Wednesday, February 15, 2017
"Rosie was just so mean to me!" my oldest said as he tore around the corner into my bathroom. (All hell breaks loose whenever I try to put on a little mascara in peace.)
"Oh yeah? You okay?" I asked distractedly, wanting to stay out of their little dispute.
"She wanted to let the dog upstairs so she opened the gate and I said 'no' and I closed it and she screamed and she got so mad that she pinched me and she pushed me out of the way!" He stood back, wide eyed, waiting for me to rally by his side and put his sister in her place.
"Wow - Sounds like neither of you were being respectful to each other." His little shoulders deflated. He had been so sure that he was completely right. "Ro," I continued, "No pinching or pushing. Ever. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it," she said as she completed her lopsided somersault. She was obviously very remorseful.
"Luke, if you'd like to keep the dog downstairs, what could you do? Other than fighting over the gate? Any ideas?
"I could get him and bring him down...But she shouldn't let him up there! He gets my Legos!"
"True. But who can you control?"
"Just me," he said in a low voice.
"Right." I got up to hug him and start our school day when I heard my middle child speaking in a firm and low tone.
"Rosie, we need to have a serious talk."
"Okay, Do Do!" This is her nickname for Drew and it still makes me smile. I hid around the corner to listen.
"I know Luke was mean about the gate but you can't pinch him, okay? When you are mad you have to take a deep breath. You can't hurt him. It's not nice. Got it?"
"I got it, Do Do!"
"Okay. I love you, Ro Ro."
"Love you too!"
They hugged and my baby girl ran to her big brother and sincerely apologized. "I'm so sorry for pinching, Luke. So so sorry," she said as she reached out for his hand.
"That's okay, Rosie. I'm sorry for closing the gate."
"Awww, that's nice. I accept your apology."
And finally, they were ready to move on with forgiveness in their hearts.
My Drew did what I couldn't do. He helped her understand that kindness was expected. He showed her that she had to take responsibility even though she felt justified. I was amazed.
I share this in the hope that you remember that your kids truly are absorbing all the good things you are working so hard to teach them. It may not always seem like it, but they are. They watch how we handle disputes between siblings, how we work things out with our spouses, how we work through the stresses of daily living. They are taking notes and practicing along the way. Drew said to me yesterday during a crying jag, "I'm not a grown up. I don't know how to handle all my emotions." I told him that I struggle with the same thing sometimes, even as a grown up. That's why we have each other. That's why we have God to guide us. So let's hope and pray that, as grown ups, we can be good examples. Let's pray that we can be a resource for our kids when things get tough and that we are daily examples of God's love and forgiveness.
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
"Can we have McDonald's?" they will ask.
I will pull out the food envelope and show them what's left. "I have $15 left. It usually costs $25. Want to pitch in the other $10?"
"But I don't have any more money!"
"Oh, okay. Then I guess we can't have McDonald's."
They have decided that something has to change. As any good business owner knows, there are two ways to increase cash flow: Cut expenses or increase sales. My boys have chosen to increase sales. They have normal chores that give them $5 a week but they have been looking for some supplemental income. To date they have launched a lemonade stand that actually sold apple juice and soda, a golfing booth (pay $1 for a swing of the club), chocolate covered strawberries (Hershey's syrup drenched strawberries would be a bit more accurate), a daredevil show that featured my five year old being crashed into a pile of boxes by his older brother and a Rainbow Loom bracelet sale. They are course correcting on the way and analyzing what sells the best.
"Every body likes drinks which makes sense because it's hot in Florida," my oldest said to his brother thoughtfully. "But we don't have enough kids in the neighborhood for the golf business."
"But everybody likes golf! I just need a new sign!"
At this, they race off to redesign their advertising and choose a new corner to stand and attract business.
This week, they caught a break. "I went into a store today and the owner asked about the bracelet you guys made me," my husband said over breakfast.
"And I told him you made it. He wants ten in darker colors to sell in his store. He thinks he can sell them for $3 a piece."
"But we were only charging $1!"
"Yeah, but he thinks he can get more. What do you say? Could you make some up for me today?"
The boys raced around the house gathering materials and consulting on color choices. Then my oldest got to work.
I don't know what will happen once the bracelets hit the shelves but I do know that this has been incredible to watch. I never worried about cutting back on my extravagances. I can buy less clothes, less Starbucks, less fancy makeup. But I did worry about giving my kids less. I want them to have everything. And yet, I'm giving them so much more by holding back. They are learning about advertising, pricing, math, knowing their market and calculating profits. Best of all, they are learning about all they are capable of doing on their own. Amazing.
If you are feeling pressure to give your kids more, go easy on yourself. Giving less my give them more opportunities to be resourceful. They just might amaze you.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
"Okay! But I want to ride my bike. My tricycle, I mean. I want to ride my tricycle."
I grabbed it of the hook on the garage wall, buckled her little helmet and we were off.
It was picture perfect for at least two full minutes. The dog walked and sniffed while she rode proudly on her tricycle. "Look how fast I'm going, Mommy! I can do it by myself!" she yelled as she peddled like the wicked witch of the west. Before I could compliment her on her tremendous speed, she stopped to collect some acorns. A wave of nostalgia came over me as I remembered each of my boys riding this same bike and putting acorns in the little bucket on the back. She came over to hold my hand and said sweetly, "I'm going to run now. You can carry my bike home."
I suddenly remembered this from my boys' early biking days. I flashed to walks with that tricycle stuffed in the bottom of a baby stroller or drug behind me as the dog yanked me forward. I decided to learn from past mistakes. "If you rode it here, you have to ride it back babe. I'm walking Charlie."
She looked at my other hand pointedly. "But that hand is empty. You can just carry my bike, right?"
"No, I can't. You are welcome to run to that tree and back and then you have to ride your bike."
"Okay!" she said. I sighed, thankful that this strong willed girl had let it go so easily. But I relaxed too soon.
"I'm just going to run home now!" she said as she blew right past the agreed upon tree and down the sidewalk.
"Don't forget your bike!" I reminded her. At that, she collapsed in tears.
"I want to run! I don't want my bike! I want to run!" she wailed dramatically.
"I know you do, love. Seems like you are really frustrated so here are your choices. Either ride the bike back or push it while you run. Which would you rather do?" She sensed a bit of control blowing in her direction and the tears stopped like a switch had been flipped.
"Riding would be fun!" she said as she ran to the bike.
I took another deep breath, glad the drama was over for the moment when she stopped riding and took my hand once again. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "You are a really good mommy. The best."
I'm not sure if she was trying to make peace or if she suddenly was filled with love for me but I do know it felt really good to hear. This job can really wear a girl out. My kids throw me a new curve ball every day and I have to spend a lot of time trying to perfect my swing. How incredible to be handed a moment like that. Those simple words drained all the stress that had built up in that interaction and reminded me that along with those curve balls we are thrown little gifts every day. They may come in the form of an unexpected hug, a misspelled love note or a piece of lovingly made burnt toast but they are there. Today, look for the gifts that your kids throw you and savor them. They are truly gifts from God.
My sister and her family are coming home to Florida. This, however, is not just a celebration of a homecoming. This is the celebration of a miracle. Two years ago, my sister and her husband made one of the toughest decisions of their life. Their then six year old son had been in and out of the hospital for three years and was getting increasingly worse. He would start with a cold then, within hours, begin to throw up and eventually lose consciousness. They had twenty minutes to get him to the ER or else...Well, I can't even type what would've happened to this beloved child.
My sister has always been a fighter. Her strength is unparalleled. She had had enough. She called a meeting with his team (yes, his team) of doctors and told them she wanted a new team. Fresh eyes. Other options. They directed her to a hospital in Denver called National Jewish that offered a three week full assessment. They would run every test, monitor every function of his body and even dedicate a counselor to the family to assess everyone's emotional health. She left the meeting with the referral in hand and booked the flight.
We did FaceTime calls every day to see how it was going, praying for some answers. About two weeks in, she called while I was at my mom's house and everything changed. "Well, he's doing great. He really is. They are learning a lot," my sister said bravely. I could see her fighting tears. "Are you okay, though? How are you holding up?" I asked.
She dissolved into tears. "His immune system is shot. He doesn't have one. At all. It might never turn back on! They basically said he's allergic to everything in Florida. The grass, the pollen...Everything. Because it never gets cold, the plants he's allergic to never die and he can't get better there. They said if we can, we should live here. We should stay here. We have to stay here."
I can remember the huge conflict of emotions. How could it be fair that I wouldn't see my nephews grow up or be able to sit around the kitchen table with my sister? How could that be gone, all in one swoop? And yet, he had a chance. There was hope as well as pain. "Then that's what you'll do. We'll visit all the time. We'll FaceTime all the time and he's going to beat this." We all cried until we couldn't cry anymore then did what the women in my family do; We put on our game face and got ready to do whatever we could for each other.
Within a month, their house was on the market, a house was rented in Castle Rock, CO, their business was prepared for absentee management and they were gone. Just like that.
I prayed a lot about this. It didn't seem fair. It's so wrong when a child is sick. I could see the toll it was taking on him; I could see the responsibility he felt for the move. Why would God take them away when they needed us most? Why was my sweet nephew so sick?
But God takes his time with things and his purposes are not always immediately clear. As the months passed, Brody got better and stronger. His visits to the hospital completely stopped. He gained weight and started growing like a weed. His color returned to normal and, a year after their move, his immune system kicked back on. She called in tears. "His adrenal gland is perfect! It's perfect! I don't have to panic every time he gets a runny nose!!" We celebrated this miracle and thanked God for it.
Other things grew stronger as well. My sister and I began to talk more than we ever had when she lived here. We would spend thirty minutes talking about real things instead of five minutes in between kids asking for more juice. We began to really appreciate our differences and admire each other for the ways we lived our lives instead of comparing and competing. We understood each other and, for the first time, began to give each other a bit more grace. When we would visit, our rich history would bubble over into story after story and I have never in my life been more thankful for her friendship.
And then He gave us one more miracle. "Katie...Katie, he's better. All better. He's fine; A normal kid! We talked to the doctors and they said he can live anywhere! We are coming home," she said over FaceTime. I felt all the stress, all the sadness, all the joy, all the hope gush out in racking sobs. I could barely breathe.
"It's a miracle. It's a miracle!" I said over and over again.
I know that every story doesn't have such a pretty ending, all tied up with a bow. But in the midst of things that we don't understand, God is working. He may not answer our prayers the way we expect but he always has our best interest in mind. He loves us and knows our hearts and wants to give us hope and a future. There's a praise song I love that has these lyrics, "Even when you're caught in the middle of the storms of this life, I won't turn back I know you are near. And I will fear no evil for my God is with me. And if my God is with me, whom then shall I fear? Oh no, you never let go. Through the calm and through the storm. Oh no, you never let go. Lord, you never let go of me."
If you are in the middle of the storm, use this as your prayer. He will never let go of you.
Saturday, January 7, 2017
My phone pinged with a text. "Think I could start coming to church with you?"
I replied quickly, "Of course! Anytime!"
"Oh good," popped up in the green bubble. "I just miss you guys and I would love a chance to see you every week."
"Done. We'll pick you up at 9:30."
And that was that. I knew she wanted to see us more than she wanted to actually be at church but that was okay. We used to live across the street and she could visit anytime. We had moved three months before and I missed her too. I jumped at the chance to check in and give her an extra hug every week.
She has been coming every week for the last couple months and she's starting to absorb some truths about how much God loves her. "So there was a rainbow at basketball practice today," she shared with me. "I told the team what it meant - That is was God's promise to us to always take care of us and never hurt us. Coach pulled me aside and told me what a great thing it was that I was such a light for the team. That was pretty cool."
"What a cool gift you gave them today. They'll never look at a rainbow the same way again."
"Yeah, me neither," she said as she stared out the window and retreated into thought.
Then, last week, she said she'd been thinking about getting a Bible. I decided to buy her one for teen girls so that it was more approachable but still felt a bit uncomfortable about giving that to her for her Christmas present. My husband and I decided to get her a watch, too. She is twelve, after all. But I never should have doubted her sweet old soul. As she unwrapped the Bible, she blinked back tears. "I'm going to be spending a lot of time with this." She looked up at me with wide, appreciative eyes. "Love you."
"I love you, too, sweetheart," I said as I hugged her.
"Here," my husband said, jumping right in. "Let me show you where to start."
As I watched them, I felt so grateful for God's timing. Evangelizing is no easy task. People have so much baggage about religion and you never know what land mine you will be walking into. But I firmly believe this child is a gift to me and that I owe it to her to know how much God loves her. I want her to feel embraced by him and know that He will always guide her. Always. I am so thankful for opportunities to share his love with her.
Is there someone in your life that needs God's love? Buy them a devotional, invite them to church or a small group or just listen and wait for God to open the door. After all, he wants nothing more than for us to share his gifts with others.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
There's the firm approach. "Rosalie Rebecca, no more playing. Lay down. Go to sleep." This worked beautifully with my oldest. He LOVES rules. My daughter just falls in a puddle of tears and tells me that I "hurt her feelings" because "that was not nice."
There's the gentle approach. "Here baby, let me tuck you in. Do you need another story?" My middle child prefers this. He is a sensitive soul and needs to feel understood and loved before he can hear a word that you're saying. My daughter, however, enjoys the perks of being understood then does whatever she wants as soon as the door is closed.
We were on phase three last week when I went into her room. The cold shoulder approach. This is where I walk in, take the toy she's playing with and put her back in bed without saying a word. I resist eye contact and conversation, letting her know that I mean business. This time, however, I noticed a shimmer on her face. "Were you putting on make-up, Ro?" I asked, keeping my voice aloof.
"Nope," she said, looking me dead in the eyes then blinking demurely.
"Then why is your face sparkly?"
"I put on lipstick. That not make up. It lipstick."
"Ahhh. Okay. Just so that you know, lipstick is a kind of makeup," I said, trying to maintain any shred of authority I had left in this situation.
"Not really. It just lipstick."
I took a deep breath, knowing that an argument with a two year old would be a complete waste of time. "Okay, babe. Go to sleep." I walked toward the door, mentally preparing an appropriate phase four when I heard her say, "Mama?"
"Don't I look beautiful?"
At that, I melted. "You are always beautiful, my sweet girl. I love you."
"Love you!" she said as she settled down under her blanket and, within minutes, fell asleep.
She knew I was annoyed with her and needed reassurance. She needed a nap but she couldn't rest until she knew we were on good terms; Until she knew that I thought she was beautiful. I thought about how many times that is true for me as well. I can't listen to good advice without knowing that someone already thinks I am amazing. I feel such complete peace when I know I am loved and treasured. My daughter had no problem asking for that affirmation. Maybe we shouldn't be afraid to do the same.
You are beautiful. You are loved. Don't let anyone tell you anything different.
Monday, December 19, 2016
I've been in an autopilot mode for awhile now. I make lists, I check them off. I get things done. I multitask. I feel accomplished. But somehow, along the way, I started to feel like my kids where getting in the way of all the things I needed to get done. I love them fully - of course I do - but I haven't been fully present. Every "watch this!" and "Mommy, look at this!" felt like a distraction from the pressing things I had to do. I would watch with one eye on the dishes and one eye on the latest trick and they would catch me. "Mommy! You aren't watching!" I would tell them that I would be glad to watch after the dishes were done. But you see, I was never done. There was always one more load of laundry to fold, one more spelling lesson to teach, one more time that the dog needed to be walked, one more text to answer. I wasn't ever getting to the part where I watched with both eyes and all of my mind.
I am reading a book called Bloom. It's a beautiful memoir about a mother gives birth to her second daughter and learns that the baby has Downs Syndrome. The author embraces motherhood fully, completely, with abandon. As I read, I could feel a small voice saying, "This is the mother that you are. Return to it." At first, I felt guilty. (I'm really good at mom guilt. You too?) And then I felt thankful. I'm much happier in a mode when my house is a perpetual disaster because we made a volcano on the counter then decided to build a fort and then take a walk all before lunch. It felt...freeing. Like I had permission to let the lists go and get back to the way my soul wants to raise these children.
Already, we are happier. We made cookies this weekend, destroyed the kitchen, and lived through at least six meltdowns about keeping spit off the cookies and yet, I didn't feel stressed. I remembered buying the house and saying to my husband, "This is the kitchen where our kids and I will bake Christmas cookies together." I got misty eyed even as my son cried about washing his spit and sprinkle covered hands. This is where memories are made. These are the stories I want to tell.
You may have a different way of keeping your house happy and sane. And I love that we all do this differently. I need spontaneity and creativity to feel alive and well. When my house is spotless, it means that something else in my life is a mess. Maybe you need order. Maybe you need routine. Do it, whatever it is, so that you can be fully present in this time of watching cool tricks and washing sticky fingers. It will end faster than we are ready - At least that's what every grandmother tells me. I choose to live in this time fully. Will you join me?