i've always felt a little less 'passionate' about motherhood than i expected. My expectations, combined with my perception of others' experiences, just seemed different from what I actually experienced. I thought I would be one of those mothers that was consumed by motherhood - loving every second of it to the exclusion of other things. But, that wasn't me. It certainly is not that I don't adore my daughter or that I wouldn't kill and/or die for her. Or that anything in my life takes priority over her. It's just different.
Last Thursday, she and I spent the day together. We went to a doctor's appt for her at U of C and then went to my office where she helped me work (for real and at her insistence) and then had lunch together. For once, I did not feel torn between roles and failing at all of them. I don't know why. But without that nagging questioning and negativity as my constant companion, I felt passionate about motherhood. Still maybe not the same as I thought it would be, but passionate nonetheless. It was wonderful and powerful and positive.
So now I am left to ponder... Was I holding back something (or enjoying/risking less) because I am working and know I can't do it full-time? Did I think others would judge it negatively? Or, is it just a simple matter of how much energy and time any of us has in a day? The more roles, the more they have to share the energy and time that we have. I'm going to have to give this equation some thought because it should be a guide for how we arrange our life once I 'retire.' Perhaps doing it all just makes it all suck.
Dear Malia and Sasha,
I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.
When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me—about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.
I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential—schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college—even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.
I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.
Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country—but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free—that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.
That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.
She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better—and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.
I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much—although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.
These are the things I want for you—to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.
I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.
Love, Dad
because i'm a little ocd about keeping like information with like, this 'gem' from facebook goes here:
nora sitting near mona (our cat who is not known for being nice) "I like Mona." pause. "Mona loves me."
My little sister, Nisey, was going to sit on my lap. She's just a tiny thing and I stopped her and complained about her bony little butt. She laughed and said, "Give it another try. I've been eating cornbread!"
i had every intention of coming here and complaining about work (rightfully so) and my husband (not so rightfully so). But luckily, I spent an hour sitting and singing with Nora while she took a bath. Chorus after chorus of ABC, Santa, Jesus, Bus, and Quack songs gave me some much needed perspective. And for that and much, much more I am ever so grateful.
And we mixed and mixed. Until we had nice dough:
Then it was time to knead (Nora preferred using her rolling pin) the dough. Like Grandma's recipe says... this is hard work but just think of how good your bread is going to be!
Now if you think the next picture involves us enjoying beautiful and delicious loaves, perhaps you stumbled over here from here or here, or even here (or any other number of mamas who seem to do this stuff effortlessly.) Our first attempt came nowhere near turning out. Something was wonky with the yeast, so we baked them and threw them in the compost heap. This Friday, we'll try again!
{texting with my sister}
me: I'm trying to decide if I have time to nap...
B: Just nap. It's worth the time.
me: Truer words have not been spoken.
B: I know this. In fact, **** and I skipped detail today to take naps.
me: lol
B: Yep. So don't feel bad. Naps are wonderful. Stop texting and go to sleep. Shit, take some nyquil - the sleep better to feel better medicine.
me: I'm so glad you can quote that.
B: me too.
{night night}
random happiness:
becca and i had a good laugh about so many people we know thinking heaven was the place to be seen. We took comfort in knowing that we won't be the loser new girls when we get there because we'll already know people. And we bet they're really popular, too. While it made us laugh, it also rings true for me. The more people who go ahead, the less I fear.
Nora and I were watching Martha Speaks yesterday when two of the characters had on capes. She looked at me quite seriously and said, "they super."
This morning I was cuddling with her and kept kissing her head. She said, "No kiss boo boos. I keep them."
as many of you know, 2008 was a difficult year for my little sister. She joined the army and quickly learned some hard lessons and then lost her best friend on her birthday. Right after losing sweet Catie, her nogoodnik boyfriend cheated on her and, of course, called her in basic training to tearfully confess. During exodus (what she and, I assume, the army call Christmas break), she started to hang out with Danny, a guy she had gone to school with and worked with, and they intended to officially date once she returns for good in February. On Saturday, January 3, 2008, Danny died in a car accident. My poor little girl. What words are there to lift up her heart and keep her afloat? What can I impart to strengthen her when I suspect that there is nothing.
Daniel H
September 25th, 1989 - January 3rd, 2009
Daniel Craig H age 19, of DeMotte, IN passed away on Saturday Jan. 3, 2009 as a result of an auto accident. He was born on September 25, 1989 in Munster, IN to Craig and Jennifer (Nelson) H, both survive. Daniel was a graduate of KV High School Class of 2008 and worked at Gas City. He was a member of Family Christian Center, Munster and was an avid musician and drum player. Daniel is survived by his loving parents, Craig & Jennifer H of DeMotte, IN, Paternal Grandparents, Joseph H, Star City, Arkansas and Faye H, Belleville, MI, Brothers, Wayne Douglas & Joshua Kyle, both of DeMotte, IN
