I'll never be a parenting expert. Truth be told, I don't think anyone ever will be. I'd like to think that I learn and grow as a parent, though, the same as I'd like to think that I can learn and grow as a person, a Christian, and in any number of other ways. My kids teach me new things every day, and some things I just eventually realize on my own, and wonder why on earth I didn't think of it before. One of the things that I've worked really hard on, especially in the last few years, is looking at how I respond to situations with my kids.
Let's face it ... raising kids can be a wonderful experience. It can also be a frightening, maddening, stressful, where-did-I-put-that-straight-jacket experience. The news today has so many stories of children being mistreated and abused, and I find myself wondering how parents could possibly treat a child that way. I would never dream of intentionally harming my children. My guess is that many parents around the world feel exactly the same way. I've begun to think, though, that in many cases it has to do with a parent who hasn't learned the difference between responding to a situation and reacting to a situation.
Think about the last time you watched a group of kids play together. One child takes a toy, or does something else that another child doesn't like, and what happens? The second child will cry, or scream, or find a way to lash out in an attempt to say "I don't like this at all!" We look at children doing this and think, "There's a better way to deal with this.", but then we don't even notice when we do similar things.
Case in point ... as we were leaving an evening church service recently, we told the kids to go get in the truck (my husband still objects to calling a minivan a truck, but that's another story). My five-year old blasted off across the parking lot in the direction of our vehicle, not noticing that there was a car parked next to us whose driver was preparing to back out. Startled at the danger, we called out for him to stop, and managed to get him out of the way of the vehicle. (Thankfully, they had seen him and hadn't moved anywhere.) My son now safe, this is where I try to make it a point to respond, instead of react, to the situation. My inclination (the reaction part of me), would be to tan his hide and yell at him for putting himself in danger. The reason? Well, yes, it could have been dangerous, but a large part of it would have been because he scared the daylights out of me. On the other hand, the "respond" part of me part of me might give him ONE swat and a serious scolding about being more careful and explaining what almost happened. What's the reasoning? Well, to begin with, he's five. I don't want him putting himself in danger at all, but I have to understand that five is never going to be as observant as adult. It's my job to watch out for things for him, until he learns to watch out for them himself. Besides all that, he was attempting to be obedient, by going to the truck in the first place. If I start spanking him for no apparent (to him) reason, what does that teach him?
I think it's a lesson some parents have a hard time learning. They have a child that doesn't do exactly what they want them to, or an unexpected situation comes up, and they REACT to the situation instead of responding to it. It's an easy mistake for all of us to make, but for us and for our children it's so important that as adults we learn the difference. It's a part of being the kind of parents our children need us to be.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
What they don't know can't hurt them ... at least most of the time.
Occasionally, I just feel the need to purge stuff from the house. Things get to feeling cluttered and unlivable, and so it's time to clear some of it out. More often than not, this has a lot to do with the kid's toys. With birthdays, Christmas, generous friends and doting grandparents, sometimes it seems like the kids have more toys than they know what to do with. I've known kids (fortunately not mine) who actually had so many toys that they had a separate room just to catch all the stuff that overflowed from their rooms. In our house, though, when the boys get to digging through a huge toy box full of things and start complaining about how they can't find what they're looking for, Mommy usually decides it's time to clear out the clutter.
Most of the time, it happens when the older two boys are at school. It isn't necessary, perhaps, but the truth is it makes my life a little easier. I can drag everything out in the floor and make an honest assessment of what they usually play with, without having to hear "Oh, WOW! I forgot we had that!" and having three pairs of hands in the middle of things. I usually don't eliminate large numbers of toys at a time, but I weed out things that they are outgrowing or don't play with, and pitch stuff that is obviously broken beyond repair. Sometimes, just the act of putting things where they BELONG, like the Hot Wheels-type cars in their storage boxes instead of in the toy box, can work wonders. After this morning's clearing, we no longer have toy box that is full almost to bursting, but one that's only about 2/3 full. It makes me feel much better.
Of course, when the kids get home, one of two things will happen. The first possibility is they will not even notice that I've cleaned the toy box out, and go on happily about their business. This is always the nicer of the two options, for obvious reasons. The other possibility is that they'll come home, dig through the toy box, and holler "Hey Mom! Where's _____? I can't find it!" I'll probably have the urge to shake my head or roll my eyes, wondering why they suddenly felt the need to find a toy they haven't played with in 6 months, and then I'll have to tell them that I cleaned out the toy box and took out some stuff they weren't playing with.
Fortunately, most of the time when that happens, they pretty much take it in stride, especially when they're reminded that it's not all that long until Christmas, or birthday, or whatever rolls around again. I try to teach my kids to be thankful for the things they have, and willing to part with things they don't need so that other folks can enjoy them. So I pack up all the outgrown/unused stuff in storage boxes and put it out in the garage for our annual yard sale. The kids will come out and look at things and say, "Hey, I remember that!", play with it for a minute or two, and then put it back down for the sale. And I'll be thankful, because I know they're growing up.
Most of the time, it happens when the older two boys are at school. It isn't necessary, perhaps, but the truth is it makes my life a little easier. I can drag everything out in the floor and make an honest assessment of what they usually play with, without having to hear "Oh, WOW! I forgot we had that!" and having three pairs of hands in the middle of things. I usually don't eliminate large numbers of toys at a time, but I weed out things that they are outgrowing or don't play with, and pitch stuff that is obviously broken beyond repair. Sometimes, just the act of putting things where they BELONG, like the Hot Wheels-type cars in their storage boxes instead of in the toy box, can work wonders. After this morning's clearing, we no longer have toy box that is full almost to bursting, but one that's only about 2/3 full. It makes me feel much better.
Of course, when the kids get home, one of two things will happen. The first possibility is they will not even notice that I've cleaned the toy box out, and go on happily about their business. This is always the nicer of the two options, for obvious reasons. The other possibility is that they'll come home, dig through the toy box, and holler "Hey Mom! Where's _____? I can't find it!" I'll probably have the urge to shake my head or roll my eyes, wondering why they suddenly felt the need to find a toy they haven't played with in 6 months, and then I'll have to tell them that I cleaned out the toy box and took out some stuff they weren't playing with.
Fortunately, most of the time when that happens, they pretty much take it in stride, especially when they're reminded that it's not all that long until Christmas, or birthday, or whatever rolls around again. I try to teach my kids to be thankful for the things they have, and willing to part with things they don't need so that other folks can enjoy them. So I pack up all the outgrown/unused stuff in storage boxes and put it out in the garage for our annual yard sale. The kids will come out and look at things and say, "Hey, I remember that!", play with it for a minute or two, and then put it back down for the sale. And I'll be thankful, because I know they're growing up.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Perspectives
I've mentioned before how having my boys has sometimes made me stop and change my perspectives on things. I don't know if I can really even put my finger on what it is, but sometimes when you're having a bad day or just need a smile, taking a look at things through the eyes of your child can help a lot. I've had many times when I felt like I was on the verge of a breakdown, only to have one or another of the boys say something silly, and suddenly I was smiling and relaxed again. I think it's amazing how kids can do that for you, if you let them.
What I didn't know, though, is that sometimes they can provide that perspective without ever even knowing it. I pondered this a few days ago, as my husband and I celebrated our anniversary. I feel that I have been incredibly blessed in my mate, and I am ever so thankful to have him. I love being able to share a day with him (typically while the kiddos go to Grandma's), and do whatever occurs to us, whether it's going to a movie, or eating somewhere besides McDonald's, or whatever. It reminds us both of the special time that we got to spend together before the house and the children came along, and gives us a chance to recharge our batteries and reinforce our love for each other.
For a number of years, it's also been a faintly bittersweet day for us. Many of the folks that know us probably wouldn't even be aware of it. But back before our oldest child was born we lost a baby ... and we lost it on our 3rd anniversary. There's still a bit of an ache there, especially for me, because being a Mommy is such a big part of my life. I miss the little one that I never got to hold, and regret that, because it was too tiny for us to know gender, I never even got to give it a name. At the time, I felt as though my joy had died, and I didn't know how or if I'd get it back. It was a really difficult time, and although it is some easier now, it still touches me each year on our anniversary, or Mother's Day, or whatever else happens to remind me.
But I suppose that's where the perspective part comes in, and that is a large part of what has helped my heart try to heal. You see, if that child had lived, my husband and I would not have been blessed with the child I call my oldest son now. I would have known that child, but not have known the boy that I now call by my beloved Grandfather's name. The boy who is tender and loving, the boy I sometimes call "my C3PO", because with him everything seems to trigger melodramatics of one sort or another. I wouldn't have gotten to take pride in his abilities and roll my eyes at his antics, to laugh out loud at his "upper and lower case ambulances" and every other unique thing he has come up with in his almost 8 years. I would have had one child, and missed out on another that I love dearly.
Sometimes, your heart learns perspective from your children not because of what they say or do, but just because they are.
What I didn't know, though, is that sometimes they can provide that perspective without ever even knowing it. I pondered this a few days ago, as my husband and I celebrated our anniversary. I feel that I have been incredibly blessed in my mate, and I am ever so thankful to have him. I love being able to share a day with him (typically while the kiddos go to Grandma's), and do whatever occurs to us, whether it's going to a movie, or eating somewhere besides McDonald's, or whatever. It reminds us both of the special time that we got to spend together before the house and the children came along, and gives us a chance to recharge our batteries and reinforce our love for each other.
For a number of years, it's also been a faintly bittersweet day for us. Many of the folks that know us probably wouldn't even be aware of it. But back before our oldest child was born we lost a baby ... and we lost it on our 3rd anniversary. There's still a bit of an ache there, especially for me, because being a Mommy is such a big part of my life. I miss the little one that I never got to hold, and regret that, because it was too tiny for us to know gender, I never even got to give it a name. At the time, I felt as though my joy had died, and I didn't know how or if I'd get it back. It was a really difficult time, and although it is some easier now, it still touches me each year on our anniversary, or Mother's Day, or whatever else happens to remind me.
But I suppose that's where the perspective part comes in, and that is a large part of what has helped my heart try to heal. You see, if that child had lived, my husband and I would not have been blessed with the child I call my oldest son now. I would have known that child, but not have known the boy that I now call by my beloved Grandfather's name. The boy who is tender and loving, the boy I sometimes call "my C3PO", because with him everything seems to trigger melodramatics of one sort or another. I wouldn't have gotten to take pride in his abilities and roll my eyes at his antics, to laugh out loud at his "upper and lower case ambulances" and every other unique thing he has come up with in his almost 8 years. I would have had one child, and missed out on another that I love dearly.
Sometimes, your heart learns perspective from your children not because of what they say or do, but just because they are.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Back to school
Well, it's here ... the kid's first day back at school this fall. I have to admit that with it only being the middle of August, it doesn't really SEEM like fall, but that's another story.
I have two children in school this year. How is that possible? Seems like I'm still getting used to Glenn being in school, and now Matthew's going to Kindergarten. On Saturday, Ryan will turn three. It's almost beyond comprehension. What happened to those tiny babies I brought home from the hospital?
The kids were really excited about going to school today. They've been practically bouncing off the walls the last few days, but then I have to admit that they've been practically bouncing off the walls nearly all summer. I'm glad they're back to school, as well. I like for them to be able to learn new things, and interact with friends and other adults. I like to see their abilities grow and see them get excited about all the new pieces of information they come home with. And, in what seems like a most "un-Mommy-like" fashion, I'm glad to get them out of the house for a little while.
I have a friend who has decided to home-school her Kindergarten aged daughter this year. I admire her determination, but know that there's no way I could do it. Don't get me wrong ... I love my children very much. I like to be with them and to do things with them. There are times, though, especially over their summer vacation, when I begin to feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water in an ocean of mayhem and insanity. I used to look forward to nap-time, but now two of the three are too old for naps (at least every day!), so I'm grateful for school time, which lets us all get a little breathing room from each other. It's amazing how much more relaxed my morning has been this morning, and I'm determined to make the most of the quiet time with the little one and even though I know it will feel like a pair of tornadoes has touched down when my older boys get off the school bus, I feel more prepared for it.
It's a strange thing ... I'm glad they're there, but I miss them because they aren't here. A day in the life of a Mommy.
I have two children in school this year. How is that possible? Seems like I'm still getting used to Glenn being in school, and now Matthew's going to Kindergarten. On Saturday, Ryan will turn three. It's almost beyond comprehension. What happened to those tiny babies I brought home from the hospital?
The kids were really excited about going to school today. They've been practically bouncing off the walls the last few days, but then I have to admit that they've been practically bouncing off the walls nearly all summer. I'm glad they're back to school, as well. I like for them to be able to learn new things, and interact with friends and other adults. I like to see their abilities grow and see them get excited about all the new pieces of information they come home with. And, in what seems like a most "un-Mommy-like" fashion, I'm glad to get them out of the house for a little while.
I have a friend who has decided to home-school her Kindergarten aged daughter this year. I admire her determination, but know that there's no way I could do it. Don't get me wrong ... I love my children very much. I like to be with them and to do things with them. There are times, though, especially over their summer vacation, when I begin to feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water in an ocean of mayhem and insanity. I used to look forward to nap-time, but now two of the three are too old for naps (at least every day!), so I'm grateful for school time, which lets us all get a little breathing room from each other. It's amazing how much more relaxed my morning has been this morning, and I'm determined to make the most of the quiet time with the little one and even though I know it will feel like a pair of tornadoes has touched down when my older boys get off the school bus, I feel more prepared for it.
It's a strange thing ... I'm glad they're there, but I miss them because they aren't here. A day in the life of a Mommy.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Grown-Up Age Is Just A Number
Age is all-important to a child, probably because their life is proportionally shorter than the rest of us. To a five-year old, a year is FOREVER, primarily because it makes up 20% of his entire lifetime. By contrast, it seems much shorter at 40, because it represents something closer to 2.5% of a lifetime. So, it's been my experience (both personally and with my children) that kids look toward milestones as something of a happening. "I turned 5 today, so I should start Kindergarten tomorrow." "When I'm sixteen, I'll be able to drive a car.", and so on. I remember being in grade school and thinking that 1988 was practically unimaginable, since that was the year we were supposed to graduate. Now I know people (not even including my own kids) who weren't even BORN in 1988.
The thing I've noticed about kids, though, is that grown-up age is somehow different than kid age. I wonder sometimes if it's kind of similar to the people years vs. dog years comparison. To a child, especially a young child, most all grown ups are old in one way or another. But the "number" of our age doesn't compute in their heads. I've told my kids in the past (when they've asked) how old I am. And I had to laugh when my preschooler came home with a piece of paper this last week as part of his Mother's Day gifts. It was a fill in the blank form that was about me, and filled in by him. The first statement was "My Mom is ____ years old." He said I was 15. While that seemed like quite an entertaining compliment, he has no concept of the fact that with him being 5 and his brother going on 8, I must have started having a family REALLY early!
It made me think of a time when I was probably in the 12-14 age range. My grandparents had come over to the house to visit, and were sitting at the dining room table talking with my Mom and Dad. I was in the living room watching television. It was the time frame of all the "Where's the Beef?" commercials, and a commercial came on that I found really entertaining. I went in to tell the family about how silly it was, and mentioned that there was "a REALLY old lady ... she must have been 60 or 70 years old" starring in the commercial. My grandmother feigned (I think) being hurt, I suppose because I thought grandmother-ish age was "old". I don't think she probably knows what an impact that made on me from that time on. After that, I never talked about someone in that age range being old. If someone was old, they had to be at least 400 years old, because that way I didn't hurt anyone's feelings.
I suppose that's why I had to chuckle as I talked to my boys today about what I'd probably be like when I got old. I made a passing comments I made that turned into quite the conversation with my two oldest. Glenn asked if I'd be old when Ryan got married, and then decided I'd be old when I was 84, because his first grade teacher always tags "and many more, until you're 84" onto the end of the Happy Birthday song. Matthew, the sweet child who said I was 15, said "Mommy, you'll never be old!" Bless his heart ... love like that can't help but keep you young, no matter how old you are.
The thing I've noticed about kids, though, is that grown-up age is somehow different than kid age. I wonder sometimes if it's kind of similar to the people years vs. dog years comparison. To a child, especially a young child, most all grown ups are old in one way or another. But the "number" of our age doesn't compute in their heads. I've told my kids in the past (when they've asked) how old I am. And I had to laugh when my preschooler came home with a piece of paper this last week as part of his Mother's Day gifts. It was a fill in the blank form that was about me, and filled in by him. The first statement was "My Mom is ____ years old." He said I was 15. While that seemed like quite an entertaining compliment, he has no concept of the fact that with him being 5 and his brother going on 8, I must have started having a family REALLY early!
It made me think of a time when I was probably in the 12-14 age range. My grandparents had come over to the house to visit, and were sitting at the dining room table talking with my Mom and Dad. I was in the living room watching television. It was the time frame of all the "Where's the Beef?" commercials, and a commercial came on that I found really entertaining. I went in to tell the family about how silly it was, and mentioned that there was "a REALLY old lady ... she must have been 60 or 70 years old" starring in the commercial. My grandmother feigned (I think) being hurt, I suppose because I thought grandmother-ish age was "old". I don't think she probably knows what an impact that made on me from that time on. After that, I never talked about someone in that age range being old. If someone was old, they had to be at least 400 years old, because that way I didn't hurt anyone's feelings.
I suppose that's why I had to chuckle as I talked to my boys today about what I'd probably be like when I got old. I made a passing comments I made that turned into quite the conversation with my two oldest. Glenn asked if I'd be old when Ryan got married, and then decided I'd be old when I was 84, because his first grade teacher always tags "and many more, until you're 84" onto the end of the Happy Birthday song. Matthew, the sweet child who said I was 15, said "Mommy, you'll never be old!" Bless his heart ... love like that can't help but keep you young, no matter how old you are.
Monday, April 30, 2012
"Terrible Twos" at any age
I think nearly everyone who isn't living under a rock somewhere is familiar with the term "terrible twos" and what it represents. For some reason, most children seem to go through them, and all the rest of us (mainly parents) can really do when it happens is to hang on and endure the ride. You may find something that works to alleviate it now and then, but no one that I know of has ever found a "cure", or a magic "do this" that works on every occasion. Kids just aren't wired that way.
My oldest two kids, early starters that they are (at least for some things) started into their "terrible twos" at about 18 months. The oldest took a while to come out of them, and once he did we were thankful. Of course, that turned out to be right about the same time that the middle son started into them. Imagine that. And now, with him going on five and starting kindergarten in the fall, I'm finally starting to see a very, VERY faint light at the end of the tunnel. Some days are better than others, and if he has a day when he just can't seem to handle much of anything, we usually resort to the dreaded nap time, which seems to help for a while.
Silly me, I was beginning to think that maybe we'd have it easier with the youngest as he nears his third birthday. By and large, he's a loving, happy boy that (with two older brothers in the house) seems to mostly roll with the punches and go on about his business. He's taken knocks that the other two would have been screaming about and just pouted and come for a "make better" kiss, and then gone back to playing. Seems like the last week or two, though, he's starting to fall into the tears/yelling/whininess that goes with the terrible twos, and whether it's just a phase he's going through or if he's picking things up from his older brother, I couldn't really tell ya. Oh well, if it happens it happens ... I've gotten through it before.
Though I have to admit, there have been days in the past when I've felt like I'm going to pull some hair out in frustration (mine or someone else's was also under debate). I've even been known to say that if this child (whichever one it was) had one more meltdown during the day I was afraid that I might have to flop down in the floor and have a hissy fit of my own. Not that it would really help anything, but hey, it might get their attention just because it was out of the ordinary.
Truth be told, I think that no matter what our age is we all have our "two" days ... when we just can't seem to get anything right, when it seems like folks are pushing every button we have (sometimes more than once), and by the time we get through the day we are tired, cranky, and in bad need of a nap. Yes, It would be nice if we could count on the "terrible twos" starting no earlier the second birthday and ending on or before the third. But I think that in then end, we all have to learn to deal with the trials in our lives, be they big or small, and sometimes we just need the confidence and reassurance of knowing that there's someone there who cares, and who will give us a helping hand when we feel like we just can't take it anymore. (Psa 46:1-3; John 14:1-3)
My oldest two kids, early starters that they are (at least for some things) started into their "terrible twos" at about 18 months. The oldest took a while to come out of them, and once he did we were thankful. Of course, that turned out to be right about the same time that the middle son started into them. Imagine that. And now, with him going on five and starting kindergarten in the fall, I'm finally starting to see a very, VERY faint light at the end of the tunnel. Some days are better than others, and if he has a day when he just can't seem to handle much of anything, we usually resort to the dreaded nap time, which seems to help for a while.
Silly me, I was beginning to think that maybe we'd have it easier with the youngest as he nears his third birthday. By and large, he's a loving, happy boy that (with two older brothers in the house) seems to mostly roll with the punches and go on about his business. He's taken knocks that the other two would have been screaming about and just pouted and come for a "make better" kiss, and then gone back to playing. Seems like the last week or two, though, he's starting to fall into the tears/yelling/whininess that goes with the terrible twos, and whether it's just a phase he's going through or if he's picking things up from his older brother, I couldn't really tell ya. Oh well, if it happens it happens ... I've gotten through it before.
Though I have to admit, there have been days in the past when I've felt like I'm going to pull some hair out in frustration (mine or someone else's was also under debate). I've even been known to say that if this child (whichever one it was) had one more meltdown during the day I was afraid that I might have to flop down in the floor and have a hissy fit of my own. Not that it would really help anything, but hey, it might get their attention just because it was out of the ordinary.
Truth be told, I think that no matter what our age is we all have our "two" days ... when we just can't seem to get anything right, when it seems like folks are pushing every button we have (sometimes more than once), and by the time we get through the day we are tired, cranky, and in bad need of a nap. Yes, It would be nice if we could count on the "terrible twos" starting no earlier the second birthday and ending on or before the third. But I think that in then end, we all have to learn to deal with the trials in our lives, be they big or small, and sometimes we just need the confidence and reassurance of knowing that there's someone there who cares, and who will give us a helping hand when we feel like we just can't take it anymore. (Psa 46:1-3; John 14:1-3)
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Bouncing Baby Boys
Ok, I'll be the first to admit that although I spent most of my growing-up life wishing for a home and a family, I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. I loved the idea of "home" and "family", but really had no experience with anything beyond the one I grew up in. While that gave me a good idea of what I wanted my home to be like in terms of the way people interacted with and cared for each other, I still had basically no experience at all of life with small children. I had a grand total of ONE babysitting job in my life, and somehow something like two hours with an 8 to 10 month old (where they spent about half the time sleeping) doesn't really give you a real good idea of what life with kids is really like.
Then I grew up, got married, and started having little ones of my own. Three of them, to be exact. And all boys.
Now boys are wonderful and amazing things ... snips and snails and puppy dog tails, as the old poem goes. But there's a reason they call them "bouncing baby boys." The reason is they rarely ever STOP "bouncing", in one form or another. If they are old enough to be be mobile, they are bouncing all over the house, rarely staying out of anything, especially if they have been regularly told they are SUPPOSED to stay out of it. If they can talk, their thoughts bounce from one thing to another at the speed of light, making conversation challenging (though entertaining) at times. They are never quiet unless they are sleeping, and their shouts and laughter and other noises bounce of the walls, ceiling and eardrums ... sometimes in enjoyable ways, and sometimes with all the pleasantness of nails on a chalkboard. They (literally and figuratively) bounce off walls, couches, beds, and whatever else they can come up with. Even their toys have a way of bouncing off things as they toss, sling, crash, and drop them.
Sometimes it gets to be a bit much for this mostly quiet-natured Mommy, but I work hard at reminding myself that it is important for them to be able to do most of these things. I also remind myself that sometimes maybe I need to quit worrying so much about all the things that "need" doing, and take part in their silliness, both for their enjoyment and for mine. Because having these "bouncing baby boys" has taught me that they also bounce right into your heart when they arrive in the world. With three of them bouncing around on my heartstrings, it's bound to make some lively music. And when you've got good music, sometimes you just have to stop and dance.
Then I grew up, got married, and started having little ones of my own. Three of them, to be exact. And all boys.
Now boys are wonderful and amazing things ... snips and snails and puppy dog tails, as the old poem goes. But there's a reason they call them "bouncing baby boys." The reason is they rarely ever STOP "bouncing", in one form or another. If they are old enough to be be mobile, they are bouncing all over the house, rarely staying out of anything, especially if they have been regularly told they are SUPPOSED to stay out of it. If they can talk, their thoughts bounce from one thing to another at the speed of light, making conversation challenging (though entertaining) at times. They are never quiet unless they are sleeping, and their shouts and laughter and other noises bounce of the walls, ceiling and eardrums ... sometimes in enjoyable ways, and sometimes with all the pleasantness of nails on a chalkboard. They (literally and figuratively) bounce off walls, couches, beds, and whatever else they can come up with. Even their toys have a way of bouncing off things as they toss, sling, crash, and drop them.
Sometimes it gets to be a bit much for this mostly quiet-natured Mommy, but I work hard at reminding myself that it is important for them to be able to do most of these things. I also remind myself that sometimes maybe I need to quit worrying so much about all the things that "need" doing, and take part in their silliness, both for their enjoyment and for mine. Because having these "bouncing baby boys" has taught me that they also bounce right into your heart when they arrive in the world. With three of them bouncing around on my heartstrings, it's bound to make some lively music. And when you've got good music, sometimes you just have to stop and dance.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Three Little Words ... How I Despise Thee!
No, no, no ... not THOSE three little words. My children have always been free with their "I love you!"s (probably because we are the same way with them), and for that I am thankful. They are good at saying it when you least expect it, whether they are trying to get themselves out of trouble for something, or whether it's just because.
And before my silly brother puts his two cents in ... I realize that "how I despise thee" is four words. That's not what I'm talking about, either.
I suppose there's a lot of things that kids say that get on the nerves of their parents at one time or another. Most every parent waits anxiously for those first words to come out of their little one's mouth, and then spends the next several years at least occasionally wishing they'd never started talking to begin with, because it seems like they never stop. My oldest, for instance, has never told the "Reader's Digest" version of anything in his life. One of my pet peeves at the moment though, is those three little words that I hear day in and day out ... "But I want ..." (Running a close second is it's four-word sibling, "But I don't want ...")
Ok, I know they are just trying to voice their opinion on a given subject. Granted, they are entitled to have an opinion. I guess the thing that irks me is that it's nearly always the opposite of what they are told, and it's nearly every time they are told something. It's just a childish thing ... an extension of their theory that they are the center of the universe. We begin helping them, unconsciously, with this theory from the moment they arrive. All they need and/or want when they are brand new is food, clean diapers, sleep, and love, and we provide all these things in abundance (as we should). As they get older, they just transfer the idea that if they want it we will give it to them to everything around them. And most of the time we try, as long as it's not bad for them in one way or another.
But I want to rid my children of the "but I want"s. It's not always a want of THINGS that gets them, but just a want to be heard and have their way. I want to be able to teach them that I'm willing to hear them (within reason), but that they won't always get their way, and that it'll be ok even if they don't. I want them to learn about thinking less of self and more of others. I want them to understand that just because they aren't the center of the universe doesn't mean that they don't mean the world to the people who love them. I want them to spare my sanity, because I may lose it if I have to listen to "but I want" a whole lot longer.
And I'm sitting here laughing at myself, as I realize that my whole last paragraph was full of almost nothing but "I want."
And before my silly brother puts his two cents in ... I realize that "how I despise thee" is four words. That's not what I'm talking about, either.
I suppose there's a lot of things that kids say that get on the nerves of their parents at one time or another. Most every parent waits anxiously for those first words to come out of their little one's mouth, and then spends the next several years at least occasionally wishing they'd never started talking to begin with, because it seems like they never stop. My oldest, for instance, has never told the "Reader's Digest" version of anything in his life. One of my pet peeves at the moment though, is those three little words that I hear day in and day out ... "But I want ..." (Running a close second is it's four-word sibling, "But I don't want ...")
Ok, I know they are just trying to voice their opinion on a given subject. Granted, they are entitled to have an opinion. I guess the thing that irks me is that it's nearly always the opposite of what they are told, and it's nearly every time they are told something. It's just a childish thing ... an extension of their theory that they are the center of the universe. We begin helping them, unconsciously, with this theory from the moment they arrive. All they need and/or want when they are brand new is food, clean diapers, sleep, and love, and we provide all these things in abundance (as we should). As they get older, they just transfer the idea that if they want it we will give it to them to everything around them. And most of the time we try, as long as it's not bad for them in one way or another.
But I want to rid my children of the "but I want"s. It's not always a want of THINGS that gets them, but just a want to be heard and have their way. I want to be able to teach them that I'm willing to hear them (within reason), but that they won't always get their way, and that it'll be ok even if they don't. I want them to learn about thinking less of self and more of others. I want them to understand that just because they aren't the center of the universe doesn't mean that they don't mean the world to the people who love them. I want them to spare my sanity, because I may lose it if I have to listen to "but I want" a whole lot longer.
And I'm sitting here laughing at myself, as I realize that my whole last paragraph was full of almost nothing but "I want."
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
You'll rarely walk alone
If most prospective parents are/were anything like me, you think about a lot of things before you have kids. Things like family dinners and playing in the yard together. Things like bath time and bedtime stories. Things like Band-Aids on scraped knees and making cookies together. If you've had any experience with young children (which I really didn't), you might even think about things like cleaning up after them when they're sick, and having to take them to the doctor for seemingly endless shots, and nights of next to no sleep because they are teething. What I didn't think of or know how to prepare for was having a constant entourage.
Most of the time it's not really a big deal ... you get used to having little ones following you into the kitchen to see what you're making, or being curious every time you pull out the vacuum cleaner, or wanting (however badly they do it) to help you sort laundry. You get used to the "Mommy, what are you doing?" or "Mommy, what are you making?" or "Mommy, where are we going?" questions. You might even be able to get used to the constant stream of "Why?"s, although that has been more of a challenge for me, personally. I don't mind answering "why?" questions from one child, but when I'm getting "Why?" from three directions at all hours all day long, it gets wearing. I've been known to even pull out that dreaded parental response, "Because I said so."
But more to the point, not being prepared for being constantly followed around leaves you having to deal with things that never occurred to you. Having "alone time" when you're a parent is a challenge, especially when you're a full-time parent. So you'll find yourself thankful and actually pleased on the rare occasions that you can do simple things like go to the bathroom by yourself. I've got a fairly good imagination, but THAT was something that I could never have predicted. I do my best to enjoy every moment I can with my children, but I've also learned to enjoy the little moments, no matter how brief, that I can get to myself. One of these days my kids will quit "tagging along", and I'm sure I'll miss it, but I have to admit that right now a trip to the potty without a constant stream of questions can be a marvelous thing!
Most of the time it's not really a big deal ... you get used to having little ones following you into the kitchen to see what you're making, or being curious every time you pull out the vacuum cleaner, or wanting (however badly they do it) to help you sort laundry. You get used to the "Mommy, what are you doing?" or "Mommy, what are you making?" or "Mommy, where are we going?" questions. You might even be able to get used to the constant stream of "Why?"s, although that has been more of a challenge for me, personally. I don't mind answering "why?" questions from one child, but when I'm getting "Why?" from three directions at all hours all day long, it gets wearing. I've been known to even pull out that dreaded parental response, "Because I said so."
But more to the point, not being prepared for being constantly followed around leaves you having to deal with things that never occurred to you. Having "alone time" when you're a parent is a challenge, especially when you're a full-time parent. So you'll find yourself thankful and actually pleased on the rare occasions that you can do simple things like go to the bathroom by yourself. I've got a fairly good imagination, but THAT was something that I could never have predicted. I do my best to enjoy every moment I can with my children, but I've also learned to enjoy the little moments, no matter how brief, that I can get to myself. One of these days my kids will quit "tagging along", and I'm sure I'll miss it, but I have to admit that right now a trip to the potty without a constant stream of questions can be a marvelous thing!
Friday, April 13, 2012
It's About Time
Have you ever noticed that the concept of time is a whole lot more fluid than we give it credit for? You ask most people for the time and they're going to look at their watch or a clock nearby and say, "It's 1:16 p.m." Well, yes, but ...
Think about the different way that different entities relate to time. Have you ever had something going on in your life that you were saying numerous prayers about, and having to trust that God would take care of it in his time? I have, and it's amazing to me that my "time" and God's "time" so often seem to mean two different things. "Well, yeah ...", you think, "but God's eternal, so time is different to him." Well, yes, but ...
Have you noticed that it's not really all that much different when it comes to our kid's concept of time, especially if they are young kids? We are wrapped up in the constant rush of adulthood ... trying to get everything done on a deadline. Wake up now, eat breakfast now, be ready to get out the door now, because this child has to be to school by this time, and that child has to be there by that time, and I've got errands to run and things to do ...
My kids have no concept (that I've noticed) of time. When they want something, they want it now. If I go in the kitchen and pull a pan out, they're ready to eat, despite the fact that none of the food is ready yet. It doesn't really matter whether I wake them up in the morning 45 minutes before we need to leave or an hour and a half ... they'll be fiddling their time (or is it my time I'm worried about?) away anyway. There's always a distraction, always something more interesting or important in a child's world than the things that "need" doing. They are the incarnation of "stop and smell the roses", and sometimes I think we (and by that I mean me, too) need to take a lesson from them.
Yes, there will always be things that need doing. But our time with our children passes by so quickly, and if we lose sight of that we may miss out on the time of our lives.
Think about the different way that different entities relate to time. Have you ever had something going on in your life that you were saying numerous prayers about, and having to trust that God would take care of it in his time? I have, and it's amazing to me that my "time" and God's "time" so often seem to mean two different things. "Well, yeah ...", you think, "but God's eternal, so time is different to him." Well, yes, but ...
Have you noticed that it's not really all that much different when it comes to our kid's concept of time, especially if they are young kids? We are wrapped up in the constant rush of adulthood ... trying to get everything done on a deadline. Wake up now, eat breakfast now, be ready to get out the door now, because this child has to be to school by this time, and that child has to be there by that time, and I've got errands to run and things to do ...
My kids have no concept (that I've noticed) of time. When they want something, they want it now. If I go in the kitchen and pull a pan out, they're ready to eat, despite the fact that none of the food is ready yet. It doesn't really matter whether I wake them up in the morning 45 minutes before we need to leave or an hour and a half ... they'll be fiddling their time (or is it my time I'm worried about?) away anyway. There's always a distraction, always something more interesting or important in a child's world than the things that "need" doing. They are the incarnation of "stop and smell the roses", and sometimes I think we (and by that I mean me, too) need to take a lesson from them.
Yes, there will always be things that need doing. But our time with our children passes by so quickly, and if we lose sight of that we may miss out on the time of our lives.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
A Kiss and a Band-Aid
One thing you learn really quickly when you have three young children in the house (particularly young BOY children), is that there are going to be A LOT of bumps and bruises. Sometimes they are fairly minor, and the kids never even notice. Sometimes they are a little more significant and require more attention from parents ... or more specifically, Mommy.
One favorite cure-all is Band-Aids. Kids love Band-Aids. Doesn't particularly matter whether the injury in question really NEEDS a Band-Aid ... to a child, it NEEDS a Band-Aid. It may not be bleeding ... there may not even be a mark on him, but he NEEDS a Band-Aid. If he actually gets one, he's usually fine. I try not to give them one all the time, because I'd have to take out stock in Johnson & Johnson. Sometimes, though, I give them one just to make them happy, which in turn makes them feel better. Somehow, seeing my kids run around with a Band-Aid on seems oddly appropriate, and it often makes me think of my father, who family stories say used to sing about going to Alabama with a Band-Aid (instead of a banjo) on his knee.
The other go-to in our "ouchie" first-aid kit is Mommy kisses. Remember those? Believe it or not, we still use them! A bump or a bang can often be helped by Mommy "kissing it and making it better." Don't ask me why it works ... but there is definitely something magical about it to a child. Maybe it's a subconscious thing ... where you are teaching your child that, yes, it hurts, but it'll be ok ... Mommy is there and loves you and will do everything she can to help take the hurt away. All I know is that most little boy hurts can be fixed, or at least helped, by a cuddle and a kiss to make it better. My youngest has even extended the "kiss fix" to include himself. If he hurts himself, he'll plant a kiss on his own hand and put it where ever it hurts, which makes it "all better." Once in a while, if it's a really BIG hurt, it'll need Mommy kisses, too, but a lot of times he can handle it himself. Such a big guy!
I'll be glad when my kids get big enough to pay a little more attention to what they are doing and don't end up hurting themselves so often, because I don't like having my kids hurt. But I have to admit that I'm thankful for the days of Band-Aids and Mommy kisses. I know that one of these days they'll get old enough they won't need or want them any more. And one of these days, the hurts will change, too ... whether it's actual injuries or the first time their heart gets broken ... and a simple kiss from Mommy won't really be of much help then. So despite what sometimes seems like a constant stream of tears and wails from one, or all, of my little boys each day, I'll continue to take the time to cuddle them and kiss it and make it better. I intend to hold on to my "magical" status as long as I can.
One favorite cure-all is Band-Aids. Kids love Band-Aids. Doesn't particularly matter whether the injury in question really NEEDS a Band-Aid ... to a child, it NEEDS a Band-Aid. It may not be bleeding ... there may not even be a mark on him, but he NEEDS a Band-Aid. If he actually gets one, he's usually fine. I try not to give them one all the time, because I'd have to take out stock in Johnson & Johnson. Sometimes, though, I give them one just to make them happy, which in turn makes them feel better. Somehow, seeing my kids run around with a Band-Aid on seems oddly appropriate, and it often makes me think of my father, who family stories say used to sing about going to Alabama with a Band-Aid (instead of a banjo) on his knee.
The other go-to in our "ouchie" first-aid kit is Mommy kisses. Remember those? Believe it or not, we still use them! A bump or a bang can often be helped by Mommy "kissing it and making it better." Don't ask me why it works ... but there is definitely something magical about it to a child. Maybe it's a subconscious thing ... where you are teaching your child that, yes, it hurts, but it'll be ok ... Mommy is there and loves you and will do everything she can to help take the hurt away. All I know is that most little boy hurts can be fixed, or at least helped, by a cuddle and a kiss to make it better. My youngest has even extended the "kiss fix" to include himself. If he hurts himself, he'll plant a kiss on his own hand and put it where ever it hurts, which makes it "all better." Once in a while, if it's a really BIG hurt, it'll need Mommy kisses, too, but a lot of times he can handle it himself. Such a big guy!
I'll be glad when my kids get big enough to pay a little more attention to what they are doing and don't end up hurting themselves so often, because I don't like having my kids hurt. But I have to admit that I'm thankful for the days of Band-Aids and Mommy kisses. I know that one of these days they'll get old enough they won't need or want them any more. And one of these days, the hurts will change, too ... whether it's actual injuries or the first time their heart gets broken ... and a simple kiss from Mommy won't really be of much help then. So despite what sometimes seems like a constant stream of tears and wails from one, or all, of my little boys each day, I'll continue to take the time to cuddle them and kiss it and make it better. I intend to hold on to my "magical" status as long as I can.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Kids never HAVE to be wrong
None of us like to make mistakes. Funny thing is, most of us do it every day, whether it's on the massive scale of "Oh no, I ran a red light and totalled the car!" or the minor scale of "I can't believe I ate the whole thing!" Kids, I suppose, have it especially rough, because they are learning all they can from the world around them, and no matter how much they think they know, someone's always going to be correcting them about something.
My oldest really HATES to be wrong about things. Since he started school he comes home telling us all sorts of things, with the air of authority that most folks don't develop until after they've earned their PhD. It can get kind of annoying to have a seven-year-old know-it-all in the house, but if he makes mistakes I try to break it to him gently, because he is, at least at times, an emotional and melodramatic child, and you never quite know what you might get back if he's been having a rough day and you didn't know about it.
The middle one doesn't really appreciate it when he's wrong about something, but for the most part he just shrugs it off and rolls with the punches. The next time it comes up, he might remember and he might not, being only four going on five, but he doesn't generally stress over it one way or the other. I'm thankful for those blessings.
The youngest, only two going on three, has figured out he doesn't ever HAVE to be wrong. If you tell him he's made a mistake, he just puts his favorite qualifier on his statement, and Voila! he can still be right! For instance, this morning we were coming home from the grocery store and saw a tractor-trailer pulling a piece of heavy machinery. He said "Mama, look ... it's a bull-bo-zer!" "No sweetie," I said, "that's a digger." (easier for a two-year old mouth than excavator, I figured.) To which he responded, "I'm PRETENDING it's a bull-bo-zer!"
Well now, if he's pretending, who am I to argue, right? I've noticed he's pretending a lot lately, but I don't complain, because maybe it means that he's learning and using his imagination at the same time, and that magical combination of knowledge and creativity can be a marvelous thing.
My oldest really HATES to be wrong about things. Since he started school he comes home telling us all sorts of things, with the air of authority that most folks don't develop until after they've earned their PhD. It can get kind of annoying to have a seven-year-old know-it-all in the house, but if he makes mistakes I try to break it to him gently, because he is, at least at times, an emotional and melodramatic child, and you never quite know what you might get back if he's been having a rough day and you didn't know about it.
The middle one doesn't really appreciate it when he's wrong about something, but for the most part he just shrugs it off and rolls with the punches. The next time it comes up, he might remember and he might not, being only four going on five, but he doesn't generally stress over it one way or the other. I'm thankful for those blessings.
The youngest, only two going on three, has figured out he doesn't ever HAVE to be wrong. If you tell him he's made a mistake, he just puts his favorite qualifier on his statement, and Voila! he can still be right! For instance, this morning we were coming home from the grocery store and saw a tractor-trailer pulling a piece of heavy machinery. He said "Mama, look ... it's a bull-bo-zer!" "No sweetie," I said, "that's a digger." (easier for a two-year old mouth than excavator, I figured.) To which he responded, "I'm PRETENDING it's a bull-bo-zer!"
Well now, if he's pretending, who am I to argue, right? I've noticed he's pretending a lot lately, but I don't complain, because maybe it means that he's learning and using his imagination at the same time, and that magical combination of knowledge and creativity can be a marvelous thing.
Friday, April 6, 2012
A Mommy's Prayer
My dearest sons,
I said a prayer for you today. It's not something unusual, really ... I pray for you often. I suppose what made today different was the continuing nature of it. It wasn't a prayer in the traditional sense, either, with a "Dear God" at the beginning and an "Amen" at the end. It was more of an afternoon conversation with God ... primarily hopes and well wishes for each of you, sent Heavenward with as much thought and sincerity as any other prayer would be.
As I worked alone in the quiet, peaceful sunshine of a spring afternoon and you lay resting in the house, I prayed that you would have many days of peace and sunshine, and always have a safe place to rest your head. I prayed that you would have health and happiness, and that your sorrows and trials would be few. I was working near the garden that we have planted together, and I prayed that you would continue to grow and learn, in the care and shelter of God.
Later, as you woke and came outside to play and help with the garden, I prayed that you would always have the same generous, helpful hearts that you do now ... that you would grow to be loving, caring men like your Daddy, who works so hard to take care of his family. I prayed that your natural curiosity would help you to learn and grow, both in school and at home, but most importantly that you would always want to learn how to better follow God's law.
As you laughed and played together in the yard, I prayed that you would have many days of laughter and joy. I prayed that God would grant you the wisdom to choose your friends well, so that you would be blessed with people who were a support and encouragement to you, instead of demanding much and giving little. I prayed that if you grew up and wanted to marry, that you would find a wonderful Christian young lady who was your friend for a while before she was your love, so that you would understand that in a marriage, being a loving friend to your mate is one of the best things in the world. I prayed that the young lady you might someday choose would be a beautiful young lady, perhaps on the outside, but most certainly on the inside. I prayed that she might be the kind of young woman to whom the most important thing was making God happy, and then in bringing you happiness. I prayed that you, my sons, would each grow to be strong, capable, loving Christian men, who would strive, like Abraham, to be a "friend of God."
I prayed these and so many other things ... it would probably take me another afternoon just to tell you all about them.
And, my sweet sons, in the end I said a prayer for myself, that I might learn and grow as well, that I might make good choices, and that I might do all I can to help you on your way.
I love you.
I said a prayer for you today. It's not something unusual, really ... I pray for you often. I suppose what made today different was the continuing nature of it. It wasn't a prayer in the traditional sense, either, with a "Dear God" at the beginning and an "Amen" at the end. It was more of an afternoon conversation with God ... primarily hopes and well wishes for each of you, sent Heavenward with as much thought and sincerity as any other prayer would be.
As I worked alone in the quiet, peaceful sunshine of a spring afternoon and you lay resting in the house, I prayed that you would have many days of peace and sunshine, and always have a safe place to rest your head. I prayed that you would have health and happiness, and that your sorrows and trials would be few. I was working near the garden that we have planted together, and I prayed that you would continue to grow and learn, in the care and shelter of God.
Later, as you woke and came outside to play and help with the garden, I prayed that you would always have the same generous, helpful hearts that you do now ... that you would grow to be loving, caring men like your Daddy, who works so hard to take care of his family. I prayed that your natural curiosity would help you to learn and grow, both in school and at home, but most importantly that you would always want to learn how to better follow God's law.
As you laughed and played together in the yard, I prayed that you would have many days of laughter and joy. I prayed that God would grant you the wisdom to choose your friends well, so that you would be blessed with people who were a support and encouragement to you, instead of demanding much and giving little. I prayed that if you grew up and wanted to marry, that you would find a wonderful Christian young lady who was your friend for a while before she was your love, so that you would understand that in a marriage, being a loving friend to your mate is one of the best things in the world. I prayed that the young lady you might someday choose would be a beautiful young lady, perhaps on the outside, but most certainly on the inside. I prayed that she might be the kind of young woman to whom the most important thing was making God happy, and then in bringing you happiness. I prayed that you, my sons, would each grow to be strong, capable, loving Christian men, who would strive, like Abraham, to be a "friend of God."
I prayed these and so many other things ... it would probably take me another afternoon just to tell you all about them.
And, my sweet sons, in the end I said a prayer for myself, that I might learn and grow as well, that I might make good choices, and that I might do all I can to help you on your way.
I love you.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Battles in the Heart
If you've ever wondered why (at least most) grannys are old and gray (aside from the obvious fact that they are generally older than those of us that aren't grandparents), it's gotta be because parents, and perhaps Moms in particular, are fighting constant battles. There are battles with laundry and cleaning and other housework, sometimes battles at an outside job, battles to keep the family healthy and fed and decently clothed, battles with the kids of various ages over various subjects, and so on and so on. I've been known to tell folks that I thought when my stint as a stay at home Mommy was done, I should be well qualified for a career as a military strategist. But perhaps the hardest battles Mommies fight are the battles with ourselves.
Even when we are relatively happy, well-adjusted Moms, we fight battles with ourselves. A new Mom fights constant insecurities with her first child ... is that cough just because of the dust in the air, or does the little one need to go to the doctor? How high a fever is too high? (The first time I had a child's fever go over 103, I was seriously stressed.) I wrote a whole piece a while back about the "Back To Sleep" campaign, and how insane it can make a new Mom.
There are other battles, though, that aren't as obvious, but can be just as wearing. When you bring a new child home from the hospital, you are full of the wonder of this new little person in your care. As they grow, we keep track of each "milestone" in their life ... things like when they roll over for the first time, when they sit on their own, their first tooth, their first steps, their first "Mama!" All these things are bright spots in their lives and ours, assuring us that they are growing and learning, and we aren't quite as inadequate as we thought when the first baby came home.
When the last little one starts getting a little older, though, Moms like me tend to start fighting other battles. My youngest is two, and will be three in about 4 short months. I love watching him learn and grow, but I am sad, too ... sad because I know that (barring any unexpected surprises) there won't be any more little ones in the house. Because every "milestone" achieved is one less sweet moment that I'll experience again. He's already outgrown his high chair ... within a few months he'll also be moving out of his crib. He's not really a baby any more, and sometimes I'm left wondering where the baby went. I wouldn't slow or stop his progress for anything, but nostalgia can be a battle like none other, and one that folks don't always see. I'm thankful to have a loving husband who knows where I'm coming from, and provides the support I need for these battles with myself. Things may get me down occasionally, but I never stay down for long ... I've got too much to do, and my children need their CO. They will have their own battles to fight in life, and it's my job to prepare them as well as I can. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Even when we are relatively happy, well-adjusted Moms, we fight battles with ourselves. A new Mom fights constant insecurities with her first child ... is that cough just because of the dust in the air, or does the little one need to go to the doctor? How high a fever is too high? (The first time I had a child's fever go over 103, I was seriously stressed.) I wrote a whole piece a while back about the "Back To Sleep" campaign, and how insane it can make a new Mom.
There are other battles, though, that aren't as obvious, but can be just as wearing. When you bring a new child home from the hospital, you are full of the wonder of this new little person in your care. As they grow, we keep track of each "milestone" in their life ... things like when they roll over for the first time, when they sit on their own, their first tooth, their first steps, their first "Mama!" All these things are bright spots in their lives and ours, assuring us that they are growing and learning, and we aren't quite as inadequate as we thought when the first baby came home.
When the last little one starts getting a little older, though, Moms like me tend to start fighting other battles. My youngest is two, and will be three in about 4 short months. I love watching him learn and grow, but I am sad, too ... sad because I know that (barring any unexpected surprises) there won't be any more little ones in the house. Because every "milestone" achieved is one less sweet moment that I'll experience again. He's already outgrown his high chair ... within a few months he'll also be moving out of his crib. He's not really a baby any more, and sometimes I'm left wondering where the baby went. I wouldn't slow or stop his progress for anything, but nostalgia can be a battle like none other, and one that folks don't always see. I'm thankful to have a loving husband who knows where I'm coming from, and provides the support I need for these battles with myself. Things may get me down occasionally, but I never stay down for long ... I've got too much to do, and my children need their CO. They will have their own battles to fight in life, and it's my job to prepare them as well as I can. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Sometimes, it's all about priorities
One thing you definitely learn as a parent (if you don't still remember from when you were a kid), is that kid's priorities are different. Ok, I'll admit, that sounds like a no-brainer, but I don't necessarily mean that they'd rather take a trip to the toy store than the grocery store. I guess what brought it to mind was a conversation I had with my kids this morning.
I was in the middle of mixing up some butterscotch pudding for my husband to take with his lunches, and thinking about the fact that I needed to get things pulled together for my oldest's Cub Scout meeting this evening, plus I had side dish ideas running around in my head to go with the baked salmon being planned for dinner. It was (nearly) all food on the brain ... which got me to thinking that I was going to have to figure out something about a cake for the middle one's birthday in about a month.
So, I asked him ... "What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?" He pondered it for a few minutes and said "CHOCOLATE!" (I should have guessed.) "I want a chocolate one for my birthday!" The two-year old came into the room, asking if I was making chocolate muffins. (I made them for breakfast a week or so back, and they were a huge hit.)
"No," said Matthew ... "I said I want a chocolate cake for my birthday!" To which Ryan responded, "And for MY birthday, I want a HUGE cake!"
Sometimes it's all about priorities.
I was in the middle of mixing up some butterscotch pudding for my husband to take with his lunches, and thinking about the fact that I needed to get things pulled together for my oldest's Cub Scout meeting this evening, plus I had side dish ideas running around in my head to go with the baked salmon being planned for dinner. It was (nearly) all food on the brain ... which got me to thinking that I was going to have to figure out something about a cake for the middle one's birthday in about a month.
So, I asked him ... "What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?" He pondered it for a few minutes and said "CHOCOLATE!" (I should have guessed.) "I want a chocolate one for my birthday!" The two-year old came into the room, asking if I was making chocolate muffins. (I made them for breakfast a week or so back, and they were a huge hit.)
"No," said Matthew ... "I said I want a chocolate cake for my birthday!" To which Ryan responded, "And for MY birthday, I want a HUGE cake!"
Sometimes it's all about priorities.
Friday, March 23, 2012
I'm grown, but I've still got homework
Springtime always makes me think of a bunch of things, and one of them is homework. Wait ... homework?? Yeah. It kind of goes hand in hand with talking about my kids being detectives (after a fashion), and always asking questions. In the spring, when I realize that there's only a couple months of school left, it occurs to me that I'm gonna have to find a (preferably inexpensive) way to keep the kids entertained all summer. Kinda makes you feel like you did when you had to come up with some kind of a science project in school and get it ready by a certain deadline ... and in this case, my deadline is summer.
Last spring, I hit on the idea of creating a "countdown calendar" to when school started again. One reason was to try and help assure Mommy's sanity throughout the summer by having visible proof that things would get back to normal again eventually. It was also an exciting time for my four-year old, who was getting ready to start preschool. (Now he's getting ready to start Kindergarten ... how is that even possible?)
The one thing that made it a big hit, though, was the fact that next to each week during the course of the summer we put down something that the kids were interesting in learning about ... everything from pirates to dinosaurs, outer space and ocean life. We had one day a week we set aside for trips to the library, and we'd check out all kinds of books and movies on whatever the subject was for that week. The kids had a blast, and it kept me interested as well. I think we're gonna have to try that again this summer.
Thing is, this year I hope that I can also help incorporate some other things that I want to be able to teach them. I'd like to encourage my seven-year old to help develop his skills around what the Cub Scouts call their "Core Values" ... things like respect and honesty, compassion and faith. Things that my kids (and all kids) need to learn. The challenging part is just coming up with interesting ways to incorporate those lessons into our everyday activities. Sometimes, it might be a little easier, when we're doing things like gardening. Sometimes, I'm sure it's not going to be easy at all. It's gonna take this Mommy a lot of thought, and sometimes I feel like I'm already getting behind. In short, I suppose it's time for Mommy to get started on her homework, so it'll be ready when the time comes!
Last spring, I hit on the idea of creating a "countdown calendar" to when school started again. One reason was to try and help assure Mommy's sanity throughout the summer by having visible proof that things would get back to normal again eventually. It was also an exciting time for my four-year old, who was getting ready to start preschool. (Now he's getting ready to start Kindergarten ... how is that even possible?)
The one thing that made it a big hit, though, was the fact that next to each week during the course of the summer we put down something that the kids were interesting in learning about ... everything from pirates to dinosaurs, outer space and ocean life. We had one day a week we set aside for trips to the library, and we'd check out all kinds of books and movies on whatever the subject was for that week. The kids had a blast, and it kept me interested as well. I think we're gonna have to try that again this summer.
Thing is, this year I hope that I can also help incorporate some other things that I want to be able to teach them. I'd like to encourage my seven-year old to help develop his skills around what the Cub Scouts call their "Core Values" ... things like respect and honesty, compassion and faith. Things that my kids (and all kids) need to learn. The challenging part is just coming up with interesting ways to incorporate those lessons into our everyday activities. Sometimes, it might be a little easier, when we're doing things like gardening. Sometimes, I'm sure it's not going to be easy at all. It's gonna take this Mommy a lot of thought, and sometimes I feel like I'm already getting behind. In short, I suppose it's time for Mommy to get started on her homework, so it'll be ready when the time comes!
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Kids Are Natural Detectives
I think anyone who has an ounce of common sense and wants to have children knows that those kids are going to start asking questions once they get old enough to talk. My kids are experts at it. There are all the usual kinds of questions, like, "Mommy, what are you doing?", "Where are we going?", "What's for dinner?", "Where is my ...?" What amazes me sometimes, though, is two things.
First of all, there is the sheer VOLUME of questions. Yes, I understand ... questions are how kids learn. I have to admit, though, that I didn't remember the world being so full of questions when I was a kid. It probably was, but my goodness! Seems sometimes like I get questions 24 hours a day per child ... and that's multiplied by three children. It's no wonder I'm ready to stop talking at the end of the day!
The other thing that is sometimes challenging is the complexity of the questions. When I'm explaining mixing up a batch of muffins and the things I put in them, it's not really a big deal. I can usually even manage the slightly more unusual ones, like whether a jet plane is faster than a tornado. But once in a while I get one from left field, like yesterday. My older two boys and I were headed to the farm supply place for gardening supplies, when my almost five-year-old asked "Mommy, what do the people do who die at the cemetery?" Um ...
Ok, easy part first, kiddo ... most people don't actually DIE at the cemetery. That happens somewhere else. But then I was faced with trying to figure out what the actual question was. Was he asking about the family and what they did when someone died? Was he asking about being buried and what that was all about? Was he asking about what happens when we die? All fairly complex questions for someone who's not even going to be five for another six weeks. I'm not sure I ever did really figure out what the question was. All I know is that either I managed to come up with something that satisfied him, or he got bored listening to Mom beating around the bush.
Once upon a time, I considered becoming a teacher for a living. I finally decided that I didn't think I had the temperament to try and deal with 20 or 30 kids going in all directions every day. I don't guess I had ever stopped to ponder that I am a teacher now, though only of three of my own. I must be learner and teacher ... a walking mix of the Bible and the "World Book Encyclopedia" for my children to open and learn from at the drop of a hat. Sometimes in Mommy-hood, you gotta be prepared for anything.
First of all, there is the sheer VOLUME of questions. Yes, I understand ... questions are how kids learn. I have to admit, though, that I didn't remember the world being so full of questions when I was a kid. It probably was, but my goodness! Seems sometimes like I get questions 24 hours a day per child ... and that's multiplied by three children. It's no wonder I'm ready to stop talking at the end of the day!
The other thing that is sometimes challenging is the complexity of the questions. When I'm explaining mixing up a batch of muffins and the things I put in them, it's not really a big deal. I can usually even manage the slightly more unusual ones, like whether a jet plane is faster than a tornado. But once in a while I get one from left field, like yesterday. My older two boys and I were headed to the farm supply place for gardening supplies, when my almost five-year-old asked "Mommy, what do the people do who die at the cemetery?" Um ...
Ok, easy part first, kiddo ... most people don't actually DIE at the cemetery. That happens somewhere else. But then I was faced with trying to figure out what the actual question was. Was he asking about the family and what they did when someone died? Was he asking about being buried and what that was all about? Was he asking about what happens when we die? All fairly complex questions for someone who's not even going to be five for another six weeks. I'm not sure I ever did really figure out what the question was. All I know is that either I managed to come up with something that satisfied him, or he got bored listening to Mom beating around the bush.
Once upon a time, I considered becoming a teacher for a living. I finally decided that I didn't think I had the temperament to try and deal with 20 or 30 kids going in all directions every day. I don't guess I had ever stopped to ponder that I am a teacher now, though only of three of my own. I must be learner and teacher ... a walking mix of the Bible and the "World Book Encyclopedia" for my children to open and learn from at the drop of a hat. Sometimes in Mommy-hood, you gotta be prepared for anything.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Lesson: Mommies Are Stronger Than They Think They Are
There are so many things that you don't think to prepare for before you become a parent. I expect most new and/or expectant parents expect an "Ozzie and Harriet" or "Leave it to Beaver" home. We have this subconscious expectation that things will always work out ... you know, that the problems will all be relatively minor, you'll always know how to handle them, and things will fall back into their proper place within one hour or less. I'm not saying we all really think that, only that you don't stop to ponder all the "what ifs", which I suppose in the long run is why the human race continues to have children.
My kids have given my share of scares, I guess, even though they are only 7, 4, and 2 years old. The first time I had a child with a fever of 104, I was stressed. The first time one of them slammed his head into a door frame and tried to give himself two black eyes in the process, I was stressed. The youngest fell into a table and gashed his head open exactly a week after he started walking. I cleaned him up and put a bandage on it, trying to stay calm. (Part of that was because he needed help, and part of it was because I could tell that his Daddy was in a state of half-panic over it.) The middle boy had his turn when he fell and split his cheek open and had to go to the emergency room one night after church because the doctor’s office had closed about an hour before.
I used to have an extremely weak stomach when it came to cleaning unpleasant things up, but I’ve spent my share of time mopping up from sick stomachs, grouchy intestines, or damaged and wounded skin. It’s not my favorite job, and once in a while it still tries to do a number on my stomach, but it’s part of being a Mom. Most of the "crisis" moments I've gone through have allowed me to handle the next one with at least relative ease.
I laugh now when I think about the nurse who was eavesdropping on my conversation as I spoke to my newborn (as in about 10 minutes old) third son. I was commiserating with him, unstressed, as he wailed and protested his rude introduction to the world. The nurse made some sort of a comment about how she loved to listen to Moms who had been through all this before, because they were so calm about things. But that's really what it takes. Being a Mommy has taught me that staying calm helps my children (and sometimes my husband) to be calmer, and eases the tension for all of us. Whether I knew it or not, I CAN do this!
Monday, March 5, 2012
Lesson: Kids Have A Natural "Rogers" Vocabulary
Ok, lest I confuse anyone who may read this that wasn't raised in our Rogers Clan, let me explain. My family was all raised (or so it seems) to play word games. We mix and mangle words willy-nilly, until the average person (like my husband, for instance) sometimes has a hard time keeping up. We also have a thing about bad puns, running gags, and a variety of other things. So what does this have to do with my kids?
Well, I've discovered, that aside from the typical kid tendencies to make words up at the drop of a hat just to be silly, some of the things I remember most about my young children is the words that they invented for things, especially when they were just learning to speak clearly. They have become as ingrained in my consciousness now as some of the Rogers-isms I grew up with.
In recent days, my two-year old will abruptly switch from walking to jumping, and tell me he's being a "Kay-ma-roof". I suppose to two-year old ears, that's exactly what "kangaroo" sounds like! He calls bananas "Bah-ME-nahs". My oldest, when he was little, used to call planes at the nearby airport "oosh!", because after all that's the sound they make when they take off. We used to eat "froo fries" with our hamburgers. There are so many wonderful, inventive KID words out there. I'm sure I've forgotten more of them than I remember.
I still try to make sure that my kids get at least a little "Rogers" training, so they won't be totally confused when we visit family, and so that I can (hopefully) keep up as well. It's amazing how rusty one can get at those things. Still, it's fun to know that with little ones in the house, the English language is never likely to even approach boring! :)
Well, I've discovered, that aside from the typical kid tendencies to make words up at the drop of a hat just to be silly, some of the things I remember most about my young children is the words that they invented for things, especially when they were just learning to speak clearly. They have become as ingrained in my consciousness now as some of the Rogers-isms I grew up with.
In recent days, my two-year old will abruptly switch from walking to jumping, and tell me he's being a "Kay-ma-roof". I suppose to two-year old ears, that's exactly what "kangaroo" sounds like! He calls bananas "Bah-ME-nahs". My oldest, when he was little, used to call planes at the nearby airport "oosh!", because after all that's the sound they make when they take off. We used to eat "froo fries" with our hamburgers. There are so many wonderful, inventive KID words out there. I'm sure I've forgotten more of them than I remember.
I still try to make sure that my kids get at least a little "Rogers" training, so they won't be totally confused when we visit family, and so that I can (hopefully) keep up as well. It's amazing how rusty one can get at those things. Still, it's fun to know that with little ones in the house, the English language is never likely to even approach boring! :)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Lesson: Sometimes life gets in the way
I sat and read an acquaintance's blog this morning, which reminded me I haven't posted anything on here in forever. Go figure. When I got to thinking about it, and how "lax" I was being, it occurred to me that sometimes life just gets in the way of all the things you mean to do.
For instance, there's Better Homes and Gardens, and then there's my house. No matter how I try to keep up with straightening up and cleaning, it never seems to get done. I think I live in a perpetual layer of dust and debris, which I suppose should only be expected with three little boys in the house. I've read all kinds of suggestions from the "gurus", like "Spend the few minutes you're on the phone putting something away." The trouble with that is that if and when my phone ever rings I'm usually in the middle of making dinner, trying to get the boys to be quiet enough that I can actually figure out who's on the phone, refereeing a squabble, kissing a hurt, and trying not to burn myself in the process. Who's got time to pick up or push a dust-rag around? I shouldn't even bother to mention the ever-present layer of Cheerios under the table ... my kids can't seem to eat anything without dropping it in the floor, and since my entire house is carpeted (excluding bathrooms, but including dining room and kitchen) ... I can't drag out the vacuum three or four times a day!
One time a while back I got discouraged, because it seemed like I usually had a list of things I wanted to get done in a given day, but it seemed like when I got to the end of the day and collapsed exhausted into bed I hadn't really accomplished anything. So I decided, just for kicks, to keep a list of all the things I did in a day, to see if I was really accomplishing something and/or wasting my time when I shouldn't be. I got up and started my day and my list at the same time ... included everything, like diaper changes and my own trips down the hall, just to get a feel for where my day went. About 3:00 p.m., when my list got to be 3 or 4 pages long, I gave up on it, deciding that maybe I was doing something with my day after all. I did save it on the computer though, so that when I'm feeling unproductive I can look at it and remind myself what being a full-time Mommy is like.
So, short story long, I will try to do better and keeping up with my "Mommy Lessons", but if I fall behind, know that sometimes just being a Mommy takes up my time, but since my time is one of the most important things I can give my boys, those "Lessons" may just have to wait a little longer.
For instance, there's Better Homes and Gardens, and then there's my house. No matter how I try to keep up with straightening up and cleaning, it never seems to get done. I think I live in a perpetual layer of dust and debris, which I suppose should only be expected with three little boys in the house. I've read all kinds of suggestions from the "gurus", like "Spend the few minutes you're on the phone putting something away." The trouble with that is that if and when my phone ever rings I'm usually in the middle of making dinner, trying to get the boys to be quiet enough that I can actually figure out who's on the phone, refereeing a squabble, kissing a hurt, and trying not to burn myself in the process. Who's got time to pick up or push a dust-rag around? I shouldn't even bother to mention the ever-present layer of Cheerios under the table ... my kids can't seem to eat anything without dropping it in the floor, and since my entire house is carpeted (excluding bathrooms, but including dining room and kitchen) ... I can't drag out the vacuum three or four times a day!
One time a while back I got discouraged, because it seemed like I usually had a list of things I wanted to get done in a given day, but it seemed like when I got to the end of the day and collapsed exhausted into bed I hadn't really accomplished anything. So I decided, just for kicks, to keep a list of all the things I did in a day, to see if I was really accomplishing something and/or wasting my time when I shouldn't be. I got up and started my day and my list at the same time ... included everything, like diaper changes and my own trips down the hall, just to get a feel for where my day went. About 3:00 p.m., when my list got to be 3 or 4 pages long, I gave up on it, deciding that maybe I was doing something with my day after all. I did save it on the computer though, so that when I'm feeling unproductive I can look at it and remind myself what being a full-time Mommy is like.
So, short story long, I will try to do better and keeping up with my "Mommy Lessons", but if I fall behind, know that sometimes just being a Mommy takes up my time, but since my time is one of the most important things I can give my boys, those "Lessons" may just have to wait a little longer.
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