Of course it had to happen only several days after I committed to writing more frequently in my blog that I decided Blogspot's features weren't cutting it. So I'm moving all content to Wordpress, which seems much more versatile. Here's the new site:
www.reflectionsofasurrenderedlife.wordpress.com
See you there, maybe!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Mythbusters
There are several myths that I believed growing up that have since been busted. One in particular comes to mind because it was busted just last night. Here they are:
- You can't get sick with one cold right on top of the other. This is the one that was busted for me yesterday. I just finished up with a pretty bad head cold, with the last remnants of it going away on Wednesday. And then on Thursday night I had a really bad sore throat, which has led into what seems to be a pretty significant chest cold. Super big bummer. I'm just thankful this is the first time in my life this has ever happened to me!
- You can't throw up while you're going to the bathroom. I think my mom used to tell me this when I had the stomach flu because I was scared that it might happen and wouldn't know what to do if it did. I haven't personally had this myth busted, but I have spoken to quite a few friends who guarantee me that this is most definitely possible.
- If it's below a certain temperature, it won't snow. Now, for all of you meteorology junkies out there, this so-called myth might actually hold some truth at some given temperature. But I remember when I was little and I was afraid of a snow day because it meant I couldn't do show-and-tell or have my friend over for a sleepover or whatever, and my mom would reassure me that it was too cold to snow. Since becoming an adult, I realize how cold it is sometimes when it snows -- sometimes in the single digits. To date, though, I've never had the snow sabotage any show-and-tell or sleepover plans, thank goodness.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Time Is Passing Differently Now
I don't know about you, but for me in my life over the past couple of years, the mathematical value of time has changed. I'm sure nearly every adult can relate. In fact, I'm sure they can because I think I've heard just about every adult on the planet say at one time or another, "Whoa! Where did this past week go? Time has flown!" Or who hasn't heard the overused speech so many seasoned moms tell to the new ones: "Enjoy the time when they're little because they grow up so fast."
More what I'm getting at is this weird phenomenon I've noticed in my life of increased patience. I think it started when my oldest son, Joey, was learning how to eat solid foods. Like every decent new mom, I was over-the-top excited to begin feeding him rice cereal. And despite what others told me about the fact that babies need practice when it comes to swallowing food from a spoon, I didn't really believe it. Or think about how much practice that meant.
Oh, it took practice. Like six months of practice.
And you can imagine all the while I'm getting pretty impatient and borderline concerned that my son might be developmentally challenged. But it didn't stop there. It took months and months for him to do all sorts of things with ease, like drink from a sippy cup, walk, run, say words, use a fork, manipulate a toy -- you name it, and it probably took at least six months apiece to master.
This was a handy lesson for me to learn with the advent of my new daughter, who was born this past December. As the weeks have worn into months and I'm still struggling with teaching her how to sleep through the night on her own, I reason with myself saying, "Oh, it's only a season. It'll be over in a few months."
Wait. MONTHS? Where did this crazy kind of patience come from? I was the type of kid who used to think I would die from starvation on a car trip if we didn't find a restaurant within the next five miles. I was the high schooler who thought the amount of time between fifth and eighth period was just about the longest stretch of time known to man. I was the college kid who thought semesters would never end. And I was the wife who thought a garden was not worth the wait because it took all summer to grow.
I'd like to attribute this increased patience to my awesome growth in character, but I think I know better. Yes, these extra-long waiting periods are forcing me to understand what true patience really is, but I believe it's because God has been the one endowing me with this newfound skill, sneakily giving me doses of it like a mom hides vegetables in her kids' meatballs.
Nothing has required more patience than childrearing in my life to date, and I have come to understand that it is God's way of tutoring me about His economy of time: The amount and sequence time takes are not nearly as imperative as the byproduct it yields. And the byproduct, whatever that may be, has always been so worth it!
More what I'm getting at is this weird phenomenon I've noticed in my life of increased patience. I think it started when my oldest son, Joey, was learning how to eat solid foods. Like every decent new mom, I was over-the-top excited to begin feeding him rice cereal. And despite what others told me about the fact that babies need practice when it comes to swallowing food from a spoon, I didn't really believe it. Or think about how much practice that meant.
Oh, it took practice. Like six months of practice.
And you can imagine all the while I'm getting pretty impatient and borderline concerned that my son might be developmentally challenged. But it didn't stop there. It took months and months for him to do all sorts of things with ease, like drink from a sippy cup, walk, run, say words, use a fork, manipulate a toy -- you name it, and it probably took at least six months apiece to master.
This was a handy lesson for me to learn with the advent of my new daughter, who was born this past December. As the weeks have worn into months and I'm still struggling with teaching her how to sleep through the night on her own, I reason with myself saying, "Oh, it's only a season. It'll be over in a few months."
Wait. MONTHS? Where did this crazy kind of patience come from? I was the type of kid who used to think I would die from starvation on a car trip if we didn't find a restaurant within the next five miles. I was the high schooler who thought the amount of time between fifth and eighth period was just about the longest stretch of time known to man. I was the college kid who thought semesters would never end. And I was the wife who thought a garden was not worth the wait because it took all summer to grow.
I'd like to attribute this increased patience to my awesome growth in character, but I think I know better. Yes, these extra-long waiting periods are forcing me to understand what true patience really is, but I believe it's because God has been the one endowing me with this newfound skill, sneakily giving me doses of it like a mom hides vegetables in her kids' meatballs.
Nothing has required more patience than childrearing in my life to date, and I have come to understand that it is God's way of tutoring me about His economy of time: The amount and sequence time takes are not nearly as imperative as the byproduct it yields. And the byproduct, whatever that may be, has always been so worth it!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Mom-Sized Tasks
I love it when I hear a mom refer to a task as a "mom-sized task." I think I've heard it mostly in our MOPS group, but I think it's a good phrase and should be part of the universal mom language if it isn't already.
Before becoming a mom, I probably would've rolled my eyes at the phrase, in part because I bet I would've figured a mom can do just as much, if not more, as a "regular" person (whoever that is). And I probably would've thought the phrase sounded kind of cheesy, too.
But even though it may sound cheesy (which it pretty much does), I've learned that it's okay because it immediately pinpoints the exact dimensions of the type of task I can handle now that I'm a mom. When one mom says to another, "Oh, it'll be a mom-sized task -- you can get it done for sure," that mom knows in an instant that it's something she can manageably squeeze into her already-very-tight yet not-even-resembling-orderly day.
I say all this to point out that my goal for my blog is that the task of writing new posts will be "mom-sized," and therefore a little more frequent than they were in the past.
Just for fun, I'll share what I think are some "mom-sized" tasks and some "non-mom-sized" tasks in my day today:
My Mom-Sized Tasks Today
My Non-Mom-Sized Tasks Today
Before becoming a mom, I probably would've rolled my eyes at the phrase, in part because I bet I would've figured a mom can do just as much, if not more, as a "regular" person (whoever that is). And I probably would've thought the phrase sounded kind of cheesy, too.
But even though it may sound cheesy (which it pretty much does), I've learned that it's okay because it immediately pinpoints the exact dimensions of the type of task I can handle now that I'm a mom. When one mom says to another, "Oh, it'll be a mom-sized task -- you can get it done for sure," that mom knows in an instant that it's something she can manageably squeeze into her already-very-tight yet not-even-resembling-orderly day.
I say all this to point out that my goal for my blog is that the task of writing new posts will be "mom-sized," and therefore a little more frequent than they were in the past.
Just for fun, I'll share what I think are some "mom-sized" tasks and some "non-mom-sized" tasks in my day today:
My Mom-Sized Tasks Today
- Posting to this blog
- Going to the bathroom
My Non-Mom-Sized Tasks Today
- Allowing my un-potty-trained two-year-old to walk around in underwear this morning
- (Attempting to) administer 6ml of amoxicillin three times per day to my three-month-old
- Preventing my beagle from raiding the kitchen trash, puking on the carpet, urinating in his kennel, or sneaking out the patio door and running away
- Showering
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