Standing Up To Pee (and other things I'm not ready for)

Andrew is officially a big guy now. Ever since his 4 year old cousin, Cam, spent the weekend with us, he has been refusing to sit down to potty. Cam must've opened Andrew's eyes to the bright side (and by bright side, I refer to the splotches of yellow that reside on my toilet seat when he's done. Gross but true.) He has been very proudly lifting the toilet seat and standing to do his business. At first it was cute and funny to watch his pelvic thrusts. Now that I realize it's permanent, it saddens me. I mean, he's one step closer to the prom... Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration of sorts, but that's how I feel.

As a mom, you're prepared for the emotional things like the first haircut or day of school, but nobody warned me about my son standing to pee. What happened to my little guy who could barely climb onto the adult toilet, let alone stand to do so? He doesn't need or want help with so many day-to-day tasks, which is generally very helpful, but now I'm feeling a bit nostalgic for those times. I'm insane, I know.

Yes, I still have a little one that I do everything for, but this reminds me that there will come a day when he too will yell "Privacy Please!" as he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. I don't want the reminder. I want them to grow up eventually, but not so blatantly. Like, why can't there just be subtle inches of growth, like the cucumbers in my garden? It seems my oldest son just bloomed all at once. And yes, all of this from something as natural as using the bathroom.

I'm not ready.

Today, I looked at my younger child as he closed the bathroom door in my face and pretended to use the potty. "Et tu Brutus?" was all I could muster before we burst out into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. But in a few years ridiculous will be my reality and laughter will be the furthest thing from my mind.

I'm not ready.

I like tying his shoes, picking out his clothes, brushing his hair and teeth, tickling him until he turns red with laughter. I love having toddlers. With as much frustration and work they bring into my life, they also make me smile like I never have before.

With each mini-milestone they pass, I say a prayer of thanks for making it through the rough times and also a prayer for peace as we approach the new ones.

I'm not ready for math homework that I won't be able to help with, sleepovers at friend's homes, sporting events, PTA, parent-teacher conferences, closed bedroom doors as they exert their independence, extra cell phones/bills, girlfriends--- okay I REALLY just scared myself with that last one, so I'm stopping the list now.

Tomorrow, I will be back to being an overworked mom in search of a (tall) glass of wine and quiet time. But today, I'm wiping pizza sauce off of the face of my oldest little man (as he says "You don't wipe my face! I can do it.") and enjoying the few moments of pure innocence and bliss we have left together.

Doritos for Dessert

Mealtimes have become increasingly more difficult around my house. Andrew, my 3 year old, is on a food strike from not only the usual toddler dislikes like veggies, but also meat, potatoes and rice. What does that leave you may wonder. I'm wondering the same thing. All he wants to eat are chips, cookies, juice and the occasional apple or handful of blueberries. Aaron, my still malleable 17 month old, has begun to discover the sweet goodness of cookies and become disillusioned with ALL veggies, preferring instead to throw them onto the already stained carpet.

Needless to say, there is usually some type of bribe involved in mealtimes. Shame on me, I know. All the books say you should NEVER do that because that teaches the child to value snacks over the actual substance of a meal. However, I learned a while ago never to say never in parenting. Before I became a mom, I would have never wiped snot with my hands or used my own shirt as a tissue or examine poop/vomit for a lost button or coin. Never. Say. Never.

So back to the heart of the post, my kids are currently eating Doritos. This is after 30 painful minutes spent sitting at the dinner table trying to reach a compromise about the dinner placed in front of them. It's highly frustrating to spend hours cooking only to have 2/3 of my household push it away or yell "I said I don't like it!" Tonight, they managed to eat 2 tablespoons of rice, 2 tablespoons of mixed veggies, a square of cornbread and 1 chicken leg between the both of them. Andrew was promised chips by his aunt earlier in the day, who happened to show up right on cue. The chips sat in front of him on the table, the proverbial carrot hanging from the string.

And it worked. Thank God! Yes, I thank God for small victories such as these. Even if he has cheese flavored tortilla chips in his belly, he also has some protein and vegetables in there to keep them company. And I can sleep soundly tonight on that fact.

Dandelions

Ever since planting a few cucumber, basil, sunflower, and dill seeds in my new "garden" I've become more interested in plant life in general. While my husband drives on the highway, I usually point out the things we're passsing by to my boys. My 3 year old pointed to the "yellow fow-ers" mixed in with the weeds and asked what they were. I differed to my husband, as I definitely do not proclaim to have anywhere near a green thumb. He told us they were dandelions. I asked how they managed to grow intermingled with the weeds and in otherwise desolate areas. He said they were weeds. Weeds?!


Okay, so most people probably already knew that a dandelion was a weed, but I (the person who can't sustain an indoor potted plant) was shocked. How could something so beautiful be considered as undesirable as weed? Then I got to thinking, that's a metaphor for us humans. All of us have been thought of as less than or not good enough by someone at some point in time. None of us are perfect, but most of us do a good job at keeping up appearances otherwise. Our families are perfectly coiffed at church on Sunday, we go to work smelling like designer perfumes and soaps and we cook delicious (or at the very least edible) meals. But, what lurks under that?


Underneath all of our "doings" that we're consumed with daily, we're just a bunch of weeds. A mass of mistakes and missteps and hiccups. God is the only one that can see all of the imperfections, mean-spirited thoughts and fears that we struggle to hide. He hears our pleas for forgiveness, strength and wisdom and He's not afraid to wade through our tangled weeds to get to us. He is awesome. I can't even begin to understand why He loves us in spite of our mess. 


Wikipedia calls dandelions "beneficial weeds". That's probably how God sees us too. We're beneficial to His kingdom in a multitude of ways regardless of our pasts. He's given some of us the gift of song, others dance, others writing or acting or drawing. The ways in which He has blessed us are limitless, but the point is that we are beautiful and special to Him, despite our unkempt roots (inside and out on top of our heads). Just like a gifted dandelion can bring a smile to this mom's face from her dirty toddler (filthy is more like it), our outward expressions of our talents can bring others joy too. 


On the outside we blossom as beautiful flowers, despite all odds. Dandelions are God's grace manifested. On this Sunday, I thank God for all of his grace and mercy and of course for dandelions, who afterall are just like me.

I Got A Feeling

For Lent, my family gave up secular music. It was really difficult for my husband, who has never been a fan of Christian music, contemporary or otherwise. For me, it was easier because I've always liked several different genres of music. The hardest part was my son requesting some of his favorites like "Moves Like Jagger" by Maroon 5 or Adele's "Someone Like You". He protested the music fast so passionately, I thought I would cave in just to have him stop whining for his favorites. It actually hurt my heart to hear him say "no, not that one" or "I don't like it" about the contemporary Christian songs I was starting to like. I felt like I'd done him a disjustice by not exposing him to enough Godly music (besides the songs we sang at home). Because of his extreme low tolerance for our new music of choice, I was actually even more determined to make it through the 40 days, hoping to change his mind and heart.


Through the fast, I grew to love new artists I'd never heard of, like Brandon Heath (my favorite is "Your Love") and rekindled my love for those I already knew, like rockstar TobyMac. Even with my newfound appreciation for positive, uplifting music, it was difficult to get my favorite secular tunes out of my head and even those that weren't my favorite, but I found myself singing anyway. It was around week 4 when I would hear myself humming a song from 104.7 The Fish (the station which suggested the music challenge) and actually turn it on to listen for specific songs I'd begun to really enjoy. My 3 year old was still not a happy camper about the challenge, but he was more receptive to the songs.


By the end of the music challenge, I no longer had a craving for the newest Beyonce song, although I did hum it when I heard it. When my husband came home from work, the usual profane and sex laden lyrics he use to spew were replaced by Kirk Franklin and holy hip hop artist Canton Jones. He even went so far as to change his ringtone and download Christian songs onto both of our phones for anytime listening! I am truly amazed and awed by this small, yet massive transformation in him. I feel the positive music has seeped into our thirsty souls and stirred up something in us. Now, weeks past the end of Lent, we're still listening primarily to Christian music and loving it.


And my opinionated little one? He recognizes the music change and even knows which songs are "mommy's song". He is much more open-minded towards the music and has even been spotted bobbing his head and humming along to the spiritual music.


Surrounding ourselves with lyrics that uplifted God, reminded us of his grace, love and hope, and encouraged us to press on has really made a difference in our home. It feels so good to have positive words floating through my head, rather than those of heartbroken or angry lovers. Of course, I'm still a fan of lots of neo soul musicians, like Maxwell (my wedding song is courtesy of him) and some pop artists too (hence the Black Eyed Peas post title), but my enjoyment of Christian music has been increased tremendously. Variety is the spice of life, right? Secular music isn't extinct for our family, but if we can serve God in as small a way as listening to different music and delight in it, we are willing to try.

Peace and Gratitude

In my quest to read through and understand the New Testament, I've finished the book of Colossians. Though not a long book at all (4 chapters), it took me quite some time to work my way through it. Compared to a novel of over 400 pages that I started and completed this past weekend, this chapter took forever! With much reading and study guide reading and highlighting and rereading, I can honestly say that while it's not my favorite chapter (that would be Romans, James or one of the "love letters") it definitely had some bright spots.

Verse 3:15 emerged as my favorite in the whole book. "Let the peace of God rule your hearts, since as members of a body, you were called to peace. And be thankful." Of course, there is lots of historical context as to why Paul would be telling the Colossian people this, but it spoke directly to me. And that's what's so awesome about the Bible! I have been struggling with feeling peaceful, with 2 toddlers and a husband that works 60-70 hours a week. This verse made it clear that regardless of my current station in life, God's peace should reign over me. It should rule me, not vice versa. There should be no struggle. Just think of how different life would be if we were the calm beings God intended us to be. I shudder as I imagine how different I am from that design He had for me.

Every morning when I wake up to an empty side of the bed, the cries of my young toddler and the demands of my older one, I should be thankul. Thankful that my husband desires to provide for his family and gets up to do so even before the sun does. Thankful that my children are alive, healthy and in need and want of me. Peaceful because God is in control, now and always. My noisy home may not always be the picture of serenity (ok, honestly it NEVER is) but my heart can be. It's a daily journey, but it's a decision I commit to making. This memory verse is starting out as my mantra for the week, but I hope it can become the story of my life.

Colossians behind me (good riddens and I hope to only ever see you again in church with an educated leader telling me what it all means), 1 Thessalonians here I come!

Is It Possible?

So, I leave for a few days and my kids are these little people I’ve never met before! Is this possible? Yes, of course it is! My 17-month-old is now saying 2 new words- cat and car. And by saying I mean screaming them about and at everything. It’s quite cute and only slightly annoying. I’m sure by next week it will be overly annoying because of the amount of times I will have said “No, it’s not a cat, it’s your shoe” or something to that effect. He knows lots of words but is only choosing to say a select few and use them for several items. Again, cute, even if only temporarily.

My newly 3-year-old was overheard telling his younger brother that he was “E-dic-ur-lus” in complete exasperation over him climbing on the table. Ridiculous is a word I use to describe him very often, so he knows exactly how to use it, but never has before. My hysterical laughter only prompted him to continue using the word throughout the day, much to my amusement. His enthusiasm towards making me laugh was proof of him missing me.

Their faces even look older! Like they learned so much about life by being away from me. A crazy thought, but perhaps it holds some truth. They learned what it was like to have daddy be in charge. If walls could talk, I would pay good money to hear what the ones in my house would say about their weekend. Though I was pleasantly surprised by the clean children that greeted me at the airport and the even cleaner house when I got home, I’m sure there were some moments that mommy wouldn’t condone. I actually found a plate underneath the sofa cushions last night!

Overall, I’m glad I took my mommy vacation. I enjoyed adult conversation, bought a few new goodies for myself and didn’t have to play referee in any toddler fights. I would definitely do it again, but next time I think I would actually like to have my 3 guys with me J





My camera-shy baby, Aaron

Always the comedian for mommy, Andrew

A Few Things About Vacations...Flying

April 17, 2012

As a mom, I was always told that we need breaks away from our children from time to time. What I wasn’t told was how much I’d miss them. When I saw those little faces greet me from the back seat of the car at the airport, I was so fulfilled. All of the drinks and sleep and unedited adult conversation I’d had couldn’t even compare to the feelings my little guys gave me. Pathetic, right? I’d been itching to get away from them, but seeing them was actually the bright spot of my trip.

Anyway, I learned lots of things on this trip; some good, some bad and all unforgettable. First things, I am not a calm passenger on a plane. I mean, I’m not afraid to fly, like some I know, but as soon as the plane takes off, so do my senses. Immediately, I felt like I needed a ginger ale, Prozac, and my pillow all very different items, but for the same reasons—comfort. My stomach was doing cartwheels (and not in a good way) and my head was suddenly pounding. I felt nauseous and scared, the same feeling I get when I’m forced to ride roller coasters. I fiddled with the window shade, pulling it down as if the sun was causing my distress. However, upon doing so, the darkness lead to a whole other set of emotions, compelling me to push it back up again. The passenger beside me stared politely (whatever that means) causing me to try to get myself together. I took deep breaths, prayed, and tried not to look at the omnipresent fluffy white clouds we were sailing by.

Then it dawned on me that the notion of thousands of pounds of machinery, luggage and people “flying” so near to the imagined location of Heaven, without dropping quickly and painfully to the now distant water and green Earth below was quite ridiculous to me—surreal. I’ve flown several times, but had never felt this way. Closing my eyes made the nausea worse, so I stared wide eyed at the seat in front of me and prayed and judging by my seatmate’s reaction, some segments were probably aloud. I tried not to picture the jovial pilot (he’d made many jokes before takeoff) as a multi-tasking alcoholic or absent minded, avid social networker who had his phone right beside him, but nothing helped. Every routine bump of turbulence, had me scanning the aisle for the emergency exit and wishing I’d been listening to the flight attendant’s safety instructions and also convinced me that the pilot was losing control of the plane and that I was going to a watery grave (dramatic but true). I was relieved when the –DING- signaled that I could pick up my Kindle and bury myself into "Baby Brother's Blues" by Pearl Cleage (a very good urban/educated read by the way).

I dreaded the flight back without some kind of sedative. But, God always knows what we need, even if we don’t ask. When I arrived to my gate, I was surprised by a complimentary upgrade to “business class”, which seated me in the second row of the airplane. The seats were bigger and cozier. I started to feel relaxed and even a little giddy about my blessing. As I was settling in, the flight attendant asked me if I wanted something to drink. So, let’s just say, I found my sedative. And though I wasn’t sure if I should thank God for the complimentary alcohol, I did because He is the provider of all things. I had a wonderful flight back home, with Milano cookies, kettle chips and chilled Chardonnay. There was still some uneasiness at takeoff, but by landing, I was engrossed in “Gathering Waters” by Bernice McFadden (awesome, slightly historical novel that I can’t wait to finish) and eager to see my family, with no thoughts of the pilot or crashing to my death.