Tag Archives: parenthood

Guest Post: “Second-Best Mom”

Posted on April 24, 2012 | 39 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from one of my dearest real-life friends, Sarah Hamersma. Sarah is such an important person to me, it’s hard for me to boil her down to a few words in an intro. So please just get to know her a little here, and be blessed. –Tamara

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

_______________________________________________________

I hate coming up short. I like to succeed, and if there’s a right way to do something, I want to do it that way. Why settle for second-best?

We economists actually have a theory of the second-best (bear with me here). While we know the “first-best” solution to many economic problems, sometimes the scenario just doesn’t fit: markets aren’t perfectly competitive, people aren’t perfectly informed, conditions aren’t perfectly predictable. When we can’t have the first-best, we shouldn’t just wring our hands – we should try hard to find the second-best solution and shoot for that.

After many years as an economist, I found myself flung into the world of the second-best when I became a mother. I wanted to learn the right way to do things and then do it. When I set my mind to something, I should be able to make it happen. I could work full-time, serve in my church, spend time with my husband, and still find a way to be a perfect mom to my children…right?

Wrong. The no-TV-for-little-ones rule was quickly broken. The environment-saving cloth diapers were used enthusiastically for a little while and then relegated to the closet for months. The special grinder for making baby food using real food – from the farmers’ market, of course – was moved aside to make room for the jars (“Well, at least I try to buy organic,” I comforted myself). And I finally broke down and hired someone to help clean the house. I remember admitting to my friends, “I’m not actually hiring her to save myself time cleaning; I’m hiring her because I want things to be clean for my kids and I’ve discovered that I just don’t do it.” And that’s the key: I don’t. It’s not that I can’t – it’s that I don’t. Apparently, I won’t. It was hard being such a disappointment to myself.

But God’s grace is big enough for even a person who discovered her self-absorption a little late. I have started seeing ways God can use my efforts for the good of my children even when they’re second-best (the efforts, not the children, of course).

Not long ago, a sale attracted me to something the first-best mom in me never would have bought:

This package contains flour, sugar, shortening, nuts, and white chocolate chips – most of which already live in my cupboard.  But under this wrapper, they were already made into one giant rectangular patty of cookie-dough goodness – even scored into a dozen squares with, apparently, a dull pizza cutter.  Last night, I decided that my nearly-two-year-old Lucas should get to make cookies with mom.

Out they came.

I broke off the cookie-dough bricks and handed them to Lucas, one by one, to put on the pan.  I rearranged them when they threatened to turn into a single mountain of dough.  About halfway through, he discovered that they were yummy; the next couple squares got big bites out of them on their way to the pan.  I tried to stop him, maybe a little harshly, and then I remembered sneaking cookie dough when my mom had made cookies with me – real cookies, from ingredients.  I laid off a little.  When the cookie experience had exceeded his limited attention span, I finished loading the pan, giving him a few white chocolate chips for his trouble.

They went into the oven.  We waited, watching through the window of the oven door that desperately needed cleaning.  The ridiculous blocks of dough looked like ice cubes melting into their own puddles.  Would they ever look right?

Well, this second-best mom decided it didn’t matter if they looked right.  Because what I was looking at was not the cookies, but a little boy’s face.  And this – this looked just right.

_______________________________________________________

Sarah Hamersma is an economist, a mom, and a Christian– hopefully all at the same time.  She plans to keep being these things every day for the foreseeable future, despite her lack of trinitarian capabilities.

About these ads

→ 39 Comments

Posted in life

Tagged , , , ,

Watering Weeds into Flowers

Posted on February 9, 2012 | 89 Comments

It was a day-after-day kind of day. Another day at home, twin three-year-olds whining at me, wearing on me, pulling on me and my threadbare patience. I read all about the French parents and their supremely well-behaved offspring that the entire Internet was going ga-ga over, and I was 12-years tired of my whole stay-at-home gig, and these people amazed and inspired and pissed me off, and I tried to reproduce their authoritative tone, but I guess I lacked a certain je ne sais quoi because my smallest children kept acting like total merde.

“I hate staying at home,” I confessed.

And it was selfish, this admission out loud, this burden on the man whose hands were tied to an office desk, whose heart broke a little more every time he heard over the phone that his babies were not delighted over. But his words bore no admonishment, only gentle truth: “You won’t have that forever. And then you’ll miss it, you know.”

Continue reading →

→ 89 Comments

Posted in life

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Pickle Kiss

Posted on January 13, 2012 | 89 Comments

It happens in most families, I’m sure: When my kids rub their noses on mine, they shout, “Eskimo kiss!” When they tickle me with their eyelashes, they shout, “Butterfly kiss!” When they suck their cheeks in and move their lips up and down, they shout, “Fish kiss!”

But unlike in most families– and owing to the strange imagination of my 7-year old– when my kids poke their pointer fingers on the outside corners of my mouth, they shout, “Pickle kiss!”

Ahem.

When playing "monster" goes south.

Continue reading →

→ 89 Comments

Posted in humor, life

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Don’t Say Anything If __

Posted on November 7, 2011 | 28 Comments

Whether owing to some seasonal allergy or to the change in weather, it was clear that my sinuses had bested me. By midday Saturday my voice was rapidly wearing out; by early evening it was nearly gone.

And while it’s never convenient for a mother to lose her voice, in this instance the threat was particularly untimely: I was supposed to help lead the singing in our church service the next morning. So I went into emergency mode to conserve what was left, making various clicks, snaps, and claps at my family members to get their attention, writing messages on a white board, and whispering when I absolutely had to speak. The children were immensely amused.

And then their father added to the merriment with his devilish wit: “Tamara, don’t say anything if you want to give me a foot rub.”

The children took notice as I shook my head in amused silence.

Continue reading →

→ 28 Comments

Posted in humor, life

Tagged , , , , , ,

Tattoos Are Like Kids– Trust Me, I Have a Few

Posted on August 8, 2011 | 64 Comments

Having a total of eight tattoos and children combined (with plans for several more of the former and absolutely no more of the latter), I’ve picked up on some compelling similarities.

My 1st tattoo. Call it a "tramp stamp" and we're through. I mean it.

On Deciding To Go For It:

  • It can be hard to decide whether or not to go for your first one.
  • Particularly if you’re a woman, you may consider the fact that your body will never look the same again.
  • You may be tempted to go for it if a lot of your friends have them. This is not a good reason to do it.
  • You may be scared to go for it if none of your friends have them. This is not a good reason not to do it.
  • It will be expensive and almost always worth it.

My 2nd tattoo. If you're too young to know what it is, I'm not going to tell you.

On The Pain Factor:

  •  Fear of pain is a ridiculous reason not to have one– the pain is fleeting, and the result is permanent.
  • You may want your spouse to hold your hand when it gets really uncomfortable. You may also want to be left the hell alone.
  •  If you’re so inclined, a little medication can really take the edge off.
  • You may want an alcoholic beverage once it’s over.
  • Your spouse has to treat you gently for a couple weeks afterwards.

My 3rd tattoo. I'm done at 5 kids-- it's in ink.

On Living With Your New Creations:

  • Once you have one, you kind of figure, What’s a few more? (In fact, some of us have a hard time stopping.)
  • You feel pride over them even though you didn’t really create them yourself.
  • People who don’t have them often don’t “get” them. Some share their opinions on the matter far too freely.
  • If you have what people consider “too many,” you might not get hired.
  • If they turn out well, you’ll want to show them off.
  • If they turn out badly, you’ll be embarrassed and people will judge you.

 How else are tattoos like kids? How many do you have of each?

I showed you mine– now show me yours! If you haven’t already “liked” my Facebook page, go do it now, and then post your photos on my wall!

→ 64 Comments

Posted in humor, life, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , ,

Freakin’ ‘Tarians: 30 Days of Vegetarianism Continues

Posted on August 4, 2011 | 52 Comments

Bryan and I are now on our 12th of 30 days of vegetarianism, and things are mostly going swimmingly,  with only the occasional flailing of willpower. For him, the biggest temptation has been the fried chicken he’s so often confronted with (north-central Florida is very much the South); for me, it’s not so much been the bacon as it’s been the seafood (Florida is very much a peninsula). But really, the biggest obstacle hasn’t been the mild temptations or even the dining out– it’s the kids.

Our 12-year-old son is a real meat-and-potatoes guy. When he was in preschool, he so loved his Michelina’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes frozen dinners (lay off– we were young parents) that he composed a song: Meatloaf and meatloaf and MAAAAASHED potatoes! So that coupled with the fact that he’s a wretchedly hormonal tween means he’s taken our 30-day veg-out with all the grace of a cat in a rain shower.

Our nine-year-old daughter has secretly been enjoying the switch-up, but she makes a good show of disgust and defiance because she will go to great lengths to be contrary to me. I resorted to soy crumbles far earlier in the game than I’d intended, and my admission of this fact brought on a delightful torrent of “that’s what she said” and “if you know what I mean”:

I didn’t tell the children they were eating spaghetti with meat sauce; if they made assumptions, that would be their problem. But I also didn’t tell them they were eating spaghetti with soy-crumble sauce. They ate their dinner and even thanked me for and complimented me on it. I was so pleased– and then hubris ruined the whole event. I let them know that what they’d just so genuinely enjoyed was not meat but veggie. The nine-year-old led a chorus of “Eeeew!” and “Groooss!”

A few days later, after observing her dad pass up not only fried chicken but also crock pot meatballs at a party, our seven-year-old daughter suspected that perhaps he was under duress and snuck him this note of encouragement:

Even the little ones have it in for us. The leader of our two-and-a-half-year-old identical duo began offering Bryan fake food, to which he responded within the confines of his new identity:

“Want hot dog?”

“No, thanks. I’m vegetarian.”

“Want chicken?”

“No, thanks. I’m vegetarian.”

“You freakatarian?”

And, as the follower twin is wont to do, she began imitating her sister so that over the course of several days Bryan became bombarded with precocious toddler accusations and taunts. Soon the word had morphed into “freakin’ ‘tarian” with an audible pause between the fragments that perfectly echoed the derision with which they were spoken. I managed to avoid association with the term for a while, but Bryan soon tired of being the twins’ only object of contempt and tipped them off.

I’ll get to escape the taunts and tantrums in less than a week when I go to a conference in Maryland with some fellow church members. But I’ve already made plans to be thoroughly pissed off at any of my travel companions who dine on the state’s famous crab cakes without me.

Freakin’ ‘tarian.

_________________________________________________________

Thanks to everyone who voted on the series’ name last week. I’m pleased to announce that 63% of you share my brand of humor– “30 Days to Beat the Meat” was the winner. I’ll probably use “The 30-Day Veg-Out” if this bad boy becomes an article, but we can all have a good laugh with the other title right here on the blog.

So tell me, how badly am I going to be missing out on those Maryland crab cakes?

And– please, it’ll make me feel better– what awful names do your kids call you?

→ 52 Comments

Posted in humor, life, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Guest Post: “Heartbreak Is”

Posted on July 15, 2011 | 18 Comments

I’m thrilled to share with you today’s guest post by Becky from The Holloway Clan. She and I met through an online parenting board years ago and have found kindred spirits in one another though we’ve never met in person. I look forward to the day we get to share our stories over coffee. I think you’ll see why. –Tamara

_______________________________________________________

“This is a song called GRAVITY. And I wrote it about my first real heartbreak.” The tender and mournful strains of Sara Bareilles’s voice fill my kitchen, and then I hear my 6-year old son’s voice pipe in.

“Mom, what is heartbreak?” Big blue expectant eyes, shining with anticipation. A new grown-up word to add to his vocabulary.

Heartbreak.

The answer catches in my throat. This is one of those moments when all the What to Expect books fail. This is a moment you don’t ever anticipate and which  blindsides you with its ordinariness and heaviness. This is a moment, pivotal in its innocence, but which you know he will probably never remember, until his child asks him one day perhaps. But you will.

Heartbreak – a meaning whose sum is greater than its parts.

Heartbreak is looking into the eyes of someone who has told you over and over again that they love you, only this time they don’t. No reason. No explanation. The passion and intimacy you’ve shared is discarded. Apparently love can just die.

Heartbreak is love interrupted, ripped away. It is the silent scream that parts the lips of the mother who has just lost her husband in a horrific accident, two small babies at her ankles.

Heartbreak is watching the one you love waste away into an unidentifiable mass of cells whose every breath is pain. There is no dignity in death. It is the ultimate equalizer.

Heartbreak is failure, loneliness, loss.

Heartbreak is the Father’s rejection in the Son’s darkest hour. Heartbreak is knowing you have no other Hope than Him.

And in that moment, heartbreak was looking into the eyes of wholeness and knowing I couldn’t prevent its inevitability.

__________________________________________________________

Writing runs deep in my veins and while I sometimes work on my novel, I also blog to relieve the pent-up torrent of words that overflow my life. I am the head of business development at a software start-up in Philadelphia, mother to three little ones 6 and under, and wife of 11 years to a bona fide historian with 2 PhDs (I know, crazy!). I love to knit, blog, listen to audio books, and garden. I dream of some day having enough money to buy a little house in Aberdeen, Scotland and writing to my heart’s content.

Read more by Becky at The Holloway Clan, and connect with her on Twitter!

→ 18 Comments

Posted in faith, life, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , ,

Thank God for “Clear Search History”

Posted on June 17, 2011 | 16 Comments

I appreciate modern technology; of course I do. But sometimes it is just perfectly poised to screw you over.

For weeks now a certain situation has been absolutely dogging my husband. I can tell when it’s overtaking his thoughts because his dark eyes get intense and his jaw muscles flex. Granted, this is not a bad look on him, but I hate to see him so stressed.

So today when he began telling me about the latest installment of monumental bullshit, I was inspired to offer relief.

“Next time it comes up,” I suggested, swiveling from my desk, “just imagine me…” and then I quickly found an available space to type a couple of words that I preferred my nearby 8-year old not hear for another 22-or-so years.

Out of sheer habit, I hit “enter.”

I realized immediately the mistake I’d just made– on the computer my kids use, no less– but my reflexes were no match for Google’s damned efficiency. All I can say is, Thank God for “clear search history.”

But as much as my technological foible freaked me out, I have to be grateful: If I’d have had only ink and paper, those words would’ve been indelible.

And that would really blow.

→ 16 Comments

Posted in humor, life, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,