With Mother's Day around the corner, I am forced to reflect on both of my experiences with motherhood; being a daughter and a mom. I definately never understood my mother more than I did after having my daughter. I never understood why she said and did the things she did. Now I know it was and is because she loves me.
I realize now how much stress she really went through. The stress of watching out for me. Hoping I don't get into trouble or get hurt. Knowing that some of that she could not prevent and praying that she could at least be there to help kiss my boo boos. Stressing over my education and wanting the very best for me. Knowing that she might not be able to give me everything I want and how it tortured her to tell me "no" sometimes. When I moved away and out of her immediate reach I can only imagine how much that scared her. Being the daughter I couldn't understand why she wanted me close to home. Being a mother, I get it.
Just like I tortured my mother sometimes, I can see my daughter doing the same thing. A specific instance this afternoon actually reminds me of how as a daughter the perspective is different. My daughter requires drops in her eyes to help her body fight off the conjunctivitis (aka pink eye) that is very persistant in her eyes. At 8 months old she doesn't understand nor can I communicate to her the importance of these drops. 4 times a day I battle with her to get these drops in her eye. Her perspective is that I am doing something unpleasant to her and she pushes me away as much as she can when she sees that little bottle. As her mother I know the importance of what is going on and the necessity of this unpleasant experience. I know she needs these drops to help clear up her eyes and prevent more infection. I know that I am doing this because I love her and want her to get better. Being a mom, I now get it.
How many times did I go through something unpleasant because it was what was necessary and because mom loved me and wanted me to get better? I'm finding that moms are often one of our best examples of God's love. The love is unconditional and bears many many things. Sometimes we must go through unpleasant experiences not fully understanding why. But mom and God love us enough to help us do what is necessary, even though it is unpleasant.
At the end of the day I never remember all the little battles with my little one. I only remember the smiles, giggles, and laughter. How she looks as she is sleeping and the excited look she gets when she has found something interesting (cat, shoe, block, my phone, anything!). Watching her learn and grow literally before my eyes is one of the best experiences of my life. Being a mom, I now get it.
Thanks mom for everything. Thanks for being the awesome person you are and setting the bar high. I wouldn't be the person I am today without you and your endless patience, love, and perserverance. Love you mom!!!
Monday, May 7, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Henry and Peter
As the early morning light peeked through the heavy drapes on the windows, Henry slowly left his dreams of happiness and roused himself to start the day. Today he was going to make those dreams come true. Today he was going to win the fair heart of his love and finally be happy with her by his side. Nothing could burst his bubble of confidence. He had practiced hard with the weapons master over the past few days and knew he was prepared for this.
Springing out of bed, Henry rings for his manservant. Winston appears in the doorway, "What can I do for you sir?"
"Where is Christophe?"
"I believe you fired him last week sir." Winston replies.
"Why hasn't there been a replacement hired?" Henry asks disdainfully. "I NEED a manservant immediately!"
"I would be delighted to attend to your needs, my lord." Winston replies hopefully. "Anything to help you sir."
Warily, Henry directs Winston to help him get dressed for breakfast. He has always had suspicions concerning the man and his strange ways, but his mother likes him. Therefore he remains mute on the subject of Winston's extra curricular activities. Far be it for him to judge. Besides today is about Diane and his fight for her. No sense sullying the start with adverse thoughts around an old man's eccentricities.
Dismissing Winston, Henry takes one more look at himself in the mirror and smiles. Today was going to be a day to remember!
In another place, Burwick to be exact, another person is also found still abed. However, Peter is not, and rarely is, alone in this bed. Arm lazily thrown over the dark-haired serving girl he bedded last night, Peter is still deeply asleep.
Simeon appears outside the bedroom door an hour before midday to waken the lord of the house. Knocking to announce himself, Simeon slowly enters the rather dark room. He shoos Bridgette, the serving girl from downstairs, out the door and prepares to wake his lord.
Clearing his throat, "My lord..." Simeon says softly.
Peter wakes with a start and glares at Simeon. Shaking himself like a dog, he growls, "What time is it?"
"Almost midday, sir" Simeon softly replies. "I do apologize for waking you, but remember you have Henry of Westchesterfieldville to answer today."
"Oh, yes." Peter runs a rough hand through his hair, "If only I could forget about this silly mess. It's not like the girl is worth this much fuss."
"I would council against ignoring Henry though my lord, if it is not too bold of me to say so."
"Yea, I know. I can not afford to look weak or afraid. Especially against a jellyfish like Henry," Peter sighs. "That would only create a stir amongst my supporters, and I can not have them thinking I am weak."
Swinging his feet from under the furs and onto the floor, Peter sighs again. Better to get this done and over with rather than sit and dwell on it.
Striding across the room, Peter grabs the breeches and tunic he'll wear under his armor. "Lets be done with this, Simeon."
Riding across the bridge and towards Burwick once more, Henry can not calm the butterflies in his stomach. He has waited a long time to best Peter, and knows that today is the day it will happen! Soup was just as excited as the horse pranced into the courtyard. Rocket was actually Henry's charger, but he preferred Soup for almost everything but warfare. Rocket was already at Burwick, rested and ready to go. Hopefully he had received a better breakfast than Henry. Cold porridge was not his idea of an ideal way to start the day. However, Henry refused to let anything dampen his spirits.
Dismounting, Henry hands the reins over to a stable boy and enters the stables to find Rocket.
Peter strolls down the staircase and into the entryway heading towards the door. Diane peeks out from the shadows of the alcove she was sitting in and watches him stride through his home. There was a certain unmistakable air about him that drew women to him like a moth to the flame. The flame never bothers to notice the moths that it devours. Diane doubted Peter did either.
The door slams shut behind him as he heads for the stables. Another battle over her. A battle between dreams and flames that can only end in disaster. She dared not watch, yet knew she couldn't sit here and wait for news of the outcome.
Sighing, Diane rose and headed towards the staircase. It would be best to appear as if she at least cares about the outcome, even if her appearances mask her true feelings.
Peter mounts his black charger at the far end of the field. His man at arms, George, carefully latches the various buckles into place on his breastplate. Because of the extreme weight of his armor, Peter must be geared after mounting. Good thing his charger is built for carrying a heavier load! The last buckle in place, George gingerly places the helmet into place and steps down off the block. The charger snorts and side steps a bit, anxious to perform this dance he does best. George hands Peter his black and white striped lance and steps away from the horse and rider.
Henry, latched into his armor and astride Rocket, takes his red and yellow lance from the boy standing beside the block. The butterflies increase tenfold and Henry takes a deep breath. Rocket dances sideways and rolls his eyes at the excitement he feels from the rider on his back. Throwing a small side kick to show his disapproval, Rocket makes it hard for Henry to maintain his seat. Henry forcefully calms himself and takes control of the animal beneath him. Turning his charger around, Henry faces Peter.
Without a second's hesitation, Peter kicks his horse into gear, and aims for Henry's heart. Henry likewise thunders across the field, desparately trying to aim his lance at the spots his trainer told him to look for. Weak spots in the armor, in his opponent's balance, and the head; all critical points that will lead to victory and his dreams.
With a crash of thunder, the two riders come in contact with the wooden lances. Peter turns his mount around at the end of the field and pulls him to a stop. Rocket stops at the other end of the field, saddle empty. Henry lay facedown in the dirt. A few of the staff members rush over to check and see if Henry is still in one piece.
Mouthfull of dirt, Henry feels the bitterness of defeat. Shame, dispair, and a broken spirit lay in the dirt with him, holding him still. What was he going to do now? How could he ever look at himself in the mirror again, let alone see Lady Diane after this humiliation. Henry shut his eyes to the world and his dispair.
What will Henry do now? What will Diane do now that Henry has once again lost to Peter?
Springing out of bed, Henry rings for his manservant. Winston appears in the doorway, "What can I do for you sir?"
"Where is Christophe?"
"I believe you fired him last week sir." Winston replies.
"Why hasn't there been a replacement hired?" Henry asks disdainfully. "I NEED a manservant immediately!"
"I would be delighted to attend to your needs, my lord." Winston replies hopefully. "Anything to help you sir."
Warily, Henry directs Winston to help him get dressed for breakfast. He has always had suspicions concerning the man and his strange ways, but his mother likes him. Therefore he remains mute on the subject of Winston's extra curricular activities. Far be it for him to judge. Besides today is about Diane and his fight for her. No sense sullying the start with adverse thoughts around an old man's eccentricities.
Dismissing Winston, Henry takes one more look at himself in the mirror and smiles. Today was going to be a day to remember!
In another place, Burwick to be exact, another person is also found still abed. However, Peter is not, and rarely is, alone in this bed. Arm lazily thrown over the dark-haired serving girl he bedded last night, Peter is still deeply asleep.
Simeon appears outside the bedroom door an hour before midday to waken the lord of the house. Knocking to announce himself, Simeon slowly enters the rather dark room. He shoos Bridgette, the serving girl from downstairs, out the door and prepares to wake his lord.
Clearing his throat, "My lord..." Simeon says softly.
Peter wakes with a start and glares at Simeon. Shaking himself like a dog, he growls, "What time is it?"
"Almost midday, sir" Simeon softly replies. "I do apologize for waking you, but remember you have Henry of Westchesterfieldville to answer today."
"Oh, yes." Peter runs a rough hand through his hair, "If only I could forget about this silly mess. It's not like the girl is worth this much fuss."
"I would council against ignoring Henry though my lord, if it is not too bold of me to say so."
"Yea, I know. I can not afford to look weak or afraid. Especially against a jellyfish like Henry," Peter sighs. "That would only create a stir amongst my supporters, and I can not have them thinking I am weak."
Swinging his feet from under the furs and onto the floor, Peter sighs again. Better to get this done and over with rather than sit and dwell on it.
Striding across the room, Peter grabs the breeches and tunic he'll wear under his armor. "Lets be done with this, Simeon."
Riding across the bridge and towards Burwick once more, Henry can not calm the butterflies in his stomach. He has waited a long time to best Peter, and knows that today is the day it will happen! Soup was just as excited as the horse pranced into the courtyard. Rocket was actually Henry's charger, but he preferred Soup for almost everything but warfare. Rocket was already at Burwick, rested and ready to go. Hopefully he had received a better breakfast than Henry. Cold porridge was not his idea of an ideal way to start the day. However, Henry refused to let anything dampen his spirits.
Dismounting, Henry hands the reins over to a stable boy and enters the stables to find Rocket.
Peter strolls down the staircase and into the entryway heading towards the door. Diane peeks out from the shadows of the alcove she was sitting in and watches him stride through his home. There was a certain unmistakable air about him that drew women to him like a moth to the flame. The flame never bothers to notice the moths that it devours. Diane doubted Peter did either.
The door slams shut behind him as he heads for the stables. Another battle over her. A battle between dreams and flames that can only end in disaster. She dared not watch, yet knew she couldn't sit here and wait for news of the outcome.
Sighing, Diane rose and headed towards the staircase. It would be best to appear as if she at least cares about the outcome, even if her appearances mask her true feelings.
Peter mounts his black charger at the far end of the field. His man at arms, George, carefully latches the various buckles into place on his breastplate. Because of the extreme weight of his armor, Peter must be geared after mounting. Good thing his charger is built for carrying a heavier load! The last buckle in place, George gingerly places the helmet into place and steps down off the block. The charger snorts and side steps a bit, anxious to perform this dance he does best. George hands Peter his black and white striped lance and steps away from the horse and rider.
Henry, latched into his armor and astride Rocket, takes his red and yellow lance from the boy standing beside the block. The butterflies increase tenfold and Henry takes a deep breath. Rocket dances sideways and rolls his eyes at the excitement he feels from the rider on his back. Throwing a small side kick to show his disapproval, Rocket makes it hard for Henry to maintain his seat. Henry forcefully calms himself and takes control of the animal beneath him. Turning his charger around, Henry faces Peter.
Without a second's hesitation, Peter kicks his horse into gear, and aims for Henry's heart. Henry likewise thunders across the field, desparately trying to aim his lance at the spots his trainer told him to look for. Weak spots in the armor, in his opponent's balance, and the head; all critical points that will lead to victory and his dreams.
With a crash of thunder, the two riders come in contact with the wooden lances. Peter turns his mount around at the end of the field and pulls him to a stop. Rocket stops at the other end of the field, saddle empty. Henry lay facedown in the dirt. A few of the staff members rush over to check and see if Henry is still in one piece.
Mouthfull of dirt, Henry feels the bitterness of defeat. Shame, dispair, and a broken spirit lay in the dirt with him, holding him still. What was he going to do now? How could he ever look at himself in the mirror again, let alone see Lady Diane after this humiliation. Henry shut his eyes to the world and his dispair.
What will Henry do now? What will Diane do now that Henry has once again lost to Peter?
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