Mother’s Day : Raising Babies Trumps Raging War

Family PoemsMother’s Day :

Raising Babies Trumps Raging War

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Pictured Left : “Family Poems”

Available by subscription or direct purchase.

Also available in Audio.

Original poetry for mom, dad, grandparents, and children.

Preview with Table of Contents (list of poems) at end of article.

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“the intent of this blog is to incrementally build a body of thought that works toward integrating various topics, yoga, fitness, and the arts – it’s a process…”


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Mother’s Day : Raising Babies Trumps Raging War

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Sheila with her cat and doll.

Sheila with her cat and doll – though she’s a doll herself 🙂

Circa Long Long Ago

Happy Mother’s Day, Sheila

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The Premise and the Problem

I don’t know anyone really who would seriously debate the statement, “Raising babies trumps raging war.”

It would be more a question of : “Do we have a choice?” – “How?” – “When?”

In other words, it’s a question of potential possibility, but not one of immediate implementation.

But only because someone, somewhere, somehow, wishes to impose their will on others, at others’ expense.

So, for me, the question is, how to mitigate that historically always-been-that-way fact of life…

A Proposal

I got an idea, of a way to get us guys to feel, gain the empathy, the gals feel strong enough not to go to war with one another.

And I know guys can and do feel attachment to life at a young age, just by envisioning all the images and times I’ve seen a young boy holding a puppy or kitty or rabbit, just like my wife is in the picture above.

Tellingly, she already also has a doll, a human figure, in her arms.  I remember pretty well I either had a ball, an army man rubber figure, a toy gun, or something to hit with, usually a stick.

Despite whether some or all of those differences are innate or cultural, I also remember holding a puppy close to me when I was young – wanting a kitty cat.

So my proposal, ok, maybe it’s just an idea at this point, but either way, it’s to require guys to have to care for small children, babies, toddlers, infants, when they are young, for extended periods of time.  Not for just a few hours, but for true stretches of time.  Where the daily nuances of young lives can be experienced.

With information about developmental psychology.  Hygiene.  Fitness.  Happiness.

Radical.  Right?

But so is a perpetual history of war and destruction.

We have to try something, something potentially constructive.

Are we guys that different we can’t learn the value of caring?

Enough to refuse to seek out to hurt or destroy others?

I don’t think so.  We can do it.

Why I Think This

It’s been with my children’s children that I finally learned to slow down enough to see the treasure my own children are.  Maybe being released from the discipline of raising children, to the joy of raising (in visits 😉 ) grandchildren, has allowed me this.

Either way, while we necessarily do what we must to protect our families and our freedoms, while properly providing for our soldiers brave enough to fight to protect us, then searching for ways to change this seemingly endless history of violence and war seems to be more worthwhile than ever.

Seeing, now, in my older age, what my mom, my children’s moms, and my grand children’s moms have seen as they raised each child, tells me, once a person has let the daily moments of a child’s life into his or her own life, then the value of life becomes more important than needless fighting.

So until that day when the heart of Mothers Day becomes something we all celebrate every day, then, yes, I’ll stand by my slogan: raising babies trumps raging war.

We guys, though, gotta do it our way, and just might be a bit more rough and tumble with those babies than the gals, that’s all 🙂

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As my son says, "Mi familia" :-)

As my son says, “Mi familia” 🙂

Circa Long Ago

Our Kids, Niece, Nephew, Brother and Sister

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Preview, “Family Poems”

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namaste´- con dios – god be with you

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Sheila & Adan

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About Felipe Adan Lerma

A beginner's view : integrating interests in yoga, fitness, and the arts - work in fiction, poetry, and images.
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