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

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!

I Wouldn't Have Believed It If I Hadn't Seen It

I've read several times in parenting magazines that you can get your kids to eat vegetables by calling them fun names. I didn't totally reject the idea, I just didn't think it would work for Luke. Well...

As you can see, broccoli is still not a favorite. However, at least he didn't push it off onto Eli's tray without even trying it like last time. When Luke did that, Eli simply picked it up with two fingers, wrinkled his nose and very ceremoniously dropped them over the side of his highchair. So, we've made progress. I can't blame them, though. I don't like broccoli either. I did eat a couple pieces so I wouldn't be a complete hypocrite.

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

Memories of Love

Last Friday night when Luke was sick we got him settled in bed and went to bed ourselves a few hours later. As soon as we got the light off he called us because he had thrown up again. Since he's such a big boy now, he had thrown up into his pan and really just needed a little comforting and a clean pan. We got him settled again, got back in our bed and he called out again. I went to check and he hadn't thrown up, he just felt so bad. Rather than going back to my own bed I crawled in the bed with him to just be there and pat him when he needed it.

I've always had the most random little memories that float up when I can't seem to remember the big things that everyone else does. And that night in Luke's bed I had the most vivid memory of laying with my very own pan on Daddy's side of the bed that he had vacated so I could be the patient and my own mama the comforter. I remember it being a long night that lasted far past the point where my stomach had nothing left to lose and to the point where the only thing that I needed was Mama just to be there and pat me when I needed it.

That's not the first time I've remembered that night, but it is the first time I've remembered that night with such gratitude. Gratitude for my Daddy being willing to give up his side of the bed when he had to get up and go to work the next day, and gratitude for my Mama being willing to tend to me all night, never saying or doing anything to make me realize that next day was going to be even more tiring and difficult for her than that night. I got to stay in bed. She still had to get up and "do the day" with the other four kids.

There are so many things we can never appreciate about our parents until we are one. I could never appreciate all the times Mama worried if my temperature had risen or the rash on my leg had spread or if the finger I had smashed would be disfigured or the patch of hair on my head that had gotten ripped out would grow back before I was permanently emotionally scarred. And I could never appreciate all the financial stresses, farm business, safety issues, stressed out Mama moments that Daddy dealt with. I could never appreciate the times they comforted me concerning all the things I had no business worrying about in the first place. I could never appreciate the thousands of words and thoughts they had spent on me. How to teach this and deal with that and discipline for this and love through that.

As a parent, I appreciate all the things they DID do and I can't even remember the things they didn't do. I am so grateful for every moment they were patient with me instead of the few times they lost their cool. I am so grateful for games we played, the trips we went on, the movies we watched, the meals we shared, the friends of ours they welcomed, the times we all piled in the bed together, the memories we made. I am so grateful for the price they paid to help me be who I am. And I am so grateful for the price they are paying even now to continue being my Mama and Daddy, loving and supporting and encouraging me as I'm walking through the same journey they walked as they raised me and my siblings.

And I'm grateful they have never been perfect. It gives me hope. Hope that one day, in spite of all the mistakes Kris and I are making on a daily basis, our own children will have the very same revelation. Parents love with their whole being. It takes everything out of them. It's never fully appreciated, never fully understood, never fully accepted. But it is never wasted.