Monday Musings: Parents & Guardians

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Instead of sharing a poem today, I wanted to talk about word choice. I realize that schools, doctors’ offices and every other place that requires parental signature are just trying to be politically correct, but the phrase “Parents & Guardians” really grates on my nerves.

For [hopefully] obvious reasons, I have not gone into many of the legalities concerning my nephew-sons, but I’d like to make one thing clear: I am their parent. My brother was a terrific single father who loved them to no end, but when he died and the judge signed the guardianship Orders, I went from being Aunt to Mom. I realize it’s just a title – a nickname, if you will – but I am more than a mere guardian. I’m the sole custodial parent in the eyes of the court.

The word guardian makes me think of a babysitter or an orphanage. Don’t get me wrong — there are some orphanages that aim to create a very family-like atmosphere, and I think that’s terrific. Yet, even a foster parent arrangement, in my mind, is more than just someone who watches over/guards the children. If a child lives in your home day in and day out and has been incorporated into your family structure, then how is that not parenting?

Again, I realize people don’t mean any offense when they use the word guardian, but I wish they would just say parent. Distinguishing between the two only confuses the children and risks making them feel excluded.

The purpose of parenting (Prayer devotional for the week of Oct. 16)

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There are days when it feels like the sole purpose of parenting is simply to survive till bedtime. You reached your wit’s end somewhere between the overflowed toilet, the gum goo in the dryer and the bruise on the arch of your foot from that toy you stepped on, and you are hanging onto a raveling thread of hope that tomorrow will be an improvement.

It’s difficult being told what to do (at any age, but especially as a young person who *obviously* has all the answers already and needs no instruction), yet if we didn’t love them, then we wouldn’t care what they did where and with whom. We have to set boundaries for their safety and well-being, and that means enforcing the rules. “A refusal to correct is a refusal to love; love your children by disciplining them” (Proverbs 13:24, The Message).

In Matthew 21, beginning in verse 28, Jesus told a story about a father instructing his two sons to go work outside. One smarted off and said no but later went out and worked, after all. The other said yes but then never did the work. (Jesus told the story to illustrate salvation—in that we may have rejected him at first but repented and believed later, as opposed to the religious leaders who gave God lip service but didn’t really believe.)

This parable has always resonated uncomfortably with me, because I don’t want to raise either of those sons—I don’t want them to begrudgingly obey me or, worse yet, not put forth any effort at all. I want them to understand that my purpose as a parent is an earthly checks & balances role—God is the one ultimately in charge. “As obedient children, let yourselves be pulled into a way of life shaped by God’s life, a life energetic and blazing with holiness. God said, ‘I am holy; you be holy’” (I Peter 1:14-15, The Message). And, if God is in charge, then it’s not just about survival—even toilets, gum goo and toys have a bigger purpose.

Foodie Friday: Frittata

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I love eggs. I love spinach. Eggs + spinach = nomnomnom! My plan for dinner last night was shrimp skewers & salad. Unfortunately, the spinach salad mix was starting to wilt. It hadn’t gone bad, but I’m picky about crisp greens, and it just wasn’t good for salad. So, I made a different side dish for the boys and decided to salvage the spinach by chopping it up and making a frittata for breakfast.

Spinach frittata

If I may say so, it was delicious! (I had to try a bite of it before I could post it here for you, of course). 😉

Besides being yummy, it was unbelievably simple. I used almost a whole package of spinach salad (shame on me for not eating it sooner, but I digress), 9 eggs and about a cup of shredded cheese.

I beat the eggs with a bit of water to help them fluff, then sprinkled the chopped spinach on top. (In retrospect, I might have mixed it in, but it turned out ok as a layered dish.) I added a few sprinkles of salt & pepper and baked it in a square casserole dish for about 40 min. I added a couple of handfuls of shredded cheese (I estimated about a cup’s worth) as soon as it came out of the oven, so it would melt nicely on top.

I tried a bite (for your benefit, of course 😉 )  and declared it a success! Enjoy!

Close call

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Something very scary happened on the way to drop off the boys at Kidzone (kids’ church) this evening. It was a classic Defensive Driving scenario: We were turning left and had been stopped for several seconds with my left turn signal on, waiting for oncoming traffic to pass by at 60mph. A car was exiting the cross-street, waiting to turn onto the road that we were turning off of. Suddenly, a car came barreling up behind us going easily 70mph (in a 60mph zone, mind you), and it obviously wasn’t planning to stop for the Chevy Traverse with its brake lights clearly on and its left turn signal clearly blinking.

It scared the crap out of me.

There was nothing I could do in the instant that I realized it was about to slam into me from behind, throwing the five boys and me into oncoming traffic. My reflex was to tap the brake; I didn’t even have time to honk the horn (as if they would hear it from behind me??). At the last moment, they swerved onto the shoulder and avoided slamming into us. I was shaken. Literally, shaking, as I drove the last mile or so to church. All I could think of was “what if” …

I declared aloud, “Thank you, Jesus.” I’d like to say that that was the first thing that came to mind, but honestly, the first thing that came to mind was to shout, “Idiot!!” at the swerving car.

I’ve had too much grief to deal with in the past 2-1/2 years. Yet, I kept thinking about the side-curtain airbags and wondered if they’d be enough to protect the two boys who were seated on the passenger side in the 2nd & 3rd rows. In a split second — longer than I would have liked to imagine it — I pictured them unconscious … even dead. I didn’t want to believe it, but my imagination went there. I imagined waking up in the hospital and not knowing which boys were alive and which ones were dead.

I prayed and asked God to clear my mind, and I thanked him again for intervening and letting us avoid what surely would have been a terrible wreck. Even after praying, even after driving back to the church and picking them up and arriving back safely at home, I’m still leery to go to sleep. I don’t want those nightmares. Perhaps I will read for a while and try to distract my imagination.