Mommy's Little Dividend

Ugh. As I'm writing this, I'm feeling physically ill. Up to today, I had side-stepped the overeating. I had light fare Thursday, was full last night, but today...just way overdid it.

We put up our Christmas tree today. This is the first year the kids (Bekah and Jeremy) were able to help. It was a lot of fun to see them get so excited.

I haven't been feeling the seasonal jolliness, what with our housing situation being in flux. I cried myself to sleep last night, frustrated about looking at recently-painted walls that I may not enjoy long-term.

I knew that I needed to pull myself together for the kids. They needed me to be present for them. I am normally pretty gung-ho for Christmas; this depression is striking at an odd time.

So we decorated the tree. It is beautiful, really, and I know the kids were proud to be able to help.

I have been trying not to cry in front of the kids because I know it upsets them. It's been tough, though, and every once in a while I find my throat catching.

It happened today, while Bekah and I were alone together. I felt the tears coming and I asked her if she had fun decorating the tree. She nodded yes (fingers in mouth), her lips curling into a huge smile.

The tears came quietly and I told her how much I loved her. I gave her a big hug. When she saw that I was crying, she held out her hands to me and asked "Pray?"

She's seen Brian and I do this numerous times lately. I didn't think she was paying much attention; I should know the girl nicknamed "momma" would be taking it all in. That she knew praying would comfort me stretched my heart.

It's easy to go through trials and become hard-hearted toward God. It seems at times that our prayers are not matching up with what we perceived are God's answers. We pray for our children and find that one of them is terminally ill. We pray for provision and find ourselves struggling financially.

It's easy, then, to think that God has gotten so busy He's not so concerned with our well-being. It's easy to believe that God has abandoned us in the trenches.

Today, have my 3-year-old ask "Pray?," I felt like God was re-focusing me. I felt like he was showing me that he can present Himself in any situation, anywhere, to anyone. It was wonderful to join hands with Bekah and pray.

I watched the last half of 'It's a Wonderful Life' today and I was reminded that no man is poor who has friends. I could add to that, "....who has children who know the power of prayer."

We may continue to struggle for many years to come. I may have no financial inheritance to give to my children. My hope is that they can be richly blessed by a spiritual inheritance. I saw dividends paid on that today and though I am still in a funk, I know that God is listening.

Election Recovery

I am a freak of nature, by some counts. I am a Bible-believing Christian. I believe that Jesus Christ came to this Earth, walked as a human, died on the cross, rose again and is now sitting by God's side. I attend church regularly, serve in my congregation, pray almost every day and am imparting my religion to my kids.

I am also a Democrat. I believe in big government, I am pro-choice, I am for welfare, food stamps, Social Security and Medicare. I think that the problems our country is facing cannot be solved by charities or churches. I believe the only thing big enough for solving these problems is the government. I do not, however, see the government as infallible. I think wasteful spending happens everywhere, I think big government can be ponderous and seem to move too slow.

I also believe that unbridled greed is ruining our country. I am all for companies making profits, making goods, offering services, etc. I believe in a free market but I also believe that the meltdown in 2008-2009 happened because those at the top got ridiculously greedy. I think trickle-down economics doesn't work and I believe that until everyone is given access to a job where they can provide for their family, we are not going to succeed as a country.

I believe, firmly and without yielding, in separation of Church and State. I don't think the Church should dictate how it's citizens live; that is up to individual citizens. Everyone in this country is free to choose the religion of their choice or to not choose a religion at all. All are perfectly acceptable, all are welcome. The Pilgrims travelled to this country because they wanted to practice their faith without restriction.

My faith also dictates free will. I am allowed to believe or not believe in Jesus. I am allowed to follow or not follow God's commandments. I am allowed to practice my faith (within the constructs of my faith) however I see fit. There is nothing in the Bible about one denomination being better than the other. There is nothing about one church having better ideas than another. I believe that as long as a church's doctrine is based on the Bible, there is room for all churches.

You might understand, then, why this election cycle was tricky for me. The Republican friends I had used two wedge issues (abortion and gay marriage) to shame me. I had a random fellow church member leave a note on my van telling me that I should change my political views. (This is even more hurtful when you consider the possibility that I could have been a first-time visitor.) They tried every trick in the book to try to guilt me into voting Republican.

I tried to engage in discussions on Facebook about my views. There always was an impasse; my conservative, Republican, Christian friends couldn't believe I was voting for Obama. They couldn't believe I was pro-choice. They couldn't believe it.

I will say that I am a firm believer in the sanctity of life. I believe all life starts at conception. I also believe in a God that is sovereign. He has a plan for everyone; I don't know what it is. I am deeply saddened when someone chooses to end their babies life. I would never consider that choice for myself. BUT!!! I do not believe it should be churches, legislators, employers, etc., making the decision about a woman's body. I believe all women should have autonomy in making healthcare decisions.

I believe that God forgives those who seek forgiveness from him and redeems all things. I have seen his forgiveness in person and it's huge and all-encompassing.

I finally gave up; I stopped having political discussions on Facebook. I realized it was futile because everyone is on one side or the other. Discussions on Facebook are not prone to getting people to change their minds.

After the election, I kept my postings peaceful. I didn't gloat, I didn't brag, I wasn't hurtful to any of my Republican friends. Really. I may have re-posted a joke or two that I thought was funny, but other than that I stayed out of it. More than that, if I saw something posted by a Republican friend that called Obama supporters "entitled brats" (to paraphrase), I rolled my eyes and scrolled past. I came to the realization that it's not worth my time.

The problem is, I continue to be lambasted by my Republican friends. Not all of them, to be sure, but I wish that they would understand--every time they talk negatively about Obama's supporters, they are talking negatively about me, my family and my beliefs. I am not making blanket statements about Republicans, I am not challenging the voracity of their faith, I am not trying to change their minds. The election is over, the people (however dumb and empty-headed we may seem to be) have spoken.

Look, it's frustrating to feel like I'm being judged by the same people who share my savior. We speak about praying for our enemies, for being kind to those who hurt us and yet, when the rubber meets the road, that's just lip service.

I am who I am, to quote Popeye. God knows this. He didn't magically change my political beliefs when I became a Christian (actually, that happened before the 2008 election--I became a Christian in kindergarten). He doesn't expect me to feel, think, believe, act and write the same way as all other Christians. We are not a homogenized group! God created us all uniquely. He reveals himself to us uniquely.

I was convicted during this election cycle that my negative words, the mudslinging, the awful comments, would hurt my credibility with my non-Christian friends. I don't want people to see me acting like a bitch and then see me turn around and act pious. It's shallow, superficial and hurtful (to me and to them). This, I think, hurts God and his cause most of all. I have sidestepped engaging in any and all discussions pertaining to politics, especially on Facebook. I just have kept my mouth shut.

I am reminded that I have to love everyone but I only have to like a few. That's never been more true than in the past month.

Avalanche

I have been very honest and open about my family's struggle to stay in our home. It has been a hard-fought battle.

About a month and a half ago, we got word that we were approved for a program called Illinois Hardest Hit. It would bring us current on our mortgage. It wouldn't solve all of our problems, but it made us a little secure.

We were told it would take a while to get everything resolved. We were peaceful because we took our acceptance into the program as a sign from God that we were supposed to stay here.

As I said, it wouldn't solve the ongoing issue of making monthly mortgage payments. That has been a concern, but we took solace in the victory.

Today, I was ecstatic to spend time with my dad. We are preparing for Thanksgiving tomorrow and are excited to spend time together.

When I got home, Brian was on the phone. Unfortunately, we hit a snag. There is a shortage between the max of what Illinois Hardest Hit can pay and what we have in escrow.

I am not sure what that amount is. I am not sure if Wells Fargo is going to work with us to resolve it. And now, instead of feeling peaceful going into tomorrow, my heart is unsettled.

I feel foolish, to an extent. I have she'd a lot of tears about a house. I have she'd a lot of tears for what is, in essence, a collection of lumber and fixtures and fairly worn-out furniture. I know I shouldn't shed these tears. It is just a thing. It is not where my treasure lies.

But I brought my kids home from the hospital here. I have made memories here. I have cried, rejoiced, mourned, created here.

I hate to ask anything of my readers. I want all of you to enjoy your Thanksgiving. If its not too much trouble, though, can you pray for my family's future? Can you pray peace for our hearts? Can you ask our sovereign God to work out this situation for His glory?

It is just a house, it's not a home. Maybe God wants us to live somewhere else. Maybe God wants us to make memories in another collection of lumber, fixtures and worn-out furniture. Please pray that God would give us peace and guidance. I would rather live in peace where he wants us to be than in conflict where we shouldn't be.

Please take a minute to pray for us. Thanks for indulging my request. I hope you are all able to enjoy your Thanksgiving as you see fit.

Rough Day

I don't like not feeling well. I especially don't like it when there are periods of illness that are close together. I just got over an ear infection and started yesterday with a sore throat, runny nose and achiness. I am feeling a bit better as I sit here writing this, but it was certainly a rough start to the day.

The kids' preschool had a Thanksgiving feast this morning. It was supposed to start at 9:30, but between me not feeling well and Doug not feeling well, I figured we would stay home and keep our germs to ourselves. I busied myself updating the garland I strung up on my staircase last year. Bekah pointed out a few months ago that I should take it down, but I figured, "eh, it's almost time for Christmas again."

Meanwhile, the kids (Jeremy and Bekah) felt like they needed to fight over every possession on which they laid hands. It can be par for the course, but a migraine set in and so every tantrum, every yell, every battlecry was like nails on a chalkboard. It was almost too much to bear.

Luckily, my brother (and current hero) was able to take Bekah to dance class. I was glad that I didn't have to miss it and that I didn't have to take her. I was also glad to be down one child. The climax of the morning came just before Matt arrived to pick up Bekah. The kids were becoming increasingly shrill, the ibuprofen I had taken was not kicking in and I was in tears.

Brian is off tomorrow for a week. He was going to originally take today off so that he could go to the feast, but he had a mandatory insurance meeting instead. I called him on my cell phone and cried to him for a solid 10 minutes. I had to fight Doug off (he's obssessed with my phone) and try to talk over the continued shrieking and fighting of the two older ones.

I know it is hard for him to field those kind of calls. He doesn't have a job where he can pick up, come home and work from home for part of the day. They are strangely inflexible about him working from home, even though he did it successfully for a couple of years. He still has all the computer equipment, fax machine, copier, router, etc. They just refuse to let him work from home. Stupidest thing, in my mind, but what do I know?

So I know it was tough to hear his not-well wife crying on the phone with him. He handled it like a champ; he let me cry (while commenting on the sounds of battle being fought) and told me it was going to be okay. Once Bekah left, Doug was ready for a nap. I was down to 1 child. After a crazy morning, it almost seems like I'm cheating it's so easy.

My reward? Chinese food. Really, though, surviving a hoarde of shrieking, shrill, banshee-like children for a day deserves nothing less.

Compassion

I consider myself a good mom, even a momma bear. I am grateful for all of my kids. I do everything I can to provide for their basic needs.

I am not, however, a patient person. It's my biggest character defect. Once I get an in my head, I am unable to let it go. I hate to wait on things or people.

This defect, more than any other, has the biggest negative impact on my relationship with Christ, my family and my friends. I tend to have my own timeline for when things should happen. If that timeline isn't met, I become a foot-stomping, tantrum-throwing, petulant 3-year-old.

The word I hate to hear is "wait." I hate to hear it from other humans and I hate to wait on God. I have been like this my whole life. It is a contributing factor in my obesity. It's something that is slowly killing me.

It also means I'm slow to have compassion, especially for those to whom I'm closest. I spend the most chronological time with my kids and even though they're the youngest people in my life, they are the ones for whom I have the least compassion.

Today was an example of me lacking compassion. My older two don't nap everyday. When Jeremy was Bekah's age, he still napped everyday. The fact that they share a room makes it tricky to get them to take consistent naps.

Bekah could use a nap about three times a week. I am lucky to get her down for one. Jeremy does well with one nap a week. If I want them to nap, I have to separate them. That means I don't get a break myself.

I usually aim for "quiet time" 2-3 times a week. I put both the kids in their room and make them stay there while I do administrative work, catch up on my DVRed shows, whatever. It allows me to catch my breath and recharge my "patience" batteries.

You see, those batteries don't get completely charged everyday. It becomes like a cell phone battery; after a while, the battery doesn't hold as much of a charge.

That battery is used as much as the battery for my iPhone. I start off the day with it being used by the kids and it never lets up. So when it turns to lunchtime and behavior goes sour, I'm not working with much in reserve.

Today, we had physical therapy for Doug. This has become a difficult activity. It conflicts with Doug's nap time, causes Bekah's "mommy" gene to flare-up and generally causes the green-eyed monster to arrive in a cloud of smoke.

Jeremy, who's been obsessed with his trains, refused to share one of his freight cars with Laura (the therapist) to use with Doug. Mind you, he's got about 20 that he uses.

Today, I didn't have patience for it. I sent him to his room for the remainder of the session. After Laura left, though, it got ugly.

He wouldn't go to his room on his own. In the back of my mind, I knew that today had to be a nap day for one or the other. Bekah was the heavy favorite, but when things went south with Jeremy, he moved to the top of the list.

I was not the mom I wanted to be in that moment with Jeremy. I didn't have compassion for my 5-year-old. I knew he probably needed a nap. He struggles with talking about his feelings. I think it's tough thing to want more attention from mom and not always know how to ask for it.

I expect him, at 5, to be great at sharing. I expect him to be able to articulate his feelings. I expect that he can amuse himself for an hour without bugging me.

This is a boy who still needs me to button his pants after he goes to the bathroom. He is awful at drinking out of a non-sippy cup. He still can't dress himself on his own.

What about all of that would mean my son is emotionally independent? Why would I expect him to come to me, reticent, saying "Mom, it's tough for me to share your attention with my younger siblings. I want to have an opportunity to be with you on my own. When I can't, I get really upset and act out inappropriately. I apologize and will now go for a nap on my own."

No, he's 5. His reaction is to treat his brother's therapist poorly, throw a tantrum, refuse to nap, kick the closed door of his bedroom and generally be 5.

The problem with being impatient is that the anger is more pronounced. I know there's a theory about taking 5 minutes to calm down but when I can't even put the laundry away by myself, it's a tough thing to practice. The solution is patience--it tends to breed compassion.

I am sure today was not the last day I'll lose it with my kids. I am hopeful that, if I start to get more sleep, pray more and shout less, I can try to show my babies more compassion. They really do deserve it; really, I do too.

Ah, Friday

Every week seems to build toward a crescendo on Thursdays. Brian works late on Thursday. He doesn't get home until 7. It's only an extra hour, but because the hour is after naps it feels longer.

It can be a great day with the kids, but because I know he's gonna be late, I postpone naps as late as I can. I draw out lunch, let the kids play a bit, try to take care of laundry.

My strategy is simple; the later naps are, the less time between post-nap and Brian's arrival. Post-nap behavior is typically not good. It would help if my older two napped regularly; they don't.

The attitudes are poor and they quickly decompensate. The kids like to make demands--can we go to d'da and bubba's house, can we eat candy, can we take every toy we own out and not play with it? (That last one was made up, but I'm looking at a pile of trains and trucks on the ground in the kitchen. They didn't ask but it happened anyway.)

My behavior also decompensate after naps. On a good day, when I get to nap by myself (it's very rare), I am able to replenish my patience. It's never back to morning levels but it means my head won't spin around if someone accidentally spills a cup of milk.

Most Thursdays, my head spins at least once. It's such a marathon of a day and the kids don't appreciate that. Unable to tell time, an extra hour means very little to them. They don't purposefully try my patience more; the weight of those extra sixty minutes empties my reserves quicker.

I have grown to dread Thursdays. In a perfect world, I would spend time with another family. That doesn't happen because it's the witching hour for everyone. Extra faces around someone else's table puts extra weight on their reserves.

The sigh of relief that accompanies Brian's first step into the house is heavenly. It's wonderful to exhale into Friday.

The President Stays the Same

I am a racist. Yep, that's right. I am guilty of having an adverse judgement or opinion of people formed without facts. (Thanks, dictionary.com, for your help with that.)

The other night, I was driving on a segment of road near my house. This piece of road has been under construction for some time and is now being finished, but the lanes are a bit confusing.

I was driving behind someone in a Honda who ended up in the right turn lane. He didn't have his turn signal on and didn't end up turning right. In fact, he almost ran me off the road trying to merge into my lane.

I honked at him, then changed lanes. As I was driving by, I caught a glimpse of the driver. My immediate response was "Oh, DWA." (Driving while Asian) It's Brian and my designation for Asian-American people with lackluster driving skills.

It seems funny as I'm writing it, but I am mindful of the impact my negative ideas have. I studied for two years at a university whose student body predominantly African-American. I was the minority. It was an interesting experience.

I will say, the professors and curriculum at the school was fantastic. I learned more about politics there than anywhere else. I saw a glimpse into the psyche of minorities. I learned that they are inherently suspicious of the government.

I didn't, as a Caucasian-looking Mexican-American, understand why they would feel that way. I mean, the government, as I understood it (from my 19-year-old, middle-class perspective) wasn't out to get anyone. They have everyone's best interest at heart.

Unfortunately, as I've gotten older, I have come to understand that that's not true.

Last week, I was impressed to see President Obama re-elected. Even though I have been lambasted by my fellow Christians for voting for him, I hold my head high. I am ecstatic.

Even more, I can understand why Fox news and others of their ilk (read rich, white men) are so upset. See, for them, racism and prejudice are alive and well. For them, the scapegoat is the brown and black-skinned person.

It's easy to see this on social media. I've seen (more than once) the posting about waiting in line behind someone talking on their iPhone and paying for their purchase with food stamps. The implication is that there is someone receiving government assistance who really doesn't need it.

Let me tell you something. In my two years at Chicago State (and my years since), I've shopped many thousands of times. The few times I've been in line behind someone using food stamps, I've seen the demeanor of someone who is not altogether proud of using food stamps. They do not wave their Link card in the air saying, "woohoo, I'm gaming Uncle Sam."

In fact, I have a girlfriend who used food stamps while she was in school. She was trying to obtain her graduate degree in counseling. As a single mother, she couldn't find part-time work that would fit into her schedule. She and her two blonde-haired blue-eyed children were living hand to mouth.

She was only able to receive a pittance of food stamps. It, along with regular visits to a local food pantry, allowed her to put herself in a position to become fully employed and able to provide for her family. This was not a point of pride, she talked openly about how frustrating the process was and it was something she used as a stop-gap. Would it have been easier for her and her children to go hungry? I personally don't think so.

It's easier, though, if you are rich and white, to think that all recipients of government assistance are "gaming the system." It's easier to convince people to do away with what seems like a spendy, rambling government program if the perception is that all people are taking advantage.

It's easy to lambaste the Affordable Health Care Act (aka Obamacare) as another way to ruin America. Rich, white men have no problems with access to healthcare. In fact, they have primo access to healthcare.

My same friend, who was putting herself through school, had no healthcare. If she got sick, it was tough to get in to see the doctor-they won't see you if you don't have insurance. So, the rich white men say, go to the ER. Sure, that seems feasible. Unless that visit results in a diagnosis of a serious health condition.

Let's say, for example, that pesky rasp in your chest ends up being lung cancer. You came to the ER because you have no insurance. What will happen to you? I assure you, the hospital will not offer to treat your cancer for free. You may have some chance at having your church help you; the problem is, churches are feeling the strain of more people needing help and less people being able to help.

So what happens? Really, nothing. You have a chronic health condition? Need maintenance medications? Good luck. Let's stop and remember, for a minute, that the largest number of people receiving Medicaid are the elderly and the disabled. Rich white men would rather you not realize that, but it's the truth.

So now, many years removed, I understand why minorities are inherently suspicious of the government. It is run by a group of people who see them as a threat. It's descendants of people who used their descendants to build their wealth. Of course that's a threat.

In my mind, rich white men are like my toddlers. In their mind, everything is about them. Taxes are great but not for them. Benefits for the underprivileged? Why? No one gave them any help (except for the fact that they had steady access to education, healthcare, food, shelter and other amenities-there are millions of American kids who don't have all of those basic necessities).

In their minds, America would be so much better if it weren't for the pesky poor people. It would be easier if everyone just took care of themselves. The problem is that, like toddlers, their favorite word is "mine."

They don't want to pay people a living wage (or make healthcare accessible) because it eats into their profits. They would rather be wealthy in a country of poor people than be less wealthy in a country of people who can take care of themselves.

I see these rich white men for who they are. Scared. They hide behind their faith. They claim that liberals are eating away at the moral fiber of our country. At the same time, they dictate their number one goal as making sure that Obama be a one-term president.

They didn't work on that goal while simultaneously trying to get people back to work. They didn't work on this goal while still trying to fix the problems this country was facing. They simply sat down, crossed their arms and said they didn't want to.

I have to tell you, the best way to deal with a toddler is to take away something they love. In this case, it meant taking away their chance at the White House. Hopefully, the time-out will do them some good.

Crazy Week

I will write more tomorrow, I promise. Between having Halloween in the middle of the week and painting the master bedroom, I haven't had an extra ounce of energy. Thanks for being patient.