Lindy’s Blog: Where Mom is Always Right

September 15, 2008

Laura Ingalls I am not

Filed under: Family — by lindyborer @ 8:20 am
Tags: , , , , , , ,

I woke up feeling like I had been through WW III during the night.  It’s Monday, and I’m groggy, sore, and facing a day’s worth of tasks that right now seem impossible to even attempt to complete. 

On Labor Day, we were at a park and Eliza was going down a tornado slide sitting on my lap.  The slide was surprisingly fast, and I was wearing jeans and flip-flops with very little traction.  Eliza was wearing her little pink rubber-toed tennis shoes.  The tip of her left toe caught on the obviously stationary slide, while Lindy and Eliza (with Linus behind) kept moving down at a rapid rate.  You can imagine the effect this had on Eliza’s ankle.  I could see it happening, but could absolutely do nothing to stop our momentum, no matter how hard I tried.  At the bottom, I was pretty certain that I had broken her leg.  It was a mess.  Eliza was screaming, and I was crying because I felt (and still do feel) terrible about it.  We took her to the ER, and they did x-rays, which showed no breaks.  I’m told, however, that a sprain is actually worse than a break, takes longer to heal, hurts more, etc…  

It has been three weeks now, and Eliza is not getting better.  I have been trying to keep her foot wrapped in an ace bandage, but how do you tell a one year old not to walk?  One year olds are prone to trips and falls anyway, and she keeps re-injuring her ankle, it seems.  As was the case last night before bed.  You know it’s bad when she wakes up grabbing at her ankle, screaming for “Medcin!”  (She hates taking medicine.)  It was not a restful night.  She is sleeping peacefully now, and I’m praying that her ankle will heal well and quickly.  She is getting too heavy to carry all the time.  And I have a laundry basket full of apples that I was going to turn into apple butter and can today.  (Why do I do this to myself?)

We had our church picnic yesterday afternoon.  It was a potluck.  David, who is on the stewardship committee (which is in charge of the picnic), was one of many against it being a potluck, but some lady insisted, which in turn guaranteed a poor turnout.  Call me lazy, but I’m far more likely to go to a function if food is being provided.  (As I think all moms of young children are.)  Let’s see, let’s go to a function where my kids won’t eat anyway, where I won’t be able to sit down to eat b/c my youngest won’t sit down with me or allow anyone else to take her, where not only will I have to get them ready to go, as well as myself, but I’ll have to bring food on top of it:  No, thanks.  And yes, I’m in a sour mood this morning. 

I realize that my grandmothers would read this and cringe.  I will be the first to admit that the women of that generation were apparently part machine.  I know that they would have probably woken up before church on Sunday morning, went out and killed the chicken, butchered it, and had it all fried up to take before the four-course breakfast they prepared.  Then, they would have brought all fourteen kids to church, including the baby, and sat in a perfect, still, quiet row, until it was time to go to the picnic, when all of the kids would again sit in a perfect, still, quiet row and eat each and every item on their plates.  During this time, the mother would eat and carry on a complete conversation with the woman across the table.  They probably talked about how many quarts of pickles they had canned yesterday during nap time. 

No, I am not of that calibur.  I am pathetic.  Some days I have a hard time making myself breakfast, let alone the kids’.  I’ve said before, I have the desire for thrift and utility (like my grandmother) but the complete inability to turn that desire into reality.  And to think what all they did on a day-to-day basis, probably nine months pregnant most of the time!  Holy cow!  How did they get anything done having a kid every year? 

It makes me so glad that I’m one of those weirdos who ecologically breastfeeds (look it up), which saves me from this fate.  If anyone tells you that breastfeeding is not a good spacer of babies, they’re doing it wrong. 

Yes, I’m in a sour mood today.  Grrrr.  I’m a pathetic excuse for a woman.  And I’m kind of happy about it.



  1. i can’t make banana bread. i cant. i burn it everytime.

    i haven’t dusted since we moved in. in april. and the outlook doesnt look good for the ol pledge can.

    i usually start out supper by saying “i’m not sure what this is but…”

    i haven’t ‘done’ my hair in so long, i am not sure how to do it anymore.

    i still feel guilty about hitting Ranell with a wire hanger when we were 13 and 14 yrs. old.

    if i am too lazy to go downstairs for my face lotion, i sometimes put normal lotion on my face. i am blaming that for my blemish problem at 31 years of age.

    Comment by Leah — September 15, 2008 @ 8:57 am |Reply

  2. …at least you don’t have to compare yourself to me! I tend to make most people feel very accomplished.

    Comment by Dee — September 15, 2008 @ 9:13 am |Reply

  3. Lindy you are no slacker… Marv and i just spent the weekend at the Living History Farms in Des Moines and I also agree that these women were super women but to put it in perspective they had nothing easier to compare it to. I watch all of you with kids only a few years apart and marvel that you get anything done at all. I didn’t have any of my kids that close together and was EXHAUSTED ALL THE TIME. Lindy your house and yard are a testament to the fact that you actually are a doer…is that a word??.. besides I know you have a comfortable chair and if it takes you sitting in it reading to Elisa all day to keep her off that foot then that is your job today… There will be apples next year.

    Comment by Helen — September 15, 2008 @ 9:42 am |Reply

  4. Honest to goodness–I just checked out Leah’s blog and then came here. You described what I was feeling Wed.Thurs.Fri.&Sat. My poor husband was such a good listener. Whew–yesterday was good–went to an auction! I went to my prayer journal this morning and my last entry was 2 years ago–the feeling at that time was “accomplishing nothing” (2years because another new baby and health issues with my two youngest–extremely long story) I love antiques and vintage items. I call my sewing room a tribute to the 30’s & 40’s woman. It’s decorated with items from then — my what workers they were! I compare myself to women of that era all the time! AND IT’S WRONG!! We should not compare ourselves to ANYONE, let alone someone from another time that we don’t even know. While there is no denying how hard it was, when it makes us feel inferior, we’ve gone down a wrong path. The call to motherhood is really about building relationships. With the kids and your husband. Making apple butter may be part of that some times, but obviously (to us outside your head) it’s NOT TODAY!!
    I so understand little ones, lack of sleep, medicine, and guilt.
    I will pray for you and your little one’s ankle.
    (Helen seems to have great advice)

    Comment by Jill — September 15, 2008 @ 2:01 pm |Reply

  5. Sorry-have to say more–what ARE they thinking about those family/church potlucks???!!! Our big bazaar/feed is this weekend. I have to bring THREE cakes and we need to work at it. I don’t mind so much any of that, but don’t expect us to eat there, we’ll eat at home–where all the grubby fingers and spills won’t need to be cleaned up right away!

    Comment by Jill — September 15, 2008 @ 2:14 pm |Reply

  6. Lindy—I think guilt is a unique outcrop of being a mother. It’s like we’re biologically programmed to feel BAD. Unfair! And I hear you with all the canning. I have done so much salsa (usually with Sophia crying somewhere in the background) that my dreams are full of tomato and pepper imagery.

    Eliza will heal. Damage to our little ones is so hard to swallow, because they are still such a part of ourselves. But kids’ bodies are amazing in their ability to mend. One time when I had sick kiddos, Patricia told me to take them to the grocery store, and let them point to whatever looked good and would make them feel better. That has gotten us through lots of booboos.

    Don’t put your head in the oven quite yet. This will pass and in the middle of winter, when you’re cracking open a jar of that apple butter, all your current troubles will have gone the way of the dodo.

    Love you guys!

    Comment by Mollie — September 15, 2008 @ 6:38 pm |Reply

  7. Thank you! Commiserating with others works wonders. Thanks, Jill, for the prayers, too. (now, we’ll see if my cooling cans SEAL.)

    Comment by lindyborer — September 15, 2008 @ 7:56 pm |Reply

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