claus and the Tejas Kid by Xavier Garza.  It is rare that I walk away from our advent reading with dry eyes as I read stories about God’s love for people, or people caring for one another, or visions of a more just world.  And I love that the kids are beginning to remember the books from years past, and as they open them they often shout, “oh, my favorite!”  Boo does this too, imitating her siblings, but excited nonetheless about the story we read each night.

It’s been several years since Jake and I exchanged gifts at Christmas.  Ya, I suppose that’s mostly a financial issue  - why spend the money when it’s so tight?  Right?  But as I made gifts this year, I started thinking – shoot, if I can be this creative for my extended family, I certainly aught to be a little more creative in thinking about something for my husband.  I’ll let you know how that goes next year.  And for our extended family,  for the first time we made our Christmas gifts.  It was difficult, certainly challenging my creative ability,  but overall things turned out really cool.  I made sock monkeys for my nieces and nephews.  And they didn’t turn out half bad.  If I were to do it again, I’d have made them of colorful socks, and not black ones.  At the same time, the black disguised much of my sloppy stitching.

And for my mom and sister, I made purses / bags.  It was fun picking fabric that I imagine they’d like and envisioning how’d they could use them.  I decided the black and grey one would have looked better had I sewed on a black pocket on the front.  But by the time I finished both bags I was just so exhausted and it was the day before Christmas eve.  I told myself this has to be good enough.

Finally, the kids and I made key chains, necklaces and bracelets for grandparents, aunts, and uncles.  We made the beads out of clay, baked them and strung them.  I was really excited about how they turned out.

So it’s crazy how when you make gifts for people they seem so much more valuable to give.  I watched eagerly as our family opened their gifts, excited to see their reaction the what we’d given them.  And I loved the way my kids hung around while I made the sock monkeys or the bags – they knew how much they meant because they knew the time they took to make.  And they actually asked if they could have sock monkeys too.  Sadly, I did not plan on making my kids’ gifts.  We bought them.  But I think I’ve caught the bug – I’ve been inspired.  If I start early enough I might be able to do it next year.  I should probably start planning now.

And now we are awaiting Epiphany.  The day we celebrate the arrival of the three kings in the Christmas story.  It has been a really fun tradition we’ve added the last couple of years.  We make Rosca de Reyes and hide the little plastic baby Jesus inside the bread.  Whoever gets the piece with Jesus in it gets to choose a place for our family to go out and eat. We save one book Federico and the Magi’s Gift for the night before Epiphany.  And we have the kids leave their shoes outside so as the kings pass buy, they leave a little gift – a book, or a toothbrush – something small. They know that Jake and I leave the gift, but we explain that we give gifts to them out of love just as the kings gave gifts to Jesus.  We’re actually considering changing our family’s gift giving day to Epiphany next year.

This year this season has been beautiful and meaningful as we’ve watched our kids learn and grow.   And I love the way these traditions make our family more us, more together, and more centered.

Missing in Action

Well, at least from the blog.  But, in action is precisely the words I’d use to describe our lives in this season.  It seems that when we got back from vacation at the end of July, we hit the ground running:

The older kids returned to gardening classes and also took swimming lessons. And Frida really found her groove in the water.  By the end of the two week class, she was confident enough to jump from the high dive and swim in deep water. Of course Joaquin, having taken lessons last year, was ready to jump from the high dive the first day.  I always feel a bit of pride when I watch my kids in the water, because I believe they get their mad swimming skills from me.

 

 

Very quickly we started into both school and co-op.  We’ve added more families to co-op.  I think we have about 12 families and close to 30 kids.  It has been exciting to see our growth and challenging to meet the needs of all our kids (who range in age from 1 year – 7 years).  But with more families come more parents with creativity and skills to offer.  It is so fun to be a part of this co-op!  This fall we also added a homeschool component to the preschool co-op, so homeschoolers stay after the preschoolers leave for classes in social studies, science, and to have extended Montessori time.  They also take  Spanish (which I teach) during the morning in rotation with art and music.  We decided to focus our learning around festivals.  And so this fall we studied, Israel and Jewish culture and celebrated Rosh Hashanah, Mexico and celebrated Dia de los Muertos, and Scotland and celebrated Hogmanay.  The fun thing about festivals is that it makes the cultures homeschoolers study more tangible, they get to share what they’ve learned with the preschoolers in co-op.  Here are some pictures of Hogmanay and co-op in general.

We went to the annual church retreat at HEB camp in September which is usually a good time.  This year, Joaquin and I went on the hike with the group.

 

 

Kinch hitchin' a ride

Our chickens have started producing eggs!  Because we have a variety of chickens, we get a variety of colors of eggs – including blue!  We are down to 6 chickens (from the original 9).  2 ran away (1 because she sensed her eminent death – we were going to butcher her the next day), and a third jumped the fence despite clipped wings and got butchered by the neighbors dog.  But even with 6 we get about 1.5 dozen eggs every week.  We haven’t bought eggs since September. Yay for us!

Joaquin turned 7 at the beginning of October!!! We had a small celebration at our house with family and 2 friends.  We had an intentional time of affirmation and encouragement, a piñata, and cake.  It is incredible to watch him grow. How is it that 7 years ago he was just a tiny baby in my arms?  I love the person he is.

I turned 36 in October!  I was incredibly grateful to look back at my last year of life while remembering how hard it was to look at my life with any kind of gratitude a year ago.  I’m thankful for counseling, a loving, supportive husband, personal growth, discipline, running, and health.
And speaking of running, I ran the San Antonio Rock-n-Roll half marathon.  I’ve been meaning to get a bumper sticker that says 13.1 to put on my van. It was difficult but wonderful.  I look at my body differently, I have more confidence, I judge myself and others less.

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving in Port Aransas, Texas with my side of the family.  It was fantastic idea; my parents rented a condo and my sister and I planned food.  Because we all live in the same city, it is rare that we spend days at a time together ever.  We had LOTS of good food, and spent time playing games, watching movies, eating of course, swimming, and playing on the beach – we even had a bonfire one night. We all loved it!  I got some good beach pics one evening when we went out at sunset.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are the 5-months worth of post I’ve been meaning to write. Of course if I’d actually been able to keep up with my life, I’d be able to chronicle it in a more thorough way.  We’ve had a full fall.  Lot’s to give thanks for.