Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Hello, My Name Is Wendi

I realize this is post #260 but there are some things that I would like to say in my defense to a few particular people who, of course, will never read this. Therefore, I will subject you to it. Lucky you.

My name is Wendi DeAnn Suderman Siyajuck. Since my childhood, I've had a wonderful family. My parents raised me to the best of their ability despite the hardships (which every family has at some level or another). They taught me good values and something to believe in, gave me unconditional love which is more valuable to me than anything material, and never made me feel small or worthless. I always knew I was loved. I was not only well fed and given a roof over my head, but I was valued as a family member and I always felt comfortable in my own home. Even now, my brother and sister and I show love in our own ways, not because we feel obligated or that we owe anyone anything, but because we truly love each other.

I grew up on a farm. A PIG farm. I washed out hog barns, fed pigs, gave shots, clipped teeth and castrated piglets. I butchered chickens and showed bucket calves while living under my parent's roof. I learned to cook early and helped often. My parents work hard and taught me to as well. I painted the house when I was young and mowed cemeteries with my brother in high school. I am not scared of working and I actually enjoy hard labor from time to time.

On the flip side, I love beautiful things I love order, art, nice clothes, a new hairdo, a nice smell, and flowers. I wish I could have these things all of the time. My family is Mennonite, which may not mean much to the average person, but in a nut shell, they take care of things, I dare say, better than most. They don't waste anything and are very crafty with their hands. This is within me as well.

I have a strong faith in God which has allowed me to worry less. I know eventually things come together. It always does. Please don't mistake this for ignorance. I am an adult, and I am intelligent. I am intelligent enough to know my abilities don't cut it when it comes to life. I need a God that takes care of me, and that is what I have. So I don't worry much about where life will take me or how things are going to be fixed. I know other parents gasp when my children are dare devils and how they play...but guess what? They have fun and no broken bones yet. And if it does happen? Is it the end of  the world? I don't worry about that either. But I become the overprotective mom when it comes to emotions. I am sensitive and have had feelings painfully hurt and so I am like a bird watching over her nest of chicks when it comes to my kids' minds. I am picky about what they watch or what people they are with.

My personality is not evident immediately. I am a right brained introvert. People don't always get me and frequently misunderstand me as a person. I have been called snobby and stuck up. I have been mistaken for being slow in the mind, or that I just don't care. Do you know, when people are not talking they are thinking? And thinking often produces more than talking. I see things from a different perspective so I just do things differently. I don't think that is wrong. Just different. I am quite sure I have a bit of adult ADD, but have not pursued much medically mostly because if I did take any medication, I would inevitably forget to take it. It isn't severe but I am aware of it. I hate talking on the phone because the slightest distraction makes it impossible to hear. I forget what I am doing often and I tend to lose things...every half hour or so. I avoid loud venues because I can't enjoy the conversation. I think I lost a boyfriend once simply because, in the middle of a cold football game, he suggested that we stay warm by cuddling. I didn't hear what he said so I smiled and continued to watch the game. Years later it hit me that I completely blew him off.

That's okay, though, because I met and married the right man for me. When we met, I liked him for many reasons. He was handsome and funny, but most of all he just liked me. He was okay with my silent spells and quirky joys. He thought I looked good in jeans and tank top with my hair tied back and little makeup. What this said to me was he didn't like something I was trying to be, he just liked me. And that was that. We got married and had a baby in the baby carriage. Times four. He is my world! I know I don't do things like he is used to but he adapts to me and defends me. I would do anything I could if I knew it would make him happy, and I know he does so much for me. He, as well, has his way of doing things that I don't always understand. However, when I just let him do his job, well, it works out beautifully.

I am not naturally prone to loving children, but I always knew I would love my own. And I do! The work they make is nothing compared to the joy they bring! However, that does not mean that they are not work, for they are. Getting up and breakfast takes an hour most days. Every meal takes at least 45 minutes. Bed time from start to finish 1 hour 15 minutes. Laundry, dishes, ouchies, books, teachable moments, refereeing, picking up, sweeping, entertaining, doctor appointments, friends over, toy maintenance, picture taking, bed making...well, it fills in the gaps. So remember how I love beautiful things? Priorites. My children are more important than my things. One day I will be able to watch my favorite shows, as well as keep an orderly house, but the last eight years I've had no such luck. Oh yeah, and I teach them too. So when my husband comes home to laundry piled on the floor and dishes in the sink with his tired wife in glasses and pajamas, he still knows my value. And I his. Cause if he can look at me like this and still hug me, he's a keeper.

I don't prefer to be given much. I like to earn what I have because people may expect something from me if a gift is given. The exeption is when I trust that the giver truly is giving and not putting in a deposit and demanding a suprise refund later, making me look like a fool. I do not appreciate being made guilty over somthing I didn't ask for in the first place.

I have my dietetics registration. I love food, but not only because I love to eat or I love to cook, but it is the center of everything. I am eclectic and I love wholistic living, in which food lies. Food is an art, beautiful to all senses. It is fun to grow, make, and eat, and it is truly amazing how it is used to sustain life. I am in awe of how the proper use of food can help produce a healthy mind, body, and spirit. However, it is often frustrating to me how emotions and environments can negatively affect eating habits, which ultimately leads to family. A healthy family will poduce healthy kids. So family will always trump food. I say this to reinterate the value of spending time serving family- with food and otherwise.

I have experienced prejudice before- because of my faith or because I was from the country or because of my race. Caucasians have their steryotypes, too. It always hurts.

If anyone feels the need to find my shortcomings, they don't have to look hard. However, I assure you, there is more than meets the eye. Nothing hurts me worse than being accused for something that isn't true about me. Nothing means more to me than when someone is patient enough to find the hidden jewel in me. Everyone has them, however some are easier to see than others.

My spoken words would never be elloquent enough to effectively relate this to anyone that doubts me. My written, unheard response gives me peace.

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