Broken Record

Between telling my 3 year old not to climb on the sofa, yank on the blinds, jump on his brother, kick the ball in the house, use his outside voice while inside, throw food on the floor, take toys from his brother, push his brother, open the refrigerator and eat things without permission, bang on mommy's computer, call 9-1-1 from mommy's phone, unlock and open the front door, ride his bike over the toes of people around him, pour his beverage on the floor, climb on the table, play with soap and water in the bathroom sink, tear up his flashcards into itty bitty pieces and scatter them across the house, use his books to slide himself across the carpet, jump on his bed.... wait what was I saying?

Oh yea, I was saying I feel like a broken record (and a nag). Between the aforementioned list of don'ts for my older child and protecting my younger child from the inevitable disobedience of his brother, I feel like I'm always "on". There's truly never a dull moment in my house. Sometimes, this is a good thing and I laugh very often while I'm with my kids, but sometimes I wonder "what's the point?" Should I just let them run free since it seems my words have little impact on their actions anyway?

We all know how annoying it sounds when a cd skips. I can only imagine that I sound exponentially worse than that to my kids, with all of my constant safety and morality reminders. 

What's a mom to do?!

My husband says I've become a hippie mom, or at least what he would imagine one would be like. As opposed to the stickler for rules I once use to be, he says I seem to ignore the children's antics and spills, as if they're not even happening. I laughed. Then I realized how true his statement was.

It's just so much easier to let the laissez-fare parenting style takeover. The same one I vowed I'd never be, back when I was a judgemental non-parent. The more organized, rule oriented one (and of course I can't remember the name of that one right now because my kid is climbing on my chair and trying to ride me or the chair like a "horsey") was definitely my choice, as if you really have one when the time actually comes.

Sometimes we can predict and plan for the ways in which we'll grow or change, but this I never imagined!

The little angels are currently pulling the sofa pillows onto the floor and jumping on them. If my husband was here, he'd be having a fit, something he never use to do before. He's not here, so I'm breathing for a change, watching them through the sides of my eyes (careful not to let them see me watching them break the rules), enjoying their adorable giggles, and waiting for someone to get accidentally kicked in the head so I can give the 2 minute clean-up warning and begin playing my scratchy record all over again.

Clouds

I haven't written because my mind has been so clouded lately, but why? When I stop to think of all the other things that are sure to be going on in other people's lives (my cousin is moving from Chicago to Athens, Ga for school, my bff is graduating from law school in 2 weeks, my cousin is having a sweet 16 party...) I wonder what makes my vision so cloudy. I'm just a stay at home mom. Sure, I'm preparing to start my MSW program in August, but that's only online. Sure I'm fervently praying for my sister to... come out of the darkness (putting it lightly). Sure I'm working on my resume, potty training, synchronizing doctor's appointments, clipping coupons, reorganizing my home for my step-child's potential summer visit, but that just doesn't seem important enough.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. The day when we are to celebrate the person who gave us life or brought life to a person we love. I spent most of the day with my 2 blessings, enjoying them, enjoying me. What could be more important than that? Being a mom is the most important job I'll ever have and frankly, I'm nervous that I'll screw it up. Yes, 3 years in and I'm still nervous. Of course I recognize my proficiency in diaper changing and balanced meal-making, but the bigger stuff (like morality, kindness and love for Jesus) scare me!

My mind is constantly working. Planning meals, playdates, art activities... maybe so I don't have time to wonder if I am in fact making a mess of my kids. My mind is cloudy because I am a mother. A praying, worrying, disciplining, praying, playing, dancing, cooking, laughing, singing, praying mother. So, it seems my mind is cloudy for good reason. And maybe that good reason is because I'm a good (enough) mother. Maybe.

My Fruit

During my devotional time for the past week, I've been reading Matthew (don't ask about what happened with Thessalonians, that is a whole other blog post) and really enjoying it. Of course I've read Matthew before, as it is a very popular book of the Bible. It's straightforward, easy to read and even funny at times (or is that just me?). It's full of literary metaphors and similes, which I love, but also has some regular dialogue too. Every time I reread it (or any other Bible verse/chapter) I get something different out of it.

"Therefore, by their fruits, you shall know them." -Matthew 7:20; New King James Version.

"Just as you can identify a tree by its fruit, you can identify a person by their actions."Matt 7:20; New Living Translation.

This verse really spoke to me today. Like most things recently (as in the past 3 years that I've been a mom), it made me think of my kids. Afterall, they are my literal fruit.

When we're out at the mall and my oldest says "bless you" when someone sneezes, that's a reflection of what I've taught him. Unfortunately, it's also a reflection of me when he says "shake that booty" and dances around the room. (Hey, don't judge me, it's super cute to hear/see him do it!)

Our fruit is whatever we put out; our actions, words, deeds. And our little carbon copies pick up on all of it. They learn to lie from us (telling someone on the phone that you're making dinner, but you're really watching TV), they learn acceptable behavior from us (not wanting to be in time-out all the time can do that) and everything in between. The biggest things they get from us are the things we don't want them to pick up on. The inadvertent (and of course very rare) curse that escapes our lips when we stub our toe on the coffee table for the third time, the anger that erupts when we find a new Popsicle stain on the carpet, the eye rolling and sarcasm that emerge during a conversation with the spouse... yes, parent are to blame for it all!

But, on a positive note, they can also glean some good stuff too. Like, seeing what love is from the kiss and hug your spouse receives as he leaves or enters the house, learning what it means to be kind by saying nice things to neighbors or friends or making special gifts for other's birthdays.

Actual fruits start as seeds, grow from tree limbs, are plucked and eaten, then used by the body for energy. The same could loosely be said for our own fruit.

When we first begin trying to bear good fruit rather than bad fruit (doing/saying positive things rather than negative things), it's just a seed; just a small thought or action that nobody notices but you. Once it finally blossoms into full-grown acts of kindness and words of encouragement to others, it's ready for picking. Helping the elderly neighbor with her groceries or volunteering to babysit for a tired, stressed friend are how our fruits can manifest. When we choose to bear good fruit, we have an opportunity to lift someones spirits, give them a little boost of energy that they may have been in need of to get them through.

So, while Jesus was probably referring to the bigger picture of a lifetime of good fruits, I think the smaller picture of conscious good fruits on a daily basis can help us reach that goal. And knowing we have little eyes watching us (or at least I do), waiting to reenact our every private moment... well that's even more motivation to be a tree that bears good fruit, so that they too can bear good fruit in their own time.

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.