Owlhaven » 15 minutes better

Being grateful, meeting needs

Owlhaven — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 06:03:29 +0000

Kelli from Generation Cedar wrote about gratitude no matter what, and inspired me to work on that virtue myself, and with my children. One great way to be more grateful for what we have is to notice what others don’t have.

I’ve read enough from my friend Carrien to know she is my soul sister. She and her husband stepped out on faith to open an orphanage in Thailand, and are working to find a way to get their kids safely to school.

After traveling to the Dominican Republic with Shaun Groves in 2008, I can vouch for his heart for needy children. When he learned about a Compassion kid who needs heart surgery, he decided to raise money for his surgery.

Grateful for what you’ve been given in life? Please consider partnering with either or both of my friends in the work that God has placed on their hearts.

A Day and a List

Owlhaven — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 07:24:48 +0000

To-Do list scrawled in a spiral notebook on a Sunday night, long enough to wrap around the block. Monday, it says. Looking with the eye of reality, I add a dash, and then the word Wednesday. Monday-Wednesday. It is grace I am giving myself, permission to not complete the whole kaboodle in a day.

Monday morning I rise and greet the day. And my list. No need to wrack my brain for what’s important. It is all there, right down to ‘rock the 4 year old’. In among the normal school-day happenings (science, math, writing, reading, and an occasional jog around the house for a kid whose brain needs some air) I weave bits of my list. A two minute phone call is shoe-horned in as kids scratch notes in science journals. Compassion-kid letters are written sentence by sentence as I check math and hear the 7 year old read. The buzz of my phone connects me via text-message with my kids who are away. By lunchtime, working bit by bit, I’ve even managed to clean off my ‘desk’ (aka, the heap of papers near my corner of the couch).

In the afternoon, with a satisfying chunk of my list crossed off, I gather two of my children to go buy tennis shoes. They glow at the unexpected treat. It is an errand I have been meaning to do for at least a week. One grew 2 shoe sizes over the summer, and the other has a hole ALL the way through the bottom of one shoe.

Inside Wal-Mart, blessedly unhurried, we peruse the shoes. Find winners. Wander through the food aisles to scoop up $0.40/lb frozen turkeys (limit 2) and $1.50/lb butter. A blaring announcement over the loudspeaker is happy serendipity: large bags of chocolate bars have been marked down to 25 cents each. I grab two bags, thinking they will do quite nicely for birthday treats.

Bursting in the door at home, happy children show dad shiny shoes. “Thanks for the shoes, Dad!” they chorus, coached by me in the car on the ride home. Dad admires, taking pleasure in seeing his children nicely outfitted. “Tell your mom thanks too. She’s the one who noticed you needed shoes.”

He and I talk about our daughter’s pending 5th birthday, and turn to ask her if she’d like to go out for her birthday dinner tonight. We have a tradition of taking each child out for dinner alone sometime during their birthday month. She eagerly agrees. I get home-staying children settled with dinner and a movie, in the care of 17 and 15 year old brothers. Kisses all around and we head off– to Red Robin, per our little one’s preference.

She’s in bliss, slurping up strawberry lemon-aid and cheese sticks and corn dogs and the undivided attention of both mom and dad. At the tail end of dinner she is surrounded by waiters, who hand her ice cream and tell her to stand on her seat so they can give a loud clapping rendition of the birthday song.

“Were you scared?” we ask her when they leave.

“Not very much,” she says, serene, happily dipping spoon into sundae. On the way out the door she carefully hands me her leftover lemon-aid, to better free her hands to receive the balloon that she knows also comes with with dinner.

Quiet ride home. PJ’s and stories and bedtime kisses for all the younger ones. Then off to bed they trundle. In the sudden quiet, I realize I’m tired. Really tired.

I’m determined to do one last bit of my list, but am fading fast. My husband tugs papers from my hands and heads to the bedroom to copy papers on my behalf. A lesser man might simply say do it tomorrow, but he senses my need to finish, and steps in to make it so. My 15 year old son brings me a glass of water, ice crushed, not cubed. My 17 year old fiddles with my Pandora and soon my favorite songs are playing.

Enough. For today I have done enough.

Now rest.

Around the lake

Owlhaven — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 04:52:00 +0000

This evening I was feeling out of sorts for a huge variety of reasons. My sister just left for Ethiopia. Friends of ours are moving away on Tuesday. My summer seems to be slipping away at shocking speed. My hubby and I have barely had a minute to look each other in the eye all week. And at least half the kids picked today to be cranky.

By bedtime I was losing it and ready to take off. But where? And why? I suddenly remembered that my husband is always wanting to go take a drive around a nearby lake, but I usually feel too busy to take the time to just drive.

Not tonight. We kissed the younger kids, sent them to bed, put our 17 year old son in charge, and headed off in John’s little car. On impulse I grabbed my camera on the way out the door.

It was getting towards sunset — the sun was lovely by the time we got out to the lake. We walked out on the dock and watched the water. Snapped a few pictures. Talked. Relaxed.

On the way home we stopped at Dairy Queen for Blizzards, the final touch in mood-mending, and chatted more on the way home. By the time we walked in the door at home, life was doable again. Or at least I knew I was going to make it til bedtime.

A drive around the lake at sunset. I highly recommend it.

Simple Woman’s Daybook

Owlhaven — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 15:18:57 +0000

For Today…

Outside my window… a wild and lively assortment of perennial flowers

I am thinking… that parenting older kids takes much more wisdom than parenting babies

I am watching… kids using pattern blocks to construct forts and then stage mock wars

I am thankful for… my husband’s job, and the many other ways God meets our financial needs

From the kitchen… leftover Ethiopian food from last night’s feast, and hopefully some homemade cinnamon rolls later today

I am wearing… a grey lijit t-shirt and my softest grey PJ pants

I am reading… Lamentations and Stone Crossings

I am praying… for wisdom, clarity, and focus on God’s priorities

I am creating… a slideshow from my sister’s wedding photos

I am looking forward to… taking the kids to see Brandon Heath and a fireworks display later this week

A picture for today

—–

Wanna do this? Share a link to your post, OK?

(HT: Simple Woman’s Daybook)

Rassling Monday to the ground

Owlhaven — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 21:20:24 +0000

For years my husband had Mondays off, which made Mondays seem less Monday-ish to me. We could ease back into the school week with him nearby to flip pancakes, check math, or bring the 4 year old to ‘work’ outside with him while I read with older kids. Recently John started working Mondays, and I’ve realized how spoiled I was.

Today was one of those days– multiple kid ‘tudes’, even before breakfast. After breakfast, it was time for math– fractions and story problems with 4 different kids (all who seemed to be suffering from Monday brain) while also trying to do phonics with 2 others. The kids all got stuck multiple times, missed problems, needing multiple correction/redo sessions. Math seemed to drag on for an eternity, and my mood wasn’t helping anyone.

I walked out to grab the mail, breathed in some fresh air, and regrouped. How to shake off the crankies and survive the rest of the day? Back inside, a kid had forgotten (for the 5th time) the definition of horizontal. I contemplated making her write down the definition 10 times, but instead hauled her outside and dramatically swept my arm gesturing across the horizon.

“Horizon! The line where the sky and the land meet, that’s horizontal,” I said, waving back and forth Vanna-White-style. She giggled.

“Say it with me, ” I said. “Yell it! Wave your arm.” I wanted to make a big memory in her brain, so that the word wouldn’t fall outa there again.

She raised her eyebrows, looking towards the nearest house, a good 400 feet from ours. “The neighbors will think we are silly. ”

“I don’t care, ” I said, still waving. “Holler it out good and then you can go back inside.”

She laughed and gave in, and yelled and waved, quiet at first, and then louder. We went inside grinning.

Back inside, a kid with an attitude earned a brisk jog around the house– and came back in grinning. Soon after that I remembered a sewing project that I’d been planning to try, and I decided to do it– today. Then I made chicken and rice soup for lunch — with plenty of chili sauce for a good endorphin rush– and the bad mood was well on its way to being dispelled.

So the recipe for me today: fresh air and fresh perspective, a little silliness, a lot of chili sauce, a jog around the house for the crankiest ones, and the promise of a craft project for mom.

What works at your house?

Parenting: follow-through

Owlhaven — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 03:39:27 +0000

(Breaking news: Look what’s IN STOCK on amazon.com!!)

———–

My youngest daughter turned 4 in November. She’s a sweet little girl, but she isn’t above using her status as ‘baby’ (and my related softheartedness towards her) to conveniently ‘forget’ work, or to do small disobedient things. I’ve had the nagging realization for awhile that I need to get more serious about insisting that she obey every time. But it wasn’t until the last few weeks that I really buckled down and committed to making it happen.

Yesterday I asked her to fold two pair of pants and put them on her dresser. After an initial whine and an ‘accidental’ dropping of one pair, she got a firm grip on both pairs and (I hoped) headed off to obey. A moment or two later she was back, so quickly that I feared she’d just tossed the pants on the floor. She SAID she’d done it, but she’s been known to answer questions less than truthfully before. I knew I ought to go peek to verify that the work had been done.

I wrestled with my own laziness for a moment. Going to check on her work would interrupt mine. Honestly, would it really matter that hugely if the clothing was on the floor instead of on the dresser? My conscience was quick to remind, however– it wasn’t about pants, it was about developing character traits that would serve my daughter her whole life.

I sighed and went to look. She trotted cheerily with me– a good sign. Usually if a kid hasn’t done a job, she’ll scurry ahead of me to hastily make the job right. To my surprise, not only were the pants on the dresser, they were also folded with precision– a beautifully done job. As I hugged her and praised her to high heaven, she glowed, and I got the joy of relishing her success along with her.

Inspecting my kids’ work doesn’t only give me the chance to correct wrong, it also gives me the golden opportunity to praise the very good that I so much want to see and encourage in their lives. I tend to forget that part of the equation, but seeing the glow on her little face made me determined to remember it more often.

Because I am nothing if not helpful

Owlhaven — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 15:37:43 +0000

Public service announcement: Waking up at 4:48 AM and calculating that you have approximate 3 more 45-minute sleep cycles to sleep is a less effective way to ensure wake up than, say, setting an alarm clock.

A doorbell ringing, on the other hand, is a particularly galvanizing wake up call. If you take too long to get to the door, the sheet-rocker, whose assistance you very much crave, may wander off to one of the other 4 jobs he is fitting in that day. And may not return for days. You feel compelled to get to the door within a minute. But since you just now have bolted up out of bed, you have decisions to make.

How do you best hide that fact that you’ve been scared awake by the doorbell?

Do you make the bed? Pull on jeans? Find your glasses? Brush your teeth? Comb your hair? Put on a sweatshirt to partially cover your pajamas? Put on a robe that will SCREAM that you obviously just got out of bed? Pick two. If you do more than that, the worker may wander away and leave you to your un-patched walls.

This particular morning I opted for combed hair and a sweatshirt. Tried for glasses, but couldn’t find them in time. So I went to the door in a half-blind state (-4.5, for those of you who care about degrees of near-sightedness) and prayed to see enough to show the man to the bathroom without bumping into any walls. Also, that I could fake eye contact when talking by simply looking in the general direction of the blur that was his face.

All the workers on the job so far have been the all-business type. Point them in the right direction and they leap to work. Till now. THIS worker– wouldn’t you know it– was the chatty type. You know, the kind you repeatedly try to disentangle yourself from, but who effortlessly segues from story to story to chatty story. Until you suspect he is enjoying seeing you there in your rumpled state and PJ pants and sweatshirt and crossed arms and is just teasing you by endlessly talking.

So I stood uncomfortably trying to look attentively at his face the upper part of the blur that was him, wishing he would go out to his pickup to get his supplies because– hello– unless he is planning on spackling with his bare hands, he is not yet ready to work. I figured that if I moved very fast I could pull my contacts and toothbrush and face cream out of my bathroom and pick out some clothes from my closet before he returned with his supplies.

Finally, finally, he got serious, and I grabbed everything I needed to make myself presentable, and made my bed and escaped to the living room where I made some very strong coffee and turned on Switchfoot very loudly so as to actually, really-this-time wake up.

Yeah, an alarm clock would have been easier.

Guess I’ll have to try it.

He comes at 8:00 tomorrow too.

Sunday: Hidden in her heart

Owlhaven — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 03:42:08 +0000

For years our family has done small bits of Bible memory on a sporadic basis. But last summer when a pastor visited our church and spoke ALL of Ephesians from memory, we decided to raise the bar.

We began with Ephesians 6:10-20. I printed out the words on cards for each person and laminated them. We keep the verses at the dinner table, and simply read through the verse once or twice at the end of each meal until we learn it. It takes us 3-4 weeks to learn a verse. Once everyone can say it, I pick another verse to learn.

Everyone, even the three year old, has been able to learn the verses. In fact, it is usually someone age 10 or younger who learns it first. And let me tell you, it is pretty cool to hear a preschooler say, “Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me….” — and to know that those words are IN THERE — most likely for the rest of her life. No, she doesn’t understand them yet. But they’re there.

We are currently on our 4th verse this school year– Matthew 2:1-12, which is the Christmas story. We don’t quite have it learned yet, but I think in another week or two we will. I am thrilled that this tiny time investment is planting words in our hearts that will be there for the rest of our lives.

Teaching a child to ride a bike

Owlhaven — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 14:38:54 +0000

This bike riding tip? Sheer brilliance! I am tempted to try it on my 3 year old…

Technorati Tags: learn to ride bike

5 ways to avoid mom burnout

admin — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 02:05:51 +0000

With all the stress flying around here lately, I’ve begun to feel a bit worn down. Time to think of some things that restore my energy instead of taking more. Here are some of the things that help me.
I’d love to hear in comments what you do when you’re feeling beat by life and need that little extra pep in your step.

1. Do a project. Something about scrapbooking a few pages or organizing a couple of drawers or rearranging the living room gives me a sense of accomplishment, even in the midst of other challenging situations. This week I cut some extra dish towels into quarters and hemmed them to make cloth napkins. (They’ll come in handy during our 30 days of nothing next month!) Next week I’m hoping to get my bathroom painted — it’s been needing it for awhile and a couple weeks ago I found a gallon of the perfect color for $5, thanks to someone who’d had the paint mixed and then returned it to the store. (By the way, if you’re in need of paint, always check the ‘reject’ paint at the paint store. You’d be surprised at the nice colors that people return. It is usually marked down at least 50%. And don’t forget that you can mix a couple of similar colors if you need more than a gallon’s worth.)

2. Make some lists. When I’m stressed and overly busy, I can feel so scatter-brained that I have a hard time remembering what is most important to get done. Making a list makes it easier even on a stressful day to evaluate my time and get at least a few of the most important things done. This goes a long way toward lowering my stress levels.

3. Get some extra rest. I’m a night owl, and when I have lots to do, I tend to stay up later and later. When the stress is winning over sanity inside my head, I’ll often realize I’ve stayed up until 2 several nights in a row. Often a couple nights of midnight bedtimes are all it takes to help me feel in control of my life again.

4. Spend some quality time with my husband. A couple nights ago when the stress was getting to me, my husband and I put the kids to bed and went and sat in the swimming pool. We watched the sunset and chatted and griped and schemed and laughed. For an hour and a half. It was wonderful!

5. Focus on doing things 15 minutes better each day.

How about you? What do you do when you start feeling burned out?

Technorati Tags: burnout, moms, parenting, stress reduction

© Mary Ostyn for Owlhaven, 2008. | Permalink | 9 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: burnout, moms, parenting, stress reduction