Will work for food

I recently skimmed and article in the Wall Street Journal about the benefit of chores for children.  I skimmed it because it really seemed like a waste of time to read an article about something that already seemed so obvious.  (Not to mention a waste of grant money to study and write about something that seems so obvious.)

My parents never out right said it, but it was lovingly implied, "You don't work; you don't eat."  So, from one generation to another...

You wear it, you wash and fold it.

You eat off it, you wash it.

Manhood

I wanted to title this Your Penis Is Not Your Manhood, but I was afraid no one would be near to pick my mom and Aunt Gail up off the floor when they read it.  This is a reference I over heard from the mom of one of Joe’s soccer mates this season.  After her son was hit squarely between the legs with the ball and hobbled to the side lines, she questioned him, “Did it hit you in your manhood?”  I giggled at first.

But the more I thought about the comment the more despair I felt.  Here it is, already.  We don’t need our over sexed culture to teach them.  It can come right from your own mother.  Your manhood is found in your penis.  What!!??  Not in honesty, integrity, purity?  Not in graciousness, mercy, genuine care, good humor?  Not in the image of God in you? 

At early ages they wrestle to make sense of it all.  Even the other day Greta asked for reassurance, “Joe has one of those things that moves and I don’t, right?”  Indeed. Excellent observation.  But his “thing that moves” does not make him a man.  Obviously I did not move to that level of explanation with Greta.  But I am wondering now if I need to with Joseph.  

We have always parented sensitive issues on a need to know basis.  Answer questions when they are asked.  No need to start a conversation too early.  But our culture does not seem to be concerned with destroying innocence, with starting the conversation...even without the parents permission.  

Case in point - I grew up watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.  Love it.  But the past few years I feel like I can’t leave the room while my kids are watching it.  Kinky Boots?  We turned it off during that one. Two years in a row Victoria’s Secret has the best seat in the house and that woman’s breasts are in my kids’ faces for two hours.  Honestly, I am thankful this year they lost interest and went out to play with friends.  I don’t think that will be a part of our Thanksgiving next year.

So, Dear Joseph and Henry, your manhood is NOT your penis.  Your manhood is defined by the One whose image you bare.  Always and ultimately.  Be wise and self controlled and humble and love Jesus above all else.  Then others will look at you and see men.  Real men.

Lessons Learning #1

This picture isn't necessarily a frame-er, but it speaks to one of the things I have been trying to learn.  I've started a list of these lessons.  Things that would have been nice to know before we were parents, but that you can really only learn sufficiently once you are parents.  I go back and forth between whether to write them here or in my journal (and then, of course, there is the decision of which journal), but I figure by writing them here I am killing two birds with one stone - recording these lessons for all posterity (and proof that I actually am maturing as a parent) and getting stuff on the blog for the grandparents!

So, why a mouth full of canned whipped cream?  Just because.  A reminder to myself and my children that things aren't always serious and business.  Be efficient!  Get things done!  Think ahead!  Be prepared! (i.e. miss the current moment because you are so busy being ready for the next one)  In the case above, "Hurry and finish that dessert!  We are already late for bed!"

No one expected mom to breeze through the dining room with canned whipped cream and say, "Open up!" Never more sugar!  Never more mess!  Rarely the free offering of something that is usually begged for and denied.  

This makes me sound like an awful parent.  Truth is, without Jesus I am.  Stingy, naggy, overly serious.  I get on my own nerves.  But I started thinking lately, what if I just said yes more often.  No's are such downers - to give and to get.  And how often is what they are asking for really that consequential?  Usually, it's more dessert, more time to play, a movie, listen to music on the ipod.  But it's tricky, because if Olivia had her way, she would likely want to eat dessert and watch movies all day, with breaks to socialize.  She's probably not unlike most kids.  But in a family that thinks a heavy diet of sugar and passive activities is not good for the soul (or the body), that means a regular feeling that her desires are constantly denied.

So, in an attempt to make life less of a drag and to help redirect her (and my) desires to the One who truly satisfies, I am trying to say 'yes' more often.  I understand; saying yes to a mouth full of whipped cream shot out of a can does not directly correlate to an increased love for Jesus.  And yet, he has loved us extravagantly, sweetly, shockingly.  Maybe it does redirect, if even a little bit, to real satisfaction.  So, here it goes!  Open up!

Paying attention

I have really been trying lately to become a student of my daughter.  I have assumed for 7 years that she and I are a lot alike and thus assuming that I understand her.  I don't think I do.  As the oldest you are expected to do a lot without asking questions, to just adjust and roll with it.  She does that well, even when she does not want to.  I have a lot to learn and I am praying for the grace to slow down and pay attention.  She could not have been happier this day...to be left completely alone in her room with sleeping Henry, reading to him.  Note to self: give her more opportunities like this.

Parenting that motivates

"We sometimes rely too much on talking to our children. Covenant identity is something they need to see modeled before them. They need to see that we love our God, that we talk with him, that we walk before him with conscious awareness of his eye upon us that we enjoy worshiping him, that we treasure his name upon us, that we admire his works, that we hope in his promises, that we listen to his Word, that we work for him, that we identify ourselves with his people, their history, and their future, and that we love righteousness and hate sin. One who is unmotivated cannot motivate. If our children do not see us moved by God's creating us and covenanting with us, they will never be enthusiastic about these things. Our being who we are will help them understand and embrace who they are."

This was forwarded to me months ago (from an OPC website I think) from a friend. I find this impossible and empowering all at the same time. Impossible because I see my own lazy, unmotivated heart and fear I will never motivate enough. Empowering because really the most that is required of me is to seek hard after the One who has sought after me and my parenting will follow suit. No magic formulas, disciplining tricks, sure things to change their hearts. THAT is impossible. But Christ. He changes us both.

Covenant love

Margaret Irene was baptized a few weeks ago while Mike's family was in town. Sorry the pictures are dark...it's difficult to get a good shot in a movie theatre from the nosebleeds. (Thanks for trying, Minna.)(I wish I had taken that dumb sling off. Every picture we take these days Greta is either riding in it or nursing under it. These are special days and I wouldn't trade them, but it will be nice not to feel/look like a kangaroo in the future.)
I tried to lighten the picture so you can at least make out what is going on. This is Steven Cooper, the Harbor Downtown site pastor. We might have to have just one more kid so Mike can baptize him/her. (This Saturday, by the way, is Mikes' last step in the ordination process. Please be praying for him as he studies this week for his Presbytery floor exam and shortens a 40 minute sermon to 15 in order to preach it at Presbytery as well.)
Olivia, oddly enough, chose not to come down and join us. She did, however, trapse down the steps as the baptism was over to put her offering in the box...at the front of the theatre.

31 weeks and counting

Just this week I asked a friend to take a couple of pictures of us. I have a couple from my other pregnancies and like being able to compare them. And plus I always wished I could have seen my own mom pregnant, so I thought Olivia and Margaret might like them. I wasn't planning to post them though - it just always feels a little weird posting pictures of myself. But to please Sage and Allyn (and probably my mother), here you go.

We could have a baby in 5 weeks if this one comes like the others. I am certainly showing signs of that. But as much as I don't mind skipping that last month of pregnancy, I would love to skip the nursing problems and jaundice - so we are going to try to keep her in as long as we can. Which means everyone around here is getting bossy about my activity level...and by anybody I mean Mike. Honestly, I'm too tired to fight it much anyway and as a mother who makes decisions constantly it is actually kind of nice to be told what to do on occasion.
Our new life of 5 will be interesting, especially as church planting activities are ramping up. Not sure how or when everything will get done. My desire is to enjoy more than I stress over. Thankfully, Olivia is a good hostess - so she can take over some of those activities.
Not sure what kind of interpretive dance I was doing here...

The pain of loving

Today has been a killer day in the parenting department. Actually, all week has been tough. I think sometimes sin gets hold of our hearts in certain ways that just kind of run us over for a time. Olivia and I both are struggling - her with being argumentative and me with being patient and gracious. I was going to put a note on my refrigerator months ago that just said MORE GRACE - to remind myself to give it, live it for their sake. I certainly don't need a sign that says REMEMBER TO FOLLOW THE RULES or CONSISTENTLY ENFORCE OBEDIENCE. I am naturally a legalist, always have been. Our children will not grow up wondering what is expected from them that is for sure. But my fear is that they might grow up a legalist just like me. So I remind myself over and over - MORE GRACE - so that they know, more important than our expectations is One who has met every expectation for obedience and righteousness. There is One who forgives our offenses and makes us right, right away. He doesn't wait for us to get it right or make it right or redo it (like I do). When we repent he says, absolutely and right away, I FORGIVE YOU. I forgave you. No restitution is exacted. I am a restitution exactor. Yuck. We are growing. We practice confession and forgiveness a lot so that we will be reminded that restitution is not exacted from us for every sin, just repentance. Consequences often remain, but the punishment has been fulfilled. Thank you Jesus.

That is not at all where I was headed with this post, as you can see by the pictures. But as I sit here to reflect on the day I am burdened by Olivia losing dessert for certain behaviors and then we end up eating at the fun 1950's diner for dinner. How do you eat at a diner and not have a milkshake?! We did it. Every durn one of us. We all paid the price for her behavior because there was no way we were going to add cruelty to her punishment and eat it in front of her. We are a family, a Body. Our sin and our sanctification effect one another. We all suffered for one, twice. Because then Joseph tripped and fell on our walk back to the car and popped his balloon bunny that the funny man in the restaurant made him. I think we all nearly cried. It is so hard to love other people so much. My life would be so poor if I didn't love them so much.

The pictures. Baseball. I'm not sure who loves it the most in our family. Parenting is intense - you need something to love together as family.

Just give up!

That's not exactly what I mean, but sort of. Not long after Olivia was born and I was constantly obsessing about when she ought to be doing this or that...or trying to get her to do that when she is doing this, I had the "no duh" moment to to just quit. Not quit being a parent or quit caring or quit trying to figure things out. But, just quit and start over. There is no shame is starting over - especially if what you are doing ISN'T WORKING!

I'm not sure what of this is personality for me or what is the message out there that you can figure everything out or be perfect or whatever. I don't like giving up, especially if I think what I am doing is right. But is the battle worth it? If she doesn't want to go to sleep, is it worth it to spend 2 hours forcing her to? "Trust me, you need to go to sleep." Maybe she does, but if she can't or won't... "But the book says you are supposed to sleep now." Did God write that book?

I had afternoons when I worked myself into an absolute tizzy trying to make something happen. And I had afternoons that I actually enjoyed because I just said, "What the heck. Why make us both miserable. Just try something else."

This dynamic still takes place in our home. Just this morning, it was too early for lunch but they were begging to eat. I kept sending them away to play together (because I had things to do), but they kept coming back fussing (despite the sign). I could feel myself getting angrier. At one point I sent them both to their room for something and as I am standing in the kitchen with my blood pressure raising because they are both back there crying I said to myself, "Self, who cares!? Feed the durn kids their lunch! Change the plan. It will not kill you to change the plan. And it doesn't matter, really, if you don't get your stuff done."

This does not mean my life revolves around the felt needs of my children. It means I am becoming smart enough to realize that my way is not alway necessary or even best. That it is no big deal, most of the time, to just give up and start over.

This applies, in my life, to so much more than parenting. Sunday morning Mike and I got in a fight because I unloaded on him about something. So we go into this back and forth thing that was getting no where because really I was just wanting to fight and he was just trying to figure out what the heck had just happened. Now, about three years ago that fight would have lasted all day - me trying to prove my point and him doing the same because I would have pushed him to it. But, in God's mercy, it ended quickly because I realized I just needed to give up. It wasn't worth the battle. If I had a point I thought was worth proving, start over. It will save us all a lot of headache.

Tie breaker

Girls 3 - Boys 2

Potty training vistas

Just wanting you all to really feel like you are experiencing life with us. I hung my last load of cloth diapers on the line yesterday. The covers are clean and stored until baby #3. He is dry through naps,but we are still diapering at night. Yesterday he yelled from the bathroom, "Mommy, I pooped!" I was so proud. Then he yelled, "Come see what I did with it!"

Twinkle Toes

Olivia had her first ballet "lesson" this week. I use lesson in the very loosest sense of the word - not because her teacher is not a real ballerina (of sorts), but because our vision for this is far from child prodigy. Any of you who know Olivia know that ballet will likely not be her forte (but you never know, right?), but we had such a fun opportunity we thought we would take advantage of it. You have seen Ms. Minna here on the blog before. She grew up dancing and has a general love of the arts and ballet and theatre. She is kind of shy and quiet so you would never know that she has this beautiful, strong singing voice and other performing talents. As Olivia has been expressing more interest in ballet, I thought I would just see if Ms. Minna wanted to take on a student. (Isn't Ms. Minna the perfect name for a ballet teacher when you are four?) So, I found a pair of used slippers for a buck, Kate Veerman sent us her ballet wear (thank you!), and Olivia threw on her leg warmers from last year for good measure!

She looked so cute. I told Minna we care more about her spending time with another adult female (receiving instruction in something), listening to beautiful music, feeling beautiful, getting a little exercise...all of those things...more than actually being transformed into a ballerina. It was such an emotional moment for me - kind of like when I dropped her off at VBS this summer. Her pudgy belly squeezed in that little skirt and her little piggies on the sides of her head. There are some parenting moments that only hit you a certain way once. I pray I am always paying attention.

To celebrate or not to celebrate

That is my question. Halloween. I have been down every logical and illogical road in this argument and I am honestly still without much of a good reason to partake...or not partake. And I am interested to know your thoughts.

Those of you who know Mike and me, know that hiding from culture is not an issue here. So, please don't say, "We must be salt and light! We can't live in a Christian ghetto and expect to share the love of Christ!" We understand our call to engage the world as winsomely and relevantly as possible. I knew a girl once that had a ministry to strippers - she went in the clubs and had an extremely valuable and effective ministry with those women. Not many of us are "called into the clubs." Is Halloween one of those "clubs"?

Honestly, as I have read about the origins of the holiday - they are far less offensive than what it has become...at least here in America. I mean we "honor the dead", right? We reread old letters and journals, we pass down wisdom and traditions, we tell stories and name children after our loved departed. Granted that isn't quite what the Celts had in mind. Their understanding of the after life is a bit different than ours, if you are a Christian. But the celebrations today have little to do with the origins of the holiday itself, so that doesn't seem like a good argument either - the "I don't celebrate it because it has evil origins" argument.

And the idea of going to church and doing all the same things that all the pagan kids in the neighborhood are doing, but calling it a Reformation Day celebration just doesn't sit well either. (Please don't be offended if you do that - I have done that for years, as a kid and adult. I don't think God frowns on it. I don't think. I am just trying to figure out what I think of it now.)

My real problem is with the wickedness that Halloween has become. I mean, it is like the love scenes in the old movies...they just aren't nearly as offensive (and some of them not offensive at all, but very sweet) as the sex scenes of today. It seems like maybe the old days of Halloween were far less evil than they are today. I don't know. But I do know that I don't even want to take my kids into the CVS. I can't stand all the dark, evil costumes. I am nervous about what costumes we will open our door to in a couple of weeks. Who is going to be standing there that I am going to have to explain to my children... "Mommy, who does he have blood all over his teeth and face?" " Oh, Olivia that is just a vampire. He sucks blood out of people's necks and kills them. But don't worry, it isn't real."

There are a lot of fun things going on in our neighborhood on Halloween and we are beginning to be recognized here. We want to be out and about. What would you do?

p.s. the picture has nothing to do with the post - I just thought it was funny. She woke up from a nap in the car looking like that.

A fear (involuntarily) conquered

I have always been afraid of one of our kids getting a head wound. I figured it would be Joseph. That kid hits his head like...well, I can't think of anything. But, a lot...and hard. This morning we were five minutes from getting out the door to go to the beach when I heard her scream. They had been running around messing with each other and apparently Olivia tripped going out of her bedroom and hit her head on the corner of a small toy box. Thankfully it did not end up being too bad at all, but when I got to her the blood was squirting out pretty good. She was so brave at the doctor. She did everything they told her to and was so still. I wished I had had a mirror so she could watch. Can you believe the location of the cut? I mean, just a little bit either way and it could have been bad news. It was weird because she seemed to have hit on an angle - it wasn't very deep, but it was wide.

Since it wasn't too deep, they glued it shut. That's right. I could have just stayed home, kept my $40 co-pay and used Elmer's. We can't get it wet for a few days, so no beach until after the weekend. She was sad.

He was a good support. Wanted to lay on the table with her. I won't mention everything else he wanted to do while we were there - this kid has selective hearing. Sometimes I feel like I am just talking to myself because he sure ain't listening. You can pray for us both.

Just a little swelling. She said tonight at bed time that it hurt a little but not much.

Still a little afraid of head wounds as I feel like we got out easy on this one.

I am learning

Yesterday Joseph fell asleep on the way to pick Olivia up and then never took his nap. And Olivia was beside herself hungry by the time we got home. Today I took their lunch and we ate it outside the church. Duh, should have thought of that yesterday. The excitement of holding his lunch box kept Joseph awake and Olivia survived the ride home.

Legalities

"I can marry Joseph!"

"You can't marry Joseph. It's illegal."

That's the parenting moment I overheard from the bathroom yesterday while getting ready for church.

Warning

"Do not leave children unattended with sparklers."

Why we love 'em

No matter what that NY Times writer says - we love our paternal involvement.

Please don't report us

I just saw that Mike put in a new header for our blog. We don't keep our children in kennels - please don't report us to the authorities. They just gather in there occassionally.

Just when you think...

...your doing all right in the parenting department your kid goes forward for the children's story time in church and sits as if she has never been taught how to sit like a lady in in a dress...(wait a minute, maybe we never have had that formal conversation). Congregation, Hello Kitty. Hello Kitty, Congregation.

Then she picks her nose like she is digging for diamonds. But wait...cute, she's volunteering to be David and go get the sheep, no...wait...she's just standing to pick a wedgy. Hello Kitty again. Great, now her dress is caught in her underwear.

Note to self: Reinforce usage of the Kleenex. Teach the art of picking a wedgy in public, discreetly. Practice sitting like a lady in a dress.