Tag Archives: parenting

Day 6-Weird Santa Photo (STRESSED!)

Sometimes Christmas is Stressful. You’ve just had it. The kid in this photo is at the end of his patience. I imagine he endured being dragged by his mum or dad to do a bunch of shopping for Christmas presents for a few hours, and then they had the nerve to subject him to posing with Jolly Saint Nick, for some insult to injury.

Have you reached this stage yet? Is it likely?

Any responses, caption ideas, or Christmas updates to report?

"As if it couldn't get any worse...now this."

 

 

Weird Santa Photo Week: Day 2 (Twins)

Double your pleasure. Double your fun. Take toddler twins to sit on the lap of a large stranger, in weird red

pajamas who smells like Irish Coffee. HO. Ho. Ho.

Were YOU scared of Santa as a kid?


Double the Christmas photo Jolliness!

 

 

Weird Santa Photos Week-Day 1

Welcome to weird Santa week.

Each day, I’ll give you a picture for your amusement.

Do you know any kids who get freaked out by the fat and jolly stranger in the fake beard?

Do you have a weird Santa picture? Add a link to share it with us.

First Entry:

I’m not sure who looks more upset, the kid or the Santa. (If you think of a good caption, leave one here.)

What did they say to each other? Santa looks about to cry too.

 

Caption: “I feel something wet on my leg.”

The Nest, part 2

Spinning House (adapted from photo by John & Brenda Bendinsky)

Perhaps every parent tries to give their child something they craved as a child. For me, it’s stability. Emotional safely. A place that is a refuge from the plagues and tumult of the world, rather than another component to the madness.

I noticed someone’s garden bird house this spring. It hung from a cord and was in constant motion. It spun clockwise, and then counter-clockwise. And it got me to thinking…do the young birds think the world spins? When they leave the nest, does normal stability feel abnormal? I realized I grew up in a spinning bird house. Love will always feel unstable, even when it stands firm.

I want something for my children: I want to anchor our house to the tree.

Qualities of a good nest:

1. Cozy

2. Safe

3. Warm

4. Comforting

5. Place of learning/preparatory

6. Seasonal/temporary

7. Place of nurture

7. Place where you get good eats

8. Sufficient shelter

What else?

What have you (or would you want to) give to your children that wasn’t in the “nest” you grew up in?

"Safe Neighborhood?" (creative commons photo by Josve05a Flickr)

The Nest, part 1

Before I do a post, I’d like to get responses, first.

Yes….sort of doing it backwards.

What are the qualities of  a Nest?

Is your home  like a nest?

"Nest" ©2010 Lisa DeLay

Parenting mistakes

Have you ever gotten in over your head as a parent? Maybe having kids at all was over your head to begin with.

When I saw this picture, and the wild panic in the face of this dad, I actually felt a great relief…that I wasn’t him.

What caption would you give this photo?

He was just going to pet him, honey.

Once I passed out and dropped Ellie when she about 4 months old. Now that’s a mistake! We took her right to the ER. It turned out that she was quite fine, and she got away with just a light red mark on her forehead. I got prescribed a Sprite. (Probably that beverage really cost about $800.)

The doctor said, “Now she can blame you for everything, because you dropped her on her head.”

“I think she more or less slid off my lap, but I plan to not tell her,” I said.

As it is now, if Ellie were any smarter, I might want to drop her on purpose. Maybe from a tree top. By her school marks, and testing scores, it may have had a beneficial effect. So, there you have it.

What mistake have you made, or has a parent made with you?

The WHY questions…

It’s quite possible that my parents inadvertently trained my brain to be more philosophical then it might have been ordinarily.

I remember countless times after doing something naughty or foolish, my parents would ask me a daunting question “Why, did you do that?”

I’m not sure what kind of answers they were expecting. I would wonder why they would ask that.

Those answers were far beyond what my child brain could tackle.

Inwardly I would think, “HUH? Well, that’s a good question, I guess. I probably should have asked why to myself before I did it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. How should I know why I did it? Do they know why? If so, why don’t they just tell me? Will there be some kind of quiz later, or something? If they do know why, why did they looked so puzzled? And basically pissed off. Am I supposed to figure it out for them? …..ugh. But, now that I’m thinking of it, I do wonder why.”

I would usually answer, “I don’t know.” Deep inside I would wish and hope the scrutiny would not last too long. (It probably would lead to a “spanking” a.k.a. whoop the daylights out of me.) But, I also thought, if I did know, wouldn’t truthful answers incriminate me? What could I really come up with in all honesty, “because I wanted to,”?

Mainly through the sheer number of inquiries, I developed the feeling that the answer to “why” had importance. I started on a path toward “hack philosopher”…

“Why would people wish to put meat into ball shapes?”

“Why would chewing gum before supper truly ruin supper itself?”

“Why was, ‘because I said so’ considered an acceptable reason for adults to give me, but never good at all for me to reply to them?”

When troubles or suffering would come, I would instinctively ask “why”?

Maybe learning a lot of things would give me these sought for questions. I tried that a bit. (I still love roving around libraries on a quest of discovery.) After a good deal of learning, one day it came to me:

“Almost all the really crucial questions that ask ‘why’ have quite unsatisfactory answers.”

Or, the answers get debated widely, and are rarely agreed on. Or, the “answers” have the kind of complexities that don’t make one feel better about things. At all.

All this preparatory ‘why’ work…for what? Zip. More or less.

Instead of those sorts of questions, I moved on. “What does asking why tell us about us, and why we should want to know in the first place?” That seems like a much bigger question, with the kind of answer that will make a difference.

We want things to make sense. We want purpose and something to believe in that won’t let us down. We want to count on something. Will a concrete answer provide this? It seems most concrete answers only produce more questions. Of course, I was only satiated with pat answers for a short time.  (I do believe I was also trained to understand that challenging  answers was either a lack of faith, or a flaw in character.)

It’s been a new path for me to have a certain serenity that understanding may begin when the intricacies that the why questions remain in creative tension with discovery and mystery.

And so “why mystery?”

For me, it’s about knowing things in terms of relationship, not facts. The facts can be manipulated, massaged, or up for grabs. But, true trust, based on an ongoing and lavish love, surmounts what facts never satisfy.

God is why.

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