I think you can tell from the title of this post there's not going to be anything too profound here today. Ironing isn't exactly the most philosophically deep topic of discussion. It is, however, a part of life and because of that it deserves a little look in from time to time.
I don't know anybody who loves ironing. I know lots of people skip it completely, that's fine. Me, I like ironed clothes, they're easier to store and, in my humble opinion, look a bit better and sit nicer when worn. As housekeeping jobs go, along with laundry in general, it's probably one of my least hated, mainly because it smells lovely. I don't love it though. Still, I'd rather do it than not do it because with eight people in the house, ironing as we go would just be too stressful with people rummaging through laundry looking for clean stuff that needs ironed now. Bad and all as we are at timekeeping, we'd never be on time for anything if we had to do that.
I don't mind if I rarely get to the bottom of the bundle as then everything would have to fit into the wardrobes and drawers so my optimum would be a conveyor belt efficiency of equal amounts in the wardrobes, the laundry basket, drying and in the ironing bundle.
That's the theory.
The reality is that ironing is always the job that gets long-fingered. I'm willing to bet most of you are nodding in agreement. I know you're supposed to fold things away straight from the drier (if you have one) to reduce the amount of things to be ironed but with a big workload , that's often long fingered too. In my rush to move onto the next job, I usually just throw everything on top of the bundle barely even sorted. So what I usually end up with is this:
Yes, it's a bit depressing looking at it and looks pretty daunting.
It doesn't bother me though.
Because I know that with the right conditions this bundle will disappear in (almost) a flash.
Here's what I do...
(1) I wait until the house is in a moderate to good state of tidiness. This means that I don't connect ironing to mess. I only iron in a tidy environment and therefore the connotation is more relaxed than overwhelmed.
(2) I try to enhance the relaxed ambience by lighting a scented candle. There are lots of gorgeous scented candles on the market but I find that the ones you can buy in the supermarket can be every bit as nice, especially when you're only using it for ironing, not stay-at-home-date-night. They are often available half price so I stock up then. This is the supermarket one I really like, it doesn't have that cloying cheap smell the plug-in or spray versions have.
The Glade Christmasy ones are lovely too.
(3) Here I go again...Music. Sometimes I put on some upbeat fast music, sometimes something more spa-like...like this:
So I can do some thinking.
(4) Set my timer. I don't know whether you've heard of the organising guru, FlyLady. She is a great believer in using a timer for tasks we don't like. She works under the premise that anybody can do anything for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes a day at our worst job makes it so much more manageable. Well today I had a bit of time available as a pre-arranged meeting was cancelled, so I set my timer for an hour.
(5) I don't usually do this with my ironing but today I made myself accountable...I posted my self-imposed challenge on my Facebook page. This made me less likely to start browsing Pinterest half way through my hour and end up drinking coffee instead.
(6) Just DO IT!! Because I was working against the clock, I put on fast disco music. I had to not disgrace myself on Facebook so there was a little bit of a 'competitive edge' introduced into the task. For husband's work shirts and pants there needs to be a certain good standard of crispness in the result but for children's t-shirts that are going to be worn out on the street and at this time of year, under a sweater, there's no real need for over-ironing. A quick run over is perfect. Sing aloud (if you want to) and boogie (I suspect my choice of hip words might be a bit outdated...I'll need to get a few new ones from my big girls!). It's just amazing how quickly that bundle will disappear before your eyes.
(7) When the hour, or fifteen minutes is up...STOP. Leave the rest for next time.
(8) Finally...don't stumble at the finishing post. Put the ironed clothes away. This is usually my downfall, I move it all upstairs out of sight to put away later. I can tell you...this is a mistake. I don't know how many things I've had to re-iron over the years from stuff being strewn in the hurried morning search.
Here's what I managed in my hour...
I'm pretty satisfied with that.
And the basket looks less daunting for the plebs when I inform them they are finishing the rest.
A while I mentioned my mother in passing to an online friend. She commented that she'd love to hear more of my mother's story and maybe I'll write that some day. This piece will mention her but not so much about her life as about how I look back on her last few years.
When my mother became unwell, it was really my first brush with real illness. Nobody close to me had ever died apart from my grandparents, my life had been relatively straightforward and my life's experience didn't really include dealing with sickness or death. Since she passed away in the last few moments of the Great Jubilee Year of 2000, I can say that those things have changed. My life's experience now is definitely MUCH more complex and far-reaching than it was then. For that reason I often often wish I'd had the experiences of multiple pregnancy losses, a lot more experience rearing children, a very worrying pregnancy with a very sick baby, the subsequent hospital visits and most of all the hundreds of conversations I've had on and offline with mothers whose lives are far from straightforward, BEFORE my mother became unwell.
With a diagnosis of cancer or another life threatening condition, along with the whole medical barrage of consequences, there comes hand in hand with it a huge package of emotional and psychological issues which I doubt if most of us are prepared for. The word cancer makes us face the reality of our mortality, the possible mortality of a child opens up to us just how vast the well of human emotion is. I wish I'd known that thirteen years ago.
Long ago when a mother had a miscarriage or a child died, it was often the case that final cuddles weren't even considered. The parents weren't shown the baby, no photographs or footprints were taken. It wasn't mentioned again. I think the thinking behind that was not to cause un-necessary upset to the mother. People thought that if you spoke about the child it would only prolong the grieving, better not to talk about it and get back to normal as soon as possible. There was loss of a small child in my own family in the 1930s or early 40s, I'm not going to write about it out of sensitivity to my extended family but I do know one thing, because my mother told me, that that mother had told her, not talking about the baby did not help her in the slightest. She would have loved to talk but it just wasn't done and she died never having recovered from the terrible sorrow and loss. Thanks be to God, that has greatly changed now and there is a much greater understanding of the value of talking things out, crying, the role music and songs can play...the all encompassing and complex facets of the psyche of which we are comprised.
Looking back to when my mother was sick, I wish I'd done some things differently. I wish I hadn't tried to jolly her along, or tried to get her to watch this movie, read this book...or said everything was fine. I say this now because I know that when you're worried about something that IS a genuine worry, someone jollying you along doesn't really help. I wish I'd asked her more things, or sat there, or acknowledged more that she was low or worried. I'm not saying I was that bad or heartless, in fact my entire family pulled out all the stops as regards her care and the love she received and as a matter of fact my mother had a lovely death. It's just now that I know more I think I'd have done things a bit differently.
In the immediate aftermath of the funeral I remember being completely preoccupied with the times I'd dropped in to see my mother and didn't 'have time' to sit and have a cup of tea, I had three small children who were still taking naps and my inexperienced parenting methods didn't know much flexibility. So many times when my mother said to out on the kettle my response was I had no time, I had to this, I had to that. One day when I was lamenting that to my husband he said to me: 'What you're regretting is that you weren't perfect. You were a good daughter to your mother and everybody wishes they'd done this or that differently after someone dies but nobody does everything perfectly all the time. Your mother knows that.'
Now if I meet someone who is sick, or bereaved or simply living with the wear and tear of old age I'm much more likely to bring that up and to ask how they're really finding it. When I was younger I'd have run a mile rather than do that. I'm not saying that to say I'm so great but because I guess life's lessons teach you these things. To get inside someone else's heart and have a little look around. That's what empathy is.
A while back I was listening to a phone in radio show with Dr Ray Guarendi, a Catholic psychologist. A woman rang in complaining that her husband, an engineer, had no empathy whereas she on the other hand found herself easily moved to tears at people's sufferings and the sorrows of the world, citing one incident in particular. That wise doctor turned it around on her. He asked her what had she done to alleviate the problem she mentioned, she reluctantly said she had done nothing. On the other hand, it turned out that her her husband with all his lack of empathy had written and sent off a cheque. Her tears had done nothing whatsoever to ease the suffering of the person she was crying about. I'm not saying that crying over other people's problems is necessarily useless but sometimes I wonder (and I like the occasional cry myself) whether it's more a form of self indulgence. Do you remember the character in The Secret Life Of Bees who took on everybody's problems till she finally broke under the weight, all she did was damage herself. Feeling pity or empathy with a beggar on the street doesn't do much to help them, but maybe to even say hello or smile at them might be the only time that day someone acknowledged that they were human. And of course, we're all very familiar with the way St. Teresa of Calcutta, in her day, and her nuns continue to hug and touch and hold hands with the lowest of castes. The difference in dying untouchable to knowing someone believed you were worth that must be incredible.
But empathy which brings about a change in the way we act ourselves is definitely something to be worked on. Walk a mile and all that. My husband is a doctor and I know very little of what goes on behind that surgery door. Doctor patient confidentiality isn't just a nice concept. Don't ask, don't tell. In fact a close friend of ours was astonished at my surprise one time when I met her and noticed she was about eight months pregnant. She had presumed that because our two families are friends that John had told me. He hadn't. However, I do know that what presents itself in front of him more than anything else is sore throats. Now we all know how painful a sore throat is and many's the time I've waited impatiently for John to come home with his magic torch and make my sore throat better, only to met with...'It's fine'. IT'S NOT FINE!!! Even though I don't think he says that to the patients, I'm always telling him to remember that even if a throat isn't covered in white spots or flaming red to still acknowledge to the patient that he knows it's sore. Sometimes for a doctor to just say yes I know that's painful will be enough comfort to get someone through, and they'll also go around telling everyone how good a doctor you are :-D
To walk a mile in someone's shoes is not necessarily always needed. But to just try them on might be well worth it. Even to say to someone 'It's not easy is it?' can give them the permission so say...'No...it's not..' What would you like someone to say if you were worried? Then do that for someone.
Finally, just because you feel uncomfortable or awkward doing something isn't a good enough reason not to do it. I remember after one of my miscarriages a friend of mine dropped in very briefly. She handed me a beautiful white lilly and just said, 'Oh I bought you this..' It meant more to me because I knew that though she was a little shy about what to say, she still did that nice thing.
Even a little x or a ♥ on a Facebook status can make all the difference. Give your time...'I don't have time' is never true. You'll only regret it some day. There's a beautiful French song which I love entitled 'Je n'aurais pas le temps' 'I don't have time'. So true...it makes me think of my mother..
Even if I fly as fast as a bird...Even in a hundred years, I don't have time...
The only thing is...even if I live a hundred years, I'll never have that time back.
Last Sunday I went to Mass with the family. Bringing a 2 1/2 year old to a religious ceremony is always a bit fraught as blog after blog after blog will tell you. The bottom line is that the concept of a two year old sitting still when there are fun benches to be climbed over and under and people behind you to entertain is not that realistic. It takes time to train a little child that a Daddy Clamp is an incommutable sentence and that an unauthorised escape will result in a ignominious haul back to the designated seat. We usually come armed with a little stash of small (and quiet) toys and other distractions and last Sunday was no exception, as the children clambered into our embarrassing very glamorous 17-year-old grey-8-seater, I grabbed a few religiously themed lift-the flap books, one about The Teddy Bears Picnic and a cute one about kissing the noses of different animals.
But this week we didn't need to distract our little girl because this week there was built in entertainment sitting directly behind her. In the form of a little girl not too much older than her.
Now this little girl unbeknownst to her mother holds a special place in my heart. As you know, people usually sit in the same seat...on a train, on the bus, in a cafe..in Church...at Mass...every time they go...day in, day out, week in, week out....we do and so do that family. So I have watched this little baby's life unfold from the time she was a swell in her Mummy's tummy to snuggled newborn to gurgling interactive tot to the cute little girl with almond shaped eyes, short little fingers and a little tongue which sticks out more often than it stays in. And whose extra (special) chromosome no doubt provoked a river of broken-hearted tears.
Well these two very special girls came face to delighted face last Sunday. Each one scrubbed clean and dressed in the prettiest clothes for Sunday. Each one pulled at and adored by her older siblings. And each one totally oblivious during that 40 minutes to everyone else but the other.
For forty minutes those two little girls hugged, stroked each other's faces, gave toddler kisses, showed their toys and tried to lift each other up. The other mother was completely unaware of the poignancy of this little meeting. She doesn't know us. She doesn't know I loved her daughter when I was so worried about my own, or that her pink little baby gave me hope.
Two little girls...one 'afflicted' with half a heart, one 'afflicted' with a heart that embraces the world without question. One carries her special heart for all the world to see, one carries her's hidden deep inside. Two delightful little girls delighting in each other. Each one completely oblivious that both of them were just so...
As you know I have six children aged 2 1/2 to 16. I was going to calculate how many Santa bundles that works out as but my brain started spinning wildly on it's axle by the time my calculations reached child 3 and one on the way, now was she born before Christmas or after? So I gave up.
I actually once worked out exactly how many nappies I've changed over the years and then wrote a letter to the nappy company announcing that after x number of nappies and the successful toilet-training of little boy I was delighted to inform them I was no longer their customer and could they send me a prize. Sadly after searching and searching I could find neither address nor e-mail I could send it to so they never saw it and I never got my well deserved prize.
That was before little girl #5 came along and now I'm wondering how on earth I'm going to train her. She is completely in agreement with the theory and solemnly promises me every time that she's going to shout
So far she has succeeded a few times in announcing with that give-away pose and reddening complexion
"My...h..ave...nn...nnn...Poo...P..oo..."
As a matter of fact, don't wait for a toilet training post here as I haven't the slightest clue how I trained the other five. Either it just magically happened or it was so traumatic my brain has blocked it out!! One or the other. If I succeed maybe I'll rewrite that letter and post it on the nappy mega-company's Facebook page!
Well anyway, I'm supposed to be writing about toys not pee pee.
Whatever the number of Santa bundles that have appeared in this house, it has amounted to. A LOT of toys. A LOT. Believe me, I know about toys. In this post I'm going to go through what I think are toys that are worth spending money on. Our children all have very different personalities so I'm going to mainly include what has been universally successful and not what suited a particular child's quirky taste. For that reason I'm not going to include 'How To Speak Zombie' (complete with push button sounds to perfect pronunciation) because that's an individual sort of taste!!
Here's a few thoughts before you buy any toy.
What is the Price:Play Value ratio? If a toy does only one thing, or, I guarantee you, makes a noise, it's play value is very limited. I doubt if a single child has ever learned the alphabet or how to spell from an electronic push-button toy. These toys are great fun in the toy-shop while you are browsing but (IMHO) not worth wasting your money on.
Do you want the toy to last...maybe passed onto younger siblings or even grandchildren? Then it's worth investing in good quality timeless toys.
Do you hate picking up tiny pieces or are you the sort of person who knows exactly what every 2mm piece of Lego is for. Take that into account.
Are you or Dad likely to sit with a child helping out with a toy which needs construction, supervision or a kit? If you're not, don't buy those sort of toys, the pieces will be lost in no time or the project started and disappointingly abandoned.
Battery requirement?? A reasonably priced toy can very quickly become very very expensive.
How is the toy packaged and marketed? Highly marketed fashionable toys are rarely worth the money and you are often simply paying for the expensive packaging or to cover the marketing. Teach children to be discerning while looking at toy ads...you do not get the entire outer space with that spaceship.
Do you like the look of it? Will you mind it lying around. I really believe that children must like colours other than brash primaries and gaudy pinks. Toys are the tools of our children's trade, and with that in mind, I think can also be tools in educating them in beauty. The same goes for their music, literature and past-times. We need to take the harness in a culture which often glorifies crassness and lead children to something greater than that. They spend so much time with their toys, go for ones that will uplift their souls and their character. (I think so anyway)
Here Goes
Doll-House / Castle
Both the doll-house and the castle (not pictured) got a huge amount of use in our house. Our slightly girly purple castle finally fell apart after years of being played with constantly with a growing collection of princesses, warriors, ghouls and dragons of every kind. The doll house is still growing strong after 12 years and is in the process of being re-decorated by daughter #4 (aged 10). You can upgrade the chunky toddler appropriate furniture and people to those more suitable for older children...which is exactly what Santa did last year. (and again this year after the family had all their limbs pulled off by #6 during the Paralympics!!)
This time he's going for resin.
Puppets
It is well worth building up a good collection of puppets. A theatre is an optional extra which I'd only purchase when and if the children show an interest. Our puppets have been pulled out repeatedly over the years for shows of every type. Even the teenagers have rummaged for them of late in order to stage a production for the little ones. There are great books of short plays suitable for children's puppetry available or the children can write their own. Just be prepared to be the audience of one for very very long soliloquies by four year olds.
My favourite puppets in the world are Folkmanis.
They are gorgeous, affordable and the range is huge. Check out their websitehere, and in particular look at the gorgeous character puppets.
Radio-Flyer Wagon
Our Radio Flyer is in a bit of a rusty state having been loved, bashed, clunked and trundled through adventures in hail, rain, snow by all 27 cousins and 23 neighbour children. It is absolutely structurally sound though and the rust is our fault for wintering it out year in year out. Only a day or so ago John said he's going to sand the rust off and repaint it for the next ten years of bashery.
Radio Flyer have brought out more updated versions of this iconic wagon which have padded seats, seatbelts mp3 outlets etc. I dunno...if it's not broken, don't fix it. It's not childhood unless you've taken a few tumbles. This is so classic and versatile I'd go for the original version. We've had babies wrapped up in rugs and pillows joining in the fun.
I really, really recommend you go to town in this area. Don't just stick with the foam sheets and glitter glue you can buy anywhere. If you want your children to think outside the artistic box, you need to provide them with some outside the box materials. Oh...and buy decent paintbrushes even for small children (within reason and budget but £1 shop ones are a waste of £1)
For Ireland I recommend Cregal Art, they are a Galway based family run business. I have telephoned them from time to time not even too sure what I wanted and they have gone above and beyond the call of duty.
For UK I recommend Baker Ross, they have a total treasure trove of stuff at very reasonable prices. They ship to Ireland too and have set rates though you need to keep an eye on weight.
Sorry, my American and International friends, you'll just have to find your own!
Klutz
These are just simply the most well thought out, interesting, outside the box, funny, compact, affordable and just brilliant craft kits there are available on the market. Believe me, I have trawled the internet with the precision of a mother removing nits for anything to do with art/craft (being my own area of interest). These are THE best. I have never, never, never been disappointed with anything Klutz. I think between all the children and so many Santa bundles we just about have practically every Klutz book ever published.
(except that rogue one peeping out-that's a hilarious French baby sounds book we got in France which we already had in English. I'll be posting about books shortly so I'll tell you about it then.)
Here again I suggest you pull out the stops. We were first introduced to the magic of a well stocked dress-up box in Thirlestane Castle, Scotland which we visited when the (three) children were small. Part of the tour was the nursery which featured a dress-up trunk filled with real costumes, props, wigs, hats. It was just Heaven for the children. Ever since then I have been adding to our trunk. Every school show, every Halloween, every time a cousin or friend visits, basically all the time, the dress-ups are hauled out. The place looks like Armageddon afterwards but takes only minutes to clear up.
As children get older try and build up some real theatrical supplies and props. They are easily available online. Keep your eyes peeled. I have picked up some very high quality additions to our collection for next to nothing in TK Maxx, EBay and so on. I am considering adding some adult sized items as our older children are still interested in rummaging. Sometimes I slip a few new purchases into the trunk, say nothing and let them discover them at a later date.
(My trunk has a very special meaning for me, it was the trunk my mother used when she left Ireland at the age if 15 to work in Scotland. When I look at my own almost 15 year old I feel so sad for her. Ireland really has such a poignant history of emigration. It had a happy ending as she met my father, another Irishman abroad, in the Legion of Mary in Edinburgh and married him whereupon they returned home.)
What's inside?...
It's definitely worth spending some effort on this and it can be built up with no real pinch.
This Little Guy
Was given to our almost 15 year old when she was one. It has never been put away and is as good as new. It will take the weight of an adult no problem and it is practically impossible for a child to fall off it. Great purchase. The proof of the pie is that it is still being made with the exact same design. (Little Tykes)
Toy Cooker
A note on toy cookers, there is no need for a huge expensive space-hogging toy kitchen, your child will tire of it every bit as quickly as any other toy. We had a lovely (big) one and I ended up donating it to our children's pre-school. That said, they do have great play-value but just consider the space you have available before buying.
We had this little one and the children got great fun out of it for several years. It's actually in the attic, I must get it down for our youngest.
And just look at this one...how sweet is that?
The Obvious
Lego, Playmobil, Sylvanian Families...all expensive at point of purchase but they can be built up into a great collection and will be played with by your grandchildren when the price has long been forgotten. It's also an easy option to suggest to grandparents unsure of what to give as gifts. They are timeless, quality and have endless play-value. I'd go so far as to say Sylvanian families are our children's most played with toy. As a matter of fact, I really like playing with them myself...I think I'd like to live in Sylvania!
And Of Course
Not forgetting...
( I couldn't resist!)
Please comment with any ideas you have as I still have a few years of trying to get ideas ahead of me.
Have you seen the movie Avatar? I saw it just once some time ago and though I really enjoyed it I can't remember much of the details of the story except that it was visually beautiful. If you follow me on Pinterest you'll know that I love blue, so the beautiful blue race with their huge eyes really enchanted me. But one thing I do remember well was the bond between the two main characters and how they expressed the depth of that bond. When Jake and Neytiri commit to each other in a permanent bond (marriage?) the phrase they use is not 'I Love You', which is beautiful but often used as a lie. The phrase the Na'vi race in the movie traditionally use is 'I SEE You'. I thought that was powerful.
For some reason I was thinking of that phrase a few days ago and what to see someone really can mean. How has our culture affected how we look. Oh yeah yeah, we're busy busy busy, we have no time to stop and stare...stop and smell the roses...stop and this...stop and that...but you know, we don't just need to stop. As well as stopping we need to learn how to look, how to see. What do we see when we look at people?
Yes indeed we are busy, we don't have much time how many times have you read a post on Facebook or said yourself just how beautiful children are when they're asleep? Why is it that that is the moment we recognise that that little person is precious? Because that is the time we look at them without an outside factor blurring our vision. Life is fleeting and flies by at breakneck speed as we all know, we have pressure, and worries and after-school to keep up with. We think we don't have time to pass more than a cursory glance at those who pass us by, maybe a little more for those who share our household. People in cars, people online, one face melting into another in an anonymous blur. Faceless, anonymous...attackable. When we look...when we see properly, we might just see that it's not a faceless entity that's there...it's someone.
I was never the world's most uncomplaining pregnant mother, I'm afraid I have to admit my default condition was moan, groan, complain, whinge, whine. But every so often when I was alone and I'd feel the heave of little limbs and suddenly have the realisation SOMEONE's in there!!! What an absolutely amazing thought. Someone is there. Unseen, faceless, but there.
Last February I started following the blog of a newly married couple Andrew and Christina, whose baby girl went in a matter of moments from 'Your Baby' to 'The Baby' to 'The Fetus' for the simple reason that her ultrasound scan showed that baby Maria Isabella had Spina Bifida. Baby Isabella, no longer someone. (follow this beautiful story here). My own little girl lost her right to be called someone in an ultrasound room and I can attest to the profound and long-lasting pain this causes parents. To deny the recognition of humanity to a person, to make them anonymous, nameless so that we no longer owe them a duty of care. And I can attest to just how much it means to the mother of a sick unborn child to hear the word 'baby' and to be asked her name. 'Anomaly' was that her name? We were beginning to think it was.
So how do we see 'Anomaly', born or otherwise? My sister had a glimpse into the world of a disabled person a few years ago. She was getting ready to go on a family outing when she slipped on the last few stairs and badly sprained her ankle. She was able to strap it up but the smaller children were very disappointed to miss the outing to the nearby forest park. Her husband came up with the good idea of dropping by his workplace where there was a spare wheelchair and he could wheel my sister on the designated paths. So they did that, and my sister had her eyes opened. She couldn't but notice how people glanced away as she approached. How they smiled at her husband but didn't make eye contact with her. How the assistant in the coffee shop asked him whether she took sugar in her coffee. She was astonished!! Obviously there's a certain element of people not knowing quite how to behave and not wanting to look rude but remember that that person is someone, say hello to them the same as we would anybody else we met on the path.
One day when our newborn little daughter was in the children's hospital a consultant came into our room doing his rounds with his entourage of medical students. He spoke to them of the baby's 'anomalies' and their medical implications. The group of students listened intently, scribbled notes and nodded profoundly...all except one...who looked at Louise and smiled. About a half an hour later I heard a soft knock on the door of our little room. It was the same medical student. He apologised for interrupting and said he just came back to see the baby...and what was her name and could he lift her? He looked at her so gently and with a look which said...'I see you'. I hope he stuck it out because he is going to be a very good doctor. He didn't just see a heart defect and this, and that, he saw someone.
When you see Christian Icon art you are looking at images which are full of symbolism. You may notice that often the eyes are disproportionately large. That is not a lack of knowledge of facial dimensions. The eyes are portrayed as large to indicate contemplation. Large enough to allow in real knowledge.
Maybe our own eyes have become too small. We're not seeing enough. Maybe it's time to open them.
Looking at someone properly doesn't change them. It changes us. It's something we should go to great lengths to teach our children. How to look at people. To see them in a way that maybe the world doesn't see them. To see them with the eyes of God. To see the value, the worth the unrepeatable treasure of each one, whatever their 'anomaly', whatever their faults. Jesus looked at people with compassion, who are we to do anything other than that. Because when we look we don't see. When He looks...He sees.
Oh...and just like Sweet Louise, Sweet Isabella is doing very well. Please pray for both of them.
It's been a while since I've posted about keeping home and all the issues that go along with housework. I haven't forgotten about it though and I'll definitely be posting more about the great dignity and value of this work because it needs to be repeated often.
I'm not embarrassed to say that I actually enjoy a lot of aspects of housework, cleaning and laundry but I didn't always. So what's changed over the years? Perception. Plain and simple. If you think of any job as demeaning, drudgery or something to be endured, or better still, avoided, it will lose all attraction. If on the other hand, you know the job has to be done so let's look at how we can make it fun or at least increase our motivation to get it done. We do that to our children all the time, try to convince them that their chores are actually fun (although to date none of my children have fallen for that one!). Why not do that for ourselves, we're no different in a lot of ways.
And what better way to get our cleaning mojo going than some great music. I never do housework without music...never. Or maybe a Pod-cast I've been hoping to catch up on. Everyone has their own taste in music, obviously, but here's a few of my favourites just to get you on track...
Oh, and by the way...DON'T choose music that reminds you of being stood up at the Debs or Prom, or of failing your exams, or your friend who emigrated all those years ago. You're trying to get a spring in your step, not turn into an emotional wreck!!! (I learned that tip from my own experience).
So whip out that feather duster and those dancing shoes...
...there's cleaning to be done!!!
Ok...I know, I know...don't laugh but hey! Whatever works!! (also, I haven't mentioned The Wiggles lately have I??)
There are lots more...that's just a few ideas.
But finally...here's a challenge, have a listen to this last one get your best moves out
and wail along with Kate...and see how much you can accomplish in the time:
I like Pinterest, it's a place of (mostly) beauty on the internet when there's so much sludge out there. It's growing rapidly and although in some ways is losing the homely feel it had to begin with. I still enjoy it. One of the big hits there is the abundance of inspirational quotes. Oh My! If inspirational quotes could lift us all we'd have no need for air flight. Lots of them are lovely and I have to say, many of them have given me solace at low moments especially when they have been passed on by someone who wants you to know they're thinking of you. I've passed them on myself from time to time. More than once I've spotted a beautiful picture and quote on Pinterest only to see it re-posted on Facebook the same day...these things take wings far beyond what the original poster could have imagined. That can be a good thing. Or not.
Here's something that has gotten me thinking.
Amongst all the beautiful, and 'Godly' and uplifting quotes on Pinterest, and elsewhere too but mostly Pinterest, I'm spotting more and more sneaking in there, disguised in the same clothing of dreamy pictures and stylish fonts, some which make me feel quite uneasy. And I feel uneasy because I'm seeing them being re-posted just as much as any of the other ones which promise happiness and comfort...only these ones are not the path to happiness...they're the fast-track to un-happiness.
In My Humble Opinion
I had a perfunctory look at Pinterest today and have, with very little searching, gleaned a few to illustrate what I mean.
So what's the running theme of all these?
It's quite obvious...think of yourself first.
Do everything I want? What if the things I want to do are hurtful or harmful to others? What if I want is to help myself to something (or someone) that out of justice belong to somebody else ( a spouse perhaps?) Or what if it is harmful to myself...drugs, risky sexual behaviour, speed? Is a spoilt Willy Wonka-esque 'I want it!' to be the criteria for whether we do something...? Oh dear...
Never regret anything because it was what you wanted? I have seen that sort of selfish attitude at very close quarters...and the resulting utter devastation of numerous lives. Should the people who caused that terrible situation just say 'Ah well, no regrets...it's exactly what I wanted' ?????!!! Forget about the children with lifetime scars? or the elderly mother with a broken and sorrowful heart? not to mention the injustice and cruelty to a beautiful wife? Oh NO!!! Regrets of things we've done wrong can be the impetus to be better, to try and make up for what we've done, to atone...maybe even...apologise?
Your 20s are your 'selfish' years? Oh really? What if that is all you have? Nobody is guaranteed tomorrow. Not one of us. A small child can be selfless, and saintly and a master of their own ego. What is the excuse for or benefit to anybody of someone in their 20's being 'selfish'? I can't think of one. And what happens when the last day of 29 is passed? Is it likely that after ten selfish years a person suddenly become unselfish, caring of others...caring of a spouse, children? I don't think so. Ten years of self-centeredness is nothing but laying the groundwork for a lifetime of self-centeredness and unhappiness. The very special decade of the 20s is the time to strive to learn to be the best you you can be, to build up qualities and character. To learn how to serve, to love, to give of oneself. Selfishness and self centeredness are not attractive at any age be it two or a hundred. We all know elderly people who use their age to excuse themselves from manners or kindness and to justify their own selfishness...not nice.
Please yourself...do whatever you like...make yourself happy first...think of me, think of me!!
And the last one...walk away from what no longer serves us. That is the saddest one of all. What no longer serves us or makes us happy. Dump it, dump them, walk away, let go....
Don't Dump People...Don't LET Go!!!
What if there's nobody underneath to catch them?
So people may not deserve our help. They're still people. I have seen the Sistine Chapel once or twice. It is magnificent. There is one tiny detail I love that is not often pointed out in the guidebooks or the tours. In one corner depicting the souls of the damned tumbling into Hell, gnarled and blackened arms waiting in hatred (and might I add...selfishness) to pull them down. Amongst that scene of despair there's a little detail of hope. A man is leaning down the edge of the pit. In his hands he is grasping a rosary beads. Clinging onto that beads he is hauling two wretched souls out of that cesspit. He didn't give up on those two who were maybe people he could have been justified walking away from. They may not have been great friends, but he was. He went to the gate of hell for those two men. He went to the gate of Hell but he didn't go in.
The gate of Hell was far enough.
Can I do that?
Would I?
Should I?
Yes, I should.
Should not walk away from people.
(Here again I'm not advocating staying in an abusive situation. Everything in this blog is aimed at your common or garden person with common or garden lives.)
Walking away from those who no longer serve us is to start out on a long road that has no visible end. As is well known, Holland is the world leader in walking away from those it deems useless. The rate of euthanasia on The Netherlands has increased by 73% in the last ten years. Last year the Dutch Physicians Association (KNMG) approved extending euthanasia to lonely people. The people cast off by those whose purpose they no longer serve.
What a despairing stance for a society to take. Rather than show kindness to somebody who is lonely, to be selfless with our time and keep a lonely (oh yes, maybe boring, dull, un-serving to our personal gratification or goals, but someone all the same) person company, it's so much easier to cast them off.
Euthanasia...mercy killing...merciful to whom? The person who feels uncomfortable driving by a door knowing they should, but are unwilling to, call in and visit perhaps?
So sad. The best Holland can offer the lonely is an offer to kill them.
Walk away from your father, your wife, your friend who no longer makes you happy or serves your purpose. Very very sad, and very sad for the person who does that cynical thing. That is the fast track to unhappiness. Self seeking has never made a single person happy, deeply happy from within. Oh yes, superficial pleasures of course give a saccharine sweet taste. But pleasure is not happiness. Happiness ultimately comes from emptying yourself for the sake of another. Contentment and peace and joy come from seeking the good of the other rather than ourselves.
I have this little rant inspirational piece of advice I give our children to try and let them see the futility of only seeking one's own happiness over another's. The mindset of children can tend toward Me First! That's not FAIR! I WANT! ME! MY! MINE!! I've seen marriages I know wherein this attitude also resides. 'Well I just told him I DON'T iron', or cook, or this or that...I give you everything except...
So this is roughly how my Mom speech goes...
"There are eight people in this house (adjust numbers accordingly). If each of you is trying to make yourself happy, that's ONE person looking out for your happiness. On the other hand if each person is trying to make the others happy over themselves that's SEVEN people trying to make YOU happy! Wow"
