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)
Monday, April 30, 2012
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.
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