Fat Old Mom's Wit and Wisdom (as inspired by God)

Come here to read the humorous spiritual rantings of a Fat Old Mom who thinks she has something to say.

Name:
Location: Hennepin, Illinois, United States

I am a happy, healthy Christian Mom of 2 (or 3 depending on how you look at it). I love animals, helping others and serving God in whatever capacity He calls me to do so. Fat Old Moms was a term born of a desire to define this season of my life. My girlfriends and I go on an annual 'Fat Old Moms' weekend where we leave our husbands and children and explore ourselves and return to 'chick' status for a couple of days. We seek Christian influence in each other, but also allow ourselves to BE ourselves.

Friday, October 28, 2005

Pulling the Car Over

I packed up my one daytime daycare child yesterday and headed out to do errands. I needed to make a phone call to determine my first destination, so in the essence of safety, I pulled to the side of the road to dial. As I did so, the poor lad started screaming from the back seat.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again. LET ME OUT!!!'' Shocked, I turned around to try to calm him (even though it took me a few moments to figure out what was going on!) Apparently, he had done something wrong, and unbeknownst to me, thought my pulling over was a consequence of his actions. He must be convinced that Moms DO have eyes in the back of their heads. (We DO if there are any children reading this!)

I laughed to myself inside, knowing that his parents had probably threatened it a million times, and his deepest fears had just been realized. I almost felt bad for him until it occurred to me that the reason he was so frightened was that he indeed HAD done something to break the rules and needed to be punished. I questioned him a bit and let him off the hook. I couldn't come up with anything solid!

As I pulled back onto the road, I thought about how the weather seems to be escalating lately. In the past few months, the earth has endured a tsunami, a couple of devastating hurricanes and now a horrible earthquake has rocked a nation. Is this God threatening to pull the car over? Has He had it with our fighting and bickering and cries of "he's touching me!"? If I didn't know about Noah and God's promise, I'd be a lot more worried.

How much is He going to endure before He slams on the brakes and sends us headlong into the seat in front of us, panicking and screaming "Let me out! I'm sorry!" We cry out because we know we have done something wrong. We know we deserve whatever punishment He might dole out. We know as the tires squeal and the brakes screech we had better sit up straight, let go of our sister's hair, and put our hands in our laps in the hope that we'll get a verbal thrashing instead of the one we fear.

Maybe if we do ride along calmly and in peace, this journey can be one without fear, because I bet that after those storms down south, there were rainbows.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Paranoia


What type of discipline policy do you use around your house? I like to use a little thing called paranoia. I just love to bust my kids doing something wrong, then never reveal my source. It makes them crazy. It makes them think.

My mom used it. It works. I was a nervous wreck wherever I went. I always thought she was hiding around every corner. She seemed to have the counter intelligence of the FBI. Keep in mind, I grew up in a town so small, that even when I didn't know what I was doing, everyone else did. I didn't know any differently, so it didn't seem strange to have news of my misbehaviors beat me to the doorstep.

In the days before GPS, I thought my mother could track my movements like a bloodhound on the trail of an escaped convict. I imagine more modern day parents have an advantage with all of the technology available. These tools will go a long way toward making their children wild-eyed with fear as they sneak a smoke or stay out too late. With video surveillance and monitors and hidden cameras everywhere, there is no place impenetrable to observation.

Mom made my high school boyfriend paranoid (I only had ONE for a short while as a senior ). I remember going 'parking' in the country and he would poke his head up like a prairie dog in the desert who caught a whiff of a coyote and announce, "I think I hear your mother coming!" Now I KNEW she was home asleep because we had a farm and she had to get up early, but I never took the chance. Once his head popped up, we were done for the night. She had won. We packed it in, and he took me home. (Thanks a lot mom!)

Moms haven't used the 'eye in the back of my head' thing for millions of years for nothing. It works. The horror of Big Brother is based on paranoia. When we feel like we are constantly being watched, we tend to behave better. Mind reading is even more scary. Can you imagine if someone was inside your head too? Every random thought that passed through your mind would be analyzed and scrutinized for content. There is! As my walk has strengthened, I am more and more aware of what I think, not only what I do, because God knows it ALL.

There is power in being a praying parent. My children understand the concept of God being omnipresent. They know God is watching them all of the time. In one of my more brilliant moves toward making my children paranoid, I declared to my son one day, "You know that God can see you all of the time and He knows what you are doing and thinking. Well I talk to God!" Sawyer knows I do. He sees me praying and knows that I have my 'quiet time' in the morning. The look on his face made me smirk inside (of course I had my stern face on while I was talking to him in order to drive home the point.) That kid will always wonder just what goes on during those conversations. GOOD!

I am glad I have dedicated time to talking to God. I am glad I have set the example for my children. I am glad to have solidified the concept and left no room for doubt that yes indeed, I have a relationship with God in which he will rat them out for an earthly punishment. If they didn't know that I rose early, they would wonder. They might play the odds. They might take the chance that I was bluffing. I'm so glad I grew up and realized this before they became wise to my ways! Now maybe in a few years, on the back country roads of Putnam County, there will be an interruption that will make my heart happy as I sleep soundly in my bed miles away.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Escape Artists


My dogs amaze me. We have two large dogs and they are demented. Over the years, they have escaped with Houdini- like skill from every imaginable contraption and enclosure we have spent hundreds of dollars to buy. If I tie them, they slip their collars. If I pen them, they dig under, jump over or squeeze out of places even a mole couldn't navigate. They have chewed right through the bottom of a door on the garage with the fury of a beaver on steroids! Where does their desire to get away come from? I provide them with food, love, exercise and all the comforts a dog could wish for. I feed them scraps, let them chew on things I shouldn't and they have kids to play with. Why would they want to leave? After 8 years, they are now confined to the garage like it is solitary confinement. I have a kennel for them. I even had concrete poured so they couldn't dig out and I tried to put them in it, but the MINUTE I take my eyes off of them, they are off with the speed of an Olympic runner to swim in the river that is only a few blocks from our home.

They always return. They are always back before dark. They are always muddy and gross and smell like swamp water. They KNOW this is where the love and the food is, but they still insist on wandering. They love the thrill of the adventure. I can see it in their eyes when I let them out to do their business. If dogs could talk, I'm sure the conversation would go something like this:

Sandy: "Prepare yourself. I think she's going in the house to get us water. The minute the door closes, RUN!"

Lauren: "I'm just gonna pretend I'm pooping over here so she thinks I'm occupied, but I'm ready!"

I've given up. I know its their nature to want to go. I know that no matter how much I provide for them, they will wander and stray and seek high adventure in the back waters of the Illinois River. I don't provide dead fish to roll in. I don't have any dead animals for them to chew on. They don't realize how gross that makes them. They don't realize the dangers of getting hit on the road, or being snatched by well meaning animal lovers who think I'm being negligent. They don't realize there are rednecks lurking in the next yard with guns who delight in shootin' them wild dogs. They just know they like it at the moment.

I have reflected on my life and how often I've escaped God's kennel for me. He has always been here. He has provided everything I NEED, but maybe not everything I WANT because He knows all of that is not good for me (even when I think so). I always come back before dark...okay....maybe I've stayed out past dark a few times! I always come back smelly and gross, but He loves me anyway and feeds me and provides shelter for me. No matter what He has done to make my life comfortable, I have resisted, and I have tried to get away. I haven't realized the dangers of being away from Him, and if I did, I still went! It is my nature. It is human nature. I'm hoping at some point I can become smarter than my dogs and stay where I am loved....safe and secure.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

How does it feel?


There is a dear, sweet lady who goes to our church that I want to tackle like the Rock goes after Jericho in WWF. She is about 4 foot 10 inches tall and weighs about as much as my largest dog. She is ancient in years and wise as an owl, but she's a little confused.

At 38 years old, I'm beginning to feel my age a bit. My check up this year at the doctor include the news that my blood pressure was elevated, I had a blood clot in my leg and I have something called 'metabolic syndrome'. I think the doctor was just trying to tell me I was fat, but apparently it has to do with pre-diabetes....Anyway I have always felt young and invincible. I consider myself 'the sturdy girl' and can lift heavy things and am physically capable of quite a bit.

My behavior also reflects my youthful attitude. I am silly and like to dance. I make weird faces and tend to be socially inappropriate. I still like humor about poop and gross stuff. I would like to chalk it up to the fact that I surround myself with little people night and day, but in my heart, I know its just immaturity.

So imagine my surprise when this wonderful Christian woman approached me one Sunday as I cradled my newest niece (who was only a few weeks old) and asked, "How does it feel to be a Grandma?" I almost dropped the poor child in an attempt to control myself from alternately crying and wanting to hurt this lady. After all, my own children were only 2 and 7 at the time. I was horrified that I looked that old. I certainly did not FEEL that old.

I got a later start in the department of motherhood than some, but I was not ancient. I suppose TECHNICALLY I could have been a Grandma if I had been a child prodigy in the art of sexuality and had a child who followed close in my footsteps. There were girls I had gone to high school with who were already rocking their grandchildren to sleep. I also know that there may have been some confusion over the fact that my mother in law (who IS the Grandma to that child) is only 10 years older than me, and is married to my husband's father who is also named John. They look similar, but are far apart in age.

When I thought about it, I realized that my initial shock came from the fact that it COULD be true. I was old enough to be a Grandma. The possibility existed. It made me uncomfortable and made me squirm, because I knew it could be true. How would I feel if someone asked me, "How does it feel to be a sinner?'' I would experience that same kind of discomfort. I would know that even if I tried really hard not to be- the possibility always exists that I will sin or indulge in sin. I don't like the way the question makes me feel.

So now whenever I see this lady coming toward me, I put on a smile, stand up straight and try really hard to look YOUNG. And every time, I resist the urge to trip her as she passes!

Thar She Blows!!!

How often are you convicted by your children? I had one of those moments the other day. As Lily inches toward adulthood (okay- she's only 10, but I'm buying stock in Midol already!), she and I seem to battle more and more. During the course of one of our confrontations , I had given her ample warning, and another, and another and yet ANOTHER and when that didn't work, I swatted her in the arm.
That child said words that will ring in my ears for eternity. She said, "If Jesus were here, you wouldn't hit me!" Of course, in my own defense, I shot back, "If Jesus were here you wouldn't talk back to me like that!", but I knew I was busted.
I'm a Mom who believes in spanking MY OWN CHILDREN! Controversial...I know. When people say that spanking teaches violence, I really believe that it teaches that there are negative consequences to negative behaviors. What I DON'T believe in is beating a child. I know the difference between spanking a child to emphasize a point and beating, and I've never crossed the line, though I do lose my temper. This is where my counting skills come into play. I can take a deep breath and stay in control of my actions, though the screaming thing....still working on that. I'm sure glad I know how to tap into the power of prayer, because there are days when I get pushed! I realize there are parents who don't know when to stop- and that is wrong.
Her words made me think. What WOULD I do or say differently if Jesus were in the room? What do I have in my home. or on my TV that I would try to hide if Jesus knocked on the front door? I'm sure there's still some 'dirt' from my past hanging around. I still indulge in a rated R movie from time to time. I'm sure not all of my literature is up to snuff with God's standards. When I'm looking at the multitude of horse catalogs that come to my home, do I linger extra long on the cowboy in the Wranglers (I am only human!)?
God convicts us of these things also when we least expect it. One night, it was pretty late, and I was channel surfing. We have cable because we live in the boondocks, and without it , you get 3 basic channels if you have a TV tower and a lot of foil. The basic package on our TV has some...'not so nice stuff' on it when it gets past a certain hour. I happened to land on that station and lingered a little longer than I should have. Suddenly the phone rang, and guess who it was? My pastors wife! Of course, I couldn't find the mute button on the remote control and my heart went into a panic as this filth was being emitted from the screen. It seemed like minutes before I got the channel changed and I didn't hear a word of the inquiry for which she had called. I'm not sure she heard, and if she did, was kind enough not to give me the 'stink eye' at church. Guess what I did the moment I got off the phone? I eliminated all of those channels from the line up in the remote, so I wouldn't accidentally find them and be tempted. Thank goodness for modern technology!
Maybe it's time I take a good hard look at those things. Sometimes its not only our actions that require analysis, but everything which with we surround ourselves. After I gave all of my reasons for believing in spanking, I looked at it in the light of what my daughter said, and she is right....I wouldn't have smacked her if Jesus was watching me....but guess what....He IS! I guess I'd better reanalyze and restructure my thinking. Until then, I guess I'm going to have to give up my 'head flickin' and butt kickin' ways, and now I don't have to have my finger on the mute button when the phone rings! PHEW!

Monday, October 24, 2005

The Extra Mile


I am a 150% kind of person. When I do something, it is with my full ability. If I can't dedicate this amount of energy, I choose to not do it. Unfortunately, not everyone in my life feels the same way. It is a constant source of frustration when I see someone making a half-hearted attempt at something, or making excuses. I was raised to believe there are no excuses.

My daughter Lily and I were just discussing this subject in the context of her school work. She was offered the opportunity to earn extra credit in a class she was doing poorly. I was excited for her. She could lift her grade by doing no more than a 'little extra'. She wasn't grasping the concept, since it was not required. So I launched into my 'Mom Speech #242' about how people who get ahead in life are the ones who have gumption and go the extra mile. I had heard it many times from my Dad and almost had it memorized! I even found a biblical reference in Matthew 5:41, which says, "If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles."

God calls us to give an extra effort in our day. He wants us to go beyond what is expected. I am often challenged in this area, because as I reread this passage, I see that it uses the word 'forces'. I have to admit, I give willingly unless I'm FORCED to. Often times when a friend tells me, "you didn't need to do that!', I reply with "You know know if I HAD to- I wouldn't have." This is another personality flaw I am working on. I don't like to be told. When my husband demands something of me, I am far less willing to fix his favorite meal or rub his head (why do men like that?). If the kids act like they have a certificate of entitlement on the wall somewhere, I am much less likely to take them to the park or to let them make ice cream sundaes with all the gooey stuff and sprinkles. My giving heart is stubborn.

We should give when we don't want to. We should go further, reach beyond, live outside the box. God calls us to stretch and grow. He wants us to challenge our boundaries and expand our comfort zone. I know I can do it with the capacity of my stomach, so why can't I do it with my spirituality and my evangelism? I often will declare that I am full, but I continue to eat anyway. My children have begun saying, "Well stop eating then Mom!" It seems so simple. The other side of that is this: if it doesn't hurt, we are not growing. I am willing to get a belly ache when I eat too much, but that shows that I am expanding. If my aspiration were to be huge (it's NOT- it just happens!), I would be able to determine my success by the pain.

The next time God calls you outside of your comfort zone- GO!!! You may find that the rewards far outweigh the pain of growth you feel. I know I have every time I heeded His call.

Persistent and Consistent

When my daycare parents are 'interviewing me' to decide if they want me to be in charge of their most precious gifts from God, they often ask what type of discilpline policy I use. Recently, I have begun answering, "Persistent and Consistent". These two elements I find very important in training a child in the way they should go.

Too often parents give up. Let's face it. We get tired! They say kids need to hear things 1000 times before it actually registers and becomes a part of what they know and do. I would have to take issue with this factoid as it pertains to some of the various children I've watched over the past 13 years. I know my own children are about at their limits for things like 'clean your room' and keep your hands to yourself'. I actually had to revise that last on to be 'keep your body parts to yourself' since my inventive youngsters began using their feet and heads to infringe on the personal space of those around them.

But the fact remains: we tend to want to give up. Unfortunately, kids don't. They will do what works for them, and if they think they can wear you down, they will. THEY know how to be persistent, so we need to be persistent-er. I always laugh at parents who give in after a long bout of wailing, because all they have taught their children is that they CAN be worn down. If they are persistent enough, they will get their way. We build endurance in them much the way a runner trains and goes a greater distance every day so he can run further and further without tiring.

The other key factor is consistency. If you don't enforce the same rules the same way every time, the child won't know what to expect. How can we know what is right and wrong when we get conflicting signals from the one who MADE the rules? Sure, situations change, but all in all, the basic rules should remain the same.

Can God relate to us? I think so. He sees that He needs to be persistent and consistent. He knows that all of His rules are written down for us so we know what to expect. He is persistent in His pursuit of us and His love for us. As His children, have we learned persistence? Do we seek Him in this way? After 1000 times of praying, has it become a habit? Has it become part of who we are? Are we consistent? Do we do the same thing each time we seek Him? Do we kneel when we pray? Do we quiet ourselves and remove ourselves from distraction (which is funny, because as I write this, I have someone in 'time out', the radio going...albeit Christian radio....and am listening to two boys running Hot Wheels into my wall!) What are our habits as they pertain to our relationship with Christ?

We won't succeed all of the time. We all fail in our pursuit to be the perfect parent. Luckily, I know the One who does not fail , and with His parenting skills to guide me, I might just turn out alright!

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Dads and Fathers

Yesterday was my Dad's birthday. It was a bittersweet event for me. I spent the evening talking to him and relating to him, but I couldn't help shake the guilt of having him in my life. My best friend (and fellow Fat Old Mom) lost her Dad unexpectedly 6 years earlier on MY Dad's birthday. He was returning from Bejing and didn't even get the chance to exit his plane due to a fatal heart attack.

Erica shared a rich childhood with her Dad. They had a close relationship and even when the miles and circumstances kept them apart, she felt loved and adored. Her Dad made sure she had everything she needed, and not just financially. She was his little princess and I don't think she ever doubted that for a second.

I did not share that kind of relationship with my Dad. We constantly butted heads, and though we shared a poignant moment here and there, our similarities caused us to fight all of the time. We were both hard headed, stubborn and opinionated. There were times we went years without talking. I blamed him. He blamed me. Mom was constantly being a referee. I'm suprised the poor woman wasn't required to wear stripes and have a whistle around her neck.

I learned much from my Dad. He taught me about hard work.....I thought I was a slave. He taught me about going the extra mile....I thought he pushed me too hard. He taught me there were no excuses....I thought I had no way out. He did the best he could with what he knew and what he had to work with (especially with ME as a daughter!)

I also had this kind of relationship with God. I didn't like to listen to Him. He was a part of my life....but not daily. I saw Him on occasion (usually Sunday mornings if I felt like it). I fought with Him. He loved me, but He couldn't make me do what He wanted me to do. I was willful and wanted my own way. I walked away from Him. I shouted at Him. I didn't feel loved because I was being unloveable. He did the best He could with what He had to work with in me.

When I got to college age, I couldn't take it any more and I moved out. I went away to college to escape from my Dad. Don't get me wrong, I knew he loved me, but we sure didn't like one another. I didn't think he was much of a Dad, and I constantly disappointed him as a daughter. I didn't think I could ever live up to his expectations. I didn't think I could ever be the skinny, beautiful daughter he had hoped for. I made some bad choices and I thought he hated me for it.

Eventually I moved back to my hometown and it took about another 10 years before I started feeling worthy. As my relationship with my Father improved, so did the one with my Dad. As I felt the grace of God enter my life, I also felt the grace of my Daddy. As I spent more time in prayer, so I spent more time conversing with my Dad. Once I saw myself as beautiful and successful and worthy in God's eyes, I began to see that reflection in all of my relationships, but the most noticable was the one I shared with the original man in my life.

No sweeter words were spoken than "I love you" coming from my Dad's lips ....and actually believing them. Do I love him?.... I always have. Does he know it?...now he does. Does he love me?...he always has. Do I know it?....now I do.

The same can be said for my relationship with God, my heavenly Father. When I pray and hear the words "I love you", they couldn't be sweeter. Do I love Him?...I always have. Does He know it?...now He does!