Clover Lane

Did you watch Stephanie Nielson on Oprah on Wednesday? Of course you did.

One of the things casually mentioned in the interview between Stephanie, Oprah, and the girl that visited Stephanie, was the “energy” of her home…warm, peaceful, and calm. Oprah made a comment about how you walk into some houses and you feel the energy and think “get me out of here”. That could have possibly been my house last week…oops. Really, I was sick, but I was also worn thin, impatient, sometimes plain mean. I yelled, I scolded, I “hurried up” way too many times. And you know what happened? That energy spread…like energy tends to do…no one was getting along, no one was kind and patient and nice to each other, no one listened, no one made an effort to help (without being asked repeatedly), and the noise level went up and up and up.

Sometimes I reject the ‘master of energy’ role that has been given to me, as a mother. I feel sorry for myself. Who wants that responsibility every single day? But whether I WANT it or not is not an option. No choice there. In a backwards sort of way, with that responsibility comes a power….a gift….whatever you want to call it. I’ve posted a little reminder above my kitchen sink of how I want the energy in my home to feel…just a reminder that if I feel these things in my spirit they will radiate and bounce of the walls and into children’s hearts. The more beings in a home, the stronger the energy needed…the more hearts to full. The more teenagers and toddlers…you better have the cardiac strength to bounce hard.

The real work? Getting the energy I want to exude into my heart every day. Making the effort to know what fills me up, and then committing to do those things every single day. That’s the hard part….every single day. Knowing what drains my battery life quickly, knowing how long my charge lasts, and knowing what fills it back up again…and reminding myself of all that often. That right there is the SECRET to making a home a loving, happy, welcoming one.

It’s been chillier here than usual. I am not ready for winter…I never am anymore. I’ll take snow on Christmas, maybe New Year’s Eve too. After that, I’d like to just start right up on April 1. Perfect.
I’ve also been under the weather…remember my Monday post? For gosh sake, I got a terrible fever and chills and aches that lasted 3 nights and 3 days...yes it very possibly could have been THAT (piggy) flu. It's not that bad, really! OK, it was bad at night, but not the worst flu I've ever had. And I would have never gotten the vaccination anyways. But if I watch the news and read the paper...I'm supposed to be dead! Alleluia!
Anyways, it’s also served as a wake up call to me that I need to take better care of myself…I’ve been eating just terrible and that’s an awful way to treat your body. I usually never get sick so obviously I've battered my immune system. My family needs me…just 3 days, and everyone is out of sorts. The fever has burned some sense into me.
In spite of all this…Patrick and I really needed to get some fresh air so off we went yesterday around the block and back again. I snapped a few pictures because the light was beautiful.

That's my Dad. He used to do the same thing for me and my sisters and brothers when I was young...pull us on the back of the tractor. It was so fun...I'm not sure why, really, because it doesn't seem so fun now...it seems like the perfect recipe for smelly fumes and motion sickness.  Patrick and Andrew loved it as much as we did long ago.

After 18 years at home, the reasons why I'm so grateful I made the decision to forgo work while the children are little and very dependent are not the reasons that I would have ever thought.  The first reasons that would come to mind are those big milestones-first smile, first steps, first words-those type of "I never want to forget it" things.

That sounds all nice and warm and fuzzy, but to tell the truth, I can't remember any of those...I'm sure it's marked in baby books somewhere. I DO know the last two took their first steps to Grandma and Dad respectively. Traitors.

The times when I have been so thankful that I made the decision to stay home and thought, "Oh God, what if I wasn't here? What if the daycare, the nanny, the sitter was here instead?" ...those are the times that have cemented any doubt in my mind that home is the best place to be.

This last week or so has been a time when I think, "Thank God it's me." Patrick has been SO difficult. He's such a sweet, happy fellow, but this week....I'll tell you...I don't know if it's teeth, or the kids being gone at school, or just a new little stage, but he wants ME almost every minute. He's 30 pounds and it's not easy lugging this kid around. If he happens to be settled and busy it just means he's up to no good. He'll find a pen or a pencil laying around-my walls his canvas...or he stands on his tippy toes and fishes one out of the drawer and just writes everywhere before I even get a chance to stop him. He's hurt me, physically, 10 times this week. Slammed a door shut on my ankle, given me serious love bites, head butted me (the kind that make your teeth click!), all on accident of course. He's smooshed my lipstick, dumped bags of cereal when given a second. Crinkled my new magazine, ran his stroller into my ankles. When we went on walks, they were as far from enjoyable as you could get. Down every one's driveway, in the street constantly, in and out of the stroller every minute, mad as heck when he didn't get his way and we headed home. Tons of whining. Tons.

Do you get the picture? Tested every ounce of my patience. Very unlikeable, but I love him.

That's not to say a break, a fresh set of hands, is not welcome once in awhile. But if I left him all day with someone, they would seriously dislike this usually sweet good-natured boy. No doubt in my mind.

It's the little things like this...the things that come up once in awhile, the bouts of colic, the annoying stages, the private bathroom dilemmas, the runny noses, just a bad days (or weeks)...those are REALLY the reasons I stay home. I want ME and his father-the two people who love him more than anyone else in the world- to be the one that takes care of all those things. The hard things-the "no fun" stuff.