Of Jesus, Feminists and Chewing Your Food

Lately I have had a few links to articles come up on my Facebook feed.  Articles which tell me JESUS IS A FEMINIST!!  And yes, they get that excited about it.  To be honest, this disquiets me.

I love passionate people.  They are fantastic.  They get stuff done, they get super excited about their ideas and nobody has better debates and arguments than a passionate person.  However one thing I have discovered about passionate people, specifically passionate Christians, over the years is that sometimes their passion can eclipse the thing they are passionate about.  Then, sometimes, they begin to re-create Jesus in their image.  The scenario I have seen goes like this.  Christian discovers an aspect of Jesus, their faith and/or the Bible which revolutionises the way they see themselves and the people around them.  Christian gets passionate in the application of this insight and finds others with whom to share their conclusions and the resulting life changing impacts.  All good here so far.  This, however, is where it starts to get kooky.  Christian becomes so devoted to this new insight that they begin to paint Christ and Christian living as a caricature, placing emphasis on this newly discovered aspect and de-emphasising other aspects which balance or do not directly support their own soap-box issue.  Over time this can lead to recreating Christ in their mind.  Like those who love the law who oft quote James, but neglect to open Romans.  Like the Christian who seeks the emotional highs of worship and espouses Grace but avoids those parts of the Bible that may make them feel bad about their week-day choices.

The truth is, neither law and justice nor grace are absent from the nature of Christ.  The Bible speaks long and often about the terrible and unattainable beauty of the law being a refuge and a safe guard to those who love God - a light to our path.  Grace is beautiful.  Amazing in fact, even awesome - as in inspiring true awe within my soul.  Without it I would have no hope.  The more I learn about these aspects of Christ and the Bible and discern how they apply to my own life, the more I realise that they are in no way contradictory, but complementary.  In fact, without grace the law is terrible and frightening, without the law we do not understand our need of grace.  When I am presented with caricatures of Christ which emphasise either the Law or Grace I recognise the Jesus I know within the presentation.  By their very nature, caricatures take easily recognisable features of the one they are trying to portray and emphasise them.  However to stop at the caricature is to deprive yourself of knowing ALL of Jesus and to risk starting to recreate Him in your own image and begin worshiping yourself and your own ideas - labelling them as Jesus.  These are two big ideas about Jesus, but the same applies to other doctrines and insights.

This brings me to disquieting point #1:
When we apply emphasis to one aspect of Christ to the neglect of the other aspects of Christ and continue to do this long term, we risk missing who Christ really is.


There are many who would call me a feminist.

I believe in women's right to vote, to an education, to equal pay and equal rights under the law.  I personally support and spread knowledge of causes which defend women's rights and health such as the global outlawing of female circumcision, the provision of medical treatment for women suffering fistulas or prolapse in countries where they are neglected or treated as cursed, women's refuges to provide a haven for victims of domestic abuse.  I keep myself informed of the current statistics concerning the trafficking of women and girls and support the rehabilitation of sex workers and protect vulnerable girls in Thailand.  I think women, by nature, are powerful and influential - far more so than most actually grasp.  There are many, many other ways that I support, promote and protectively work toward rights and protection for women.

However there are many who would call me anti-feminist.

I do not agree with abortion, even in cases of incest, rape and (perhaps especially) handicap identified by prenatal testing.  Not an opinion I hold lightly.  I believe women should submit to their husband (one day I am going to write something about the definition of that word "submit" - it's interesting).  I believe men should hold most of the leadership positions in churches.  I no longer preach to mixed congregations as I do not feel that, as a woman, it is Biblically appropriate for me to do so unless under direct instruction from God.  I believe in taking reasonable responsibility for the sexual impact you can have on others in the context of dress and conduct.  I believe in saving sex for the marriage relationship.  Hang, there are plenty of feminists who would throw me out of the club for believing in MARRIAGE!

The thing is, feminist is a very loose term open to interpretation and what I mean when I use the term may be completely different to what you mean.  There is so much diversity within this label that perhaps they only unifying characteristic of feminists is that they believe in and are committed to defending`and promoting the rights of women.

In this broad definition of feminism, of COURSE Jesus was a feminist!  He treated women with respect.  They financially supported his ministry.  He specifically reached out to them.  The early Church had highly influential members who were women (Lydia, Priscilla, Tabitha - just to name a few).  Paul wrote in Galatians that men and women are one in Christ.  However, with a slippery, ill-defined label which is open to interpretation comes a whole lot of things which Jesus was not.  I believe great caution should be used with labels such as this.

Disquieting point #2:
"Feminist" is open to interpretation and is imprecise language therefore when applying this label indiscriminately to Christ, you are opening yourself, and Jesus, up to misinterpretation.

Another thing I have noticed within these JESUS IS A FEMINIST articles, there are often wild generalisations or outright inaccurate statements made.  Please note the irony of fact that the previous statement did, in fact, contain a wild generalisation.  The internet is a fabulous place with the exchange of ideas and thoughts made easier and more free than ever before  No longer does a writer have to go through the long process of editing and fact-checking in order to get their writing into a publication.  No longer does a person have to purchase a book or journal or newspaper to read the ideas of others or send an article via the mail system.  In a few simple clicks information can be shared and ideas explored.  But by the same token, misinformation and misinterpretation can be shared with a few simple clicks.

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Don't get me wrong, I respect the intellectual courage it takes to put your ideas out there.  In my experience, inaccuracies often are not intentional.  In internet land, an idea is put forward with the preface "I wonder if..." then it is cut and pasted, but someone leaves off the "I wonder if..." part.  And it is quoted.  And it is quoted again.  And next thing you know there it is, gone viral across the internet.  An idea which is now a "fact" quoted in numerous places.  Ridiculously, in the age of the information super highway, fact checking is not all that easy.  Especially if you have to go to the second or third page of your google search (seriously, who does that aside from parents of kids with rare syndromes...).  Yes, writers need to be careful what they write.  They need to fact check.  They need to take their time and do their research.  However, as readers, we have a responsibility to think about what we are reading.  If a statement is being made that women were not allowed to learn about the Torah in Jesus time, yet we know that Mary, mother of Christ, paraphrased  Hannah's song from 1 Samuel - maybe we should think on that a bit.  If we are being told that women in Jesus time were not allowed to hold property or conduct business, yet we know that Lydia was a "seller of purple" and women financially supported Jesus ministry, perhaps we should take pause.  Perhaps the role and status of first century women was more complex and nuanced than it first appears.  I guess what I am saying is, reading with an open mind is not the same as reading with your brain in neutral.  Maybe there are more shades of meaning within an idea than may first appear.

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Disquieting point #3:
People seem to be building whole doctrines and belief systems based on internet articles and books without reading critically, fact checking, examining the Scriptures or testing the spirit.

This is not to say that I don't believe Jesus was counter cultural in his treatment of women.  He clearly was .  And in his treatment of tax collectors, prostitutes, unclean women, adulterers, lepers, demon possessed, Gentiles, Samaritans, blind people, children, religious authorities, EVERYONE.  But Jesus wasn't some Ancient Palestinian hipster who was cool before it was cool.  He didn't have 21st century "enlightenment" in the first century.  He has ETERNAL enlightenment, always.  Can I be right out there and suggest that perhaps, if Jesus walked the earth today, his treatment of people would STILL be counter cultural?  I have this weird feeling that if today's feminists were to ask Jesus "are you for us, or for our enemies?" He would answer "Neither, I am for me"

Disquieting point #4:
Perhaps if we find Jesus always agreeing with us and never challenging us, we should check that we aren't just talking to ourselves.

I am going to come right out there and say that there are parts of the Bible that I do not completely understand.  I don't get why they are in there and I don't see how they apply to me and my life.  But I know that they are in there for a reason.  Over the years, my understanding of scripture has deepened and scriptures which baffled and confused me once are now beautiful to me.  Am I any more saved now that I have come to an understanding of those scriptures?  No.  Will I be any more saved when I understand the scriptures that now baffle me?  No.  So I am not afraid of my ignorance, but I am humbled by it.

I had a lecturer once who, at the start of the semester, told us that if we were uncomfortable with the idea of going to bed with questions and without a full understanding of things, we were to leave his class right then.  But if we were OK with not knowing all the answers and were able to trust that God has them, even when we don't - we were welcome to stay.  I think sometimes we are afraid to admit that we don't understand something.  Scriptures that don't fit with our understanding of God get dismissed as "culturally specific" or "for a time and place" rather than us standing back and admitting that we don't always fully understand God.  That is no shame, to admit that we don't fully understand God.  Given all of eternity, I will still be learning more about God.

Too often I am hearing and reading about Christians dismissing scriptures which do not fit with their personal understanding of God, rather than questioning either their interpretation of the scripture or their understanding of God.  The lauding of personal "revelation" over scripture is becoming insidious within the modern church.  Of course, we DO need to question the interpretation of scripture when it does not seem to fit with our knowledge of God.  For example, I once knew a Christian woman with a fabulous sense of humour and an effervescent, cheery disposition.  She could talk to anyone and when she laughed, which was often, it was usually loud and long.  Then she was confronted with this scripture

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"You are too loud," she was told "you are not being what a woman of God should be."  I was young and did not have the words to put together why this felt so wrong to me.  But I watched this woman.  I watched her struggle to quiet her loud laughter and heard her laugh less and less often.  I watched her hold back from talking to people and withdraw from the sparkling conversation she used to bring to every room.  I watched her struggle to be quiet, and her spirit become more and more stormy.  I wish now I had the sense to simply pull out a dictionary and show her that "quiet" is not always the opposite to "loud".  Sometimes it is the opposite to "stormy".  I wish I had the courage then, to suggest that perhaps God wasn't talking about volume control, perhaps He created her to have a loud mouth and a quiet spirit.  This experience taught me that not only is it acceptable to challenge the understanding and application of scripture - sometimes it is our duty to do so.  I do, however, believe that we need to question the understanding of scripture, not dismiss it as irrelevant to our times.

There is nothing wrong with challenging our understanding of scripture.  There is nothing wrong with saying "I don't fully understand that bit yet".  There is nothing wrong with admitting that we still have questions.  There is something wrong with just never turning to that part of the Bible.  There is something wrong with dismissing certain scriptures that don't fit with our ideas as irrelevant.  There is something wrong with exalting our own understanding and "revelation" over what is written in the Bible.

Disquieting point #5
Like many enthusiastic supporters of a particular doctrine, some of those in the "JESUS WAS A FEMINIST" camp are selectively using scripture and/or trying to make scripture fit with their own ideas.  I believe our ideas need to fit with scripture.

So where does this leave us?  What am I driving at with all this?


Personally, I am uncomfortable with applying a political or ideological label to Jesus.  It smacks of trying to make Jesus like us, rather than make us like Jesus.  It leaves Christians and Jesus open to misinterpretation.  It feels like putting Jesus in a neat, 21st century package made palatable to the modern world.  A TV dinner Christ.  I get why people do it.  Labels are a way of using shorthand to communicate ideas.  Regardless of my objections, there are still going to be people who feel this label communicates what they want to say.  My hope in writing this is that readers, and perhaps some writers, will stop and think about what is being said and what it really means.  While I have written here primarily about the term "feminist" being applied to Jesus, what I am really concerned about is bigger than this.

We have become a consumerist society and all to often ideas and rhetoric are being swallowed without deep thought or questioning on the part of the consumer.  This has the power to significantly damage the Church, which is perhaps the most disquieting thought of all.  While I will continue to, at times, be uncomfortable with the thoughts and questions of others I am OK with that.  Being comfortable in this life has never been an objective of mine and if I am never being challenged to think, ask questions or put my thoughts and beliefs into words and action, that is a sad state of affairs for me.  But for crying out loud, brothers and sisters in Christ, please use the brains God gave you.  The conversations we are having among ourselves should be of a higher standard than those found out in the world.  Instead ideas are pushed out into cyberspace and either swallowed whole or outright rejected.  Does nobody chew any more?  Disputes seem to descend quickly into unlovely exchanges.  Instead of bearing the mark which is supposed to distinguish us to the world, a love for one another, personal attack and accusation seems to be the norm when Christians disagree.  This creates discord in the body of Christ, meaning we spend more time fighting each other than we do ministering to this hurting world.  It also means that we do not discuss and explore ideas rather accept or reject them without exploration.  This leaves us vulnerable to false doctrine and heresy.

I have a friend who once, in frustration, yelled at me "You think you're ALWAYS right!" my reply was "Of COURSE I think I'm always right.  If I thought I was wrong I would change my mind!  If you have evidence that I am wrong, tell me.  Then I will change my mind and be MORE right!".  Yes, she still speaks to me over a decade later.  I believe I am right on this feminist thing.  I would love it if people agreed with me on this and stopped using the word in the context of labelling Christ.  The likelihood of every Christian writer out there who does this reading a semi-retired Mummy Blog and agreeing with me is not huge.  Perhaps a more realistic aim is that one or two people will read this.  That they will really think and pray about what they believe.  And in the future, when they read or hear something, they will chew well before they swallow it.

Chew your doctrine well, it is good for the Body of Christ.

But she doesn't look disabled...

I've heard it a few times, people telling me that Kaylee does not look like anything is wrong- other than the tube.  But as she gets older it is likely to become rarer that people say it.  It will become harder to miss.

I remember talking to another Heart Kids Mum whose son has been in and out of hospitals his entire life and declared inoperable more than once.  She has fought hard to keep him alive, happy and comfortable; getting second opinions when she was told that all hope was lost, chasing nurses to make sure he had his meds exactly on time, finding babysitters for her other sons and dropping them off before getting him to the hospital just in time for him to crash.  She said to me that in some ways, it's not so bad.  When things are going bad they are awful - but when things are good it is all normal.  She told me that she thought having a child with "one of those syndromes" would be so much harder because every day you have to deal with the syndrome and all it entails.  You never get normal. 


I've thought a lot about her words and I have come to the conclusion that it is pointless to compare monsters. Those whose needs are visible fight pity, condescension and rejection.  Those whose needs are hidden face misunderstanding, judgement and disbelief.  And all of us grab the positives and hold them tight, not wanting to imagine life without them.

It has been many years since I have looked at a child in a public place and judged them and their parents.  I never was one for the "My child will never....." speech and now that my kids have done pretty much everything I pretty much just shut up about it.   I am even less inclined to pass judgement after hanging with the "special needs" crowd for a bit.  The child having a melt down who looks like a spoiled brat could be dealing with a sensory system that completely flips out, could be exhausted and at the end of their tether after their sibling disappeared into hospital for two months, could be trying to cope with a world whose social cues are baffling and incomprehensible to them or could be in an extraordinary amount of pain and discomfort for large portions of the day, undergoing painful and debilitating treatments to keep them alive.  We. Just. Don't. Know.  Because so many special needs look....normal.

I have spent most of my life living with and/or loving people with chronic illness or pain.  People who LOOK fine, who can even function "normally" most of the time, then without warning be vomiting and weak or bedridden with debilitating pain.  At first people are concerned but then, after days, weeks, months or years, sly comments start to be made about hypochondria, being a "sook", just "getting on with it".  Even, and sometimes especially, doctors and nurses hold these attitudes.  Because they don't look sick they face judgement at a time they most need help and understanding.  


Growing up my report cards continually had 'lazy' on them.  'Does not try', 'needs to be more motivated', 'does not listen', 'will not complete set tasks'.  The strange thing is I am actually a workaholic.  My personality gives me a tendency to become obsessive.  When set on a goal I find it hard to unplug and will work at it with every fibre of my being - to the exclusion of eating, sleeping and basic personal hygiene if I let myself.  I have to bribe myself to take a break.  Looking back now I see a girl who struggled to decode and remember instructions.  I would have them in my head and then five minutes later they would be gone - much to my frustration.  I remember saying to teachers and other adults in my life "Can you please write that down to help me remember?" and they would prickle under the increased work load and refuse.  And somewhere between them telling me and me sitting
 down I would forget.  And I started to believe them when they said it was because I was lazy, vague and did not try.  I remember cluttered worksheets blending together in a swirl as I tried to find a handle I could use to understand numbers - then giving up and retreating to my world of books and words which made infinitely more sense to me.  Looking back now I see a kid with mild dyscalcula and possible auditory processing issues.

I manage it now.  Because I have worked hard to understand these issues I now know how to make my brain take detours around those parts that don't work well so I can function in the "real world".  I research things myself until I understand them thoroughly because I usually don't retain what people tell me.  It is like my brain mis-files it somewhere between my short term and long term memory. I ALWAYS have something to write in while I am talking to people in the hospital and those I work with regularly have learned just to give it to me in print wherever possible. I cover a lot of my little quirks.  Most of my friends think I'm being funny when I take something said in jest literally - most of the time I will click a couple of hours later that they were speaking figuratively but in the conversation I instinctively cover my slips with cracks and jokes and witty comments and sometimes I just say weird stuff, the conversation gets a little awkward then we all move on and pretend it didn't happen.  This is probably why

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I would not class myself as having special needs because I function reasonably well in the world without others having to accommodate my needs now.  I'm not actually special, I'm just quirky.  But I remember the frustration of wanting to understand and fit in, trying to get the adults in my life to help me to succeed and finally accepting and applying to myself the label "lazy".

Take that, times it by a million, double it and times it by ten and move the decimal point eight places and you have a tiny speck of what I imagine those with special needs that aren't visibly identifiable to the average person face daily.  People whose struggles with autism are belittled because they "look so normal".  People whose illnesses or differences are written of as laziness or hypochondria.

Kaylee's diagnosis was made within a week of her birth.  Many people take months if not years to get a label they can write on forms.  Months and years of dealing with a sick child with no idea of what is coming next.  Months and years of wondering if this is something which will dramatically reduce their child's life expectancy.  Months and years of battling with doctors and red-tape-makers who think they are just being "over-dramatic" because there is no nice, neat diagnosis that attracts funding, support groups and research.

The visability factor doesn't make things easy by any means, the struggles are markedly different but they are still there.  Wherever we go we stand out.  I can't take my kid to the shop without people reacting in some way to Kaylee's tube.  Most of the time (because she is all cute baby and chub) people are polite and curious.  As they notice her tube and hear our story some people are horrified, shocked or awash with pity.  There are days when I do wish that they only thing they would notice is her eye lashes and her hair.  As much as I love teaching people about my girl and kids with special needs - there are days I would like a day off from being "special needs ambassador" to just be Mum, Dad and Kids hanging out together.  But we are still at the approachable end of visible special needs.  We are approachable, non-intimidating.  She is cute.  If she had a few less fingers or limbs, if her scars were on her face or head instead of hidden under her shirt, if she compulsively waved her arms in front of her face, if she was at the age people expected her to talk, walk and use a toilet and she didn't.  Who would want to know her story, who would want to know her?

I generally do not try and read Kaylee's story before it is written but in all likelihood she will look different.  In all likelihood she will act different.  I will do my darndest to change the world before she gets into it.  To change it to a world that does not judge people who do not talk as having nothing to say.  To change it to a world that does not judge those who think slower, think different, as having no worthwhile thought.  To change it to a world where people do not look at the weak, the broken and the less able and feel afraid.  To change it to a world where people are valued and needs accommodated.  Because they are NEEDS not seeking favouritism or creating inconvenience.

But if, by some strange chance, I do not change this world.  If I do not roll out a red carpet of love and acceptance for her to walk in this world.  I know that whether she looks different, or just is different, this world is a hard place to live in.

So please....change the world with me.

Perspective

This past four months has given me a gift.

I'm not talking about the adorable Kaylee Grace, as deliciously wonderful as she is, I am talking about a different gift.  Lovingly wrapped in heart stopping terror and topped with a quaint bow of grief and trauma.

It's called PERSPECTIVE.

Source: piccsy.com via Sandi on Pinterest

And it pervades every aspect of my life.



I thought I was a person who would tell a friend what I thought but I now realise I too often shut my mouth, pretending it was because I was open minded or cared about their feelings.

The truth is, it was often because I was afraid of what they would think of me if I disagreed with them.

Now, I pray I will always have the strength, wisdom and fortitude to lean over, place a loving hand on their arm and say with a voice filled with love and compassion, "Dude, you are totally screwing up your life", when the situation warrants it.

Because when you have seen birth and death brush so closely, you realise that stuff matters and life is short.




I thought I was a person who realised what really mattered in life.  I thought by being thrifty and not buying nice clothes or nice things even when I had money to do so I was being good and righteous.  I thought that by quashing the little thrill of joy that simple pleasures gave me I was earning my place and not being any trouble to those around me.

The truth is I was still carting around baggage that told me that I wasn't worth the cost of those small pleasures.

Now, I pray I will drink deeply of the joys of simple, pretty things.  That I will sip a mocha without feeling guilty because it cost money.  That I will spend a few dollars on things that serve only to bring me joy occasionally without beating myself up over it.

Because when the only thing you can do for your baby is put a bow in her hair, you realise bows matter.

I thought I had a good grasp of what it meant to be a good friend.  I thought I realised the importance of friends in my life.  I thought I had a pretty good idea who was and was not a true friend in my life.

But the truth was I had no idea.

I had no idea that a friend from halfway around the world who I have never met, or even spoken to, in real life could carry me through hell with a hand full of eclectic love tokens she had tossed in a box months before - and that the weekly-ish emails we exchange filled with the sweet and sour nothings of every day are actually an elixir to my soul.  I had no idea that people were so kind.  I had no idea of how much those prayers, words of encouragement and the time people put into ministering to me and my family could mean.  That a fruit basket from a stranger would help me put one foot in front of the other when my world was falling apart.

Now I pray I will always be there for those I love as much as they will allow me to be.  Even when they are not fun.  Even when their drama is no longer exciting or new or thrilling to be a part of - I will recognise that they still need to live it.  Every. Single. Day.  And that a kind word, a few moments of my time, a touch, a look, a gesture just might be the fuel they need to keep going.  

Because when you are falling apart, the people who are there to pass you back pieces of yourself matter.




The word "crisis" comes from a Greek root word meaning to sift or separate.  This is what the last few months have done for me.  They have distilled my life.  Forced me to let go of all of those things that did not truly matter and hold hard - FIGHT for - those things that do.

Mini-crashes happen.

The road of parenting Kaylee, I have found, is fraught with emotional fender benders.

The other day Jon and I were talking parenting talk and I melted into tears because I missed out on two months of my children's lives.  My youngest son was a different person when I came home.

And it will always hurt, just a little bit.

So I took a moment to grieve, exchanged insurance details with my psyche and asked it to use its indicator to give me a little more warning next time.  And I moved on.

Kaylee started vomiting old blood last week.  As gruesome as this sounds it was not totally unexpected and it just indicated that we needed to adjust some medications, which we did.  However, it does indicate that Kaylee's reflux is getting worse.  The old blood and the fact that I am spending approximately 1/3 of my time settling a tired, sore, Kaylee.  If I hold her she relaxes which helps things calm down.  If the reflux hits and I have to leave her she tenses against the pain and stresses, which makes it worse, which makes her stress and tense more which sends her into a spiral of pain, stress and ultimately, usually, vomiting stomach juices.

You don't hear much, she is so quiet you could be forgiven for not noticing, but I do hear it and I feel it in her when I pick her up.  I have been watching her for four months so I tend to know by the crease in her brow and the way she is holding herself how bad it is.

And sometimes I get tired, weepy and fed up on her behalf, and my own behalf, and on behalf of my husband and other children who are also robbed of time and energy by the curse of Kaylee's pain.

I back up, forgetting to check my rearview mirror, and bump into grief.  I check the panels and wonder if anyone will notice the damage, then move on.

As much as I try not to borrow worry from the future, there are moments.  Moments when I imagine a scalpel slicing down the thin mauve zipper scar on Kaylee's chest and the terrible destruction those gentle, skilled hands will have to wreck in order to fix that tiny pump.

I remember seeing the machines helping my daughter breathe and having to suppress the urge to tear them off her.  The IV lines dripping medicine into her veins and her splinted arms waving in the air as she struggled against it all.  Listening to anaesthetists tell me all the ways a procedure can go wrong then signing the paper for them to do it anyway - because if I don't, she will die.  And I know that  we will have to do all that again in the near future.

And after her heart, comes her cleft.

And after her cleft, perhaps gastro surgery.

And more tubes, different tubes, the same tubes - who knows?

And whatever those tiny little monkey feet present as she grows - therapies, more surgery?  Who knows.

And before I know it I forget to hit the brake and rear-end grief and anger and helplessness.

The cleft palate people from Hobart sent me information on how to introduce solids to my cleft palate baby.  I had to suppress the urge to scream in frustration and tear it up.  Solids are not even on my radar yet.

I have defect envy.

There are people whose children have 'just' a cleft palate, OR a heart problem, OR potential intellectual issues, OR feeding issues, OR digestive issues, OR potential developmental issues etc.

There are people child's heart condition is fixed with an overnight stay in hospital at age five, or one quick surgery with a ten day recovery and no infections or complications.

There are people who take their CdLS baby home from hospital drinking under their own steam.


Screeeech, CRASH, tinkle.......sorry officer, I didn't see the light.

And on days when I am tired, pressed for time, frustrated or sad, I feel every ding.

Kaylee is snuggled into my lap.  Her soft pudgy thighs showing a faint sheen from the cold sweat raised by her latest encounter with the reflux monster.  She is asleep and most people would think that she is peaceful but I know by the furrow of her brow and the way she holds herself, she is just too exhausted to fight against it any more and resting against my soft chest is the most comfortable she is going to get.

And I type because I can do that without disturbing her.

And I see the soft folds of her plump, perfect baby arms.

I see her crazy, wild, untameable locks pointing in every direction like a dark, silky sparkler.

I see her beautiful long lashes, her sweet pink lips, her tiny little monkey feet that look so weird - and so beautiful.

And I am thankful.

Thankful that I get to hold my little girl.

Thankful that after this surgery, which is a comparatively simple one for our brilliant surgeons, Kaylee's heart will beat every day without medicine or concern.  And that silvery mauve zipper will be allowed to stay healed forever.

I am thankful that through that tube there runs my milk with no supply issues or concerns, helping her get strong and working to prevent a million different problems and issues that we COULD have but don't.

Thankful that my daughter is likely to live and grow, not wither and slowly die like so many beautiful children, loved children, who have "genetic issues".

I watch my tired husband cleaning up the dinner time mess from a meal which he cooked with our children sleeping in beds he tucked them into so that I can sit and hold our sleeping baby.

And I am thankful.

A wise man once said:

Source: weheartit.com via Jess on Pinterest

OK, perhaps a writer wrote those words and an actor pretending to be a wise Time Lord (who isn't actually a man but an alien who is shaped kind of like a man but has two hearts and is very, very smart) said those words but...........sorry, geek babble, moving on.

and it's true.  The bad things are bad.  Very bad.  And the good things don't make the bad things go away.  They don't even always soften the blows of the bad things.  Sometimes the best the good things can do is provide a nice distraction from the bad things.

But the bad things don't steal the good things.

No amount of medications, procedures, heart break or frustration can steal from us the small, perfect moments that we share.

Some times my days look like this:

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Some days they look like this:

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Other days they look like this:

Source: gotopublicschool.com via Jess on Pinterest

And on far too many days, I look like this:

Source: thinknice.com via Jess on Pinterest

But the bad, it doesn't kill the good. The good is good.

And day by day, I pray I will remember this:

Source: ariansstudio.blogspot.com via Jess on Pinterest

The Babies and Birth Control Post

Occassionally I get asked why I have so many kids aged so close together.

More often people make assumptions about why I do.

Usually I just give a short answer or leave people to their assumptions because, well, it isn't really anyone else's business really.  Plus, I think the philosophical, theological and personal reasoning behind family planning is a very rich, meaty pie to bite into and I could write several volumes on it and still not cover all the implications.  The problem is most people's eyes start to glaze over after the first few paragraphs so I don't think it'd ever be a best seller and I am too busy raising all these kids to ever get around to writing a complete treatment anyway.  Also, like many big stances, the reasoning behind this action may change as I grow in knowledge and wisdom so I don't really like to tie myself down too closely.

But because this blog is a place where I share quite a few things that are my business and because it is my little place in cyberspace to make people's eyes glaze over, and because I can put little disclaimers on here that say *I may change my mind*, here goes a short mini-treatment on why I have so many kids so close together in age.

So......Why?

Because Jon and I wanted to.

I always wanted a bunch of kids and I slowly won Jon around to the idea by producing such excellent specimens (that's what I like to think anyway!).  We love the lifestyle and dynamic of raising a large family.  My pregnancies and births have all been relatively easy and previous to Kaylee all of our babies have been horribly healthy and easy to manage.  We were happy to make the financial choices involved in having a bunch of kidlets like ours.

So we had 'em - and kept having 'em!

There are some people who have assumed that we did this because we felt the Bible says we shouldn't use birth control and this is not the case.

I believe when the Bible talks about children being a blessing it is right on the money and it is as true and relevant today as it was thousands of years ago.

However, I believe people who have just one or two children are equally blessed as those with larger families and I believe that those who are childless (through their own choice or otherwise) are just as blessed in a different way.

I do not believe that having more children will make me holy in and of itself (although God certainly uses my kids to polish my character if I let him!).

I do not believe that I am less holy or blessed if I choose to actively manage my fertility.

Personally, I do have qualms about the potential abortificant effects of hormone based birth control and do not like what they do to my body - but there are many other barrier and natural family planning options out there that are quite effective**.  I do believe that if I did not actively manage my fertility right now I would risk bringing the gospel into disrepute. 

If someone knows that I am a Christian the choices I make will often shape their view of Christians, God and the Bible.  What I do has the potential to soften or harden their heart to the Holy Spirit.

1Thessalonians 4:11, 12 urges Christians to "Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before." so that those who are not Christians will respect our lives and we will not be dependent on others. 
 
If I were to keep having lots and lots of babies while dependent on government allowances I would not be making these things my goal, I would be making having lots of babies my goal.  While I can find a lot of places where the Bible talks about having kids as a blessing, the only place I can find a direct imperative to have children is in Genesis when Adam and Eve were given the command to "go forth and multiply" - a command that speaks in general terms to humanity.  If I were to take this command and ignore the multitude of urgings in the Bible to be wise, owe no man anything and live a life that brings the Word of God into good repute also in the Bible, it would be legalism and selective verse-picking.

I don't believe God was telling each individual that they MUST go forth and multiply in this verse and  even if I did, "obedience" to this could be achieved with one child anyway - and would not exempt me from the other guidelines for living in the Bible.
 
One of my main hesitations in putting this post together is, well, babies happen.  I personally know of more than one post-vasectomy baby and many other pregnancies that have happened in spite of pretty much every type of birth control.  While I am not planning any more babies at this stage and am actively taking measures to manage my fertility accordingly, I still COULD fall pregnant.  And I do not want to chance any child I have feeling less that totally loved and wanted.  ANY child that enters our home, planned by us and God or only planned by God, IS loved, wanted and considered a blessing.

Right now I have more work in each day than I can really effectively manage without my husband at home working with me*** which makes us dependent on others.  We are privileged to live in a country whose social security systems do provide for us.  One of our goals at the moment is to not be dependent on this help again as soon as we are ready.  So for now we are not planning any more babies.  If I were to keep having babies right now and keep saying that "God will provide" for them, the hard-working taxpaying atheist would be justified in pointing out that they, in fact, are providing.  I had my babies because I wanted them and we could provide for them and I am thankful for a million different reasons for those choices we made.  I have no regrets and I am thankful for my children and enjoy having them so young all together.  God has blessed me with a "fruitful" womb, six fantastic kids, and placed me in a rich country where all my needs are provided for.  He also blessed me with a brain, common sense and the ability to reason and make choices.

And I pray that whatever I do, whatever I choose, the glory will be to God.

And that, in a nut shell, is why I have so many children aged so close together.

** No, I am not going into what I use because frankly, my parents, grandparents and in-laws read this blog and there are some things I think we just don't need to know about each other.


***yes, I know I am on the computer and not doing that work but I am pumping milk as I type.  It's called multi tasking....and I may be a LITTLE bit defensive.

An attack of the I'll-Justs

I have had friends and family speak with envy about my ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere.  Personally, I find it a little inconvenient when I am out visiting someone and doze off on their couch - but there ya go.

Source: dielectric-m.deviantart.com via Hanna on Pinterest

I have decided to share the secret.

I suffer from the "I'll-Justs"

Many people have a mild form of this condition - the "I'll just read one more chapter" form which can render the sufferer dopey but well read.

My form, however, I believe to be extreme.

Take, for example, this morning.  I woke up to Kaylee's feed pump at 5am and, doing the math and discovering I had only four hours sleep, decided to sensibly go back to bed.  I thought "I'll just take this empty bottle out to the kitchen"


Once out in the kitchen I looked out the window to a beautiful early morning and thought it would be nice to go for a walk but I knew I needed sleep so I thought "I'll just express first, it will make the day easier and I need to build up my supply a bit"

Fast forward 45 minutes and I was definately on my way back to bed.  "I'll just put a load of washing on and have a drink."

I needed to go outside to get some water from the tank to drink and it was sublime outside so I thought "I'll just make it a SHORT walk.  I do need the exercise."

Source: pinterest.com via Aleah on Pinterest

As I walked I realised just how out of shape I have gotten so I thought it would be a good idea to do a work out DVD when I got home.  But then I thought the better of it.  I had only had four hours sleep and I needed to go back to bed..."I'll just do the 15 minute work out."

After I did the work out I thought "Aaauuuurugh!  WHY!!!  Why did I do that to myself?  WHY!!  I feel...I feel....I feel pretty good actually.  But I smell like an old sneaker.  Why is it that activity that is supposed to make me alluring and enchanting to my husband makes me smell like an old sneaker?  I'll just have a quick shower."

As I had a shower I contemplated why the scuzz that grows in showers is always orange and seriously contemplated changing the whole bathroom decor to this colour so it wouldn't show up so much when I haddn't had a chance to clean the shower for two and a half weeks.  But I was strong, I was good, I did NOT say "I'll just clean the shower.".  I was firm with myself.  I contemplated making Jon a coffee to wake him up but said to myself "No!  You must sleep!"  So I went to my room to climb into bed.  As I walked through the door Kaylee threw up all over herself.  Unavoidably, "I'll just clean up and settle the baby"

Source: thecreativemama.com via Linda on Pinterest

I cleaned up Kaylee and Erin got up to use the loo.  I was tempted to spend some special time with her instead of going back to bed but I was firm with myself (and her) and sent her back to bed to read until the rest of the household awoke.  As I rocked Kaylee after cleaning her up I switched the kettle on to make Jon a coffee - bribery to get him to kid wrangle while I got an hour or so's sleep before I got up to express.  I snuggled Kaylee close, using the pressure of holding her to hold up my towel I was still wearing.  That counts as skin-to-skin therapy, right? I started dozing on my feet until the forces of gravity woke me up.  Stupid gravity.  I took Jon's coffee in to him, slid Kaylee into her bed and restarted her feed pump and stumbled into my bed.  I snuggled in to my lovely hubby's side and thought "I'll just have a snuggle and a chat for a little while...then I will sleep"  After a while he got up and had a shower and I dozed off...for ten minutes before Kaylee's pump alarmed again, the kids started getting up and I needed to express....

So there you have it.  The reason I fall asleep in odd places is because my body has trained itself to get sleep wherever it can get it!

Source: bippityboppityboo.tumblr.com via Arezu on Pinterest

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

In the last few months my character has experienced some changes.  Contrary to the belief of those who constantly call me INSPIRING, in spite of THIS post, not all the changes are for the better.

A friend was talking to me on the phone the other day and complaining about her toddler's antics.  All I could think was "If I ever catch Kaylee climbing on the dishwasher I am going to take a photo and give her a lolly.".  Where once I may have offered supportive comments, I just felt like yelling down the phone "SUCK IT UP!!!  Your kid is being a KID!!!  BE THANKFUL!!!!  What were you expecting when you became a mother?  An accessory?  You have a little human being with a will of his own - dealing with this stuff is your freekin JOB!"

Thankfully I bit my tongue and when I got off the phone and calmed down I was able to remember being the mother of one very lively toddler Erin and - at times - feeling exasperated and confused by behaviour which I know now is completely and utterly normal and would be thrilled to see Kaylee engage in.

I also spoil my toddler now.  Not just "Oh here have a lolly before dinner" spoil but "Oh you're having a tantrum, have WHATEVER you want plus a few other things you didn't even ask for!  And while you're at it, kick me in the head and pull my hair and I will tell you just how smashing I think you are and kiss your neck" spoil.  Yeah, I know.  I'm working on it.

I gripe, talk behind people's back and hold grudges too.  There are a few nurses at the local hospital who would probably be a little taken aback if they heard me talking in the privacy of my own home about them.  When they came on shift the last time we were there it took a LOT of self control to be nice to them at all.  As a rule I think nurses are rock stars....but there are exceptions to every rule apparently.

I am highly critical, controlling and possibly a teeny weeny bit sarcastic.  When we went into hospital on Thursday and had a temporary NG tube placed I wasn't sure about how it was taped but didn't say anything straight away.  I went down to say goodbye to my other kids then came back to find that lo and behold, Kaylee had pulled out her tube.  I said to the nurse "Hmmm, yeah.  It's all in the taping." and proceeded to instruct this poor nurse (who probably had fifteen years experience) how to tape a tube properly.  When Kaylee had a new tube she ended up being taped up enough to look like a mummy because the nurse wanted to escape further "instruction" from me!

Yeah, they love me in there.  I promise.

Readers who have been friends of mine for years will be snorting with laughter about now.  Not because of my incredible wit, but because they know a secret.  These aren't ACTUALLY huge changes.  I've actually always kind-of-a-little-bit been sarcastic, mean, judgemental, critical, controlling and over indulgent with toddlers (not so much Erin, poor kid, but the others, yeah, little bit).  I could get away with it more if I had a British accent but alas I grew up in Regional Central Victoria, Australia.  It turns out that I am still me - but more so.

It turns out that I didn't get a kid with special needs because I am some kind of saint or martyr.  It also turns out intense life experiences are a little like a furnace with silver - they bring the impurities to the top.  In spite of the social expectation that we are saints and martyrs, many mothers of kids with special needs are, as one particular blogger puts it, weary women.  Many of whom do not tell it like it is because they don't want their frustration with the situation, illness or condition to be interpreted as not loving their child.  Many of whom do not share their load because the reality is most people would prefer to keep an untarnished image of the saintly version of "that inspirational woman with the special needs child" rather than get involved in the marvellous, messy, painful, tragic, exhausting and often-covered-with-bodily-fluids world raising special needs Kids.

Dear Lord,


I know that I haven't got it all together.  Help me to let go and let your Spirit shine through me with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Help me to get people to understand that anything good they see in me is because You created it within me and are shining through me.  And most of all Lord, help me not to kick the next person to call me inspirational in the shins.


Amen

Etiquette

Some people have told me that they find it hard to know what to say when they meet the parents of a special needs/medically fragile kid.  I can't speak for all in this situation but I thought I'd put together a few do's and don'ts.


Do...

...notice and comment on something other than obvious 'defects' or medical paraphernalia.  As a mother of  a child with a tube taped to her face, I love it when people notice her eye lashes, hair and cute clips and clothes before her other differences.

...feel free to ask respectful questions about Kaylee's differences or medical bits and bobs.  I do understand people's curiosity and I want people to understand Kaylee better.


...just say hi and chat!  About the weather, any of my six kids, the price of cheese - whatever!  Kaylee's differences do not define us or occupy our every waking moment. 

Don't say...

..."Wow, she gets her food through a pump?  It must be great not having to feed her all the time, you must get lots of sleep." Um.  No.

..."Oh, at least you have five other normal kids."  Kaylee wasn't the booby prize at the end and it is a stretch to call anyone in my family normal.



..."You are an amazing, brave, wonderful, inspiring person.  I could never do what you do." I am just a Mum doing what many other Mums in this situation do.  I realise this is intended as a complement but it does make me feel a little like a fraud and a bit uncomfortable.  Other Mums of special needs and medically fragile kids have said they feel the same to me.


..."Oh, I know exactly what you're going through.  My kid was born a few weeks prem and was tube fed at the hospital/was in PICU for a week with an infection/broke an arm and needed surgery/insert other scenario here." Anyone who has experienced this world knows you can only imagine what other parents in this situation are going through.

..."Kids with syndromes are always lovely." This is kind of like saying all fat people are jolly, all short people are insecure and all dark skinned people are musical.  It's called stereotyping.  Kaylee will have days where she is lovely and days when she is a right royal pain in the butt - just like my other five!

..."So are you going to have any more kids?" Right now I am not making any life long decisions, I'm just living day to day.  I am also trying to fit 36 hours worth of work into every 24 hours (the only reason I am writing this is because I can type while expressing or calming a grumpy baby) so another baby is definitely not priority right now.  It's really not a decision that I choose to share with the world at large anyway which is why I usually answer with wisecracks.

While all the don'ts are taken from real life, I do realise that the people who make those comments are genuinely trying to be nice!  I always try and look to the sentiment BEHIND a comment, even if the comment itself is less than appropriate.

Things said with love, compassion and friendship are usually welcomed with open arms.

Ten ways I help my husband be a Great Dad

It was Father's Day in America last Sunday so the American media and blogsphere have been buzzing with stuff about fathers. Now, fathers day gets almost as mushy as mother's day - which I have already ranted about a little - but I did take this opportunity to have a think about my children's father and just how amazingly, wonderfully, awesome he is (the fact that he is also my husband totally aside). So I was inspired to write a short post about how I help him be so amazingly, wonderfully, awesome. Because being my blog, it is all about me my friends.

CAUTION: this is not an instruction manual on how to make the father of your children just like mine. Last time I checked, I didn't make mine, God did. This post is primarily a reaction to an article that I read that was designed to make mothers everywhere feel like slighted victims if their husband didn't do xyz rather than the powerful contributors to their family dynamic that they actually are.


1. I pray for my husband and his relationship with our children. I could probably stop there really. Honestly, this is the most powerful thing I do. If I am concerned about something I pray about it before (and after) I talk to my Beloved about it. If I am pleased about something I thank and praise him and God. Don't underestimate the power of sustained and persistent prayer.

2. I step back and let him do it his way. It is possible, just possible, that I am a little bit of a control freak. So let's just say this doesn't come natural. I have all day with the kids and I have my own little way of doing things that I know works. When he does things differently it can be tempting to step in and offer instruction on how to do it PROPERLY (read: my way). But if I step back and shut up, it is amazing how his way usually works to.....sometimes even better.

3. I keep my mouth shut when he does make mistakes. Yes folks, he makes mistakes - rarely but he does. Sometimes when that happens it can be tempting to jump in and "fix" it while I shoot accusatory glares and snide comments in his direction. But let's face it, I make mistakes too! I try and remember to treat him the same way I want to be treated when I screw up.

4. I respect and draw on his opinion. If I am stumped with something with the kids, I ask him what he thinks I should do. It can be tempting to believe that because I have read more parenting books and I spend all day with the kids that he does not have anything to offer but it couldn't be further than the truth. He comes from a place of knowing me, knowing the kids and loving us all. He has a fresh perspective after being out of the house at work all day and he is clever too. Sometimes I have asked his advice then been tempted to ignore it because it didn't line up with what I thought. But then I put it into practise and lo and behold, it DOES work! Even just thrashing out an problem together helps us to be a team rather than two free agents.

5. I back him up. If we disagree on how to deal with a situation we talk about it quietly and away from the kids. As far as the kids are concerned we are a united front. The kids know they cannot play one against the other and they feel more secure because of it.

6. I celebrate who he is with the kids. Beloved likes cars. I don't drive. He likes 4 wheel driving, I like hiking. He has an eye for detail, I'm more of a big-picture-bang-it-together kinda gal. But when I talk to the kids I celebrate these aspects of who he is. I talk about how clever he is to put together the new transmission for the ute himself and how he saved us so much money. I talk about how Daddy worked so hard for months to finish off the boy's room. I excitedly look forward to our next 4wd trip. It would be easy to gripe in front of the kids about how long it took to get some of those jobs finished or moan about how I'd really rather walk a track than bump along in a car but by talking Daddy up in their eyes I am nurturing their relationship with him.

7. I structure our day to include him, even when he is gone. At meal times and worship times throughout the day we pray for him when he is gone. We plan little surprises for him. We have time planned after dinner for stories and worship that includes Daddy whenever he is home and once a week we have a special Sabbath dinner which I try and make an event to look forward to - so he is eager to be at home with us rather than doing a few more hours at work to escape from the chaos at home! Now, things will probably LOOK different at your house than they do at mine but the core principle is the same. Dad is a treasured member of our home even he isn't here.

8. I actively nurture my relationship with my Beloved. I know I am a better mother when Beloved is filling my love-tank so I do that for him. I know that two things make him happy - a decent meal and clean clothes. Seeing as I am the at-home member of our partnership, I try and make these a priority. When he walks through the door I try and take a moment to offer a coffee, hug and/or conversation. I try and make sure I am not too tired at the end of the day to make time for him. I try and get the kids to bed early on Thursday nights then make us a special "date night" meal. Again, this may look different in other people's homes and I don't necessarily get all these things done every day but the core principle is active nurturing of our relationship.

9. I don't compare. I have a friend whose husband gets up one morning on the weekends, organises the kids and brings her breakfast in bed. Sometimes on the weekend I get up, put on a DVD for the kids, sneak back into bed and we whisper sweet nothings for a while. A sleep in and breakfast in bed? Nice, but not nice enough to give up all the other wonderful things about my husband. If I were to compare and complain all it would serve to do is erode his confidence as husband and father. I prefer to build him up whenever possible.

10. Finally, if I do need to come to him with a concern, I do it prayerfully, privately and lovingly. I humbly try and remember all MY failings and shortcomings and try to speak in such a way that I build him up and help him rather than erode and tear him down. I try and look at my own failings first - remove the plank from my own eye so to speak and ask myself if it really IS important enough to make an issue of. Because I do this rarely and I do my best to do it with the same kindness and love I would want for me, he is usually quite open to listen and make changes if needs be.

So there it is, my top ten for my top bloke.

Love you honey!!

mothering labels

How do you define yourself?

There are a million different ways people define themselves to others and to themselves. Profession, address, family, religion, education. All of these can play a part in defining us. In the realm of motherhood, it does not seem enough to define oneself simply as mother. Cute t-shirts with slogans such as "I get my milk from Mum - not just any old moo!" proclaim the proud Breastfeeding Mums. You can buy decals for your car to advertise that the travellers within enjoy a family bed - the Co-sleeping Mum. Ezzo Mothers press their copy of Babywise on you and sing the praises of routine. Attachment Mums adjust their sling and suggest routines starve children of love and affection. Homeschooling Mums speak about schools as state sanctioned child abuse while P&F Mums bake madly for the next bake sale to raise funds for the library and well up with tears as their child plays a tree in the school concert - thriving in the community of school. Don't even start on vaccination, circumcision, home birth and elective c-sections. The millitant on all sides sure that their way is the best way.

And then the battle lines start.

And that's where I START to have problems with the way we define, or label, our mothering.

Call me a little odd, but I feel that as mothers we need to be comrades rather than enemies. Honestly, the truest desire of each mother is to do the best she can for her child or children. Isn't it? Different education, cultural cues, histories, values, desires and personalities mean that how "doing the best we can" for our children looks is different for each of us. Yet our labels, our definitions, are so often a source of pain and distress. And they can also impair our ability to mother effectively.

Here are some of the problems that I have with parenting labels.

Reducing our parenting to labels, can reduce our parenting to formulas. When my friends who are first time parents call me for advice they often come away frustrated. They want an answer to a question like "How do I get my baby to sleep?". They want formulas. They want me to say "Do XYZ and your baby will sleep through the night in approximately one week". Here's the rub. I can't do that. I can say about a dozen different things that have worked but for me but I cannot garantee that any of them will work for that particular baby. Because babies aren't machines, they are people. Some brave people have put down what works for them in raising children into writing which has helped many, many people. However, almost invariably, their words hae been twisted, misinterpreted, abused and over simplified. At times, to disasterous effect. Children are people, not machines. Life is LIFE, not an exam where we get each answer right or wrong. There is no cheat sheet. Following the "rules" of a certain movement, childraising expert or parenting style will not ensure your mothering turns our right.

Which brings me to my second point.

Clinging on to labels can prevent us from clinging on to Jesus. We don't want to fail at this parenting caper. The stakes are too high. So that sentence I just said 'Following the "rules" of a certain movement, childraising expert or parenting style will not ensure your mothering turns our right.' is liable to scare the crappers out of us. The natural question that follows is what WILL ensure our mothering turns out right? Here's the really scary answer...Nothing. We can do everything right, we can raise our children in the way they should go, we can do every single thing in our power to lead them to Christ but the truth of the matter is our child's relationship with God is just that, THEIR relationship with God. Now I have about a million different things that I do in order to raise my children in a way that encourages them to know God and I strive to learn more of how I can raise them well but this knowledge that the decision to follow Christ is theirs and theirs alone drives me to my knees in prayer - which, as a mother, is exactly where I should be. Rather than totally relying on a label or movement or expert or ANYTHING, perhaps we need to rely on God alone. After that, take what's helpful and loose the rest.

Hiding behind labels can make us judge others. Through fear, we start to judge others. We see a child throwing a tantrum in the supermarket and think "Hmm, someone needs to set better limits/ensure their child gets more rest/cut down on their sugar intake/fill in other blank". A mother confides her exhaustion after a sleepless night and we think "well, if she would just co-sleep/control cry/get a better routine/fill in the other blank she would get more sleep". We hear about tragedy striking another family - a child making horrible choices, a child being diagnosed autistic, a child suffering abuse at the hands of a family friend. Nodding sagely we comfort ourselves that it could never happen in OUR home. That only happens to families who don't homeschool, who immunise, who allow others to babysit. Fear that what happened to them could happen to us drives us in to the shell of labels and formulas. Superiority replaces humility and compassion. There is nothing wrong with offering advice - especially if it is asked for. There is something wrong with thinking that we have all the answers. There is something wrong with sitting in judgement over hurting parents.

Being focussed on our labels and self-definitions rather than people can lessen our ability to minister to others. I have a friend who I have known for years. This good friend is passionate about her beliefs and convictions - which is one of the things I love about her. A while ago, this friend was convicted that circumcision of infant boys was wrong. Several times a week links to anti-circumcision articles and clips would appear on her Facebook feed. Almost every time I logged on, I would be confronted with lists of reasons why circumcision was wrong and links to graphic video of circumcision. Personally, my sons are not circumcised. We have many reasons for this, which I am happy to discuss with anyone interested, but it got to the point that I was frustrated and annoyed by the confronting nature of the links so I did what I suspect most people do in that type of situation - I hid her Facebook feed! The language used in many of these articles was accusitory and provocative and I, who shared the conviction, was completely turned off from any information they may have contained. Language which deliberately provokes or accuses will not help other parents learn anything useful from us. Language which supports, uplifts, empathises and encourages is the type of language which should be exchanged between mothers.

An "us and them" mentality can alienate others and limit us. If a course of action you have chosen as a parent is at all countercultural you probably have encountered criticism and opposition. One way people who have experienced this show support to one another is to band together. You can find a web forum or online support group for pretty much any choice you make as a parent. There are playgroups, clubs and organisations supporting every lifestyle and parenting choice out there. There is nothing wrong with this, until exclusionary or judgemental statements and jargon becomes a part of our every day vocabulary and all our friends look exactly like us in philosophy and practise.


Defining or labeling ourselves in a certain way can stop us from being flexable. I homeschool my children and I love it. It makes me happy, it works for our family and it is, at present, the best choice for our family. If, tomorrow, God tells me to put my kids in school - I will. And it will not change who I am as a mother. It will just give me less excuses to avoid housework! I believe the safest and best place for my family is where God wants us to be. I don't co-sleep with my kids other than in cases of illness or bad dreams. It simply doesn't work for me. I don't sleep well with babies or kids in my bed and my Beloved and I enjoy our quiet, personal time together kid free. However, if this changes one day, it will not rock my world as a mother. It will not change my definition of myself. Because while I am a mother who homeschools, I am not a Homeschooling Mum. I am a mother who chooses not to co-sleep, not an anti-co-sleeping Mum.


I have learned over the years that I only need one label, one definition, for my motherhood and myself, and it is Saved. And I think the sonner we learn that, the sooner we will be able to support each other as sisters in Christ rather than drawing battle lines on the playground.

Further Parenting Hints from the Slightly Insane

She was like a dark cloud coming to the breakfast table.

I had committed the unpardonable sin on switching off the playschool repeat before it had finished and refusing to tape the end of it. Apparently, the justification that she had already seen that episode several times and we needed to sit down for breakfast was JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

As we sung our hymn she scowled at her weetbix as if they had been the cause of the offense. The other children watched her with interest to see how this would play out. We finished the hymn (or I did while the others gaped at Erin and Erin scowled at her breakfast), prayed and I calmly took up spoons and started feeding myself and Andrew. She scowled, waited and surreptitiously peeked at me from under her eyebrows to see how I'd react. I continued to eat. She continued to scowl.

Choice time.

Do I engage in a tussle of using reason and logic, giving her opportunity to argue back - at least silently in her head? Do I tell her to suck it up sweetheart and eat her breakfast WITH A SMILE, playing the ogre for her internal persecuted princess?

Or do I come at it sideways?

I fixed her with a severe look, pointed at her, wiggled my finger like a worm and said "Hey Erin, this ISN'T FUNNY". The other children burst into laughter. She struggled not to. I wiggled it more. "Hey Erin, see my finger? See my finger here? It really isn't funny. Nope. Not even a little bit. I mean look at it, it is a wriggling finger. What in the tarnation could be funny about that?" She struggles, shakes her head vigorously and rolls her eyes while her siblings are helpless with laughter. I then calmly pick up my spoon and continue eating. She scowls again at her food but her acting is in severe need of some cheese to go with that ham. The bitterness just isn't there anymore. And I continue eating. Billy watches her with interest as he eats. "Hey Mum, Erin's not eating." "Well, she will be hungry come lunch time because her food will disappear once we are all finished." Half-heartedly she sets her jaw and pronounces "I won't eat until you make me" I look at her and smile "Wow, we are sure going to save on food bills then." and I continue eating.

She rolls her eyes in surrender, smiles and starts eating.

Engaging would have bought into the drama of it, coming at it sideways and getting a little creative moved us on without making the morning the casualty of a bad attitude. Like a crazy improv theatre workshop, parenting makes you think on your feet, make decisions and move fast. The core attitude was addressed. She knew the logic, she knew the behaviour, she knew the expectations. She made her choices about how to behave and then so did I. Next time I may invite her to go back to bed and restart the day. Next time I will probably manage our mornings so I don't resort to TV to keep everyone out of my hair for a few moments before breakfast. Next time I may even wait until the end of the program. Next time I may cheerfully instruct her to suck it up sweetheart. But coming at it sideways, sometimes works too.

You Fart In Bed

You fart in bed


Then pull the covers over my head


You leave your socks on the bedroom floor

You NEVER close the bathroom door

You're late for tea and never call

You leave your work boots in the hall

You never get up and settle the baby

When I ask for a date you shrug and say "maybe"

I ALWAYS put the kids to bed

do the dishes and get us all fed

You frustrate me beyond all reason

especially during the football season


And yet...


There's something.


Something I cannot, dare not, name.


Something that makes me not quite the same


Something that makes me lighter and freer

when watching you kick back with a beer

Eve's curse? Perhaps. Downtrodden? Maybe.

but with you I am a better me

There's something about you I cannot define

But whatever it is, I'm glad it is mine.

And when I am in your arms, in our room

When the house is quiet as the Taj Mahal tomb

When you whisper words of intimacy

And every woman wishes she were me


Then you fart and pull the covers over my head.


Even then, I am glad it is you in my bed.



Just so you know, my husband has NEVER done this to me (I threatened before we were married to bite him if he did). Also he never watches football, often settles the baby and is more than willing to take me out! It is FICTION. But I am sure many married women can relate

The Diplomacy of a Larger Family Ambassador

I live in a small country town with a school, shop, post office and pub. Most people I meet when I walk down the street I know well enough for a nod and a smile and it is rare that I need to stray too far from this comfortable niche I have made for myself. Most people around here have exhausted their store of silly questions and have come to accept me my family and me as just one of those eccentricities that exist in small towns. Like the Lady With All The Cats and the Man Who Always Wears A Green Hat, we have become the Family With All Those Kids. A strand in the tapestry of our town. As such I can go weeks, even months, without encountering someone who is surprised at our choice to have more than the usual 2.4 children.

But every now and then…..

Oldest Daughter and Oldest Son had been invited to a sixth birthday party. As we arrived they stripped off their coats and dived into the mini-mosh pit of children in the lounge room. I gave the mother of the birthday girl a wave and a smile and retreated to the relative safety of the kitchen area with the rest of the adults. I maneuvered myself into a position to get a glass of fizzy green stuff and found a stool that looked as if it would hold me. An unfamiliar woman dressed in smart-casual slacks and jacket and sporting a stylish, multi-coloured hair cut introduced herself as the birthday girl’s aunt. I smiled and introduced myself back.

“I belong to the one in pink singing off key next to the coffee table and the one in camouflage pants about to stage dive off the couch” I smile catching my son’s eye and explaining in detail exactly what will happen to him if he carries out his plan using only silent eyebrow signals. Thankfully, he gets the message and climbs down.

Aunt Smart-casual’s eyes widen “And you’re about to have another? Gosh you’re brave.”

I laugh “Brave or crazy. I have another two at home too.”

Aunt Smart-Casual’s eyes nearly pop out of her head “FIVE kids? Gosh, I didn’t know people did that still these days. Is it a religious thing to have so many?”

I smile and send up a silent prayer for strength, wisdom and try to remember that even though this is the 150th time I have heard this question, it is probably the first time this woman has asked the question. “Our faith has a definite impact on our choice to have children, but I do not feel forbidden to stop or required to continue to have children just because of my faith. It affects my choice like it affects most of my choices, being such a strong part of who I am.”

Aunt Smart-Casual nods with a blank look on her face “I don’t know how you cope. I have a 9 year old at home and he drives me crazy. He is a full time job. I couldn’t stand having another one, I’d never get any time out. How do you do it?”

Suppressing a sigh and pasting on a smile I nod and try to formulate an answer that doesn’t make me sound like a martyr or superwoman “We have tough days of course, any family with any number of children do, but five children isn’t the same as one child five times over. There is an economy of scale there. Plus I have an awesome husband which helps. Overall, it is a lifestyle choice for us and a lot of the time we have a whole lot of fun together.”

Aunt Smart-Casual thoughtfully tips her head to one side “Don’t you worry that you don’t get enough time for each child? How can they develop as INDIVIDUALS when you are so busy with all of them?”

I fight the urge to smack this woman in the face and remind myself that she doesn’t know my children, she is not judging me, she is simply unpacking a stereotype in her own mind. “I don’t have to make them into who they are, they are who they are, I simply facilitate the process of them discovering who that is and they don’t need me holding their hand every minute of the day to do that. When any of them achieve something they don’t just have me as #1 fan, they have a whole cheer squad. When they are low, they don’t have to fit in with Dad’s work schedule or find a moment when I am unoccupied to get a shoulder to cry on, they have siblings, friends and extended family. A strong support network., of which I am one part, is helping my kids to realize who they are every day.” Oldest Daughter comes and thrusts her pass-the-parcel prize into my hands before re-entering the melee in the lounge room. “When she was little” I continued “I worked full time as a teacher for two months. Between getting her to childcare, picking her up, preparing meals, keeping house, doing prep and marking – it was MUCH harder to find time for her then than it is now.”

Aunt Smart-Casual was still latched on to the topic like a dog with a bone “But what about time for you? Do you work now?.”

I bite back the sarcastic reply on the tip of my tongue and smile again, albeit a little thinly this time. “We chose to become a one-income family when my oldest was little. I enjoy what I do. I have more time for reading, personal projects and other pursuits now than I ever did when I was at Uni full time and working to pay my way. This was my choice and I have no regrets where that is concerned.”

“How on earth do you manage to afford everything? My husband and I work full time and we can barely keep up with the bills.” Aunt Smart-Casual replies in amazement “I suppose tax breaks and baby bonus would help a lot.”

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I continue “The tax breaks and the baby bonus are a great help and I am not going to turn down free money, but we aren’t dependent on them by any stretch. We choose to live a very simple lifestyle, we have a relatively inexpensive renovator’s delight which keeps the mortgage down and we keep to a budget. We don’t have buckets of money, but neither do we starve. Again, it’s a lifestyle choice.”

Thankfully, we were interrupted by the cake and I manage to be busy with my children and the party until home time. As I walk out the door, Aunt Smart-Casual lays a hand on my arm and says with a genuine smile “Good luck with the baby, I hope all goes well with you and your family.” As I walk out the door I wonder if I can write Diplomat and Ambassador on my resume now.