Warm, Sunny Days

Matt took the week off from work to coincide with the kids’ Spring Break from preschool. He never said so, but I think he took the time off for me as much as for him. And it’s been wonderful.

Watching the kids look in pure wonder at a part of God’s creation that they never see, and seeing the whole family smiling together–I couldn’t ask for anything more.

And, yet, I want to ask for a little more; I want to know how to keep this joy even when Matt goes back to work.

I know part of the answer. When we work together and play together and choose to experience our days together, even if we’re not doing the same thing…

…life runs a little smoother, time-outs and the need for discipline a little more rare.

And so we spent our day outside, each engaged in a different task beneath the warm sunshine, amidst a butterfly or two who would dance its way across our backyard proclaiming to us that spring is here. Picking the black soil out of our fingernails or green Play-doh out of its little cylinder–we were free to make messes and revel in their goodness.

And as I walk this journey in a quest for joy, a peace and contentment with my children every day, I can’t help but ask God one more question:

Is there any way you could make it warm and sunny every day?

What journey are you taking? Leave a comment below, or link up with your own post!
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Ten Things I Won’t/Will Miss About Having Little Children

Some Things I Won’t Miss About Having Little Children:

10. Waking up with a sore back because one or more little children snuck in our bed, sleeping horizontally with their little toes pushing into my spine.

9. The anxiety I feel if I go to the bathroom alone for a minute, not knowing what will await me when I come out.

8. Having to participate in every. single. game. outside, never getting the chance to sit on the porch glider and just relax.

7. The limited freedom to have a spontaneous Friday night date-night or attend a late-night outing, the availability of a babysitter or getting the kids in bed by a reasonable time always a prerequisite.

6. Temper-tantrums.

But I Will Miss:

5. Waking up with a sore back because one or more little children snuck in our bed, wanting the security of Daddy and Mommy and another chance to snuggle.

4. The opportunity to guide my children’s impulses, teaching them right from wrong, while the consequences are small. One day they will be grown-up, no longer needing input from Mommy and Daddy, in a world where they won’t always get a second chance.

3. Being asked to participate in my children’s games outside, having been replaced by the neighborhood kids, or one day by boyfriends and girlfriends.

2. The security of having little kids tucked away in bed, replaced, instead, with Friday nights full of worry waiting up for teenagers to make curfew.

1. Hmm…I can’t do it…I won’t miss temper-tantrums.

Linking up with Amanda today for her Top Ten Tuesday at ohamada.com. What would you add to the list?

Excuses, Excuses

I sat in the middle of the floor fuming, absolutely fuming, as I picked up each card and slid it into the appropriate box. The anger burned inside my chest, radiating heat all the way up to my cheeks. My brow was permanently furrowed, my lips pursed as tight as I could hold them together, my jaw beginning to ache from clenching my teeth.

Every time I felt the first cleansing effects of a deep breath, all I had to do was look around me to find my fury. After all, everyone knows the expression: “Hell hath no fury like a mother left to clean up others’ messes” (Or something like that). And what a mess I was left!

I only have a picture because I wanted evidence of my rotten week for my husband, my husband who was out-of-town for the majority of the nightmare.

We had already cleaned up half of this mess once before. When I caught my son taking down his father and my games, I quickly admonished him to put them away. Of course he didn’t, as his little body was overtaken by a demon the moment his father walked out the door and headed to the airport, and his curious sister got into some of the cards from the various boxes. At this point, I joined them on the floor and began cleaning up the mess with them, lest things got too out-of-hand.

We stopped only to eat dinner, and as I packed away leftovers, they were to resume where we had left off. Apparently, my instructions were not clear, and they resumed where they had left off before I had intervened.

Every. single. card. of every. single. game. was on the floor.

Normally, I leave my kids’ messes for them to clean up, but this mess was too overwhelming, too vast, and I had to rid all evidence of this day before I tried to manage another day alone with them.

As I followed the kids upstairs, the anger burned inside me. And while I didn’t lose my temper, I definitely used it, reminding my son a half a dozen times how furious I was at him for his behavior this week, threatening the other two if they didn’t move quickly. I wanted them to go to bed and not talk to me until the morning. Of course, they didn’t comply with that request, either. We went upstairs at 6:30, and it was 8:30 before my kids were finished ‘getting ready’ for bed and another half an hour before the first fell asleep. My son decided that 10:30 would work for his bedtime that night.

And in the meantime, I sat in the middle of the floor putting card after card in its appropriate box, all the while fuming and steaming over all the reasons this mess was my husband’s, the man who had not been at our home for the last three days, fault. After all, who better to blame than the man who is out-of-town?

I had completely convinced myself that Matt was to blame for this mess, and as I sat for an hour and 15 minutes cleaning up these games, I decided that I no longer liked him.

Whenever Matt’s away, the kids act like monsters. Or if one of them is good (thank you, sweet Hannah Grace) the others make up for it. Who wouldn’t get angry at kids who behave this way?

I had enough sense to text Matt: “You know when I try to go to bed. Don’t call me.” Even though I wasn’t in bed, I didn’t think I should talk to Matt. Remember, I didn’t like him anymore, and I didn’t think I should tell him that.

So, of course, Matt called me. And I wasn’t nice.

But in my defense, I warned him not to call! I knew I was angry and couldn’t be nice, so he can’t really blame me for my less-than-loving tone.

As I lay in bed that night, I thought about how I allowed a mess of cards (albeit the worst mess of cards I’d ever seen) to create enough rage in me to kill a man. I allowed my fatigue and frustration to cloud my mind into thinking I disliked my husband. And I had created enough excuses to prove I was right.

In that moment, I had my first glimpse into how self-control really works.

Self-control isn’t just making good choices; self-control is eliminating excuses.

I lost my temper because my kids were out-of-control.

I’m so weary because my husband is out-of-town.

I’m having a cheat day today, but I’ll get back on my diet tomorrow.

These shoes were on sale, so it’s okay that I bought them (even though I already own 100 pairs).

And pretty soon, we believe the excuses and justify our behavior.

I lay in bed that night, nauseous and tired, holding on to my last thread of anger for one more moment. I thought about my husband whom I wanted to blame, my kids who were at fault for a mess (a huge one) but not for my anger, and I released them. If I wanted control of myself in the morning, I had to own up to myself that night.

I closed my eyes and said ‘goodnight’ to a horrible day and ‘goodnight’ to my excuses. And I drifted off to (a very short) sleep.

^“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law” (Galatians 5:22-23, New International Version, 2010). Emphasis mine

What are your go-to excuses for bad behavior? Leave a comment below, or link up your own post on ‘self-control!’ Thank you for joining me over the last few weeks as we explored the different fruits of the Spirit. I am worn out from God’s conviction! Stay tuned for more details as to what we’ll contemplate next in ‘Journeys’!

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Washable Finger Paints

Sometimes I take my job as a parent to teach right from wrong so seriously, that I forget my responsibility is also to model grace. I allow my children’s acts of disobedience to ruin my day, erase my memory of all the good they do. Granted, sometimes they take disobedience to a whole new level, but I forget that even finger paint stains can be made clean (at least if they are of the washable variety).

Finger paint on chairs.

Finger paint on the carpet.

Finger paint on the sofa.

And various spots that will continue to surprise me throughout the week.

They will all wash clean.

Yet, it is on these stains that I tend to focus. I forget that these children who took the opportunity of Mommy using the bathroom to redecorate the downstairs are the same children who, earlier in the day, shared God’s love with the elderly at a nursing home. These children, on their first time meeting these men and women, most bound in wheelchairs, some with blank stares across their faces, others with sores or masks covering their mouths and noses, didn’t hesitate to walk into a room and share their smiles.

Caleb didn’t hesitate to tell everyone he is five now and share all the details of his life. Hannah Grace, my shy little girl, was able to work through her cautiousness to stand in between two people she had never met and shake the parachute with them during activity time. Even Chloe, once she got over her toddler anger that the ball in the middle of the parachute was not for her kicking enjoyment, watched in amusement at the game.

They were living examples of God’s love. And when they picked flowers lining the sidewalk entrance (to my horror) to give to the man enjoying the birds chirping and fresh, warm air on his skin, they shined the face of Jesus more clearly than any sermon explanation.

Yet that night, I only remembered finger paints.

And at the end of the weekend, as I rolled the steam cleaner from spot to spot, I had to ask myself why do I remember the stains my children make so easily when God willingly forgets mine?

While disobedience comes with consequences and must be addressed, it is not the whole of my children. I need to see them for the beautiful creations they are and the wondrous splashes of color they bring to life.

After all, that’s how God views me, and I’ve left more than my own fair share of finger paint trails.

Reflecting today on the ‘Puzzled by the Bible’ series at 12 Stone Church and the amazing dichotomy of God’s holiness and the offer of Christ’s forgiveness. Come back Friday for ‘Journeys’ and the last fruit of the Spirit topic–self-control.

Lesson Learned!

From the time my daughter was old enough to have a conscious will, she has loved beautiful and girly things. From jewelry to makeup–she loves them all–and the more colors and glitter, the better!

I was not surprised to find her one day sitting on my bathroom floor, makeup smeared all over her face, mascara wand in hand as she painted her toes. I was not surprised when I found the missing necklace from my jewelry box adorning my daughter’s neck. Nor was I surprised when I found evidence of her princess stamp set marking a trail along the bannister. My daughter believes in spreading beauty and color throughout her world, no matter if she is wearing the beauty and color or her parents’ furniture.

I was never surprised at any of my little girl’s antics. I was, however, surprised at her brother’s.

I wasn’t completely naive–I knew better than to leave little kids alone with scissors–but the combination of trying a recipe for dinner that was taking too long and a crying infant left my attention divided. Way too divided. And in a brief moment, I learned that my son would make his own attempt at beautifying the world:

I just wish he wouldn’t have made this attempt the day before his sister’s second birthday party. And I really wanted her first haircut to be, well, a good one.

I thought I learned my lesson; I figured my son was just young. He was just doing what three-year-olds do. Heck! I cut my own bangs, to my mother’s horror, when I was three. Except that he tried his hand at hair design again when he was four. In exactly the same place that he cut his sister’s hair the first time.

If I hadn’t learned my lesson before, I learned it now. Scissors were no longer put up high–they were put away all together! The only time cutting was a part of arts and crafts was when the kids’ baby sister was napping and dinner preparation had not yet commenced. If Mommy had to use the bathroom, the scissors came with her! She would not make this mistake again.

So it’s really embarrassing that this story continues….

In a quest to save money and prove that I had skill, I took my son outside to cut his hair. I really didn’t know what I was doing, so the haircut took three times as long as if I got it done in the salon. My plan to cut his hair while the baby was napping was a good one. His other sister was playing outside. And when the baby woke up, I took the scissors with me to get her.

Unfortunately, I forgot that there were clippers in my little haircut accessory pouch. My son, however, didn’t. In the thirty seconds I was gone, he found an electric outlet outside, plugged in those clippers, and took a chunk out of his hair–right in the front. And for good measure, he took out a section from his sister’s hair again–in a slightly different place from the last two times. I guess he was starting to learn about symmetry.

So, while others might see a cute picture of a boy and his father, I see that a chunk of hair is missing from his bangs.

Clearly, I do not think fast enough for my son. My tears at lost hair do not have an effect, nor does punishment. And, frankly, I’m not sure any of those things can persuade a person with a passion.

So why fight it? I’ve learned my lesson–I’m enrolling my son in cosmetology school.

I’m linking up today with Mama Kat for her writer’s workshop. I combined two of her prompts–a lesson learned and a time my toddler got into something he shouldn’t have.

Don’t forget to come by tomorrow and link up your own post on kindness for this week’s ‘Journeys!’

Ten Indications Your Husband Is Away on Business Again

10. Your son’s first baseball practice ever is scheduled for the first night your husband is out of town, and you’ll get to tote your 3-year-old and 21-month-old along to experience it.

9. Thirty minutes after your husband leaves, your son wakes up with a rash all over his body. You get to take three kids to the doctor’s office and find out your son has strep throat–all before ten a.m.

8. Your son, who has been looking forward to his first practice for two weeks, cannot go to baseball practice. You now get to carry around the guilt of knowing that your cursing the timing of his first practice with your husband’s trip has somehow caused him to get strep throat.

7. The rare coffee date you scheduled with your friend almost a month ago for when two of the three kids would be in preschool must be rescheduled.

6. Knowing that you’re quickly losing your mind the longer you haul around three small children, you make a short list of items you will need to get at the grocery store while waiting for your son’s antibiotic. While you leave the store with three items that you did not need, you manage to forget the first item on your list–and your brain.

5. You find yourself sitting on your bed twitching and eating M&Ms–and you don’t even like chocolate.

4. Your husband, in his kindness, planned a menu for the week, made a corresponding grocery list, and bought the food before he left. However, he neglected one small detail–that each meal would take two plus hours to make, and you would be feeding the kids dinner at 8:00 p.m. (You’ve never even made one of Rachael Ray’s 30-Minute Meals in less than an hour and a half).

3. During the two hours you spend cooking that first meal when your husband is away, your children conjure up the North Wind to sweep through the playroom. You grab your camera to capture evidence of the catastrophe, but the batteries are dead. You then grab your phone and snap a few shots, but the photos aren’t there when you try to upload them to your computer. The disappointment of not having proof for your husband is worse torture than the actual clean-up.

2. Deciding she can’t make it until she reaches the bathroom, your daughter pulls down her pants and pees on the kitchen floor that you had just mopped a couple of hours earlier–and this daughter is NOT the one who is potty-training.

1. Your youngest child decides that 10:15 p.m. is a perfectly acceptable bedtime.

What craziness happens when your spouse is out of town? What chaos ensues if you go away?

Let the Little Children Come

“But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these'” (Luke 18:16, New International Version, 2010).

I’ve read and heard this verse many times, and every time I have visited it, I have come away with the same meaning–that we should approach our faith as a child would, accepting and believing without letting doubt steal away our hope in the Savior.

However, this past time I closed my Bible with a new treasure buried in my heart.

While we are to approach faith like a child, I believe Jesus is making another point–He truly likes children. I can picture Jesus calling the children to Him, laughing as they topple onto His chest, knocking Him to the ground. I can picture Him tickling and playing and kissing boo-boos on skinned knees, and I can picture Him holding their hands, gently guiding them back to their mothers’ care.

And what’s not to like?

Children are happy. They aren’t worn down with worry and stress, and they always wear a smile. They giggle and squeal often, truly embracing the moment.

And when sadness or anger hits them, they don’t hide their feelings as we adults have learned to do so well. They have their outbursts, but then they regain their composure and find happiness again, feeling better having purged themselves of the unpleasant emotions.

Children forgive, and not just in word. One minute a child could have been slapped by his sister, and in the next the two are having tea around a little table and miniature teapot with all of their distinguished guests. They don’t hold grudges that grow and fester over time, pushing those in need of forgiveness further away.

Some hug, some kiss. Others are more shy with physical touch but don’t let an hour go by without uttering an ‘I love you.’ Children aren’t ashamed or afraid or wrapped up in what’s an appropriate display of affection–they let those they love know it the instant they feel it, and they protect those they hold dear.

Children aren’t worried with what others think; they do what feels right. And while their impulses need direction at times, they live life with passion. They live life in color. They don’t lie awake at night wishing they could get their day back to do over.

And children show compassion. They cry when they see others hurting, their tender hearts not yet calloused by a world that offers so many examples of suffering. They take with them to bed images of a sick child on T.V. or a homeless man on the corner and tuck them under the covers alongside their teddy bears. They don’t forget as easily as we.

Yes, the kingdom belongs to them.

Perhaps, if we saw Jesus with those little children on His knee, we would see child-like faith a little clearer. And, perhaps, if we saw those little children with their smiles and giggles, we would understand faith in action.

Thankfully, God gave me little children of my own, and I think He would have me get down on my knees and have them come to me. He would have me put aside the bills for a moment, put down the broom. He would have me turn off the iphone and let them come. He would have me watch and learn.

And, perhaps, when my hand reaches to tousle their hair, my fingertips would brush the kingdom of God.

Now it’s your turn. How did you respond to this verse? Link up or leave a comment below! Be sure to visit the other blogs and leave a comment; you’ll make that person’s day! And if you are linking your own post, grab the code for my button on the sidebar, and invite others to take this journey.

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Walking in Little Shoes

I took a deep breath as I entered Chloe’s room, laying out her pajamas for the night. The day was almost over, and as trying as it had been, I hadn’t blown it with the kids. That fact gave me just enough strength to deal with whatever they would throw my way before they fell asleep.

However, as I walked into Caleb’s room and expressed my frustration that he still hadn’t picked up his socks off the floor, he responded with a question that caused me to take another look at the day:

“How many times do you think you’re going to be mean to me today?”

I stood bewildered for a minute and proceeded to ask Caleb what he meant.

“You yelled at me a lot today, so I wanted to know how many times you’re going to be mean?”

After I contemplated where he got such a grasp on sarcasm, I explained to him that he had been very disobedient today and that I did have to scold him a lot, but I hadn’t lost my temper with him.

Or had I? Now his comment had me doubting myself.

That comment and the comment his sister made earlier when she stated with disgust, “You just ruined my life.”

So during a day when I was praising myself for keeping my cool, I still had managed to ruin the life of a three-year-old and caused a four-year-old to think his mother was incredibly mean.

Sheesh.

I decided to take a minute to look at the day from my kids’ perspective. When I told Caleb that he hadn’t acted right today, he pointed out that he did do many of the things I had asked and only disobeyed a little. While he had spent much of the day defying me, he was right–he did help a few times, too. He got on his coat and shoes when we were trying to leave, and he put Chloe’s boot on, too. He cleared the table of his dishes at every meal, and he helped set the table for dinner. When I looked through Caleb’s eyes, I saw many tasks that were completed and a mother who was still harping about those from earlier in the day.

I had a slightly harder time looking through Hannah Grace’s eyes; it was probably all those bright colors and butterflies that got in the way. In any event, when I tried, I saw a mommy whose heart I could melt if I just caressed her cheeks while saying,”I’m sorry, Mommy. I won’t poke your bottom tomorrow.” And in her eyes, that apology erased all of the defiant behavior from the day.

Of course, if my kids stood in my shoes, they would have seen time after time after time children sneaking cookies and TV; ignoring requests to clean up; and that strange incident of running circles through the kitchen, poking my heiny every time they passed me while I was talking on the phone to Hannah Grace’s preschool teacher…just to name a few frustrations from the day.

Where they saw fun, I saw defiance. Where I saw defiance, they saw examples of obedience.

And I saw that while I was right, so were they.

Yes, my children need to obey, but I also need to see all that they do that is worthy of praise. I need to step inside their little shoes and take a look at me. Who do they see? A mother full of love, or a mother harboring disappointment?

Perhaps that paradigm shift will make the difference.

And if not, I’ll just embrace the title of ‘the meanie who ruins little kids’ lives.’

Marriage According to a Four-Year-Old

As we were riding along in the van on Sunday afternoon, I lazily closed my eyes and rested my head on my hand. I wasn’t really comfortable, propping my elbow against the window, but it was the best improvisation for a pillow that I could make.

In the back of the van, Caleb and Hannah Grace were having their own conversation, and I was pleased with the relative quiet for a van filled with five people. I hadn’t heard what started the conversation that caused me to sit up abruptly, but as I caught that first sentence, I focused my attention on every word that came out of the mouths of the two in the back:

Caleb: “Hannah Grace, you’re going to grow up and marry a boy someday.”

Hannah Grace: “Which one?”

Caleb: “I don’t know. You’ll just have to pick one, I guess.”

Hannah Grace: “I want to marry Daddy.”

Caleb: “You can’t marry Daddy; he’s already married.”

Hannah Grace: “But I want to marry Daddy!”

And my heart melted. I’ve heard that all girls want to marry their daddies when they’re young, but when those words came out of my daughter’s mouth, I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.

That is, until my son continued:

Caleb: “You can’t marry Daddy! He’s already married, and one day you’re going to grow up, and Daddy and Mommy are going to die, so you have to marry somebody else.”

?!?!

And after that description of marriage, my heart froze back over.

Joining Mama Kat today for her Writer’s Workshop!

And don’t forget to come back tomorrow with your own post ready to link up for this week’s journey on Peace!

The Parenting Book I’ll Never Write

Last week was one of those weeks when the kids were awful, and my response was no better. After enduring one of those miserable moments, I began folding clothes and thought I will never write a parenting book. And as soon as the thought entered my mind, I realized that I also said I would never teach, like vegetable soup, or drive a mini-van.

Of course, if I did write a parenting book, it would not look like your typical book with research and sound advice and plans. It would serve more as a survival guide based on first-hand experience for those parents who also feel like they are losing their minds. So here goes, a sneak peak at excerpts from my book that I’ll never write.

My Child Peed on an Electric Socket: And Other Tales to Make You Feel Better About Your Parenting

From Chapter 4: How Did We End Up Here?

“If your child, in a moment of dramatics, ever propels himself out of his car booster seat, somehow wrapping the still buckled seatbelt around his ankle about twenty times, suspending his lower body mid-air while the rest of him hangs below, it is okay to step back and stare for a few minutes in bewilderment. Don’t feel guilty. After all, it is a pretty impressive feat and most likely won’t happen again. You might even take this opportunity to get the rest of the children settled inside and grab your camera. Don’t worry–he’s not going anywhere. When you are finally ready to rescue your child, simply unbuckle the seatbelt, and unwind.”

From Chapter 6: That Darned Toddler Bed

“Let’s face it–some kids just don’t care if Super Nanny said the technique would work. You can sit in that room all night long, silently putting that toddler back in bed without looking at or talking to her, and she’s still going to jump out laughing. So what are you going to do? You can continue on with the same routine, or you can give your back a rest for one night.

Try this technique: Wait until nap time to feed your kid lunch and bedtime to feed your kid dinner. After numerous days without a nap and too many nights of staying up hours past her bedtime, restraining your child in the highchair will be just the trick you need to have her zonked out in no time. When that little cutie is sleeping in her applesauce, simply move her to her bed. Trust me–after this many days of not sleeping, she’s not going to wake up when you move her.

Worried about what your friends will think? Who cares?! God didn’t give you one of those kids who calls for Mommy to get him out of bed in the morning. Your kid’s already downstairs making pancakes for breakfast! It’s about survival, and your survival is important!”

From Chapter 10: Teaching Them About God

“Who knew the question, ‘Who wants to pray first?’ could be so lethal? I looked in the rearview mirror, amidst the screams of ‘I’m first!’ ‘No, it’s my turn today!’ and saw my children punching one another. Yes, punching over who would pray first. Then each one began to start his or her own prayer, reaching over the sides of their car seats to slap the other on the head while yelling, “Dear God, thank you for this day!”

When your day has reached this point, I can suggest a couple of courses of action: turn the radio up, tune them out, or pray to God silently. Whatever you do, don’t try to yell at them to ‘Knock it off!’ or ‘Do you really think this makes God happy?!’ Because in the end, you’ll just start screaming during prayer (even if that prayer is being yelled), and you’ll feel like the loser when it’s all said and done.”

I’m even going to include a few bonus chapters on marriage:

Chapter 20: Fair Fights

“Try to resist the urge to blame your spouse for your child(ren)’s behavior. Pointing out that ‘it must be your genes because I never acted this way as a kid’ doesn’t really help the situation. Even if it is true.”

Chapter 21: Sex

“Don’t. If you’re reading this book, you don’t need to take the chance.”

What chapters would you include in a parenting book?

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And to totally switch gears…

This Friday’s Journey: Peace

Write any kind of post covering the theme. You may use Scripture or not, write explicitly or implicitly, use a story or poem, etc., as far as what God is teaching you about peace. There are no rules other than to stick to the theme, and open your heart to what God would have you learn.

Last Friday we had three lovely ladies share their stories of joy, and I look forward to reading yours on peace this Friday!