CRAZY Mommy-ing Days & James?

So I read a blog entry this morning from one of best friends and Fellow-Mom-With-Two-Little-Boys this afternoon, and started to comment on her blog...and I kept writing and writing...so I decided to turn my response to HER blog entry into my own blog entry.  And I'm not going to go back and edit it at all, because that's not how I roll.  If I back track I'll lose my train of thought and that would be tragic.  No editing for me, thank you!  Here goes...

(Stacey wrote about a CRAZY morning she had with her boys including swollen limbs, tantrums, noise violations, a key scavenger hunt, comfort food, and {legal} drugs/  Intrigued?  Read her entry here)(http://mensiks.blogspot.com/2012/03/one-of-those-mornings.html)(I don't know how to do the link within a word thing. Get over it.  Maybe Jen will teach me how to blog properly one day...)

(here's my response)

Haha love this!  What a rough morning!!!!!!  Way to have a good attitude (at least after the fact...I don't know how you were in the thick of it...) because it's so great to laugh at those moments!  And what an opportunity to grow - both for you and for the kids.  I always think of James 1 when I'm having a rough day or hour or few minutes as a mom: 

Count it all joy, my brothers, (and mommies) when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.  If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.

I have to remind myself that raising little kids brings trials of many kinds - and that even though they can be frustrating and try my patience like crazy, it's an opportunity to actually find JOY because it's a test.  

Will I get angry at my kids or my situation and sin in my anger?  Will I be impatient and harsh and yell at my kids? Will I have my own melt down?  Will I act out of not wanting to be embarrassed in front of others and have veryone think my kids are out of control and I'm a failure of a mom?  

OR

Will I pray and ask God for wisdom - asking Him to help me in this situation? Will I look my Father to guide me and give me a gentleness with my kids, even when they are going crazy? Will I rely on Him to keep me calm and see frustrating times like this as an incredibly important part of my God-given responsibilities as a mom, and to ask Him for wisdom in how to deal with this situation right now?

I do both...but I know the second list is what I should be striving for.  

Crazy days like Stacey's are definitely a test of our faith.  Sanctification, or the process of being molded into the shape of holiness (loooong process!), is where our fruit is displayed.  What kind of fruit are we bearing?  It relates directly to our faith.  If I believe that God is in control, and that He will in fact give me wisdom if I ask, and that He is intimately involved in the process of raising my kids and has a way and attitude in which He would like me to raise them - if I truly believe that, then when days like this come along...and they certainly will...it is a test of my faith.  My reaction to it is showing what kind of fruit I am bearing.  When my kids are going nuts, am I remaining calm and trusting in Him?  Am I demonstrating to my kids that I will remain constant, I will let my gentleness be shown to them (even when they are not doing the same to me), I will not get angry with them and sin towards them and God, I will act in a loving way towards them even when they are exhausted, or drugged, or tired, hungry, cranky, not getting their way, being defiant, etc...

I'm making lots of lists.  

Anyway, our little ones test our faith every day.  And it will lead us to sin, or it will lead us to godliness by testing our faith, and leading us to steadfastness.  When our steadfastness has its full effect, we will be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing!  How great is that!  AND when we fail to reach this goal (which we will because we are in the PROCESS of sanctification and will not yet attain this until we are glorified in Heaven), we can ask God for wisdom - even in our most frustrated moments - and He is there with us, and He will give it to us generously.  HOW GREAT IS THAT PROMISE?!?!?!

Ah, parenting.  It's so hard and so awesome and such a challenge and so rewarding.  Moms of the world, mornings like Stacey's are ones that we can actually find joy in if we are in Christ.  Our God is pretty cool.  

Post Thought:

My kids have taught me SO MUCH about what it means that we can call the God of the Universe our Abba Father.  We are so often like two- and three-year olds.  We don't listen, we don't obey, we're not very mature, we often do things that don't make much sense, we want what we want, when we want it, how we want it and in what cup we want it.  We are selfish and sinful and it is so hard for us to understand our Father (and mother, for the sake of the parallel...if you're following) sometimes.  But He is so patient with us, He provides for us, cares for us, loves us unconditionally - no less when we act like crap, no more when we behave "perfectly" - he is always there for us, is firm but kind, is just to punish our sins (through Jesus' blood if we are in Christ), rewards us for obedience, blesses us, imparts wisdom to us...

The list goes on.  What an honor and blessing it is to be a mom and to get to experience a whole new facet of our Lord.  I pray that you can see the beauty in it as well, especially on the really difficult days!

AMEN!

I Ran Over Two Sheep...

Yep.  I hit two sheep with my car. 

My favorite supermarket here is Bambis and it's not too far from my house - 7 to 20 (or more) minutes from my house, depending on the traffic.  They have some good stuff, it's relatively well organized, and they have a parking lot in the back for customers only - meaning you're not hit up by all the people trying to sell you "RoyBam" sunglasses and phone cards, and begging for money, or trying to "help" you park (for a tip), wanting to shine your shoes, sell you gum, wash your car (with water from the gutter on the side of the road), etc.  Bambis just has a clean atmosphere, you can pay by credit card, and they play Christmas music the whole month of December!  But on your way there from my house you have to go through a messy intersection with loads of traffic (created by the Traffic Police who are substituting themselves for the Traffic Light...which never works), right past an orthodox church, which means there are tons of beggars and blind men and women with babies (who are often not their own, but are strapped on to make more money), and people selling RoyBams and sun shades and tissues, and begging for your money, and getting insanely close to your car while you're trying to drive forward when the traffic finally moves...whew!  

Anyway, I got through all that and turned left to go down the next street a bit and take a left into the Bambis parking lot - nay, parking sanctuary.  I'm heading down the street when I notice that the herd of sheep who are grazing in the median of this busy street (a common sight here) decide to bolt out into the street for some reason.  They're sheep, right, so the reason is moot.  The car in front of me swerved and thankfully I was far enough behind him to see this unfolding - so I hit the brakes and veered to the right.  But those sheep, they just kept running into the street.  

They're sheep.  They're dumb.  

In that last second that my car came to a full stop, I watched the "shepherd" put both hands on his head as he threw it back and covered his eyes.  He turned the other way, unable to watch (even though he wasn't too upset about them running into the street in the first place).  Two dirty, dumb (not cute and fluffy) little sheep disappeared under my car with a little sheep-thud.  Oops.  What was I thinking at this point?  Well, I watched the "shepherd" not care for his sheep, and then watched him turn away, unable to watch.  So I felt a tiny bit badly about the possibility of killing two of his sheep in front of him.  BUT then is VERY quickly remembered that actually, these guys do not actually take much care of their sheep.  These Urban "shepherds" bring them in, graze them on medians, let them run out in front of cars without chasing after them, and then once they're sold (to be slaughtered), they LITERALLY drag them off.  

Since I'm chasing a rabbit trail and leaving my story for a minute, allow me to give you a little idea of what happens once a sheep is sold:  

-often they are hog-tied (all fours tied together) and strapped (alive) onto the top of a taxi or car  

-they might be hog-tied and (alive) thrown into the hot trunk of a car and driven to their destination on the bump addis roads

-hog-tied and carried upside down, dangling between two men

-a man grabs the two front legs of the sheep while said sheep is facing forward (head in the guy's butt), and he pulls the sheep long with him...but the sheep does not want to go so he's dragging those back legs as best he can

-same as above, but the man holds the two back legs and s the sheep backwards, behind him

-same as above but the man holds the hind legs and the sheep is in front of him (think man/sheep wheelbarrow race)

-(maybe my favorite) a man ties a little rope around the sheep's hind (or front) leg (just one) and then just pulls...so the sheep is now three-legged, once again resisting as best he can, with one leg up

-(my least favorite) sometimes the sheep will REALLY put up a fight and refuse to walk, so I've seen sheep dragged on their knees before.  I appreciate the protesting, but I think I would just give in at that point.

I actually saw a man carrying a hog-tied sheep upside down with one hand, and then when he came to the edge of the road to wait for the bus, he set it down like it was a hand bag.  I couldn't help but bust out laughing.  It was just all so matter-of-fact!

ANYWAY.  So there were these two sheep under my car... I though for sure I had killed at least one if not both of them, I didn't feel any remorse once i remembered how the "shepherds" treat their sheep (merchandise) here, so I was actually pretty annoyed that I was probably going to have to spend a while apologizing and negotiating the price of these sheep - and I had no idea how much a sheep went for.  Who would know?  whom could I call?  Dorothy.  But she was in the US.  Andrew.  He can find out.  He can ask Tariku to go up the street to some guys who sell sheep and he'll tell me the going rate and I'll attempt to negotiate something close to that, then they'll want more money for having to strap the dead sheep(s?) to my luggage rack and there will be a big crowd gathered to watch the whole thing because this white lady is providing some lovely mid-day entertainment for the whole neighborhood.  And then, of course, after all that drama (with Jackson in the car), I would pull into my Bambis Parking Sanctuary with dead sheep(s?) strapped to my roof.  I would do my shopping as usual and would drive home and then figure out what to do with my fresh purchases.  Perhaps a neighborhood sheep roast?  Throw a big impromptu party?  What would the car look like after driving all the way home with my kill strapped to the roof?  Getting less annoying, more humorous.  

But alas.  I watched the "shepherd's" reaction as he turned back around and opened his eyes...and his sheep scrambled to their feet and kept awkwardly hobbling along.  I started driving again after honking at the negligent caretaker (it's how we communicate on the road here), and drove on, watching my side mirror as the sheep scrambled across the road - and get hit by the taxi behind me!  One of the sheep I hit got hit by a taxi! Then he got up again and scrambled off.  Again.  it was HILARIOUS.  I pulled into Bambis and went in - and found about half of my grocery list.

You know.  Just a trip to the supermarket.  Life is not really boring around here!

A Live Chicken I Bring, pa rum pa pum pummm

Tomorrow is January 7, Christmas on the Ethiopian calendar.  Everyone (who can afford it) cooks a local chicken dish called Doro Wat and party party party... What better way to celebrate Jesus' birthday than to buy a live chicken at the market (or 3)?  Andrew and Jackson went with Tariku and Eyerus to the market and brought the chickens home.  We wanted to leave the chickens at our house for a bit before handing them off to the neighbors. Naturally.  Turns out chickens are LOADS of fun.  Jackson kept wanting to "water" them, but instead we just chased them around.  Andrew caught two of them when it was time to wrangle them and tie them back together.  Yes.  Tie them back together.  When you get chickens at the market, they tie their two (nasty) chicken feet together and you just carry it home upside down by the feet!  It's great!  They chill out when they're upside down.  Since we brought three home, they were all tied to each other.  Best activity of EthioChristmas? Six-legged chicken race.  Yes, please.

So we spent the afternoon at our neighbor's house having loads of fun just visiting while everyone was making preparations.  Felt like Christmas!  Jackson loves hanging out over there, bossing everyone around and running amuck.  It's great!  But boy does it drain him!  Can't do it every day...Maybe I'll get around to posting pics or video someday.  Not as easy as words from over here!

I Hesitate to say it's a "Resolution"

I don't really make resolutions.  I know myself better than that.  I make resolutions and goals all the time and don't keep them (part of my "creative" personality).  So I won't call this a resolution.  I'll just say it's something I want to try to do.  Until I get out of the habit.  Like I said, I know myself.  I've been thinking about writing on this blog more often and tonight after catching up on friends' blogs, I'm doing it!  I won't more records of my kids' lives and of our crazy adventure we are living here.  Most days aren't that nutty, but there's some stuff that I want to log.  Why not make a weblog?  

Warning: I will ramble a lot.  Deal.

Testing Testing...

Does this work?  

An Afternoon with the Police

Here in Ethiopia, it’s illegal to talk on your phone and drive at the same time. Which is pretty smart since drivers here already have so much to watch out for… cows, donkeys, other crazy drivers, pedestrians, dogs, you name it…it will jump out in front of you.

Well, today I was a rebel, and answered a phone call while driving. I didn’t talk too long, but guess what? A cop saw me. Funny thing is….I didn’t see him. So I kept on driving towards my destination. About five minutes later, as I’m parking along the street next to my destination….I see a cop get out of a car next to me. And then he begins to approach me. Now realize...he didn’t get out of his own “cop car.” He just waved another driver down, and told him to follow me! The police officer, in his broken English, begins to explain that I have 2 offenses. First I was talking on the phone while driving (about $10). Second, I did not pull over when he whistled at me (About $5). Yes…he has a whistle to flag people down.

Now I knew I was in the wrong, so I didn’t fight it. “OK, I’m sorry officer.” He then tells me he is going to get into my car, then we are going to drive to the police station for me to pay the ticket. I tell him that I can’t let strangers in my car. He says, “I’m a cop.” I say, “My company doesn’t want me to take in strangers. So lets walk.” He says the place is far. I say, “I’m ready to exercise.” I partly figured if we had to walk far, the officer just might not be up to it…and let me go. But then he says OK. Yikes! Realize…I’m also in a suit. I just came from the Investment Office, seeking to renew my business license. (I had a very frustrating time there…and at first inwardly complained that I really had to add this to my day!) But then as we were walking…I realized how odd this situation really was. I never would have expected to be walking down a street in Africa… in my suit…with a cop…to the police station… in order to pay a ticket. I was quite curious to see where this situation would lead.

And then it got even better. Yep….the cop again waved down a car, and then asked him to take us to the police station. So I piled in the back of a truck with the cop…and off we were to the station…in some strangers vehicle. I was starting to really find this funny (and well worth the price of the $15 ticket)….so I began to chat it up with the cop and driver. We shared a few laughs. After some time…the cop tells the driver to pull over. We then get out. “This doesn’t seem like the station?” The cop then tells me, I have had the most “beautiful conduct.” I’m not sure what that means, but I say thanks. Then he says, “Let’s go get some tea…and we’ll work things out.” What really? I’m going to get tea with the cop? Sure….

So we head over to some restaurant, and he begins to find a dark corner for us to sit in. Granted…the power was out…so most of the place was already dark. We order drinks and sit and chat. He makes a few phone calls and talks really fast on the phone…I make out something like “He got away. He’s not here.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about me. Soon he begins to reach towards his pocket to pay for the drinks. I’m not sure if he’s just acting…but I say the drinks are on me. He let’s me pay.
We walk out of the restaurant and again he says, “You have had the most beautiful conduct., and so we are through.” Really? “OK Officer.” He then says we are good friends. I agreed with him. He asks for my phone number…and says that he will call me to have tea again or lunch some time. I give him my number and say, “Let’s do it!” Hey….I think it’s really wise to have a cop friend.

We then shake hands are part ways. As I walk away, I begin to wonder…Is it a bribe to have tea with a cop to get out of a ticket? Did I really just become “lunch friends” with the cop that chased me down to write me a ticket? What a weird outing. I laugh to myself. Then I realize I’m quite far from my car.

Breastfeeding: A Group Activity? What?

Apparently, over on this side of the world, not only is nursing normal, but it’s a group activity. Yup.

In America if you’re a nursing mom who needs to feed her kid in front of other people, or (gasp) in public, it’s awkward. Maybe the mom is comfortable with it, maybe there are other moms who understand and are supportive (I’ve been known to cheer on from afar), and maybe lots of people don’t even notice. But there always seem to be people who either notice and avert their eyes because they feel awkward about it, or people who grimace at said nursing mom even if it is done in the most modest way. It’s just such a “thing” in America!

When I was in college I went to Guatemala and up in this little village all the nursing moms had the same super modest shirt as every other woman, but there was a large opening in the middle so that they could feed their kids. No big deal. And even though I totally understood it, felt like it was a good thing, and didn’t think it was “gross” or anything, I still remember chuckling with surprise about the moms who would just “whip out the boob” in front of everyone…IN CHURCH! We all were a little shocked, and all the poor American guys with us felt soooo awkward having a woman do THAT right next to them! No hooter hider or nothin’! It’s just something we are SO not used to in America! My perspective has since changed a bit.

I do my best to cover up when I nurse in public, and even when people can’t see a darn thing, I still get looks. Or people do the old “I didn’t even notice” look and avoid you altogether. Or there’s my favorite – when you’re say, at someone’s house with people you know and maybe a few you don’t know, and you sit on the couch and do your thing with all modesty, and someone comes over and sits down (or almost sits down) and then gets up quickly once they notice you’re BREASTFEEDING! They apologize and say “whoa, sorry! I didn’t know you were feeding him!” Even when you tell them that’s ok, and they can stay, they just can’t do it. Or sometimes if a friend of yours sees an unsuspecting victim walking over to sit near you, they’ll give a friendly warning - “She’s nursing” – in sort of a joking way. You reassure everyone that everything’s gonna be ok, and they can carry on. Business as usual. No one’s gonna get hurt here.

So aside from those who scoff at you while you’re feeding your sweet little baby, or glare at you because it’s just so inappropriate, most people that I am friends and acquaintances with in America have been pretty great about it all. Even the warnings are a joke, and I myself have been known to warn people that I’m about to nurse and they just might see a boob! You know, as a way to lighten the mood and mention the elephant that’s about to enter the room.

I’ve been ranting even though when I sat down for this that was not my intention. But I should know myself better by now. I rant. And ramble. Even now. Get to the point.

Something I’m learning is that there is a huge contrast between how different cultures “participate” in breastfeeding. In America it’s acknowledged – whether with support, tolerance, the “I’m looking over there – I didn’t see anything,” staring, or glaring with disapproval. Here come two little stories of my experiences so far with two other cultures:

When I took Caleb to visit my Somali friends in Fort Worth (and Jackson when he was younger), if I needed to feed him I could do so easily with NO ACKNOWLEDGMENT. It’s kind of hard to explain for some reason. Even though I’m all for nursing in public, I still always feel like I have to gear up and give myself a little pep talk like “ok, here we go, this is the best thing for your kid, and it’s really healthy for you, and our culture needs to have a better view on it and I don’t care if someone gives me a strange look or people awkwardly look away or make a big deal of it…I’m feeding my wee little babe!!! Yes!”

So with my Somali friends I geared myself up with something more along the lines of, “I’ve seen them feed their kids with no discretion, and I know this is totally normal in their culture, but I still feel a little self-conscious because I don’t know how they’ll react…but I’m going for it.” Aaaaand…nothing. Nothing at all. No one looked, but no one avoided looking, no one warned anyone, made any comments, no one was extra careful to look me in the eye and not wander down at all (moms, you know what I mean), and when the younger kids came over and stared or made a remark or giggled that he was eating from my ____(whatever word in whatever language the kid uses) everyone just laughed at the kid being a kid. Sometimes with American parents you get an apology, and the kid is told to leave me alone or that what they said was rude. Why apologize? I don’t care if your kid sees me feeding my kid. And there’s nothing to be ashamed of, it doesn’t embarrass me, and your kid doesn’t need to go away. It’s all good. I prefer it when everyone laughs at that curious little kid who is so immature that they giggle at my boobies. It’s much better than when adults giggle at my boobies. I ramble again.

Recently when we brought our family back to Ethiopia, I had another fun and different breastfeeding experience. Who knew it could all be so fun, right? I’ve had the Awkward Americans, the Didn’t-Bat-an-Eyelash Somali, and now comes the Group Activity Ethiopians.

My Ethiopian friend Eyerus (20 year old single gal) and our guard who lives next to our house (a single, 28 year old dude) were there in the living room with me when Caleb got hungry and I sat down to feed him. They were asking me if I feed him with my “tutu” only and then were both THRILLED to know that yes, I’m a tutu only kind of gal. They then proceeded to talk about my tutufeeding in Amharic for a while, and advised me to “feed from your tutu bicha (only) for six whole months, and were even more amazed. This whole time Eyerus was kneeling right next to the arm of the chair, watching me feed Caleb. I mean watching. Like, leaning in, staring, smiling, oohing and aahing, and saying “wenay!” in a nice high pitched voice, the Amharic equivilant of “oooooh so cute!”

My friends had not only acknowledged the nursing, they were loving it and Eyerus was getting an up close viewing! You would think that would be even more awkward than my ramblings about nursing in front of Americans. Nope. In fact, I was excited and proud and enjoying the “wenay” reaction because that’s exactly how I feel when I feed my little boy! It’s one of the greatest gifts God gives us and is such a sweet, precious time (usually) for a mama and her sweet little baby! So to have others equally as excited, thinking it was such a sweet blessing? Oh yes. I’ll take that any day! In some respects it’s the most amazing thing, in other respects it just a boob. No big deal. Besides I’ve seen a ton of boobies since we’ve moved here, including my old lady neighbor who lifted her shirt and just showed me her chest as she sort of tossed one breast around while explaining to me why it hurt and how long it had been sick. No big deal. Just a boob.

Even my friends at our house church last Sunday from Switzerland, England, Australia, New Zealand took a gander. When I sat down to feed Caleb, several of the moms came by to take a gander and coo over this sweet nursing baby, most of them making comments about how much they just loved it and miss it!

This wasn’t intended to be this long. But since I do spend quite a large per cent of my days feeding my little babe, I guess it’s fitting! Maybe one day we Americans will grow up a bit and realize what breasts were made for. Maybe one day it’ll be nursing: ok. Low-cut “check out these” shirts and dresses (even at church…): not ok. We’ll see!

(By the way none if this is meant to insult anyone or anything like that, just some cultural experiences being shared, that’s all!)