Young idealistic couples planning to get married, listen up. Sit down together and take the Meyers-Briggs and find out which one of you is a J (Judging) and which is a P (Perceiving). And if you're both J's, more power to you. But if you both happen to be P's, draw straws or vote or play Rock, Paper, Scissors and decide which one of you is going to be the J in the household. Somebody needs to be a grownup.
J's for those of you who don't know the MBTI language, are those bizarre people who keep their desks clean, finish what they start, show up on time for things and can work with a plan. P's are the rest of us. The aimless mental wanderers of the world. One of my friends is noted for saying "J's get more done, P's have more fun."
My household is what it looks like when two P's have children. Dinner time is a prime example. It is currently 5:30 PM and all the good little J mommies are making dinner for their happy little families. If I'm in the kitchen at 5:30,I'm as likely to be making play-dough as dinner... with every pot and pan and dish out and dirty, because it seemed like a good idea at the moment. Dinner gets made when someone gets hungry and makes it. Sometimes that's not until 8:00 or so, when we realize its an hour until theoretical bedtime and we ought to feed our kids. Bedtime doesn't usually happen at bedtime either, because that's when we realize they haven't done their music practices and so bedtime comes after that.
Sometimes dinner simply consists of me asking when my husband walks in the door: "What did you bring me?" And if that's groceries or pre-prepared, I'm cool with that.
My husband, theoretically, is the short-straw, the elected J of the family. He pays the bills and does the requisite griping about how I leave everything scattered about on "every flat surface in the house." Not true, the ceilings are perfectly clear. But his J-fu is not nearly as strong as my P-fu. I overcome his attempts to organize.
Not sure if this all has any point... P's don't need a point. But it was what I was thinking about at 5:30 with the kitchen torn up, non-dinner food in the oven, the husband coming in the door with a grocery bag of something, and an evening playdate in a hour. Maybe we'll eat something. Or maybe dinner IS banana bread.
Who cares, I drew the long straw.
13 July 2011
07 July 2011
True Confessions of a Mean Mother
I have never bought a girl scout cookie from an actual girl scout. Once upon a time, when my kids were little and only one or two of my friends had kids of scouting, schooling, selling random stuff, age, I thought I would simply require that the kids be the ones to ask me to buy something. I really don't have an easy time saying no to kids anyway.
But then the actual phone calls started coming. I failed to insist that the kids make the calls. I realized that to do so required correcting the adults. No, I'm not interested in you selling me gift wrap on behalf of your kid. So if its girl scout cookies, I buy. If not, I tend to think of a reason to just say no (or ignore an email! Email! not even a phone call) and not buy whatever some poor parent is trying to sell me. Frankly, I don't care about you kid's school fundraiser. I may care about your kid, but since your kid isn't actually the one asking me...
My kids are homeschooled, and one of the things I've always liked about it is not selling overpriced garbage that nobody needs. And so, in fourteen years of parenting, we have, this week, encountered our first peer-pressure enforced fundraiser. For 4H. Bunny Club. At least they're only selling those $1 candy bars that actually are pretty good.
Nathaniel was the one assigned with selling these things, since he's the bunny boy. My husband's first response: "I'll take them to work."
No way, no how. I love my husband, but I shut him down hard on that one. He knew I was right, too. No way were we selling those candies for our kid. He was the one who wanted to be in bunny club, he can sell the candies. I bought my obligatory parental allotment of three bars. (One for the kids to share, one for my purse, one for my desk drawer.)
The next day, I took my younger two to the local "splash pad" (a sprinkler park). Middle boy was armed (and actually eager) with his candy bars. No splashing for him until he'd worked the crowd. We set some rules (stay where I can see you, don't approach anyone with little kids nearby (we moms have to stick together and I don't want to start some kid on an "I want one" whine) and remember your manners. I watched from a distance as my little redhead chatted up every single person at the splash pad. When he came back, he had two bars left. My friend bought one, I bought the last one for his little brother. Sold out and off to splash!
My kid was so proud of himself! He had exercised a new social skill (not like this kid is lacking, he's my chatty one) and found himself successful. And while other parents may cry stranger danger, my kid had no irrational fears and was never at risk. He earned his bunny money.
And while you won't find me signing up for any fundraisers any time soon, I'm thankful I didn't rob my child of the opportunity to try on a new role and succeed. And I may still buy a box of girl scout cookies from a 45 year old mommy, but unless your kid calls me himself, you can keep your gift wrap catalogues, candies, and entertainment books.
But then the actual phone calls started coming. I failed to insist that the kids make the calls. I realized that to do so required correcting the adults. No, I'm not interested in you selling me gift wrap on behalf of your kid. So if its girl scout cookies, I buy. If not, I tend to think of a reason to just say no (or ignore an email! Email! not even a phone call) and not buy whatever some poor parent is trying to sell me. Frankly, I don't care about you kid's school fundraiser. I may care about your kid, but since your kid isn't actually the one asking me...
My kids are homeschooled, and one of the things I've always liked about it is not selling overpriced garbage that nobody needs. And so, in fourteen years of parenting, we have, this week, encountered our first peer-pressure enforced fundraiser. For 4H. Bunny Club. At least they're only selling those $1 candy bars that actually are pretty good.
Nathaniel was the one assigned with selling these things, since he's the bunny boy. My husband's first response: "I'll take them to work."
No way, no how. I love my husband, but I shut him down hard on that one. He knew I was right, too. No way were we selling those candies for our kid. He was the one who wanted to be in bunny club, he can sell the candies. I bought my obligatory parental allotment of three bars. (One for the kids to share, one for my purse, one for my desk drawer.)
The next day, I took my younger two to the local "splash pad" (a sprinkler park). Middle boy was armed (and actually eager) with his candy bars. No splashing for him until he'd worked the crowd. We set some rules (stay where I can see you, don't approach anyone with little kids nearby (we moms have to stick together and I don't want to start some kid on an "I want one" whine) and remember your manners. I watched from a distance as my little redhead chatted up every single person at the splash pad. When he came back, he had two bars left. My friend bought one, I bought the last one for his little brother. Sold out and off to splash!
My kid was so proud of himself! He had exercised a new social skill (not like this kid is lacking, he's my chatty one) and found himself successful. And while other parents may cry stranger danger, my kid had no irrational fears and was never at risk. He earned his bunny money.
And while you won't find me signing up for any fundraisers any time soon, I'm thankful I didn't rob my child of the opportunity to try on a new role and succeed. And I may still buy a box of girl scout cookies from a 45 year old mommy, but unless your kid calls me himself, you can keep your gift wrap catalogues, candies, and entertainment books.
03 July 2011
A Poem for the Diaconate
When I die, I want one of the deacons of my diocese to read this at my funeral. I love this poem by fourth century saint Ephrem of Syria. How clearly he shows his heart, his love of the order, the ideal of the deacon's ministry. Surely he wrote this poem, in part for himself. Ephrem was bold with his poetry, even daring to tell his new bishop how to be a bishop, I read his poem "On the Death of a Deacon" as a note to himself.
But this beautiful poem is out of print, not published in any currently printed volume of Ephrem's poetry that I know of. Its not even on the internet (until now). But I wanted to share this with my deacon friends, so here it is.
On the Death of a Deacon by Ephrem the Syrian
Behold! Our member is departed
From this troubled world,
To that tranquil light;
On his departure let us pray-
That his Guide may have mercy on him!
Well disciplined in public duties
He was chaste in private life,
In gentleness and peace
He abounded toward his brethren-
Make him happy in Thy tabernacle!
His eyes were watchful
In standing before Thee:
And they wept in prayer,
And made entreaty for his sins-
May they see thy loving-kindness!
Thou didst count him worthy
To minister in thy sanctuary,
And to distribute thy body
And thy blood to thy flock-
Nourish him with thy lambs!
He was cheerful and full
Of affection to his brethren:
And his hospitality
Was fervent in its tenderness-
Number him with thy beloved ones!
He loved to proclaim
The words of thy doctrine,
And delighted to listen to
The utterances of the Spirit-
Let him hear the sound of the trumpet!
He wondered at and admired
The riches of thy oracles;
And his heart exulted
In the words of the Holy Ghost-
Unite him with thy glorified ones!
He despised worldly pleasures
And slighted ease:
Let him rest at thy table-
Let him find enjoyment in thy light-
With the upright who have loved thee!
But this beautiful poem is out of print, not published in any currently printed volume of Ephrem's poetry that I know of. Its not even on the internet (until now). But I wanted to share this with my deacon friends, so here it is.
On the Death of a Deacon by Ephrem the Syrian
Behold! Our member is departed
From this troubled world,
To that tranquil light;
On his departure let us pray-
That his Guide may have mercy on him!
Well disciplined in public duties
He was chaste in private life,
In gentleness and peace
He abounded toward his brethren-
Make him happy in Thy tabernacle!
His eyes were watchful
In standing before Thee:
And they wept in prayer,
And made entreaty for his sins-
May they see thy loving-kindness!
Thou didst count him worthy
To minister in thy sanctuary,
And to distribute thy body
And thy blood to thy flock-
Nourish him with thy lambs!
He was cheerful and full
Of affection to his brethren:
And his hospitality
Was fervent in its tenderness-
Number him with thy beloved ones!
He loved to proclaim
The words of thy doctrine,
And delighted to listen to
The utterances of the Spirit-
Let him hear the sound of the trumpet!
He wondered at and admired
The riches of thy oracles;
And his heart exulted
In the words of the Holy Ghost-
Unite him with thy glorified ones!
He despised worldly pleasures
And slighted ease:
Let him rest at thy table-
Let him find enjoyment in thy light-
With the upright who have loved thee!
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