Happiness

Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go. -Oscar Wilde 

Learning to Take off My Dung Coloured Glasses

Happiness: the fleeting dream that eludes most of us.  I am often miserable, pressed for time, running around  in my insular little world, only catching glimpses of the world around me as I peer  through dung coloured glasses. Yet the solution to my dilemma is remarkably easy.

Stop.

Take off my dung coloured lenses.

Look and really see all the blessings around me.

Appreciate and allow gratitude to come to life within me once again.

A therapist would charge you hundreds of dollars to teach you how to do this, calling this method cognitive therapy.

I will give you this key to happiness for free.

I discovered this secret after years of mothering my tiny children. They taught me to take my eyes off my exhaustion and to take delight in the plethora of tiny details all around me. Little kids are born with a sense of wonder and the ability to enjoy little things. My daughter’s retain an appreciation for detail; they all remember the little things.

.

Examples:

• A friend of mine, Martha, once asked one of my daughters, when she was about six, what she liked most about Christmas. She replied immediately,

           “The pineapple in the fruit bowl"

My daughter’s answer astounded Martha.

• Similarly, one evening before dinner Claire, now a young adult, said,

           “I always remember the fresh smell of clean sheets every week.”

           Such a small thing, yet a child, with a heart full of gratitude, takes great pleasure from it.

• A few months back,  Claire was recounting how pleased she was with a plant in her garden. Realizing that she was enjoying such a small thing she laughed,

           “Oh my god, I sound just like Mum.”

.

• The things that raise my spirits are usually small and most people would not consider them significant. For example, one Christmas I was very tired and only one gift brought me genuine joy. It was hand crocheted dish clothes from my friend Cathy. ..dish clothes, beautifully made, colourful, something I used a hundred times a day.
• .

Perhaps this is one of the blessings of a large family; free cognitive therapy from a crew of little people who greeted each morning with wonder and awe.

What am I thankful for now, at this moment? I am grateful to be alive, breathing and healthy with a husband of 35 years, nine healthy, kids,. four kid-in-laws and 5 grandchildren who turned out so well that I am speechless and teary eyed with relief and gratitude.

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The Altar of Success

     



I want to yell out as loudly as I can that raising children

is definitely not a default chore for women

who were not successful in the world of business, power and wealth.

To all people, raised in a Western  capitalist society:

Since preschool, society has pushed you to excel, to rise above your peers.  You were groomed for success, to get into the best universities and snatch the most prized careers. Well, it is nice to have confidence, to fulfil your dreams and have a sense of satisfaction in your chosen field of work but that will not make you happy.

Just take a look at the generations that have gone before you. The all to common mid-life crisis is a testament to the failure of a life focused on career advancement to the exclusion of family. Men and women bemoan the fact that they did not have time for nurturing and loving their spouse or children.

All to often family life crumbles to ashes, sacrificed on the altar of success.

As for childcare, society relegates this to women who are often treated as second class citizens. I want to yell out as loudly as I can that raising children is definitely not a default chore for women who were not successful in the world of business, power and wealth. Exactly how you love and form your children will directly influence the kind of society that they in turn create. Do you want a world focused only on the ruthless accumulation of wealth? 

When a person blindly follows the dictates of a capitalistic society, his focus becomes egocentric not on God, family or community. What will you focus on as you embark on your adult life? Do you set your heart simply on the accumulation of wealth or will you live out true Christian social principles and consider the universal destination of goods? Will you create a race of humans who are becoming increasingly shallow, cold and cynical about relationships, family and love? Do you want your offspring to be more comfortable texting you, their parents, than speaking with you face to face in a warm, loving way because it is more cost effective way of passing on information?
Family is crucial; it is the foundation of society. I am pleased that my adult children, raised on a farm with little technology are completely modern. Yet they are open to life and family. They are beginning to grasp how important their own young families are.

Just after his daughter’s birth, my son turned to his dad and said,

”Dad, I think that this is the best thing that I have ever done in my life.”

And , a year later, as his little daughter lay sleeping on his chest, Daniel said,

”Now I know why you and Dad had so many kids.”

Can you imagine that if you put family first, your kids will be healed by love and set free to serve the world in and through Love? It would be heaven on earth. It would be the beginning of a revolution that would change the face of the earth.  In doing so, I assure you, you will be happier, more content and live longer if you treasure more than money and success.

The Secret

The Secret to the

Survival of a

Humane Society.

Treasure each human,

No matter how

Little or

Weak.

Honour

Family

As its

Foundation,

A training ground

for living .

Because in

Family,

Divergent personalities

Co-exist in Joy.

Learn to live

Under the same roof.

Each member

Unique.

Often at odds.

Still part

Of the same

Family.

Laughter,

Humour,

Tolerance,

Forgiveness

Skills essentia.

For the Survival of a

Joyful

Family.

Simple Lessons

Lived out in

Family.

Simple Lessons  which are

The Secret

To the

Survival of Society.

Temper Tantrum?

babies are completely dependant on their caregiver

My first thought is to pity the child, not the mother.

As a mother of nine kids, people often ask me,

"How on earth did you manage without any help? "
If I had to divulge one secret that I was fortunate enough to discover early in my mothering career, it would be,
"Never let them get tired and never let them get hungry."

There is a universal image stuck in our brains of a screaming toddler throwing a tantrum on the floor of a grocery store. Even the best parent becomes a helpless victim in these situations because nobody is as miserable and disagreeable as a hungry and irritable baby, toddler, or small child.

When I see a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, my first thought is,

"That poor kid, not that poor mother."

To mothers of little children: Do you want well-behaved kids?

"Never let them get hungry and never let them get tired."

Trust me, ignoring bedtime, naps or snacks and meals either to shop, talk on the phone or visit a friend simply is NOT worth the aggravation of dealing with upset little people, afterwards. When I ignored the warning signs that my kids were reaching their limits of endurance, I created either a clingy, irritating wimp or a screaming monster.Then nothing I did or said seemed to help the situation.

I might have looked like a self-sacrificing mother but I was merely acting out of a sense of self-preservation when I put my kids needs first. No time for resentment because happy and satisfied kids were worth every sacrifice I made. The peace was worth any compromise.

One niece once told me that many people had given her advice when she became a new mother but the only thing she always remembered and practiced was,

"Never let them get tired and never let them get hungry."

Want To Be Happy?: Take off your dung coloured glasses!

 

A child looks at everything with delight.

I received free cognitive therapy because I was surrounded by a crew of little people who greeted each morning with wonder and awe.

The fleeting dream that eludes many of us is happiness. We are running around, miserable in our insular little worlds, only catching glimpses of the world around us through dung coloured glasses.The solution to our dilemma is easy. Stop. Take off our mud coloured lenses. Look. Appreciate. A therapist would charge you hundreds of dollars to teach you how to do this, calling this method cognitive therapy. I will give you this key to happiness for free.
I heard of a fellow who hated his job.Unable to find another position, he finally decided to do something to change his apathy. After dragging himself home every night after work, rather staring at the T.V. all evening, he sat in front of his computer to write. His challenge? To find one thing that he was grateful for that day and write that discovery in a new blog. His posts connected with others and soon he had a huge following. At the request of a publisher, he is now writing a book.
I discovered the same secret after years of mothering my tiny children. They taught me to take my eyes off my exhaustion and to take delight in the plethora of tiny details all around me. Little kids are born with a sense of wonder and the ability to enjoy little things. My daughter's retain an appreciation for detail; they all remember the little things.

A friend of mine once asked Rachel, when she was about six, what she liked most about Christmas. She replied immediately,
"The pineapple."

My daughter's answer astounded Martha. Similarly, one evening before dinner Emily, now a young adult, said,

"I always remember the fresh smell of clean sheets every week."

Such a small thing, yet a child, with a heart full of gratitude, takes great pleasure from it.

A few months back, Katie was recounting how pleased she was with a plant in her garden. Realizing that she was enjoying such a small thing she laughed,

"Oh my god, I sound just like Mum."

Another daughter and her husband of three months celebrated their marriage with a huge wedding reception for two hundred people. Mara had planned every detail from the match covers to the large buffet. Most of all, she poured her creative spirit into making all the decorations by hand with sisters and friends. The reception room, with black backdrops was stunning. From green wheat grass in planters, tissue paper flowers in greens and plum to spray painted Hydrangea blooms in purple, sliver, black and lime green, the room looked professionally decorated.
The things that raise my spirits are usually small and most people would not consider them significant. For example, one Christmas I was very tired and only one gift brought me genuine joy. It was hand crocheted dish clothes from my friend Cathy. ..dish clothes, beautifully made, colourful, something I used a hundred times a day.

Perhaps this is one of the blessings of a large family; free cognitive therapy from a crew of little people who greeted each morning with wonder and awe.

The House That Kids Built

Picture This scene.

Five year old Anthony is leaping off the fourth stair wearing his black cape, a purple Batman sweatshirt and his 'Mountie' hat. Three year old Lucy carries a huge, old purse stuffed with cut pieces of paper and fake money and she is trailing behind seven year old Katie who is trying to make a scrapbook.

Rachel is in the same living room playing "Magic School Bus" on the computer and Emily is upstairs changing her clothes again. Dave and Matt are building a lego plane across the hall in the family room but eighteen year old Matt is the brains behind the construction.

Mara is on the phone and Melissa is listening to music that is way too loud while leaning over the upstairs railing and complaining about life.

Michael is tending the animals.

 And me?

Why I am putting in the fourth load of laundry that day and planning a folding marathon where I sort laundry and literally toss each kid their own clothes to fold

Guess what?

 I learned to be happy in the chaos. I don't have a living room , I have work and play areas. A table in the living room is covered in a 1,000 piece puzzle that people stop to work on on for a few minutes and the coffee table is Katie's craft station.

 There are goldfish on my too small counter, a huge dog who trips anyone walking through the main door and a cat who thinks she owns the most comfortable chair in the house. I warn you, do not try to move the queen! Sometimes a caged hamster or guinea pig squeaks for attention EVERY time the fridge door opens!

My kitchen walls, fridge and cupboards are covered with all kinds of art and scribble art and I have too many indoor plants.

One day my father-in-law tripped over our dog (who did not move, by the way) and he gruffly asked me,

"What is that dog doing in the house? He should live outside."

I laughed and said,

"Welcome to OUR home. We love kids, animals, plants and even y. Just come on in!"

Living With Lots of Little People

As a mother of nine kids, people often ask me,

 "How on earth did you manage without any help? "

If I had to divulge one secret that I was fortunate enough to discover early in my mothering career, it would be,

"Never let them get tired and never let them get hungry."

There is a universal image stuck in our brains of  a screaming toddler throwing a tantrum on the floor of a grocery store. Even the best parent is reduced to a helpless victimn in these situations because

nobody is as miserable and disagreeable as a hungry and irritable baby, toddler, or small child.

When I ignored  the warning signs that my kids were reaching their limits of endurance, I created either a clingy, irritating wimp or a screaming monster.Then NOTHING I did or said seemed to help the situation.

I might have LOOKED like a self-sacrificing mother but I was merely acting out of a sense of self-preservation when I put my kids needs first. No time for resentment because happy and satisfied kids were worth every "sacrifice" I made. The peace was worth any compromise.

One niece once told me that many people had given her advice when she became a new mother but the only thing she always remembered and practiced was,

"Never let them get tired and never let them get hungry."

"BUT Cecil is still up!"

Everyone else had left the funeral home as Cecil’s family and mine shared another amusing memory and laughed together.  I had broken the ice with the first story but soon everyone spoke up and added their favourite memory of Cecil and the Juneau’s. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a traditional Irish wake.

I looked around the circle at our former neighbour’s smiles and I was surprised, surprised that the antics of our large family had been so entertaining and memorable to Cecil and his clan.  I had simply done whatever came to my mind to keep a lot of little people busy, safe and happy.  Now teenagers, Cecil’s grand-daughters were still delighted with my summer tradition of filling a baby bathtub with ice and snow from my old-fashioned freezer. They played for more than an hour with spoons, cups, bowls and food colouring as I kept the tub filled with frosty snow.

Cecil’s widow especially enjoyed the memory of our “walks” down our short, dead-end country lane. It was a virtual parade that consisted of children all under 12 vying for the opportunity to push the baby in a buggy, a toddler riding on a wagon, dutifully pulled by one of the older kids, a pre-school child sitting on bright yellow duck with wheels, bikes and tricycles ridden in circles around younger siblings and me, usually pregnant, sipping a nice hot cup of tea and walking as slowly as possible.

I think that Cecil’s kindness was symbolized best by the image of my two-year old son sitting on his knee “helping “ cut grass with Cecil’s lawn tractor. Matthew was thrilled with the chance to sit on the small tractor, even when it was parked.  This excitement never dimmed.  As Matthew grew, he  had to stand on the back of the tractor and finally by seven-years old, he could no longer hitch a ride but could only WALK behind the tractor. My son was still out there with Cecil, walking up and down the rows of grass for countless hours because Cecil was Matthews’s best friend in those days with the foundation of their friendship rooted in their mutual love of tractors.

One evening, around 7:30, after Matthew’s bath, I called him for a bedtime story. Matthew had been peering out the window, watching Cecil work in his garden. This three year-old turned to me and wondered why HE had to go to bed,

“BUT Cecil is still up!”