Feel Good Friday: Choose the light

More times than I can count over the course of the last 14 years--my parenting years--I have heard words coming out of my mouth, directed at one kid or another, meant to correct inappropriate behavior and develop deeper character. And, sometimes, I'm quite shocked that the words I'm saying might be better directed inward than outward. Being a parent makes me acutely aware of my own character flaws and shortcomings. I see my hypocrisies and failings as if under a magnifying glass. And, so often, when I am correcting one of the kids, my words ricochet and strike me right in the heart, and I realize something in me needs to change, particularly if I want to see that change in one of them.

This happened today. I was reminding one of my dear offspring that every moment we have a choice about the kind of person we are going to be. Are we going to be rude or kind? Happy or sad? Engaged or disengaged? Respectful or disrespectful? Positive or negative? Helpers or hurters? Workers or slackers? We can't control everything that happens in life, but we can control how we respond. We always have a choice. 

The truth is, I have been pretty depressed since our RTW trip ended. I have been resentful of my stationary situation and have flatly refused (both subconsciously and consciously) to be happy in this place. Of course I've had moments of happiness and things certainly haven't been all bad. But, in my heart, I know I haven't really been trying that hard to make the choice to be happy. 

And, today, as I spoke to my child about choices, some lightbulb suddenly reignited inside my brain, and I realized that I can change my choice. That, in fact, I must change my choice, because I do not want to go through my days unhappy. I can and will choose to change my inner dialogue. I can and will choose happiness, regardless of my situation.

"We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on." --J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

As for me, in this rare and beautiful moment of clarity, I will choose the light.

(For more of my ramblings on choosing happiness, check out this post.)

In a tight spot

I don't even know how, but this happened today. In the library. The boys had finished their school work, and we sent them off to peruse the books. I scooted around to the same side of the table as Jeff, so we could chat in our library voices. After a little while, I heard a very minor scuffling sound behind me and turned around to remind whichever boy where we were and what he needed to be doing. From where I was, I couldn't quite tell what was going on, but I knew most definitely that Max wasn't reading like he was supposed to be, so I told him to find a book and sit down. He loud-whispered that he couldn't sit down and then hung his head, burying his explanation in his chest. Finally, I got him to tell me what the problem was: he was stuck! He had somehow managed to (silently) get his knee stuck between a metal pole and the wall. He was becoming distraught but understood perfectly the gravity of being in the library, so he was sincerely trying not to make a sound. Attempting to stifle a laugh, I went over to offer some assistance. But, he was really and truly stuck, and I couldn't get his leg to budge either. Eventually, I went over to get Jeff, who thought the situation one of the most absurd things he'd ever seen and came to the rescue, only after snapping a couple of pics. Jeff assessed the situation and decided the best solution was to lube the boy's knee up and see if it would slide out, which we did, using some lotion from my purse. Jeff said he would only get Max out on the condition that he didn't scream when we pulled his knee out. I'm pretty sure Max believed he was doomed to spend the rest of his days hugging that ugly green post in the library, so he readily agreed to Jeff's terms and managed not to make a peep as his knee was being freed. As we were leaving the library, Max glared at the pole and declared under his breath, "I'll never do that again!" So, lesson learned. The hard way. Of course. There is seriously never a dull moment when you have kids, and especially if you have a Max!

Prove it

I have this one kid that requires me to prove myself as a parent. Every. Single. Day. Often, multiple times a day. He does not take subtle hints or back down when threats are issued. If anything, those things feel like a challenge to him. He insists on seeing what I'm made of--on knowing if I'm serious, and worthy of his respect. It's like he's saying, "Are you really going to take away my toys or privileges, or come up with a consequence that is more painful than the fight is fun? Prove it!" I'm talking about a level of strong-willedness that even strong-willed children usually never reach.

And, if he ever perceives weakness, the fight will go on for hours, because he thinks there might actually be a chance he's going to win. I can never, ever back down or relent on promised punishments (even though it's tempting), and I often have to come up with creative ways to get through to him, because it is unlikely what worked with other kids will work with him or even what worked with him yesterday will work today. Frankly, this type of parenting is exhausting. And, sometimes I handle it with less grace and composure than I should, and sometimes with none at all. And, sometimes, even when I "win" the battle, it feels like a defeat, because I'm completely worn out, and because I know I will be back on the proving ground again the next day. (And, I firmly believe that the reason we are still daily engaging in these battles is because of my own lack of fortitude on those occasions when I just didn't have any more fight or creativity in me and have let him have the victory for the sack of peace. As all parents, I am learning as I go.)

Inevitably, though, on my steadfast days, there will come a moment when he realizes that I am a worthy opponent that is not easily defeated and therefore worthy of his respect. Something will get through to him and his countenance will change. And, from that moment on, he is just about the most compliant child in the house. My requests are met with a sincere willingness to obey and the most respectful responses imaginable. And, huge bear hugs will be given spontaneously for the remainder of the day. Once he respects me, it is easy for him to submit to my authority. He loves me more when he knows I'm going to be true to my word, no matter what.

Having to go through this process is frustrating because he's a little kid who has to obey certain rules for his own safety and edification, but oh! when he's adult who has learned how to control his impulses and can be his own boss, these traits will serve him well. If you ever intend to employ him or marry him, you need to understand that he has a serious need to be respected and to respect those around him. And, he will make you prove that you respect him and that you are worthy of his respect. Over and over. But, he will love you completely and do your bidding absolutely if you do. This one will do mighty things! And, if you earn his respect (and I do mean earn!), he may just let you come along for the ride.

Parenting for the parent

As happens from time to time (which is to say, almost daily), a couple of my kiddos got crosswise with one another this afternoon. Then, it escalated, and, as happens with childish arguments, both parties became petty and ridiculous. In an effort to put an end to the fracas, I appealed to the older child's sense of maturity by saying, "If you lower yourself to arguing with an out-of-control six-year-old, you are no different than an out-of-control six-year-old." I literally almost choked on the second half of the sentence, as my entire day came into focus. The yelling, the ranting, the pettiness, the ridiculousness. What kind of example had I been? I had been no different than a twelve-year-old, an eight-year-old, a six-year-old and even a three-year-old, and I was supposed to be the adult. My own carefully selected words, hurled at someone I thought might benefit from my parental wisdom, boomeranged back to me, the fulfillment of that old adage about how when you point one finger at someone else, three are pointing back at you. I'm not sure if a lasting impact was made on the intended hearer of my words (though the disagreement soon came to an end), but I know for sure someone in the room benefitted from hearing them. Often, when one of the kids is acting in a way not befitting his or her age, I will ask them how old they are, in an effort to remind them that people their age don't act that way. I am 37. It's time I started acting like it. Thank goodness tomorrow is always a new day, with new opportunities to try to get it right.

Strong-willed, to the HNL

There is a child in our family who takes strong-willedness to the HNL. If you know our family personally, you know who I'm talking about. This child is intense, to say the least. When he was a toddler, I spiraled into depression, thinking I had failed, not only as a parent, but as a person, because I didn't know how to deal with him. As he and I have grown as people and have learned more how to control our respective emotions, I have found much delight in his intensity. He is all-in, for better or worse, reminding me of the old poem about the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead: "When she was good, she was very good indeed, But, when she was bad, she was horrid."

In the last year or so, we have been learning better, through trial and error, how to handle this strong-willed one. What he craves and demands is respect. We are embracing a discipline system that utilizes those needs of his. Just today, I videoed him throwing a passionate fit while refusing to do his Math assignment. He despised having to sit and watch it when he finally calmed down enough to see it. But, then, I gave him an opportunity to make a new video that he could be proud of. One in which he could see himself as a hard worker and a big boy. He loved the second video! I asked him if he wanted me to delete the first video, which, of course, he did. Then, I made a deal with him: As long as he was behaving in a way that he would be proud to watch on video and be proud to show to others, we would keep the second video. But, if he chose to revert to the previous behaviors, we would make a new video to replace the one he was so proud of. Throughout the day, just the mention of making a new video was enough to get him to change his tune. It was a discipline method that worked. For today. I fully expect to have to come up some other creative means of reigning him in at some point in the future.

He is, according to this article (that I unfortunately didn't come across until I had already discovered most of these things for myself, but that I'm glad to have in writing to refer to on my less confident days) "a person of integrity who isn't easily swayed from his own viewpoint." Hmm. That's some really useful perspective. Thinking of him as a person of integrity, rather than a disobedient rebel helps me help him through the struggle of growing up and will hopefully allow us both to escape mostly unscathed from this tumultuous childhood.

Perhaps your family also has a very special, HNL, strong-willed child, who will someday change (or rule) the world. Maybe you are beating your head against a wall, like I have done so many times (and still do so often). I want you to know that you are not alone. If you can glean anything from my experience or the tips in the article, I definitely want you to do that. And, if, in your experience, you've come across a thing or two that works (even if only occasionally), I'd love for you to share.

(Almost) Perfectly Clean

In the Watts' home, everyone is expected to contribute. We have gone through several methods of chore distribution, including this one from 2012. The thing that actually seems to work best for us is to switch things up every so often, so that the chore schedule always kind of feels fresh. We've been through several methods since that post in 2012. The chores themselves don't really change too much, but the way in which they are displayed and distributed do, and it really seems to make all the difference in the level of enthusiasm the kids have for the chores. For 2014, we have adopted another new method, which I'll just go ahead and count as my Pin of the Week, since it's not likely anything more creative is going to happen around here this week. Assigning specific chores on specific days really gives the kids more focus and keeps them from being overwhelmed, and thus, the chores get done in a more timely manner, with less whining. (Or maybe that's just due to it being a new system, and everyone loves a new system at first.) Perhaps you all already knew and have implemented that in your homes, but I'm a little slow, so I'm just now having that lightbulb moment.

Anyway, what I really want to tell you is this: One of Weston's chores for this week is to clean the kitchen counters. He set to work on it yesterday and very quickly announced that he was all done. One peek at the kitchen told me the counters definitely weren't clean, so I asked him if he really thought it was clean and what he saw when he looked at it. He proceeded to tell me that, to him, it looked "perfectly clean." This seemed like a teachable moment, so I put my arm around his shoulders and began to walk around the kitchen pointing to obvious milk spots and sticky areas and crumbs. Each time, I would point and ask, "Does this look perfectly clean?" To which, he always replied, "No." There were quite a few of these areas, and by the time we were done, he was in tears. Finally, through sobs, he declared, "But you only picked out the dirty spots! The rest is perfectly clean!" 

A couple of things the classical model of education (which we employ in our homeschool) emphasizes are the over-learning of the grammar of any subject and the defining of terms to make communication more effective. Clearly, I need to be better at defining my terms, and Weston needs a bit more practice with the "grammar" of kitchen cleaning. Thankfully, we will both have plenty of opportunities over the next few years to improve in these respective areas. 

Okay, Moms, we need to talk

About four years ago, I was in the depths of an abysmal hole, and I couldn't see any way out. I was the mother of three small children (four if you count the twins "Max," which we're definitely going to count), who were needy and loud and messy and constant. There weren't any breaks or holidays, and even vacations felt like a chore. I felt trapped. And, I felt all alone. I didn't know how to ask for help. And, if I'm really honest, I didn't think I could ask for help, because every feeling I had felt "wrong." I mean, what kind of mother daydreams about just running away and never coming back?! What kind of person can feel overwhelmingly sad in the midst of a truly blessed life?! These are the kinds of thoughts you barely acknowledge to yourself, and they certainly aren't the kind of things you talk about in public. And, believe me, I spent a great deal of time berating myself for ever even letting these thoughts pass through my mind. Especially since the world around me, in the form of Internet memes mostly, seemed to be screaming, "The time is short, so embrace every moment with your children!" I wasn't interested in embracing these seemingly interminable moments. In fact, the only light in my days sometimes was the thought that these little people would eventually grow up and move away. Awful thoughts for a mom to have, right?! So, I worked overtime to try to hide the crazy during the daylight hours. But late at night, when I finally let the tears flow freely and silently, I stood face-to-face with these monsters and a few more besides. One time, I actually left the house in the middle of the day, telling no one where I was going, and I disappeared for several hours. I was a mile from my house, at a park, being eaten alive by mosquitoes and wishing I could just stay there forever. At the time, it was the only thing that made any sense whatsoever. Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done was to drag myself back home and reinsert myself into my life. 

I wish I would have asked for help. I wish I would have not tried so hard to pretend that everything was fine. I wish I would have hired a sitter to come to my house once a week, so I could have a break. I didn't do any of those things. I just muddled through, and eventually, I started to figure some things out on my own, and I started to make some changes in my mind. But, it was a tremendously painful and lonely process. And, much, much later, I was able to pull out of it. There are still scars on my heart from that particular time in my life. Things have been better in the years since I figured some of that stuff out. But, this summer, without the schedule and structure of the school year, and with a fun, but demanding job, and with a part-time potty training toddler running around, I have had inklings of those old feelings. I'm so thankful to my brave and amazing friend, Katie, for reminding me that I'm not alone, and that it's o.k. to ask for help, and that it's necessary to talk about it. I have come to believe that most parents of young children (moms AND dads) feel some or all of these things, at least occasionally. It doesn't mean we're bad people. Or that we don't love our children. It just means that parenting is hard. We need to ditch the Pinterest and Facebook-inspired comparisons, that shout at us that we are failing as parents if we don't have a celebrity-style birthday party for our two-year-olds and build super-duper deluxe bunk beds by hand and share this meme "if we love our kids and never want them to grow up." We just need to be real and honest and vulnerable. Like, Katie, let's not be "above or beyond" help.

And, for those out there who actually do have your stuff together at this particular moment, try not to judge those of us who may not. And be the help, if you can, because there may be a person in your life who doesn't know how to ask for help or even if they can.

The things we say

Parenting provides plenty of opportunities to say ridiculous things. Here is a short list of crazy things Jeff and I have said to our children lately:

• "Take that banana out of your armpit."
• "Do not put the pizza crust in your ear."
• "You need to at least wear a shirt to dinner."
• "Stop standing on the dishwasher door."
• "There is spinach on your forehead."
• "Stop eating that pencil."
• "The hanger is not a toy."
• "Do not attempt to juggle the dishes. Just put them away."
• "Your shirt's on backwards."
• "Don't put your face in the helicopter blades."
• "When you need to go to the bathroom, please come inside."
• "Who filled the bathtub drain with toilet paper?"
• "Don't drink the hand sanitizer."
• "Quit throwing your shoes in the trashcan."
• "Do you know your socks don't match?"
• "I don't think the cows want to play with you."
• "Do you have a snack for your horse?"

Insanity:

doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. 

~Albert Einstein 

And, that, my friends, is why you have never met a sane parent of young children. Because all we ever do is tell the same people the same things over and over, expecting some change in their behaviors or actions. And that is why our voices sometimes reach feverish pitches, and our eyes look wild, and it seems like our heads might explode at any minute. We are all completely insane. And, frankly, we would welcome the opportunity to be locked up for a while (provided there were no voices in our heads to keep us from enjoying the quiet)--for our own good, and for the good of all those around us. Many people probably think Einstein was trying to encourage people to look at things a different way or try out-of-the-box approaches to problem solving. Personally, I think he was only stating a fact, gleaned from his own journey through parenthood.

A different kind of storm

Besides the Toddler Tornado we have running around the house, we also have a storm of an entirely different kind brewing. And, frankly, this one simultaneously scares and fascinates me, in the manner of any decent storm! All at once, my oldest child has come into the Tempest of Preteen. As the storm gathers steam, I can appreciate the beauty of of this time of life, where my little girl begins her struggle to become a woman. But, I also want all of us to get through the next few years with as little damage done as possible. I remember, so vividly, this time of my own life, which I'm not at all sure I weathered gracefully. So, I wonder how on earth am I to lead someone else through it?! Foolishly, I thought I had more time to prepare, or that maybe, just maybe, we would never actually enter into this turbulent time. But, alas, we are here. There is no denying the new training bras I bought over the weekend, the frequent talks about peer relationships, or the wild mood swings and incessant arguing. It's time to batten down the hatches and renew my faith in rainbows.

It's all downhill from there

We are home from our two-week tour of Texas, and we had a wonderful trip! Lots of dirt, delicious food, game playing and visiting with friends and family. Today, it was back to reality, in so many ways. One of the fun things about coming home from vacation is that there is always a day or so of behavior issues to deal with--just so the kids can find out if the rules have changed while we were away. The rules never do change, but the kids insist on checking anyway. At one point today, Weston was sitting on the stone bench right outside the kitchen, that will one day surround our yet-to-be-purchased hot tub. For now, this area is strictly off-limits to the kids, as it is quite a safety hazard. There is a precarious pile of dirt and gravel just beyond the bench and a fairly deep drop-off to the slab for the future hot tub. So, Weston was sitting there, specifically to see if we still had rules about that. Well, we do. So, I opened the kitchen door to tell him to go play somewhere else. He took that opportunity to see if we still have rules in place about back-talking. Well, we do. So, I took a step toward him and took hold of his arm to get his attention. The next thing I knew we were both rolling down the gravel hill. It was maybe the biggest parenting fail of all time! Weston was scared stiff, and he scraped up his elbow and neck a little. But, I came out far worse than he did. I scraped my ankle, my knee, my hip, my hand and my elbow, and was in no position to issue punishments. And, worse than that, my pride was wounded something serious. I mean, I don't even remember the last time I scraped up my knee in the gravel! It was the most ridiculous thing ever! But, at least I didn't rip my pants or something on the way down! The last few weeks of 34 have certainly been interesting. I hope it's not telling of what 35 is going to look like.

Better than I am

My kids make me a better person than I am. It's true. When I want to pout and sulk because I think things haven't gone my way,  I remember that I absolutely would not let my kids get away with that, and I snap out of it. When I want to yell and scream, and maybe even cuss, I remember that I would not want to hear those things coming out of my children's mouths, and I censor myself. And when I want to run away, crying, because I'm afraid--like I wanted to do today when Weston found a snake out by the garage that I needed to kill myself because Jeff wasn't here--I muster up some courage and I make myself appear brave, (even though my heart was beating wildly and my hands were shaking like crazy), because I want to be better than I am for my kids. I want to maintain a good example before them, so that they'll know how to behave. I'll admit, I do sometimes blow it. I yell and scream. I tremble and cry. And I even pout and sulk. But, before long, I ask myself the question I often ask my kids when I'm disciplining them, "What kind of person do you want to be?" They usually want to be a better person than they are being at the time, and so I say, "Choose to be that person." Thanks in great part to my children, I am learning to choose to be better than I am.

Batting Practice

No one was hurt, and the house didn't burn down. Thank goodness.

For some unfathomable reason, my three-year-old decided to pick up a rogue piece of conduit he found outside and take a walloping swing at the power panel for the water well. This knocked the cover right off, and mechanically-minded big brother came over to help replace it. Not knowing how it was supposed to go, and possibly not paying a great deal of attention to what he was doing, he got the metal cover in the wrong place and caused a nice big spark and sizzle. He quickly dropped the panel cover, and he and his younger brother ran away, without so much as a scratch or a burn on them. After watching a few minutes for more signs of fire, and seeing none, they decided to come in the house and report "a little spark." It took quite a while to get the whole story. And by the time I did, we had no more running water in the house--the reserved water in the tank having been drained by the hasty shower given to the boys so I could send them to bed. I delivered a lecture that brought even big sister to tears and apologies...and she wasn't even outside!

After seeing a rattlesnake out here in the spring and losing about two weeks of sleep over ever letting my kids play outside again, I decided to give my children's safety completely to the Lord, knowing that He can do a much better job of watching them than I can. I'm thankful I made that choice. He was definitely watching tonight.

For my children

One of my friends posted a thought-provoking question on her blog the other day: I wonder if you believe (whether you have children or not) that one should have a plan before entering a lifetime of parenthood.  A goal.  A hope and a dream.  As in, “I am having children because I believe it is my religious duty.”  Or, “We are having children because we believe we can raise a child that will change the world.”  And when you have a child, you are always thinking about that reason in the back of your mind.  I had kids in order that … dot dot dot.

Perhaps this is clearer: Why should someone- anyone- have children? 

As I thought about my answer to this, I realized that this is something my children need to know. They need to know how they came to be. They need to know that the Lord planned each of them from the beginning and put them into our family at just the right time. They need to know that human plans fail sometimes, but the Lord's plans never, ever do. So, this is a story for my kids to read someday, but perhaps you will enjoy reading it, too. You will find out things you didn't know about me or about our little family, and I hope you will come to see how great and wonderful is the Lord's plan for each of us.

I always assumed I would be a mom at some point, because that’s generally just what one does. Jeff and I sort of loosely planned to wait about five years after we were married to start “trying.” We made our plans, but our plans turned out not to be quite what the Lord had for us.

I was taking birth control pills when Jeff and I got married. It soon became clear that my body didn’t react well to The Pill. Everything went haywire. Five different hormonal birth control options later, with my body completely confused about what it was supposed to do, I decided to give it up completely. At that point, it became necessary to consider parenthood on a more serious level. And not at all according to our plan. It was time to just see what the Lord had in store for us.

It was almost a year before we conceived. A crazy year, in which I went from wondering if I was ready to be a parent to wondering if I ever would (could) be one. I was thrilled and terrified when I found out I was pregnant. But I was also in love. And then, I was involved in a crazy accident just two weeks before Ruth was born, which made me evaluate the pregnancy anew. It was then that I knew that I didn’t just WANT to be a mom; I NEEDED to be a mom. It was what I was meant to do. Holding Ruth in my arms for the first time, I felt more like “me” than I ever had.

Still, it took us quite a while to decide to have another baby. We wondered if we would be able to love another child like we loved the first. We wondered if our lives weren't already complete with just the one child. We had always thought we would have several children, but suddenly we weren't so sure about that. 

But, eventually, it just felt like something was missing. It felt like our family wasn't truly complete, and we were ready to add another little miracle. Turns out, Weston was just the piece that was missing. 

The decision to have #3 was much easier, and so we set to work on it pretty quickly. I was thrilled when I found out I was pregnant…and devastated when I miscarried. I grieved long and hard over that lost child, and was still grieving a couple of months later when I began to feel like something strange was going on with my body. Thinking that it wasn’t even possible for me to get pregnant so quickly after the miscarriage (according to the opinions of several medical professionals), we were shocked to learn that I was, in fact, pregnant. My reaction was one of anger. I couldn’t understand why our plan to have a baby had been rejected in favor of this new plan. I was still grieving and did not even want to consider being happy about the pregnancy or about the thought of being a mom again. I was almost saying in my heart that I wanted it my way or no way. 

After wrestling with God for a while, I did get happy about the new addition. And I came to appreciate the opportunity to have my faith tested and strengthened. I had always claimed that the Lord’s plans were better than my plans, but I had never had the two plans so contradict each other. The Lord’s plans really are better. I couldn’t imagine not having my Max! But that is also the kid that made me think I was definitely done having babies. He was (and is) a challenge in so many ways.

Then, a little over a year ago, we had a “surprise.” It wasn’t planned, but it happened, and we were thrilled! We were glad, once again, that our plans hadn’t worked out and that the Lord was going to give us one more. After 2 excited months, I lost that baby. And again, I grieved. But the time of mourning finally came to an end, and we realized that our little family still didn’t feel complete. So, now there is another bun in the oven, who we are looking forward to meeting in early May.

It has been quite a road, with lots of ups and a few downs. But why did we chose this journey? It’s because, for us, there was a deep desire to give of ourselves, to shape lives, to love almost beyond our capacity to comprehend, and to fulfill, what we felt like, was the Lord’s calling on our lives. There was so much we didn’t know–that we couldn’t even have imagined–when we started down this path. There is still so much we don’t know. But we wouldn’t trade one moment, not one experience (even the heartbreaking ones!), for this chance to be parents and to see just a glimpse of the Lord’s project from the Father’s perspective. It is truly an amazing and wonderful journey!

Ultimately, the only plan for having children that makes any sense at all is to determine to go along with the Lord's plan, whatever it may be. There are couples who want to have children and can't. There are others who don't want children and are extremely fertile. I honestly don't know why this is. We all make our plans, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails (Proverbs 19:21). And His plans are always perfect.

A Bedtime Story

Our house. Friday night.

Mom and Dad put kids to bed, and Mom heads to the store for milk. Mom returns, and the minute she walks in the door, she hears Kid #2 (who is, ironically, out of bed) yelling, "Mom, Max is out of his bed!" Mom runs upstairs to put everyone back where they belong and finds Kid #3 sitting on the landing in his flotation suit. Mom stifles a smile, herds the wee one back to his bed and tells him he needs to take the suit off. Kid #3 starts crying and begging to wear the suit to bed. Mom throws up her hands and says, "Fine." (She has learned to pick her battles and this one just isn't worth it).

Mom and Dad sit down to watch a movie and shortly hear all manner of thumping and bumping coming from upstairs. Dad takes a turn and comes back reporting that it was the boys wrestling on the floor--Kid #3 still wearing his suit.

A few minutes later, there is more unauthorized noise upstairs, and Mom goes up to find Kid #3 lying on the landing, kicking the stair rails, without his suit on.

Finally, everyone is back in bed and, eventually, sleeping soundly.

Great Moments In Parenting

It was one of those days. You know the kind. The (big) kids were loud, disobedient, argumentative and, at moments, completely out of control. They were constantly picking on each other, making each other scream and cry. Jeff and I felt like we were getting on to them all day long, but nothing seemed to work. We had already planned to make pizza for dinner--which the kids were obviously excited about--but we didn't feel like their behavior warranted such a reward. So, in what we thought was a stroke of pure parenting genius, we decided that we would go ahead and have the pizza ourselves and serve the kids leftover chicken, explaining to them that you don't get to have special things, like pizza, if you don't make good choices. And to make them really suffer, we would serve them the boring-est of the boring as a side: unseasoned, boiled cabbage. As expected, they were heartbroken at not getting to eat the pizza. But here's where the plan broke down: they both loved the cabbage and ravenously scarfed it down. In fact, Ruth didn't even eat her chicken. She only ate cabbage. And Weston doesn't eat any vegetables if he can avoid it--except cabbage, as it turns out. Still, I think the pain of us eating pizza--and mango/pineapple pie--in front of them without them getting a bite will inspire a genuine change in behavior for tomorrow. If not, we'll just threaten to take away their cabbage.

Instruction Manual

You've heard that kids don't come with an instruction manual, but I found one today that they are sure to start handing out with the pink and blue blankets at the hospital.

Building A Better Life

Most parents want a "better life" for their children than what they themselves have had. That means something different to each individual, but tonight, through the following conversation, we found out what it means to Ruth.

Ruth: Why do parents get to make all the decisions?

Mandi: Well, that's just a one of the responsibilities of being a parent. When you are a parent, you will get to make all the decisions.

Ruth: Well, I know one thing: I want my kids to go to daycare.

Mandi: Oh really. Why is that?

Ruth: Well, I just think it would be a lot of fun for them. And one other thing...I want my kids to go to Jollyville, but I want them to ride the bus!

I Cannot Believe I Just Said That

When you become a parent, you find yourself saying the most ridiculous things imaginable. Here is a sampling of things that have been heard at our house--some as recently as today.

• You may not have a hot dog until you have eaten all the food on your plate.
• Did you put your spoon down your shirt? Don't put your spoon down your shirt.
• Don't drink from that pool of standing water on the sandbox lid.
• Don't put that _____ in your mouth. (Some options for the blank include: rock, shoestring, computer cable, dirt, crayon, baby's pacifier, food off the floor, thing out of the trashcan, etc. etc.).
• We are not going to take our clothes off at the dinner table.
• Don't put that _____ in the toilet. (Blank options: toothbrush, cup, washcloth, toy, hand, etc. etc.).
• What do you have in your purse, Son?
• Don't stick that in your _____. (Blank options: nose, eye, ear, mouth, any other orifice on your body or anyone else's body).
• Who wants to throw the baby's dirty diaper away?!
• Yes, I did earn a treat when I went to the bathroom, but I'm going to eat my dinner first.

Topic Envy

Well, I didn't have much to report today, so I'm stealing a topic from my friend, Angela. She posted an article on her blog that I thought was really great. It talks about how so many kids (and people in general) just expect for things to be given to them, and it addresses the importance of disolving this attitude as we raise our kids. Jeff and I have always believed (and tried to instill in our children) that no one is entitled to anything. We want to pass along to them that we are thankful for what we get, but we do not feel that we deserve to be given things. At this time of year, I think it's especially important to remember this.