Warning: Angry Mother Venting.
Dear Mrs. Cadbury*,
Thank you for taking the time these past weeks to speak with the three Kewl girls and share with them your knowledge of God and your religion, Christianity. I appreciate your patience in answering their multitude of questions, some of them not always, er, polite, and I am most grateful for your acceptance of their (and my) sometimes differing view points.
I would like to apologise for offending you by asking that you refrain from explaining to my children, the Christian meaning of Easter. I understand that to a person as committed to their religion as you are, this request is akin to calling the Easter Bunny 'Hoppin' Jesus' and worshipping his eggs.
What I do not understand, Mrs Cadbury, is just why you decided, in all your God given wisdom, that you knew better than I what my children need know or not know about Easter. Why, Mrs. Cadbury, did you feel it was your God given right to explain to one almost 3 year old and two 4 and a 1/2 year olds that (in short) Jesus rose from the dead?
Did you not think that just maybe, this might be a little confusing for three small children whose father is dead? Particularly with their father's birthday coinciding with Good Friday this year?
When you explained to them that Jesus was dead but then God brought him back to life, did the thought occur to you that this may lead three small children to believe that their father who died might also be brought back to life by this wonderful God you keep telling them about?
Mrs. Cadbury, did you think AT ALL about what you were telling my Kewl girls? Or why I might have asked you to refrain from explaining death and resurrection to them?
No?
I didn't think so.
But seeing as how you didn't mind telling the Kewl girls about your meaning of Easter anyway, you won't mind Mrs. Cadbury, if I send the three Kewl girls to you for comforting when they cannot understand why God will not bring their father back to life. You won't mind explaining to them that it's not that God doesn't love their father, it's just that.... Well, it's just that what, exactly?
And you won't mind explaining to one very determined 4 and a 1/2 year old, that she does not have to die so that her father will come back to life... Or to her distraught sister that God did not make her father die for her sins and she did not kill him by being naughty.
I know that you were only trying to give my children an appreciation and understanding of what Easter means to you, but Mrs. Cadbury, Easter means lots of different things to lots of different people. To some, it doesn't mean anything, and that's ok, too. To us, it was meant to be about celebrating family. It was meant to be a non event in our home, at least until the Kewl girls were old enough to understand it better.
Really, I think I have been very understanding, don't you, Mrs. Cadbury? So now you'll understand that your good intentions mean shit to me right now and consequently, you are not invited to our 12 o'clock worshipping of Hoppin' Jesus, the bunny who shits chocolate and promises not to kill or resurrect anyone.
Sincerely,
Angry Mother.
*Name has been changed for the purpose of maximum personal insult.
Please note: This is not an attack on religion. Just an expression of anger and an observation that sometimes doing good in the name of God is NOT GOOD.
And we do not believe in, nor worship Hoppin' Jesus the Easter bunny who shits chocolate.
Please check back tomorrow for the return of calm blue oceans.
Showing posts with label Perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Perspective. Show all posts
Introspection
Below is a lecture given by Dr. Randy Pausch when he appeared on Oprah.
The full version can also be viewed on YouTube and it is a little over an hour long.
This version is just 10 minutes, though really, it can last a lifetime.
I wrote a whole lot of introspective ramblings here, clicked publish, then changed my mind.
LOL
Suffice to say, for the next few weeks I will be attempting to answer a question that has been burning ever since I saw this lecture.
If M had know he was going to die, what would he have said in his 'last lecture'?
The full version can also be viewed on YouTube and it is a little over an hour long.
This version is just 10 minutes, though really, it can last a lifetime.
I wrote a whole lot of introspective ramblings here, clicked publish, then changed my mind.
LOL
Suffice to say, for the next few weeks I will be attempting to answer a question that has been burning ever since I saw this lecture.
If M had know he was going to die, what would he have said in his 'last lecture'?
Yes, thank you
It is now almost 2 weeks since I fractured my foot. I still have another 2 weeks to go before I will hopefully be allowed to throw away these horrid crutches and get back to "normal".
In light of my previous 2 weeks of immobility, yesterday, we had no food in the house. Nothing for us and nothing for the animals.
The day before, our neighbour offered to do some shopping for us. With another 2 weeks before I can attempt any kind of decent shop myself, do you know what I said?
"No thanks, we'll manage."
We have a nanny (our wonderful, amazing, hippie version of Mary Poppins) who usually hangs out with us Monday afternoon and all of Friday. Before I fractured my foot, she had arranged to take 2 weeks off, from us and from her other families. After I fractured my foot, she offered to spend all of her now free two weeks with us.
With 3 very energetic children who are hard enough to keep up with when all your limbs are working, let alone when 3 off them are out of action (it takes both arms to walk with crutches!), do you know what is said?
"No thanks, we'll manage."
Nelly is our foster puppy. She is going to be an assistance dog when she grows up. Right now though, she is a border collie puppy with more energy than all three kewl girls put together. Like all dogs, she becomes very destructive when she gets bored - so the key to a content, well mannered pooch is keeping her occupied. There is only so much you can do to occupy a dog with that much energy when you are a person with that much less energy... Nelly's wonderful trainer realised this and offered to find her a place in "vacation care" until I am back on both feet. Instead of thanking her kindly and wishing Nelly a happy holiday, do you know what I said?
That's right, "No thanks, we'll manage."
Now, I am not a liar. We have managed -
I let the animals loose in the veggie garden and we went to the shops and got as much food as the girls could carry (because when an attendant asked if she could help us with anything I replied, "No thanks, we'll manage.").
Mary is enjoying her two weeks off and when I explained to the kewl girls they would need to help their mum for a few weeks, they agreed to make it easier for me to keep up with them (now instead of sprinting off into the distance they just run rings around me).
Nelly is being kept busy enough by me throwing tennis balls into the scrub at the back of our house for her to fetch (even though I am getting RSI in my shoulder and have almost kneecapped all 3 kewl girls with the crutches when trying to bend down to pick up the ball).
Yes, we have managed - and will continue to manage - But I am not so ignorant that I cannot see I could be managing things better, with some help.
So I wonder, why did I just decline the neighbouring teen's offer to wash the dogs for me?! The words, "No thanks, we'll manage", had escaped my lips before I even realised what the offer was that I was declining!
Why do I find it so hard to say "Yes, thank you"?!
This morning Miss V had a massive meltdown because she could not work the zip on her jacket. I offered to help her multiple times and each time she declined. Eventually she cracked it good and proper, so we dealt with her meltdown and not until she had calmed down did I offer to help with her jacket again. I was tempted to just do the jacket up while she was screaming, but she had said NO and I wanted to respect that.
I understand that as a 2 year old, a tantrum over not being able to do something herself is nothing to worry about - she is just learning how to manage her emotions. It did get me thinking though...
I have no trouble at all empowering the kewl girls to say NO, and mean it - but what about empowering them to say YES?
Am I teaching them that it is OK to ask for and accept help?
Definitely not by my recent actions.
I might be better at managing my emotions than 2 year old Miss V, but am I really any better at managing my abilities? (Amazingly enough, now I would very much like to answer YES, even though I know the honest answer is NO!)
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, I am a kinaesthetic learner - I am unable to learn something without applying it practically. This means that all of the above ramblings will remain just that, ramblings, until I put them into action.
So - instead of spending the next two weeks swearing about how restrictive and inconvenient my fractured foot is - I am going to set myself a practical learning challenge.
I am going to manage my abilities and my disabilities more effectively.
I am going to graciously accept help when it is offered.
I am going to practice saying YES, and meaning it.
I am going to starttomorrow right now, by calling the neighbouring teen and asking him to come and wash the dogs.
And now that I have blogged about it, I am making myself accountable.
So there.
What's that? Would I like a piece of chocolate to start my 2 week YES challenge? Well.. If you're offering..
In light of my previous 2 weeks of immobility, yesterday, we had no food in the house. Nothing for us and nothing for the animals.
The day before, our neighbour offered to do some shopping for us. With another 2 weeks before I can attempt any kind of decent shop myself, do you know what I said?
"No thanks, we'll manage."
We have a nanny (our wonderful, amazing, hippie version of Mary Poppins) who usually hangs out with us Monday afternoon and all of Friday. Before I fractured my foot, she had arranged to take 2 weeks off, from us and from her other families. After I fractured my foot, she offered to spend all of her now free two weeks with us.
With 3 very energetic children who are hard enough to keep up with when all your limbs are working, let alone when 3 off them are out of action (it takes both arms to walk with crutches!), do you know what is said?
"No thanks, we'll manage."
Nelly is our foster puppy. She is going to be an assistance dog when she grows up. Right now though, she is a border collie puppy with more energy than all three kewl girls put together. Like all dogs, she becomes very destructive when she gets bored - so the key to a content, well mannered pooch is keeping her occupied. There is only so much you can do to occupy a dog with that much energy when you are a person with that much less energy... Nelly's wonderful trainer realised this and offered to find her a place in "vacation care" until I am back on both feet. Instead of thanking her kindly and wishing Nelly a happy holiday, do you know what I said?
That's right, "No thanks, we'll manage."
Now, I am not a liar. We have managed -
I let the animals loose in the veggie garden and we went to the shops and got as much food as the girls could carry (because when an attendant asked if she could help us with anything I replied, "No thanks, we'll manage.").
Mary is enjoying her two weeks off and when I explained to the kewl girls they would need to help their mum for a few weeks, they agreed to make it easier for me to keep up with them (now instead of sprinting off into the distance they just run rings around me).
Nelly is being kept busy enough by me throwing tennis balls into the scrub at the back of our house for her to fetch (even though I am getting RSI in my shoulder and have almost kneecapped all 3 kewl girls with the crutches when trying to bend down to pick up the ball).
Yes, we have managed - and will continue to manage - But I am not so ignorant that I cannot see I could be managing things better, with some help.
So I wonder, why did I just decline the neighbouring teen's offer to wash the dogs for me?! The words, "No thanks, we'll manage", had escaped my lips before I even realised what the offer was that I was declining!
Why do I find it so hard to say "Yes, thank you"?!
This morning Miss V had a massive meltdown because she could not work the zip on her jacket. I offered to help her multiple times and each time she declined. Eventually she cracked it good and proper, so we dealt with her meltdown and not until she had calmed down did I offer to help with her jacket again. I was tempted to just do the jacket up while she was screaming, but she had said NO and I wanted to respect that.
I understand that as a 2 year old, a tantrum over not being able to do something herself is nothing to worry about - she is just learning how to manage her emotions. It did get me thinking though...
I have no trouble at all empowering the kewl girls to say NO, and mean it - but what about empowering them to say YES?
Am I teaching them that it is OK to ask for and accept help?
Definitely not by my recent actions.
I might be better at managing my emotions than 2 year old Miss V, but am I really any better at managing my abilities? (Amazingly enough, now I would very much like to answer YES, even though I know the honest answer is NO!)
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, I am a kinaesthetic learner - I am unable to learn something without applying it practically. This means that all of the above ramblings will remain just that, ramblings, until I put them into action.
So - instead of spending the next two weeks swearing about how restrictive and inconvenient my fractured foot is - I am going to set myself a practical learning challenge.
I am going to manage my abilities and my disabilities more effectively.
I am going to graciously accept help when it is offered.
I am going to practice saying YES, and meaning it.
I am going to start
And now that I have blogged about it, I am making myself accountable.
So there.
What's that? Would I like a piece of chocolate to start my 2 week YES challenge? Well.. If you're offering..
People First
The kewl girls and I were in town today and we bumped into L, the manager of the community centre where we do music. We stopped to chat and during our conversation I mentioned that we were shopping for a birthday present for the girls' friend R, who also comes to music.
It took L a moment to remember R from the 20 other children in the group.. When she did, she said, "Oh yes, the little down-sie girl."
In response, Miss J frowned and said, "Her name is R, and she's not a down-sie girl, she's my friend."
I couldn't have put it better myself.
R is a person, not a diagnosis.
Down syndrome is what she has. It is not who or what or all that she is.
We are all people first. No matter what our abilities, no matter what our diagnosis, no matter how smart our brains or how agile our bodies, we are all people first.
To only see a label is to be, in Miss J's words, "A big smelly bum".
It took L a moment to remember R from the 20 other children in the group.. When she did, she said, "Oh yes, the little down-sie girl."
In response, Miss J frowned and said, "Her name is R, and she's not a down-sie girl, she's my friend."
I couldn't have put it better myself.
R is a person, not a diagnosis.
Down syndrome is what she has. It is not who or what or all that she is.
We are all people first. No matter what our abilities, no matter what our diagnosis, no matter how smart our brains or how agile our bodies, we are all people first.
To only see a label is to be, in Miss J's words, "A big smelly bum".
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