Judah

Judah,

My 100% child. Everything you do is 100%. Whatever it is, it's going to be 100% happy, 100% sad, 100% mad, 100% walking, running, jumping, laughing, hugging, kicking, messing up or cleaning up...you don't do life halfway. You are strong-willed. Blatantly so. Your brothers may be strong-willed, they're just a little quieter about it. But you, you let the world know that you know what you want.

Guess what.

I love that about you. I love that you are determined. I love that you feel so deeply and strongly. I love that you express yourself fully and openly. No hidden emotions and desires with you.

Judah, I owe you so much thanks. Thank you for not letting me control you. Thank you for shattering my illusions that I ever had control over any of you, my little treasures. Thank you for forcing me to find another way to parent. You have always questioned and pushed back and stomped on my demands. You have caused me to get on my knees in frustration and desperation before God, the very best parent ever, and cry out, "God! How do YOU do it?!"

My desperation has opened the door to His grace. It's His kindness that leads to repentance. Not His demands. Not His wrath. Not foot stomping, threatening, punishing. He's not so keen on those things. But only as you have required me to search for a better way have I seen that is not how He operates. He doesn't manipulate or guilt trip. He loves. He trusts. He is kind. He is not seeking His own way. He is desiring us to find the best way and choose it. When we don't, He continually calls out to us and draws us back to His heart. And when we do, He cheers us on and throws a feast.

I'm not perfect at His parenting style, Judah. I'm still figuring out what it looks like in this world. You know that better than anyone else. But you also do grace better than most. Whenever I fall back into thinking that if I stomp my size fives a little harder you'll obey, you show me it doesn't work, which reminds me obedience is not the end goal anyway. I'm not responsible for your behavior but your heart. And when I remember the truth and come back home to it, you welcome me with a grace-filled hug.

Thank you, my third baby bear.

Love,
Mom

A Change In Focus

When I first began blogging, it was an outlet, a way to connect, a way to document "the moments", and it was just fun. We had a little blogging community, several of us moms with toddlers and preschoolers. I would write, knowing that my friends in the same stage of life would be writing and reading along with me. Our kids have gotten a little older, our lives a little busier, and blogging has tapered off. I miss it, that feeling of being connected with those not close enough to share a play date. I also know it is just the natural progression of life.

I feel I need to shift the focus of my blog slightly. Anyone reading along (anyone???) may not notice the difference. In my mind, my audience to this point, has been outward - those out there reading. These days, I find myself wanting to keep track of the memories of our days so my children will know how present I am for every moment of their lives. I'm in this thing, kids. I'm not wishing away your days. I'm feeling and enjoying and remembering and aching for this very moment. I'm here. One hundred percent of me. Do I some times lose my cool and act like it's all too much? Yep. Because, sometimes, it feels very much like too much. But that moment passes, and I'm back on track, and I'm right where I want to be more than anywhere else in the world.  I'm giving you all of me. I hope when you look back on your childhood you feel that completely.

But just in case you don't...I write. And it's for you, Luke. You, Eli. You, Judah. You, Susanna. When you've outgrown my lap, you can look back here and know that I counted every single one of your childhood days as my treasure.

You First!

In Exodus 33 Moses tells God,"Please don't send me with these people if You're not coming too!"

I'm so there! God, I cannot do this thing. I cannot leave this chair, this quiet moment with You, to lead these children through this day if You're not coming too. I don't want to stay in this place of little sleep and even less time of silence and stillness, moments alone, but never do I see my need for You more than when I'm here. When my life is in the rhythm I like, I rock along and look up sometimes to say, "Oh yeah, I need You." But in times like these, I cling to my chair, my moments with You, willing them to last just a bit longer.

You must come too! Your Presence first! You lead me! I cannot put one foot in front of the other unless you go first!

Caught Between

I feel like I need to start by saying I know I'm blessed. I'm not whining, though it might sound like it to some. I don't want to change a thing. Okay, maybe I would like to change a few things, but I'm ultimately content. But I'm also caught between.

I'm caught between, "The days are flying by!" and "Really? It's only 10 am?"
I'm caught between, "Someone else please start lactating so I can just go away for a day!" and "It's my baby! You can't have her!"
I'm caught between, "I am so privileged to stay home with my children!" and "I'm not mad at you. I'm just so jealous that you get to go to work today."
I'm caught between, "These are the best days of my life!" and "My life is passing me by."

I don't need a pep talk about how I'm doing the most important job in the world. I believe that wholeheartedly. I had a moment not long ago where I clearly heard God tell me that nursing my babies, in every sense of the word, was sacred and holy, and that Word forever did away with the, "Does what I'm doing matter?" questions. I'm just talking about "I want a coffee and a quiet car ride and an unrushed trip to the grocery store and a clean house for at least five minutes."

But the funny thing is, I don't want that. It's like there are two of me. I want my children in the car with me, even if half of them are crying and the other half are making crazy noises because all the crying makes them feel like they're coming out of their skin (I so get that, kids.) I want to know that they're waiting for me to get back, even when that means I've got the cart on two wheels, flying through the grocery store trying to get back before they've made a lunch out of marshmallows and chips. I want the noise and the chaos and the neediness, even when it makes me want to scream, "Everybody just calm the hell down!!!" One of me loves every single thing about my life. The other one of me wants to hide in the closet sometimes. Only, I know they'd just find me and think we were playing a fun game. And then I would sit there and cry and laugh at the same time. Caught between.

Bedtime Blues

I need some Mama (or Daddy) wisdom.  Bedtime has become a nightmare.  Judah gets out of his bed almost before we can even shut his door six, seven, eight or more times at every nap and every night.  We have consistently done the bedtime routine, consistently put him back, consistently spanked, consistently done everything we can think of short of Benadryl, and I am OVER. IT!

So, lay it on me.  What suggestions do you have?

Parenting

I think often that parenting is not for the faint of heart.  It is, by far, the most difficult thing I have ever done.  The perfectionist part of me often gets frustrated with the feeling that if someone could come to my house, watch me parent and then give me constructive criticism I could "get it right" and my kids would have a perfect upbringing.  I know, ridiculous, but we all wish we could guarantee that we're not screwing up too bad and that our children will turn out well in spite of our daily, numerous mistakes.

One of the boys had an attitude recently that, quite frankly, broke my heart.  He acted ugly to another child with almost bully-like behavior, just because the child was younger and smaller than him.  It hurt me to see that was in his heart, mostly because I have vivid childhood memories of being the recipient of that type of behavior and even more vivid memories of the times I tried out that behavior myself.  As a result, I have a deep compassion for the underdog, the outcast, those on the fringe.  When I see someone being treated unkindly just because they're different, smaller, bigger or less somehow, I become furious.  So after I pulled my child aside and attempted to explain to him why his behavior was completely unacceptable and a repeat of it would most certainly result in attention to his backside, I sat and contemplated what I was doing wrong as a mother that my child would behave in such a manner.

When I was rehashing my despair with Kris later that night he said, "You're doing a good job.  You're doing exactly what he needs you to do.  What you're doing is giving him a conscience."  He had just that day heard on the radio where a guy was talking about how one of our jobs as parents is to help our children develop a conscience.

Most of you are probably reading this saying, "Duh", but it was really a revelation to me.  I know that my kids are learning everything brand new.  I guess it just never occurred to me that knowing right from wrong wasn't inherent.  Even Judah knows when he's doing something he's not supposed to.  But really, if I think about it, he only knows when it's something he's tried before and I've put the kibosh on.  Even the Bible says that we were given the law to know when we are doing wrong (Romans 3:20), and right now, for my children I am functioning as both the Word of God and His Holy Spirit.  When they receive Him for themselves, they will still need me to guide them and teach them, but they will have His Holy Spirit inside of them, convicting them of sin.

So I trust.  Seems like I finish a lot of posts with this declaration.  Parenting is not for the faint of heart!

A Cautionary Tale

As I mentioned before, I'm trying desperately to keep these boys entertained and to burn their boundless amounts of energy.  It's a losing fight.  But I'm giving it a valiant attempt.

We went swimming at the YMCA so I could put Judah in the nursery and just have the big boys in the pool with me.  The nursery closes at 12:00, so after swimming for a bit, I left Luke and Eli in the splash pad area and ran in to change and get Judah.  As soon as I walked in, I was assaulted by both the harried look on the nursery attendants faces and the smell of my child's very full diaper.  Needless to say, they were busy and he stank.  I grabbed him, ran back out to the boys, hustled them inside dripping so we could go the family bathroom that is all the way through and across the entire building and change Judah's diaper and their suits.  (I'm not complaining, but does anyone agree that they could make the family bathroom a little more conveniently located to the pool area?  Just sayin'.)   Eli was carrying my wet things wrapped in a towel and Luke had one of the bags. 

We made it to the bathroom where all hell broke lose as I was trying to change everybody and get our stuff together.  I won't go into all the gory details, but I'm pretty sure there was a, "Mama!  Look at my hiney, it's got a fart!" and maybe a "Mama, I'm naked, don't let Luke see me naked!" and definitely a "Ooooh!!!  Poop!!!" all at top decibels.  And I know for a fact that I was standing their thinking, "God, did you really have to make boys so loud?" and probably, "Okay, God, my pride is officially in the toilet.  I'm completely humble.  Please make it stop."  

We wrapped up that mess, and I shoved them all out of the bathroom door, where I stopped dead in my tracks.  For there, on the floor, directly in front of a sweet, elderly gentleman, were my swimsuit bottoms.  Crotch up.  We exchanged polite smiles (actually, he already had quite a wide grin on his face), I scooped up my suit and my youngest child who had planted himself in front of the man for a visit and made as quick an exit as possible. 

I guess the moral of the story is to never let your children be in charge of your underpants. 

Walking in Peace

Peace is not natural, but it is spiritual.

I choose the Spirit and the ways of the Spirit.  I choose peace, not fear.  My children will be led by the Spirit, protected by angels, bound by Covenant to the very heart of God.  I will walk in and pray out of the God given authority over my childrens' lives - not because I will it, but because it is the will of their heavenly Father.  They get to make their own choices, but according to the Word, they will choose Him because even now they are being shown the way of life.

God. I trust your promises and your heart for our children.

One of My Favorite Things

Cooking dinner with some Jack Johnson playing on Pandora while Judah's napping and the big boys are outside riding bikes (Yes, it's 100 degrees here, but they have to burn their energy!).  Love it!

And the Punches Keep on Coming

I'm laying on the couch, sweetly snuggling with Eli while watching a movie, when he says, "Mama! My belly is hard and your belly is squishy!"

If you need me, I'll be at the nearest plastic surgeon's office restoring both my dignity and my post-baby body.

Daily Manna

I am often frustrated by the way my children seem to not hear me when I speak. They keep moving in the direction they've chosen as if I had been completely silent. Am I even here? Do I even exist? If a mom speaks in a forest of children and nobody responds, did she really even speak?

So many times I have to say, "Luke, stop what you're doing and listen to me." Or, I have to get on my knees and put Eli's face in my hands to get his attention. Even then I have to ask him, "Do you understand" and wait for, "Yes, ma'am" or I may as well have never gotten on my knees.

Lord, make me stop what I'm doing and listen. Take my face in your hands and don't let go until I answer you. Don't let me ignore you when you speak to me. You are the ONE in my day that matters most. I give my children and my husband, my family and friends NOTHING that matters more than you. I cannot give them You if I, myself, do not partake.

I'm dry, Lord. Absolutely parched. My soul thirsts for YOU. Why do I refuse to stop and drink? Nothing else will satisfy the unsatisfied places in my soul that I attempt to satiate with food, computer, reading, being busy. Nothing. The house being clean will not make me full. Getting my children in the bed will not give me rest. The restlessness and dissatisfaction I feel will only be remedied in your presence.

I complain about the "same-ness" of my day. Washing the same clothes. Kissing the same b00-boos. Correcting the same behavior. Cooking the same meals. Cleaning the same toilet. (On that note, I have three potty-trained boys in this house. I cut myself some slack about complaining in that area.) Picking up the same toys. Driving the same route to and from Luke's school. The same routine, the same little faces, the same, the same, the same...

The Israelites complained about the same, too. They despised the manna that you provided daily. It wasn't interesting enough, they said. They had just been delivered from slavery, and they complained. They were free but so unsatisfied. Sounds familiar.

"So He humbled you, allowed you to hunger and fed you with manna which you did not know nor did your fathers know, that He might make you know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord. Your garments did not wear out on you, nor did your foot swell these forty years." Deut. 8:3-4

Father, I choose this day to thank you for freedom. Thank you for manna. Thank you for our clothes. Thank you that I have the privilege of being the one who kisses my boys' boo-boos. Thank you that you give me the wisdom on how to correct their behavior. Thank you for food for our meals. Thank you for a working toilet and that I only have one boy in diapers! (And that one day they will be able to clean the toilet themselves!) Thank you for all the fun toys we have. Thank you for the car that takes us to and from Luke's school and that he is so happy to go there. Thank you for the stability in our home that allows the same routine. And, oh God! Thank you for the sweet little faces that are my joy and my treasure.

"When you have eaten and are full, then you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you." Deut. 8:10

Encouragement for Mamas

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

Late Night Musings

Why is it that while I am the one who begs to go to bed by 9:00, my husband, who thinks going to bed before 10:00 is depressing, falls asleep within two seconds before I've even found my comfy spot? So, here I am, thinking about the day when I would really much rather be sleeping it off.

I hate the days that I feel like "Mean Mommy", like I've said "No" to absolutely everything. My favorite days are the days when everybody is being sweet and reasonable, (I mean, as reasonable as a three year old and a one year old can be, of course.) and I get to say "Yes, that's a great idea!" to most every request.

Today was not one of those days.

It was one of those days when I couldn't put my finger on exactly what was wrong with the picture, but I kept thinking, "At what point did my children lose their minds and I lose control of the situation?"

Even now, I'm thinking about several moments during the day when I stood staring at Luke with my mouth hanging open and him staring back at me with this sheepish grin on his little face. There wasn't necessarily anything to discipline, but an overall insanity that needed something that I was completely at a loss to supply. Is this making sense?

By the time Kris got home, I had admitted defeat and given control over to the natives. Thankfully, he had a little more left in him than I did and not all our possessions were completely destroyed. Thank you, God, for a good, helpful husband.

Tomorrow will be a much better day, I feel sure. If not, I'll be FedExing two little boys to Grandma.

Should I Be Concerned?

Eli is 20 months, and he is already telling me "No!" and asking me "Why?" when I tell him to do something. Is that normal? Or was Luke not the norm in that "no" and "why" didn't come until after two, probably closer to three? Just curious...and possibly a little afraid...

I Need To Get Out More

I just realized as I reached into the fridge for the second nap time in a row that juice boxes have become my guilty pleasure. Shouldn't it be a soap opera or chocolate?

Word To This Mama

I went on a walk with a friend this morning. We've been walking for a while together, but we normally walk sans kids. Since the weather has been nice and since Kris has to leave early now, we walked with our double strollers today for the first time. My friend's little girl didn't really want to ride, she wanted to run and walk with us. That went about like you would imagine. I could tell my friend was frustrated because she kept apologizing. All I could think was, "Sister, if you only knew how many walks we have taken with one or both of the boys screaming..."

This led me to think about all the times my outings or playdates have been miserable because of how worried I was about the bad behavior of my children and the onlookers' thoughts about my suitability as a parent. Why, oh why, do I do that to myself? When someone else's child acts like a pill, I can mostly overlook it and think, "Man, I'm glad it's not my turn today." I can give grace because I remember yesterday and know that tomorrow is coming. I have come to the conclusion that people (myself included) who judge moms and their children either A)Don't have children of their own or B)Are not in touch with reality.

My word to myself today is this: Kids behave badly sometimes, so cut yourself some slack!!

Every Good Purpose

I read this scripture today and thought it was encouraging:

"We constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith." 2 Thess. 1:11

So often I give something a try and either A)feel like it was a complete flop or B)get no feedback, good or bad, and worry that it was a waste, that I offended someone and now they're secretly holding a grudge, that I did it wrong and no one wants to bother to tell me, the list goes on. Ridiculous, I know, but who of us doesn't deal with those petty insecurities that so often practically paralyze us?

When I read this scripture, I felt like it was an encouragement that when we act out of a will that is honestly seeking to obey the heart of God, HE will be responsible for the outcome. I've heard people speak on the necessity of being willing to make mistakes for God to be able to completely show Himself through our lives. I love knowing that He will be the one who fulfills "every good purpose (intention)" of mine and He will make my act of obedience worth something.

Link to a Cool Site

A friend sent me a link to a mom website (Thanks, Christen.), and after browsing for a while, I found this blog post.

I thought it was really good and encouraging. I'm always interested in ways to battle the crazies I sometimes feel when things just get to be "too much". And it was also confirmation for something that God had already told me about praise bringing peace. Check it out!

Teaching Peace

When Kris and I decided to have our boys so close together, we could only see how sweet it would be for them to be best friends and play together all day long. I had images of them being like little puppies, wiggling around together, cuddled up in a pile together on the couch. I guess I forgot about the term "dog fight". Oh, they are puppies, all right. And they pile up together. Unfortunately, Luke is always on top. He's beating Eli up on a regular basis now. As long as Luke is just laying on top of him, Eli laughs like it's the best thing ever. Eli seems to love it until Luke gets really worked up and gets too rough. Luke doesn't have an "off" button, unfortunately. He just gets more and more revved up until body slams are inevitable. I don't mind this when it starts out fun. I just have to give a time out. It's when it begins because Luke is irritated about having to share or just about having Eli around.

But in Luke's defense, Eli is the master button-pusher. He knows exactly what things will tick Luke off, and he is very intentional about doing those things. He will sneak up and take Luke's lovie and shake it to make sure Luke knows he has it. He loves stealing Luke's cup and drinking out of it. He has to make sure, though, that Luke sees him drinking out of it or it will just get tossed to the ground. I know that he really just wants action and interaction with Luke, not to make Luke angry. I guess he's just figured out this is one way to get Luke to chase him.

I don't remember us fighting as kids. I think we knew that if we got caught Mama would put us to work, so we kept our fights very quiet. So help me out here. How do I teach Luke (not quite three) and Eli (14 months) to love each other? How do I teach them to prefer each other over themselves. Is it possible to teach peace at their young age?

They do enjoy each other, when they're not tyring to kill each other or, at the very least, annoy the heck out of each other. They play well together for the most part. I just would like to alleviate, if possible, my biggest struggle in my day. Hah, like the "Easy" button on that commercial. Any ideas that work for you?

A Promise

"So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what He has promised." Hebrews 10:35,36

I love the promises that God gives us in His word. I claim them for myself and Kris as we're trying to teach our boys God's ways. I believe that when we "have done the will of God" by following the Spirit's instruction to us, we "will receive what He has promised." I believe that when our boys are grown, they will follow the way of the Lord, loving Him with all of their heart and every ounce of passion in them, choosing Him and His ways FIRST. I believe that no words of life that we have spoken and will speak over their lives will ever be wasted. I believe God's promises to me. I believe.