Mind Jars and Bathtub Paints and Hair Feathers – Oh My!

When I first heard about Pinterest – a virtual pinboard where you can showcase and curate visual things that you love – I could tell right away that it would suck me in if I didn’t vacate the premises.  Here and there, however, blogs I follow have been mentioning things off their own Pinterest lists and of course I just had to check them out.  Eh, why not sign up – what harm could it do?

This definition of the website that I recently happened upon is a more accurate description:

pin-ter-est (n): A fun reminder of the clothes I will never afford/fit into, the home decor I will never afford/fit into our small home, the recipes and crafts I am too lazy to ever make, the sayings I wasn’t clever enough to think of on my own, the photos I wish I had taken but didn’t.

There is a virtual treasure trove of ideas, all sorts of “this would be nice” and “I could do that” or “someday maybe” and like I’m always telling myself “as soon as I learn how to sew! (or knit, or scrounge up a few more hours in a day)” 

I consider some of the time well-spent because it helps me organize ideas I definitely plan on utlizing - links to preschool printables and ideas or craft ideas I’ll be using during the week with the kiddos, a gift I want to make for someone, a new recipe I’m going to try.  And some of them are light-bulb-moment finds - aha, I never thought of doing it this way!  Stringing balloons looks so much easier than trying to tape them to the ceiling, zig zag streamers are such a cinch and way cooler than your average streamer, and why bother frosting the cake anyway?  Can you tell I have the kiddos’ impending party on the brain?

Suffice to say I’ve spent a lot of time “pinning” virtual items to my board, and then I have to check out the boards of those who’ve repinned my pins – ahhhh, the insanity!  I’m back to imposing a computer ban until the kiddos’ naptimes just so I can devote my undivided attention to them and get some other things done around the house.

Last week wasn’t the best for me - the kiddos were possessed by screaming, whining mosters and I didn’t have much motivation to get things done or keep them entertained.  I find that cleaning and organizing give me a feeling of control at times like that, so I’ll tend to want to vacuum a lot, pick up after the kids incessantly and get mad if they strew toys all over the house, make lists and dream about all the things I could do (hello, Pinterest).  I also made Chocolate Cake In a Mug a few times, which helps. 

Instead of just pinning and dreaming, I did in fact get around to making some of the projects.  I started off with the mind jar, hoping it might help Gwen calm down when she gets upset with Josiah and storms about the house.  She didn’t seem to get it; it’s pretty and glittery and maybe she’ll pick it up another time.

I made the bathtub paints the same night, both because I knew the kids would have fun and because I hoped it would stave off their usual bathtime whining rompous.  They had LOTS of fun, but when they decided to paint the walls I noticed some of the coloring seeping into the grout. *sigh*  It turned out to be no biggie, but I’ll have to look into some friendly food coloring.     

One evening I stayed up late browsing and bookmarking, and I came upon what seems to be this ever-growing trend for hair feathers.  Now, I don’t consider myself trendy and don’t care for fads, but I have to admit I fell in love with some of the ideas.  I pinned some favorites to my Hair board, and ended up buying Gwen and me some feather clips from a shop on Etsy – I can’t wait till they arrive!  I would love to try the “permanent” method, but I’ll have to buy some feathers for that.  In the meantime, I found a couple feathers I had around the house, made myself a fun little clip, and took it for a test drive:

Whaddya’ think? 

On my to-do list for the near future:
bottlecap flower wreath (I already have a bunch of bottlecaps!) 
coconut milk shampoo
apple tart
fall leaf mobile with the kiddos
oh, and I’m thinking about going on a dishwasher strike

Do you have a Pinterest board?  If so, what do you get out of it? 

 

Miseducation

When we lost power during the hurricane last week, one of the books I started thumbing through was on old copy of Miseducation: Preschoolers at Risk that my mother had bequeathed to me. I’m already familiar with the concepts author David Elkind writes about, but began to feel somewhat uneasy as I read his words…

All across the country, educational programs intended for school-age children are being appropriated for the education of young children.  In some states educational administrators are advocating that children enter school at age four.  Many kindergarten programs have become full-day kindergartens, and nursery school programs have become pre-kindergartens.  Moreover, many of these kindergartens have introduced curricula, including work papers, once reserved for first-grade children. 

When we instruct children in academic subjects at too early an age, we miseducate them; we put them at risk for short-term stress and long-term personality damage for no useful purpose.  There is no evidence that such early instruction has lasting benefits and considerable evidence that it can do lasting harm.

I understand there are those that don’t have much of a choice in the matter – families where both parents have to work in order to pay the bills, for instance – but it has often saddened me when parents put their children in daycare programs rather than keeping them at home – especially as early as the newborn stage.  I was fortunate that I was able to take Gwendolyn to my part-time job when she was a baby; despite the inconvenience factor, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As Gwendolyn has gotten bigger, neared school-age, I have been re-examining my role as her mother and caregiver.  The idea of public education has always turned me off, for a number of reasons, and private school has its own issues (aside from being expensive).  I myself graduated from a Christian school; while it has its upsides, and one school can be vastly different from the next, I don’t know that I would choose that for my own children.  However, I was homeschooled for a few years before entering private school, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Having a background in homeschool, knowing people who homeschool their families, having a support network in place and feeling as strongly as I do that God entrusted His children to my care – not wanting to hand over a large part of their upbringing to someone else to raise and instill them with values – homeschooling my kiddos seems like the obvious choice.

As I have researched the vast array of homeschool teaching methods, the one that most appeals to me is unschooling.  The idea of cultivating a child’s natural love of learning, keeping it alive simply by pursuing your interests and learning through those pursuits, finding what works best for us “without depending on educational institutions, publishing companies, or experts to tell them what to do,” sounds inspirational and freeing.

Because each and every family is different, each and every method will be different, and you will find variations on a theme.  I didn’t worry too much about getting Gwendolyn ready for grade requirements, because we already engage in educational activities and pursuits all the time.  She loves books, we go to the library every week and come home with an armload - she’ll learn to read, no problem.  

I was constantly surprised when people would ask me if – at three years old – she was in school, or would soon be riding the bus to school.  They were often surprised that she was with me every day.  Gwen started showing an interest in the idea of school, of course riding a bus, and I told her Mommy wants to teach her at home.  Since she has enjoyed structured, classroom-type environments – like at Sunday School, one-morning-a-week Bible school, and VBS (vacation Bible school) in the Summer - I thought I’d do a little experiment and plan a preschool curriculum for her.

We’ve officially begun preschool (or what probably amounts to pre-pre-K), and have three weeks under our belts, but I’m constantly questioning myself.  Some days it feels so forced; I have to conjure up the excitement to try and get Gwen (and Josiah, depending on the activity – though he’s up for anything) to “do school.”  I wonder if I’m forcing something for which she isn’t developmentally able, if my good intentioned-efforts will amount to her being frustrated and losing her zest for natural learning.  I try to turn fun things into learning experiences, and vice versa, but sometimes it feels like I fail miserably.  

Parents oftentimes do things for their kids, thinking it’s in their best interest, when really it serves to make the parents feel better – things like buying toys in excess, putting them in lots of extra-curricular activities and not allowing for downtime.  I believe miseducation is one of these things.  How much is too much, and too soon?  As David Elkind says, “We miseducate young children when we assume that their learning abilities are comparable to those of older children and that they can be taught with materials and with the same instructional procedures appropriate to school-age children.” 

I would also take this a step further and say that, since each child is different, traditional schooling as a whole can provide miseducation for a child at any age.  It keeps kids in an aritificial environment (a room full of their peers), relies on specific teaching-learning styles, while discouraging and labeling those personalities that are seen as disruptive. 

Babies and kids are smart – but there are some things for which they truly aren’t ready, and no amount of toys and gadgets and flashcards and memorization will make them learn those things before they are ready.  But in a society where infant education is accepted and promoted, and children are being expected to learn skills at a younger age, how do you realistically adjust your expectations and make the right decision for your family?

Earlier this morning I was reading some of my blog subscriptions, and I was inspired by Passionate Homemaking‘s Early Learning Preschool post.  I liked the idea of their casual, playful-yet-conducive-to-learning Circle Time.  This afternoon, doing some educational things with Gwen I spread a blanket on the floor first, and it suddenly became more fun for her. 

I so desperately want to do the right thing for my kiddos; I know I’m not supposed to be perfect but I want to be the best mommy I can be and do right by them.  I want to keep their love of learning alive, not squelch it with drills and instructions and workbooks.

Early childhood is a very important period of life.  It is a period when children learn an enormous amount about the everyday world.  It is also the time during which young children acquire lifelong attitudes toward themselves, toward others, and toward learning.  But it is not the time for formal academic instruction.  To appreciate this truth, we need to see the early years for what they are and not through the lenses of social, political, and personal dynamics that provide a distorted image of early-childhood competence.

Shaken

Did you ever get one of those “Aha!” moments, almost like a light bulb suddenly went off… but you haven’t quite fit the pieces together?  Almost like… something is on the tip of your tongue, in the forefront of your mind, but you haven’t quite put your finger on it?  Like… when you recognize an actor, a voice, a famous line, and you’re thinking, “I know, I know… it’s… it’s….” You’re on the cusp of figuring something out, but aren’t quite there yet.

The past two Sundays at church we have been studying Psalm 61:

Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.

From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe.

I long to dwell in your tent forever
and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

Selah

We have been unpacking the ramificatons of suffering - why we suffer,  where it comes from, how God can be sovereign, good, when the world is filled with evil.  We experience painful things in life, oftentimes struggle just to get by.  We watch the news unfold about the devastation in Japan, and we wonder -  why did God let this happen?       

I believe much of the things we endure are a direct result of our sinful nature, living in a fallen world, the choices that humanity as a whole has made with the gift of free will.  When we trust God as our Savior, we are forgiven and made whole… but we are still flesh and blood, living in a sinful world.  Not all suffering is a direct result of our own choices; some things just happen. 

In his sermon Pastor Dave says, “Wherever God’s kingdom intersects with the fallen world, something shakes.   Something’s gotta give… something pops!” 

You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed.  Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.  Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.  There will be famines and earthquakes in various places.  All these are the beginnings of birth pains.
Matthew 24:6-8

These verses are speaking of signs of the end times.  God’s kingdom is coming closer and closer; He is working in the hearts and minds of His people, and the fallen world is shaking, reacting in a powerful way.        

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.  The creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.  For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope…
Romans 8:18-21 (emphasis mine)

We don’t enjoy suffering… but it’s comforting to know that despite what we feel when we experience these things, they are happening for a reason.  Instead of leaving us to sin and its demise, God in His mercy subjected sin itself to frustration and gave us a way out.  He showed up as our Savior, showed up on the cross and died for our sins – and just think, how the earth shook on that day!

I can see this on a grand scale - almost unnatural disasters, national upheaval across the world.  And I see it on a more personal level – my flesh reacting when I know I’m supposed to do something or act a certain way, resisting the Spirit.         

I’m always not-quite-figuring-it-out.  I have these glimmers of inspiration, wondering if there’s some light at the end of the tunnel and I’ll suddenly grasp a concept.  While listening to the sermon on Sunday, I wondered if I could apply this to my struggle with depression (or whatever you want to call it).  There are some moments when it definitely feels like I POP, when I’m shaken, when there’s this collision with reality and insanity… I wonder how much, if any, could be contributed to those supernatural forces swirling all around me.  Are they affecting me at the chemical level?  Are they messing with my mind?  It could be nothing, but I felt this intense parallel… except that I feel powerless to do anything about it.        

Therefore do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.
2 Corinthians 4:16-17

Listen to Pastor Dave’s sermons; ”Lead me to the Rock” parts 1 and 2 deal with suffering.

This Isn’t Me

Ask anyone who knows me what kind of person they think I am.  Chances are, they’ll use adjectives such as nice, kind, friendly, thoughtful, sensitive, perhaps quiet, shy or interoverted.  Maybe good listener will make the charts – I’ve always thought so myself. *grin*

What about ANGRY?  MAD?  IRRITABLE?  EMOTIONAL?  (pause)  Yeah, okay, maybe that last one.

I don’t know when it all started, but most of my growing-up years could be marked as depressed… depressive?  I never got diagnosed, although when I stopped eating in junior high it came up at the doctor’s office and my mom said she wanted me to “beat it the natural way.”  I’ve looked at those checklists for identifying depression symptoms many times but never quite figured out how I fit, if I fit, or what it all meant.  It was hard enough just trying to fit in during high school!  I don’t know if it’s because I was young and uninformed, relying on my parents with whom it seemed almost taboo, grew up with a father who was always telling me to ”change [my] attitude” and ”just be happy.” 

Trying to make sense of my past seems futile.  I grew up in a loving, Christian family… but definitely wasn’t living up to the perfect standard that seemed to be encouraged and expected of me.  I have always hated the idea of blaming someone else for my problems, but I also know these things do have an impact on who we are and what we become.  In any case, who I was could have been due to any number of outward influences and inward reactions. 

We all have these dreams and aspirations, goals that we think – once we reach them - we will be happy and everything will be perfect.  Being thin was always at the top of my list, always my number one New Year’s resolution.  I did not have a good relationship with food; gave it up for a couple months.  I felt in control because I was making the rules, and I was thrilled at the numbers I saw on the scale every morning.  But the thrill didn’t last for long; I was out-of-control, hungry, and dying inside. 

When I would make a mistake, when I looked in the mirror and came face to face with the reflection of who I had become as a person, I was sickened.  I would get so upset with myself; cutting seemed to be the only way to release the anger, the bitterness, the sadness, the emotions.  I don’t know what I was crying for most at the time – it wasn’t for my outward appearance, I know that.  I just wanted to be free from the turmoil.  I felt so alone.

Funny how some things never change.  I still struggle with some of the same things, though I’ve grown and matured (at least, I’d like to think so), have learned healthier ways of dealing with things.  Over the past few years I’ve wondered on and off if I suffer from a chemical imbalance, and even went to an endocrinologist when I was apparently not ovulating and unable to get pregnant.  I strongly believe that being put on birth control at an early age to stop a two-month period (translate: hemorrhage) may have had some sort of impact on the entire cycle in my body, which is one of the reasons why I will never take hormonal birth control again unless my life depends on it.

Everyone’s different, I understand that.  We have different tendencies, tolerance levels, personalities, and I suppose we get used to operating a certain way.  Reminds me of my grandmother, my dad’s mom – she was in the hospital a number of times before she passed away a few years ago, and her vital signs were so weak she shouldn’t have survived that long.  Her body had simply gotten used to operating at that level – it was normal for her.  Sometimes I wonder if that’s how I’m operating; perhaps I’m a walking zombie, and this has become my norm.

Sometime last year, I had this intense feeling of dread, knowing I was going to hit the wall emotionally – it felt like there was a pattern to the craziness.  I told Phil it seemed like I had two “normal” weeks out of the month, followed by two during which I had no control whatsoever and was overcome by this horrible person.  I would yell, scream, have mommy tantrums – I was impatient, intolerant, unhappy, and then I would sob for how horrible I was acting.  I didn’t want to take care of the kids (though I would do so anyway, begrudgingly), didn’t want to be around anyone, everything seemed like a nuissance, and I just wanted to nap the day away.  Eventually, those emotional days would pass, and I felt more calm, happier.  Who was that other person?!  Maybe I had imagined it.  Then it would happen all over again.         

I’m no stranger to apologizing, admitting I’ve messed up… but recognizing that I may have a more profound problem has been a sobering realization.    And admitting it to other people isn’t easy.  Phil has been supportive, but opinionated in his stance on diagnosis/treatment.  Talking things over with Nikki shed some light on some areas I’ve struggled with, and Becky’s openness with her struggle with depression has been encouraging.  Not many people know what I’m going through. 

I thought I saw some light at the end of the tunnel when I came across the symptoms for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), and even printed out a symptom tracking sheet, but was further confused when my mood swings seemed more random than I initially thought.  The thought of tracking more than one month seemed impossible – even analyzing my moods and feelings (emotionally and physically) at the end of the day for the few weeks that I did was a draining process. 

One of the documentaries I’ve watched since changing my eating habits is Food Matters.  I thought it was going to be more like Food, Inc., a commentary on the food industry, but it was more geared towards modern medicine, and using food to be healthy as opposed to prescription drugs (think: “you are what you eat”).  I was particularly interested in the use of vitamins for the natural treatment of depression (niacin, vitamin c, and B vitamins, to name a few).  Since then I’ve come across some other resources for treating depression naturally. 

Even going the natural route, the possibilities for vitamins and supplements – nevermind diet itself - are endless.  I already eat a pretty healthy diet, albeit there could always be improvement.  Which things and in what amounts should I try?  And if that doesn’t work, do I try something else, or rework the amounts?  The options seem overwhelming.  Becky wrote a great post recently about getting help for depression, and though I feel confused about what’s even going on with me, I’m going to start by talking to my midwife at my next appointment.

There’s a part of me that feels like I just have a bad attitude; I need to pray it away, just get happy and make myself feel better.  Focus on something else; change my perspective.  But then I’m in the midst of the storm, feeling like I’ve been overtaken by a completely different person, and I know this isn’t me.

It’ll Grow Out

Whenever I contemplate getting a new haircut, I hem and haw over different styles, picking out pictures so I can best portray what I’m hoping to achieve.  Before I’ve even made a decision, I’ll have bad dreams about chopping all my hair off, consumed with an overbearing sense of misery and regret.  I end up pining for those long locks once again, and have instant haircutters’ remorse.  I wake up, relieved to find I still have my hair. 

Besides the pressure that comes with picking out a new haircut, knowing it will change how you come across to others and possibly how you perceive yourself, there’s also this feeling of potential.  This style would be so versatile, I could do this, I wouldn’t have to worry about that.  The world is my oyster! [pause] Okay, maybe not that much potential… but change, whether big or small, always carries with it a certain potential and the excitement of the unknown. 

Throughout the years I’ve had my hair all sorts of different ways.  Growing up, it grew past my butt; I would sit on it in class and the strands would get caught in the seat.  Ouch!  I loved to braid it and do all sorts of silly things to it. 

As I got older, I would make self-deprecating comments about my looks, and people would remark, “But you have such pretty hair!”  I don’t know if it was in direct rebellion to those comments, or a sort of passive-aggressive retaliation to my Dad’s [chauvinistic] opinion that women had to wear makeup and have long hair to be beautiful, but I just wanted to break out of that rut.  

My dad was mad when I cut my hair; he didn’t speak to me for a while.

Since then, I’ve experimented with different lengths.  When I got married, my hair was short (just like it was when Phil met me – *swoon*). 

Once you bite the bullet and cut all your hair off, pretty much anything goes. 

But I’ve grown it out a number of times, wanting to have long hair again.  

Every time I contemplate a change, though, I get that familiar knot in the pit of my stomach - What if I hate it?  What if people don’t like how I look?  What if my husband doesn’t think I’m beautiful?  I’ll be this way FOREVER!  

Despite always being fed up with my hair the longer it gets (it’s dry, frizzy, and I can’t wear it up because I get bad headaches), there’s always part of me that holds on to the idea of long hair.    

I wonder… what is it that makes some of us so attached to this accumulation of dead cells on our head?  What’s the big deal, anyway?  And does it really define who we are? 

Sometimes just dressing a certain way can make  you feel different - in a suit, you  might feel more polished, refined, professional; in a comfy pair of favorite jeans you may feel relaxed; in a lil’ black dress you may feel playful and sexy.  How does a certain haircut or hairstyle make you feel?  What does someone else’s style say to you?  There are many things that can make an impression, and I think someone’s hair can be one of them.  And it can definitely leave it’s impact on your self-perception.  

For instance – I often see short hair on a women as something that denotes self-confidence, strength… is it because she’s going against the social norm?  I don’t know.  Maybe this is why, the longer my hair gets, the more I think about cutting it short.  I blame my upbringing.

Though I’ve slowly been growing my hair out again, I began feeling that familiar itch recently.  

Out came the magazines, the narrowing down of ideas, and yesterday I once again bit the bullet.  I’m never fully satisfied with the outcome, but always manage to fix it when I get home.  Honestly, on the way home I was freaking out, wondering why the hell did I just do that?!  I’m having to get used to myself with short hair all over again. 

I always mourn the loss of my hair, and this time was no different.  I’ve been trying to figure out why that is – now that I have short hair, am I less of a woman?  That’s silly, and yet… I feel the need to wear more makeup, bigger earrings, to compensate.  I’m loving the ease of short hair, and it definitely feels fun.  And my head’s so light!  Though I may at times look in the mirror and criticize my hair, I try to remember, It’ll Grow Out.