The birth might have gone less glamorously then planned, and I was less cool then I would have liked. My pride was considerably affected, but once I had that baby in my arms I felt overqualified for my stay in the land of motherhood.
Due to my intensive and extensive preparations, I would excel in this.
I disdainfully tolerated the nurse who showed me how to bathe my baby. Imagine! Me, not know how to bathe my own baby?! The nerve of her!
Any other advice I waved away or boredly pretended to listen to.
An offer of Nivea Shampoo I breezily smiled away. I had brought my own stash of Zwitsal, thank-you-very-much! Because of the obvious superiority of that brand, naturally. It was the smell of my childhood!
It was the proper smell of any and all babies.
On the day we were allowed to go home, I was ecstatic. I packed up my baby and rushed out of the hospital, grinning at all we passed. In true opposite style of my sister, who was slightly shocked that these hospital people allowed her to take this baby home without even knowing if she was capable of taking […]
I dreamed of this trip for a long time. I prepared myself thoroughly by reading novels. Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prairie, Little Women. I prepared by giving my siblings baths but I neve rreally practised my patience with them. I worte down lists of baby names. All of these were the coins in my piggy bank to purchase my ticket to that perfect, lovely land. Motherhood.
I planned it all well in advance, I would get married at 18 and have my first set of twins at 19. These would be girls, naturally.
This seemed an eternity away while planning it at 13. I wrote down my preferred names for my first set of twins anyway. June Lilly and Autumn Rose.
But by and by, the time to get married came. It still appeared to be a little early, however. My patience had not appeared yet, strangely enough. I wasn’t reallly a grownup yet, either, and to take this trip, one must be and feeel like a grownup. So I figured. 18 might still be a little young.
At the end of 19, it came closer, and just after 20 it seemed within reach when […]
I’ve followed more then one blogger who went on a compassion trip.
I love hearing stories and seeing pictures of their trips. Not all of us get to go, it wouldn’t even make sense if we all die go.
But by their stories we get to see what it’s like there.
Our hearts are moved by hard situations, we are inspired by courageous people, often tougher then us, who make the best of their lives in hard times. People bringing glory to God when I imagine I’d sit down and whine. Children laughing in the face of poverty and pain and having a childhood anyway, and us getting to make it safer and better and helping them have a future as well as a childhood.
Through the Compassion Blogger stories, we are inspired and encouraged to share, just as we encourage our children to share.
Because if God gave us more then others, put us in a place where people have more then people in other places, then the sole reason of His doing so is for us to share it with those other people. Maybe because God knows that community flows out of sharing? Maybe because He knows that […]
Photo Credits: Jelis & Joses Van Calster
The oldest one is first. Because that is just propper, you know. He was first, after all. His eyes are brown, his hair is resisting the brush today, standing up in it’s sandy brown glory. His legs are perfect, tanned brown and with some mud streaked on for the image factor.
The younger one waddles after him. He’s been walking for a long time?now, but the duck-like waddle stubbornly stays. He sways this way and that, narrowly missing a fall that would make the bumps on his forehead an even 4. The little man bends down to retrieve a fallen treasure…a wrinkled potato, and goes of the steps backwards. He starts crawling way to early, and keeps waiting for the step to go down.
Once he is safely off, he runs after his brother.Big boy goes in the baby swing, and little boy goes into the big boys swing. Because that is how they like it. They sit, brown eyes turned expectantly on me, blue eyes squinting in the sun while doing the same.
So there we go. We push.?I run inside to get my very own treasure that is […]
So I get up in the morning and dread the day because there’s 10 hours in this house with 2 boys and me. It’s raining outside and the kids are already going balistic.
They eat porridge and the table and hands and faces are full of it. Some lands on the floor. After like, forever, they are done eating and they are cleaned up and go play.
One second later the first cry ensues. Mom, everlasting judge and peacemaker, comes in between the two little cannibals.
We are now 24 minutes into our day.?An eternity awaits us.
I make up my mind to be patient and kind and I open my bible. This seemed to be the signal for the boys to start fighting over a book. My annoyance bubbles up again, from my stomach into my chest up to my throat until it reaches my eyes and the fire spews out at my two little muppets.
Gabri?l is young enough to be vulnerable. He cries at my anger. Abel is old enough to react in anger and his anger is fierce, pushing me away with flickering, angry eyes. I push my bible away because it does not seem to […]
By geust author Gabriel Brignola, age 2 Hi, Toddlers out there!
Do you love the doctor as much as I do? I do so love the doctor! I don’t get why my mom never wants to?take me to him when I hurt my finger or my leg or my toes. I mean, there might not be any?blood or anything, but it still hurts, you know!
Sunday night, I fell down the stairs. It was a massive fall, quite spectacular really. It is still unclear how it happened, we are debating the possibility of my brother pushing me in his exitcement to be first. He gets quite excited about stuff like that.
So anyway. We went to the hospital, and it was awesome. We went to a hospital a little farther away because my uncle works there, he’s with the ambulance. So we went in uncle Nick’s hospital and his doctor and his nurses fixed me up. They all thought I was so cute. Which I am.
I had so much fun there, I wanted to go back. But my mom, for some strange reason, did not want to take me. Not when I stubbed my toe, not when I […]
My greatest fear? That I will have to live tomorrow, like this, and do things I am not up to doing.?And it won’t be fun, it might even be horrid. Today I feel sick and everything aches and my three little boys are wild little things who, when I want space and rest,?climb on me,?stick to me and jump on me. Some days it’s hard to find the joy in these moments. And then the fear creeps in, that every single day of the rest of my life will be exactly like this. I will never get rested or feel good or have any sort of personal space ever again. Tomorrow I will most likely realize that that was an emotional thought in an emotional moment. But even if it were the truth? I wonder… when were we called to have fun? Let’s not ask the mother who drowned with her child in her arms, who sees her daughter being taken away to be abused or she who has no food for her babies. Let’s not ask her if she worries that she will have to do things that are no fun. If she’s upset because she’s not?enjoying herself. Fun, […]
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