Sometimes I really worry about my kids.

More than just the average ‘gee I hope she doesn’t fall out of that tree and break her arm’ kind of worry… A deep down worry, about how they might turn out.

I laugh a lot about ‘scarring my kids for life’, but all jokes aside, I am acutely aware of the influence I have on my children.

Everything we parents do, both consciously and unconsciously influences our children.

That is a huge scary thought which I try to squash down most of the time… but sometimes it pops up and blows my ever-loving little mind.

Right now it is my ‘middle child’, my beautiful big boy, that I am worrying about more than usual.

At the moment, he is my favourite (because you are allowed to have favourites you know). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t love him more than any of the others, it’s just that right now he and I get along really, really well.

He smothers me with cuddles. He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye and mischievous grin on his face. He says funny things. He hardly ever pushes my ‘infuriate’ button. Right now, at almost five, he is delicious.

But I worry about him… a lot.

I worry that I am doing wrong by him.

I worry that our anti-football family will put him at a disadvantage at school next year.

I worry that he won’t make friends.

I worry that he has nothing in common with other boys that he knows because he knows nothing of Ben Ten or Spider Man or super heroes in general.

I worry that he keeps his problems squashed down so far that even he doesn’t really know what is bothering him.

I worry that if I try and ‘fix’ any of these things that I am teaching him that we do not value who he is.

I worry that I shouldn’t even be blogging all of this, in case one day someone googles him and reads this and it causes him angst.

Today he has his first school visit and I am sure many of my worries are fueled by the fact that he will soon turn five and soon be off at school and a little further from my arms, but that doesn’t make then any easier to deal with.

But I guess that is my job right now, to worry about him.

I know that many of the things I worry about could actually be the very best things about my boy… so I squash those worries and I pull him closer and enjoy him for who he is.

Do you worry about your kids?
How to do you deal with those worries?

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Do You Worry About Your Kids? is a post from: picklebums.com

I’m having trouble finding my ‘zen’ when it comes to house work and the like at the moment.

The thought of actually having to fold the pile of clean laundry sitting on the couch makes me want to curl up into a ball and go to sleep. I know I need to clean the bathroom, and do the shopping, and change the sheets… but ugh.

Just Ugh.

Even cooking dinner or making lunch has become such a heavy weight that I am pretty sure I can’t possibly get up off this chair to go do it.

A while a go I thought I was totally zen when it came to cooking for my family. I had this un-squashable, slightly big-headed, pride that grew every time I made a menu plan or cooked a ‘wholesome meal’ for my family. I felt practically saintly when I managed to cook dinner at lunch time, and akin to Mother Teresa when I baked lunch box treats twice a week.

But these days… even those lofty heights leave me feeling blah.

I am not looking for some deluded, Valium driven, 1950′s housewife kind of bliss. I don’t enjoy housework, I never will, and I don’t particularly want to. But I’d rather not be paralyzed by the loathing of it all.

I chose to stay home while our children are small. I knew this gig wasn’t going to be all play dates and chocolate chip cookies when I started. I knew that part of this job was to deal with the house work stuff. It’s how we worked it out, because I am here, in the house, a lot.

I’m cool with the division of labour at the Pickle Farm. I am not an oppressed, anti-feminist who thinks all women should make their homes nice for their hardworking husbands, and look beautiful at all times while they do it. I just want to find some contentment with the less than fun bit of my current employment situation…

So help me out here…

How do you find your house work zen?
How do you motivate yourself to do the bits of your job that you don’t like so much?
How do you find contentment in ordinary, every day, things?

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Finding your Housework Zen is a post from: picklebums.com

My brain has turned to mush this week.

I know there are things I really need to get on top of, but my head is full of pirate costumes, domain names, cookie recipes, blue tiaras and all manner of insanity.

This week I have struggled to remember my children’s names… let alone remember the moments of wonderful, though I am sure there has been some.

I did however remember that Bigwords’ ‘Me Pledge’ for this week was to draw… and I always find time to draw.

Hopefully my brain will be back to the slowly humming, only back firing now and then, machine it usually is by next week…

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Mush Brain is a post from: picklebums.com

You’re sure you’ve just snapped a fabulous photo of your kids. You download the camera and get it up on the big screen, and… someone always has their finger up their nose!

Why??

I play Wordless Wednesday with My Little Drummer Boys

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Why?? is a post from: picklebums.com

One day they will cringe at the cute and funny things they said when they were little.

And for that very reason I will tuck these little gems away in the back of my mind, so I can remember.

Izzy : We’re almost 9!
Zoe : Which means we are practically ten… and then we’ll be 15!
Izzy: Yeah! And then I can get a snake!

Morgan: What’s for dinner?
Me: Shepherds Pie for us and Eggy Pie for Marco (a friend who is helping build our house)
Morgan: Oh yeah… cause Marco is a vegematarian, he doesn’t eat shepherds.

Noey: Cake???
Me: No cake.
Noey: oh bugger

What are you remembering?

This is my little mission to remember all the little things, all the moments that make life wonderful, that I would otherwise miss in the haze of craziness that is my life. This is my reminder to stop for a second, and remember… because these days will soon be long gone.

Feel free to write your own remembering post, or leave a comment telling me your rememberings. There is no rules, no time frames, no official linky… but if you’d like to join in, please do! If you blog a remembering please leave me a comment with the link so I can come read it and I’ll share it.

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Remembering the Things They Say is a post from: picklebums.com

Every now and then time seems to slow.

It’s almost as if the flow of time is hampered by the scattering of cars across my floor, the laundry baskets piled one on top of another, and the miscellaneous shoes in odd places.

Perhaps time knows that every now and then it needs to wait a little, while I catch up.

But it doesn’t slow in the crazy moments when you wish it would…

Last night’s bedtime routine was crazy. There was bruised heads, and books to be read, and pajamas without buttons, and a late realization that I didn’t have anything for school lunches.

I’d promised to have an early night, but when I crawled into bed it was 11:50.

Last night was one of those nights when everyone woke and needed me, one after the other. Coughs and cries and bad dreams and when I finally put my big boy back in his bed at 4am… when the house was finally peaceful, time slowed.

I lay there feeling the warm hollow my big boy had left in the bed beside me and time went all wonky.

I remembered the time when my small boy cried and cried and cried the first night we were home from hospital. I remember how worried I was when he slept 8 hours straight as a four week old, and how fleetingly that lasted.

I remembered a time when my big boy used to rub my arms when he fell asleep. I remembered the way he grunted in his sleep to let me know he needed more milk.

I remembered a time when my newborn girls, so tired from simply breathing, rarely opened their eyes. I remembered finally bringing them home and tucking them in, side by side, in the one cot.

I remembered a time, before I was a parent, when cold weather on the weekend meant only getting out of bed to get more food.

I remembered a time, as a child, needing to have talk back radio playing all night, because if the robbers came they would hear people talking and go away.

And I thought how strange life is. How much life changes, and how much it stays the same.

And them time moved on again… but at least for a moment it let me stop and remember.

What are you remembering?

Feel free to write your own remembering post, or leave a comment telling me your rememberings. There is no rules, no time frames, no official linky… but if you’d like to join in, please do! If you blog a remembering please leave me a comment with the link so I can come read it and I’ll share it.

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Remembering a time… is a post from: picklebums.com

For a long time there were no ‘goodies and baddies’ at our house, instead there were ‘meanies and niceys’.

It always made me smile when I’d hear someone say “She is the meanie one… and he is the nicey.”

Yesterday I encountered my own meanies and niceys and they all surprised me in their own ways.

Yesterday I sat in a plane, waiting on the tarmac, and I watched as two passengers turned into ‘meanies’.

Sure, being stuck in a plane isn’t much fun, neither is being late for something important, and perhaps I lead a quiet, sheltered life, but I was aghast to watch these passengers get more and more rude as time went on. I was blown away by the way they let their anger spill out. I was surprised by the language these adults used. And I was shocked at how they aimed their frustration at staff who didn’t cause the problem and who, quiet obviously, could do nothing about it either.

When we finally managed to find a park at the terminal and began to disembark, both these people continued to be rude to both staff and other passengers as they pushed past people to get off the plane.

Apparently they were important, they had important places to go, and they didn’t care what they had to do to get there.

In stark contrast, I also met two ‘Niceys’ yesterday.

Two people who are very accomplished in their respective fields. Two people who have a large amount of influence and power and respect. Two people who were simply, genuinely, nice.

Both of these people could have dismissed little, old, unimportant me with a a quick brush off comment, but neither did. Both took time to really talk with me (once I found the courage to introduce myself), to share a little of themselves and gave me time to share a little of me too.

As I sat in a crowded plane on the way home that afternoon I reflected on the meanies and niceys and I was left feeling overwhelming good.

There will always be ‘meanies’ out there, but it is so refreshing to know that there are also people who are successful, powerful, influential and nice.

It often feels like the only way to the ‘top’ is to walk over other people. You have to claw your way to the top, you have to put yourself first, think of nothing else but your goals. Carefully guard your secrets, don’t give anything away for free, only help someone else if it ultimately helps you. It doesn’t matter what it takes, as long as you are successful.

That is not me.

I like to be useful. It makes me feel good to help people. I am kind of shy and I don’t really always myself ‘out there’ but I always try to be kind, and thoughtful, and nice.

It is so inspiring to find out that I can be myself, I can help people, I can be a ‘nicey’ and still be successful.

In fact I suspect these people are successful because they are niceys.

What do you think?
Can you be a ‘nicey’ and be successful or does that require at least some cut throat ‘meaniness’ in our culture?

{image: by Ed Siasoco via flickr}

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Meanies and Niceys. is a post from: picklebums.com

This week I am remembering….

I am remembering what it is like to be unwell, and I don’t like it.

I am remembering how important it is to take care of myself, even when I don’t want to.

I am remembering that not everyone sees the world the way I do.

I am remembering that just because he bites and head-butts now doesn’t mean he will grow up to be a juvenile delinquent.

I am remembering how sweet he is when he giggles that high pitched little giggle.

I am remembering how responsible she has become, even if she can never remember where she left her shoes.

I am remembering how much love she lavishes on her little brother and how patient she is becoming with her bigger one.

I am remembering the awesomeness of old friends who visit.

What are you remembering?

It’s been a while since I have written a simple remembering post… but this week there were just so many things I needed to remember.

Feel free to write your own remembering post, or leave a comment telling me your rememberings. There is no rules, no time frames, no official linky… but if you’d like to join in, please do! If you blog a remembering please leave me a comment with the link so I can come read it and I’ll share your link here next week too.

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Remembering is a post from: picklebums.com

In my world nothing ever goes wrong….

When I first came across that quote I took it literally and dismissed it instantly.

Not in my world.

In my world often everything goes wrong.

Well Ok, maybe not everything… but sometimes it feels like everything is going wrong.

Or perhaps that should be that nothing is going right.

That’s more my life.

Or is it?

Am I really so self-centred and negative to think that there are times when nothing is right in my life?

Nothing? Nada? Zip?

Not one right thing?

Even when things are at their lowest, even when it feels like everything is going wrong, it never really is.

Things can be bad, really bad, but they are never all bad.

There is always something positive somewhere, if you look for it. There is always something you can learn, even from the really bad stuff. There is always something wonderful hiding under all the difficult crap, something good.

Even the ‘wrong’ can be right in some small way.

It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to dig you way out from under all the wrong so you can see the right.

But I kinda think the digging is the important bit. If I can keep digging for good when everything around me is crap…. then nothing in my life ever goes wrong.

Can you find the positive in bad situations?
How do you ‘keep digging’ when you trapped under piles of crap?

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Nothing Ever Goes Wrong? is a post from: picklebums.com

Yesterday was one of those warm, still, days when you can see the heat haze in the distance and hear nothing but the hum of insects.

It was the kind of day that makes you feel like summer could be just beginning, instead of already gone.

It was a day for ignoring, and so I did.

I stood in the garden and ignored reality.
I ignored the creeping darkness and the cool of the evenings.
I pretended my To Do list didn’t exist and that dinner didn’t need to be cooked.

For a moment I denied the rhythm of the seasons and the unending cycle of children who need to be fed.

I am good at ignoring things.

Sometimes I need to ignore things, to pretend that there is no injustice, or hurt, or tomorrow. Sometimes it’s the only way to keep putting one foot in front of another and to get through another day.

I am not proud of it, but it is what it is.

Surely there must be worse things than to guard my sanity with a little ignorance now and then?

******************************************************

Today the wind is up and the grey clouds have bought rain this evening.

Today there is no denying that it is Autumn and the early darkness brings early bed times and with them, time to remember.

Tonight there is time to let down my guard and stop pretending.

Time to remember the mothers who can’t hold their babies.
The children who know hunger.
The families who are dealing with hard things.

Tonight there is no ignorance, just quiet tears, a little guilt and a nagging feeling that anything I could do would be such a small drop in the ocean of unfairness that it would do no good at all.

Tonight I am tempted to slip back into ignoring, but as I sit her next to my sleeping baby I think of what I would tell my children if they declared there was no point in doing anything, no point in trying, because their actions were not enough.

I would tell them every action, every small thing, every attempt at something done in goodness, love and compassion is worth it. It may not change the world, but every little thing has an effect, however small, and that is important.

So tonight I am remembering…

I am remembering to listen, remember and hug my friends who hurt, even if it is only a cyber hug.
I am remembering to read these important blog posts and share our luck, however small our contribution may be.
I am remembering to post packages and send positive vibes, even if they won’t heal all hurts.

This week I need to remember that any action, however small and insignificant they may, done to help another is worth it… so very very worth it.

******************************************************

I am supporting Eden and World Vision and giving to the Emergency Appeal, please feel free to do that same. No matter how small, every bit is important.

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Ignoring and Remembering. is a post from: picklebums.com