Pumpkin Bread and Contentment

The Papa is out of town - he surprised his dad in Florida with a visit. I am, therefore, trying to make the most of these days with the kiddos. Thus the pumpkin bread.

We spent the first half of the day getting ready to, and then going swimming with friends who have access to a local time-share/resort. This wore the kids out, and they came home and napped for nearly three hours, waking up after 5:00. We took it easy, ate leftovers for dinner, played Play-Doh, watched a show, and ate fresh-from-the-oven pumpkin bread. Oh. Yum.

This brings me to thoughts of my deep contentment in mothering. Oh, it's hard. When we jumped from two kids to four overnight it got really, really hard. It's actually been a lot of unromantic ugly in the last several years. (I keep meaning to write about the two-year transition, but as much as I think about things to say, the words just won't come out of me quite yet. So I will just keep alluding to that time, and you can anticipate the big reveal that will one day come.)

Our home is loud, way too loud for my sensitive nerves. It's boisterous, which is really just code for often supremely chaotic, which triggers my clamp-down response as I try to get a handful of control back in a life that feels so out of control to my INFJ personality.

But there is peace, too. There are sweet moments of sharing, or times when playing Play-Doh is a calm and creative experience rather that a wild, squashing, mixing-all-the-colors-into-puce experience. There are apologies and hugs when the feral wrestling matches end up hurting someone. There is the sharing of a toy out of the blue. There is even cheerful helping in the kitchen on occasion. There are moments when I read to a crew all snuggled up on the couch, and moments where a little girl is sounding out words and demonstrating the amazing transformation that occurs when the brain learns to read. There is lying down in each kiddo's bed at night and listening as they share their thoughts.

I used to dream of going back to work. At something. Just about anything. Like, I thought being a barista at Starbucks sounded heavenly. I wanted to do something mindless. Something you could leave at work and not bring home. Something that did not require endless self-doubt, invasion of personal space (OK, let's be clear here...groping and being slobbered on and leaned on and interrupted), and constantly seeking perspective - reading, talking, praying, reading, talking, praying...so much processing and trying to figure the crazy out.

The days are more manageable lately. And this has allowed me to reconnect with the joy I once thought I would have in parenting. The joy and wonder I DID have before our world got rocked. At some point during the trying times, I found a necklace at World Market. It was just a piece of flat circular pottery on a leather string, but it bore the imprint of a symbol that (supposedly) meant "joy" in some African language. I bought it immediately and wore it as a reminder to find the joy in my life. It took a long, LONG time for that to sink in on a daily basis. But I have it again.

I have joy. I am content. I don't dream of escaping to a job anymore. I do freelance from home a few hours a week. I like being home when the kids get out of school. I like that my presence is a dependable part of their day. I'm not always in a great mood, but I am here. I am accessible. I dislike the hectic routine of making dinner--it's probably the lowlight of my day, but I love that I am able to cook dinner from scratch most nights. It's meaningful for me and sustaining for them. We are in a good place right now, and I am enjoying it.

I catch myself enjoying moments IN the moment. Not later. Not looking at pictures, in fact, I am taking fewer photos lately in part because I just want to be. Be present. Not be trying to capture it all for someone else. I am perhaps selfish in that--I want all the moment fully. I want all its senses burned into my memory so that I don't need a photograph in order to remember it.

In contradiction to all the "positive thinking" philosophy out there, I have learned that you can't just "fairytale think" your way out of tremendous upheaval. You can't change everything by simply willing yourself to be happy or different. It's a process. The only way through the storm is, wait for it...through the storm. Real growth, permanent change, and wisdom come from enduring and learning from, reflecting on, what was endured. And that is no picnic. Right? You can't picnic in the middle of a hurricane.

I found that several things help me tremendously.

1. Gratitude. I read Ann Voskamp's one thousand gifts a while back and have intermittently kept a gratitude journal (actually I can never find one when I need it, so I have three or four journals scattered throughout the house). I dove in again when my mom got me a devotional based on the book, and it has been such a lovely experience - there is room to respond to the text as well as to continue the list of gratitude. I feel refreshed afterwards, even if I only spent ten minutes on it while waiting in the pick-up line at school.

2. A high-altitude perspective. Individual moments can be very overwhelming. Emotion, stress, uncertainty, and other people's disregulation can whip up the intensity of a problem or issue. We have dealt with ADD impulsivity, anxious attachment issues, speech therapy, massive tantrums, hours of occupational therapy, loss/grief, death, sneaky passive aggression, temporary depression, declarations of not believing in God, declarations of hatred towards me, my own grief over my flawed responses to my children, and, at one point early in the transition when we had two kids in diapers and a third regressed due to the upheaval and everyone was sick, I changed 12 gag-inducing poopy diapers in one day. All of it, ALL OF IT, even the stuff that brought me to my knees in tears and frustration, was ultimately handled by clinging to the truth of God's plan and supremacy. Clinging to the truth that these kids are not my own, but God's, and therefore I am called to do my best to be a faithful parent and let God handle the healing. I cannot plug all the emotional gaps for my kids. I cannot fix the sorrows in their stories. I cannot take away the challenges they were given in their natures or their brain chemistry. I teach, coach, feed, hold, discipline, and stretch them. God's going to have to see to all the super-human stuff because, ahem, I'm only human.

3. Community. This part is so very beautiful. I have more loving community than I know what to do with, and it's why I am sane. Um...really. I meet monthly with a few other adoptive mamas. We are free to be raw and sad and mad. Adoption is beautiful, and it is very hard. Some situations are mild, others eat the family. In my little group, we are all dealing with some thing(s) specific to adoption and our kids. And so we cheer each other on as one finds a glimmer of hope, a medication that works for a child's issue, a neurologist who "gets it," a teacher who makes all the difference in a school experience, resources that support healing. We make an annual getaway - once we escaped to a cabin in the mountains for a weekend, another time to a hot springs spa for a day. We can laugh at things that most people wouldn't find laughable, and while it is sometimes a dark, wry laughter, it brings some relief.

I also have a community of mamas through my church. These mamas have children in the same age range as my own, but as mamas our own ages span more than a decade. This is life-giving. We get together with our kids, do Bible studies, read books, and take our book club to Big Bear because we are fun like that. We know each others' stories well. We keep each others' kids in line. We babysit at the drop of a hat when an emergency arises. We pray for one another, text each other goofy updates and memes, and generally instigate a healthy amount of belly-laughing. 

I am not alone.

It feels so good to be sure of my place and to be happy in it. And tonight I was reminded of that, so I thought I'd share.

THE TALK

One of my goals for this summer was to teach the two oldest kiddos about sex. We now have a 3rd grader and a very mature Kindergartner. How did I know either one of them was ready? The trigger was the oldest child's scientific mind: as we were driving around town he asked, "Mom, I know how a baby would get DNA from his mother because he grows inside of her. But how does he get DNA from his father?"

It's pretty impossible to answer that without being honest about the details.

And it's pretty hard to put off that answer without sending the signal that somehow it's taboo.

And because this child is such a persistent learner, the question was clearly not going to go away on its own.

And since the second child is already FAR more aware of bodies and body stuff than I imagined at this age, and because she's the most committed sidekick to the first child (who I'm guessing would not be able to keep his mouth shut forever), The Papa and I just decided to teach them both together.

For a little more background, studies have shown that it's healthier (and kids make healthier decisions in the future) when parents talk early and often about sex--kids who get the scoop from parents learn to trust their parents to give them accurate information; they are also more likely to have sex later than their peers and use protection when they do; and they tend to pick up their parents' attitudes and values surrounding sex.

A family therapist once told me that the average age when children hear about BJs for the very first time is first grade. FIRST GRADE, people. Now of course they don't have the brain development to totally get what they're hearing but still. Do I want my kids to trust playground wisdom or do I want them to come to me? I am not going to keep my head in the sand about this subject.

For more authority on the subject, here are a few articles and facts that might be informative:

TIME Magazine shares why it's often "Too Little, Too Late."

The CDC has sexual risk statistics for 2015.

The Guttmacher Institute reports on how teens learn about sexual health.

The Palo Alto Medical Foundation emphasizes that parents are the most important sexuality educators for their children. 

Now I didn't need all those sources to tell me this is a good idea, but they provide some evidence of the importance of being the first and the best source of information for our kids, as well as an ongoing source of information. It's not a one-stop talk.

I headed into the first conversation today lead by The Talk by Luke Gilkerson. I'll tell you about that in a minute, but first I want to share a few tidbits from the parent introduction. Gilkerson talks about the work his organization does with families that have been affected by porn obsession, including kids who have been exposed as young as 8, 9, or 10 years old. One of the things the parents say is this: "I wish I would have spoken with my child sooner about sex."

Another point I appreciated: "In some conservative religious Christian circles, sex is treated as gross, a necessary function they'd rather not talk about. In the world, sex is treated like a god, an ultimate source of pleasure, meaning, and value. Neither of these is a right biblical attitude. Sex is not gross. It is not God. But it is good. As parents it is not only our job to communicate to our children what sex is, but a godly attitude about it."

The introduction also explains why, in most cases, the best age to begin talking about sex is between the ages of six and ten. I won't go into it here, but it's comforting to read, actually.

Now I don't want to betray my kiddos by sharing their responses in too much detail. You can imagine the "Ew!" and the "I'm so embarrassed" and so on. But what was curious to me was the complete respect they both had for the womb--talking about how the body produces and brings a baby into the world blew their minds in the best way possible. When I asked them what they found most interesting about all the stuff we talked about, they both had their spin on that information. My firstborn found it even more fascinating than anything he learned about his own body.

I'm pretty sure that, while they didn't mention it, learning all the technical terms for the parts of the body "down there" was exciting for them. Like looking up the rectum, and understanding how the urethra works, and comparing the male and female systems.

And I did cry from laughing at one point as one child gyrated in an attempt to get down the logistics of it all.

If you are curious about this resource, I highly recommend it! There are seven lessons, all Biblically based. (We accomplished the first two today, because the BIG QUESTION of "HOW" was left unanswered by the first lesson.)

1. God Made them Male and Female
2. Go Forth and Multiply
3. Wonderfully Made
4. The Two Shall Become One Flesh
5. You Shall Not Commit Adultery
6. Do Not Violate Me
7. Bought With a Price

Get The Talk on Amazon.

May this be helpful, fellow parents, as you navigate this tricky subject. I am already loving it!

The Clubhouse & Mud Kitchen

A couple of years ago The Papa and I had a conversation that went something like this:

Mama:  Let's build a fort for Benji for Christmas. We can use some of the wood we have lying around here. It'll be cheaper than buying a play structure and we can build it ourselves. It will be rustic and good for his imagination.

The Papa: OK.

As we got into the project, the conversation then went something like this.

Mama:  Wait. What are you doing? That's not what it said in the plans!

The Papa: I'm following your plan.

Mama: No you're not! That is supposed to be 54" total. See? LOOK at it!

The Papa: It wasn't clear.

Mama: How could it not be clear?!  That's what the line shows!  That's the number RIGHT THERE.

The Papa: These aren't good sketches.

Mama: They are perfectly clear! You just have a mental block when it comes to me trying to communicate with you about something you don't want to do.

The Papa: I think we should hire the Northrops to finish this for us.

Somehow The Papa and I managed to build the foundation together. And the Northrops did come complete the job. And it cost at least twice what I had hoped because we got real weatherproof siding and because I had no idea lumber was so expensive. Truly. Plus the whole paying someone else to do the labor thing.

And, P.S., they understood my blueprint just fine.

But then the little building sat. It had no curtains and no furniture in it. I thought that would make it the birthplace of imaginative ventures, but all it became was a ghost town. I thought it would transform into a castle, or a pioneer fort, or a spy hideout. It did no such thing.

So this past spring I decided to lure Sadie into it. I sewed curtains from fabric that was languishing in a pile in the loft. We rearranged the kids' playroom and brought the table and chairs out to the little building. The kids made art and taped it to the walls. We hung hooks for a handheld broom and dustpan for tidying up, and a few for hanging superheros capes, lanterns, and fake crystals. Because...fancy.

Now the house is in heavy rotation, and they all refer to it as "The Clubhouse." We are in the process of painting a sign to hang on the front, and I am pretty sure it needs a hanging pot of succulents at the entrance as well. (Then again, someone already tore down the windchime, so maybe I am a little too ambitious.)

 This brings us to The Mud Kitchen.

No matter what I do, they ALWAYS come back to digging in the planters.

So I got smart and gave them a patch all their own.

 The mud still ends up all over, but now they are not digging up newly planted vegetables.

Bee-la-la is in the busybody stage. She swiped these sunglasses from behind Benji's back.

And she decided to actually eat the mud pie. She gave it a thumbs-down.

And there ya have it!  Backyard times at our place - good dirty fun.

Adoption Hard Stuff...Like Death

We know that adoption happens because there's stuff that makes parenting appear impossible. And many times that stuff is big and hard. Last month that big hard stuff resulted in our son's birthfather leaving the earth tragically and by his own hand.

We only saw his birthfather occasionally - partly because of the physical distance between us, and partly because of the big hard stuff in his life interfering with his ability to be very demonstrative. But we always knew he cared.

He called sometimes, and we talked about Benji's challenges, and I asked him how he felt at that age - what would have made his life easier in school. He told me he appreciated our parenting style. He sent money for some enrichment activities one summer. He cleaned up his old G.I. Joe figures and sent them to Benji. He found kids' books about science, and he made a gift from time to time for him. Yes, he cared, greatly. I know that these gestures took much effort on his part to accomplish, and they are precious. So very precious.

Whenever we did see him, he wanted to make the time together meaningful. We went on walks in his favorite places. He wanted Benji to know the places that he loved.

So when he passed, we told Benji the truth. The truth about the how and why. We told it gently and clearly, following the wise counsel of a therapist who deals in adoption, grief, and loss. We want our boy to know we would never lie to him. We want our boy to have empathy and to see the tragedy in it. We want our boy to know that taking one's life is never the best option, that it does have consequences for everyone who loves you. And we want our boy to know that no matter how things ended, we still love, respect, and miss his birthfather.

After we got through the tough discussion with him and Sadie (she's just as mature as he is with stuff like this), we asked him how he'd like to honor his birthfather. We were too far away to make it to the service, but we could have our own service here.

We thought about how he loved nature. And we thought about how we could symbolically "release" him. Thus we found ourselves at the lake looking for rocks. Benji wore a floppy hat that looked like the hats we had often seen his birthfather wear.

Benji found a rock he liked and wrote his birthfather's name on it with a yellow crayon. (It doesn't really show up because of that, but he chose the color himself.)

Then we shared things we appreciated about his birthfather. Each of us said something that we loved.

And then he threw the rock into the water.

Comprehending such a loss at the age of seven is something that will happen over time and in layers of understanding as he matures. We know we will revisit much of what we discussed. But the key here is openness and letting him have his feelings of loss whenever they do present themselves.

Shortly after, we put a candle in the window on National Suicide Prevention Day. No one else on our block had a candle in their window, but perhaps that is something Benji will one day want to share with our neighbors. Perhaps it will be a way of working through the big stuff.

If you wish to contribute to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, you can make a tax deductible donation by clicking here. My sister is participating in the Out of the Darkness walk that raises funds for the AFSP. 100% of your donation goes to the foundation. As Benji gets a little older, it may be something he decides to participate in, too.

Learning to read

Benjamin is learning to read. This brings up a lot of feelings and responses in me. I guess I'll start with a story:

In the photos posted here, I have created a "print rich" environment - tagged various items around the house with the corresponding word. I know he's not going to read "sculpture" in one of his kindergarten books, but it is fun to engage with him in spelling complex new words, sounding out simple ones, and discovering the ridiculous number of inconsistencies in the English language.

On a whim one day while Benjamin was at school, I put up all the words. When he came home, he immediately noticed and asked, "Mama, what is that word for?"

"That says 'garage.' Why do you think that is on this door?"

"Because that's the door to the garage!" He then ran up the stairs and spied "wall."

"Mama, what's that one?"

"Wall."

After the second example he thoroughly understood that some new adventure was afoot. His head spun around until he discovered "painting" and "chair."

"Are there more, Mama?"

"Yep!  They're all over the house. Go find them."

He took off on a run. A squeal of delight or a belly laugh accompanied each discovery. I was dealing with laundry when I heard him sounding out "art" on his own.

"A-a-a-a-a-a-a rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr t-t-t-t-t. Aaaarrr-ttttt. Aaarrt. Art. ART!  MAMA! I JUST READ ART!!!"

I had a moment, I must admit. There's just something so exciting about witnessing the joy of learning. It's been nearly two weeks, and the words are still up. I plan to leave them up until we grow tired of them, or they are learned.

Now here's the WHY behind my little adventure. One of the requirements at Benjamin's school is that they learn 12 sight words in three weeks. Sight words are the most frequently used words in the English language - words that make up some 90% of written language - this, that, we, I, see, and, the, on, of, etc.  They are so frequent that we have figured out that if kids can straight up memorize them, they will read more fluently and not be tripped up so often.

And it's true. I can't tell you how often Benjamin would keep trying to sound out "the" no matter how often it showed up on a page. Knowing these words makes a world of difference.

However...

It is not developmentally appropriate to expect that all kids will be reading well by the end of kindergarten. According to physical and mental markers, some kids will learn to read in first or second grade - that would not necessarily indicate that they are "slow." Of course, in our educational system they will be behind, and that's sad.

For us, the pace of sight words is a bit of a challenge. While he has learned 20 of the 24 so far, a couple of the ones he still misses are in the first set so as far as the teacher is concerned, he's behind. And we just got another set of 12 this week.  I feel the pressure - I hope he doesn't. I am certainly not pressuring him.

This is the reason for the words in our house. He needed to spend some time getting excited over things that have meaning for him - seeing an object that he uses every day and learning its corresponding word. And it worked. He may not know all his sight words yet, but he is excited about words.

In other, related, news: This is the boy who listens to me read C.S. Lewis. Yes - I have been excitedly awaiting the day when I could begin sharing works of literature with him, and he's finally old enough. We recently read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and are now one chapter into The Horse and his Boy.

The thing is - he's a big ideas kid. And I'm a big ideas mama. The nuts and bolts are valuable insofar as they are used for a purpose - to communicate, to create, to unlock a mystery, to understand the make-up of something. I think that if his mind is embracing ideas and imagining possibilities, he will eventually see the reason for learning the tools and will be ready to learn them. In fact, he is learning them - just not at the pace being set for him at his school.

Parent-teacher conferences are next week, so it will be interesting to hear the teacher's perspective. In the meantime, we spin ourselves around in wonder at the ideas that can be discovered through words.

When the Kids Set the Table

And sometimes Benjamin breaks out the candles for an added touch of class.

On praying with kids

We've been talking a lot at church about prayer. Last night the little group that meets in our house weekly, made up of parents, pondered how to pray meaningfully with our children. I've been growing in this area and am by no means an authority or super-spiritual or above any other parent - it's just that I think some of the things I've been learning and trying out are worth sharing.

Let's start with the fundamental value of a Christ-following parent, because anything I do should be tied to this:

I want my child to know the Gospel. And by that I mean the Truth that human beings -- me, them, we -- are frail and prone to self-centeredness. We eat too much, we envy, we grumble, we say mean things and then justify ourselves, we hide our deviousness. We hurt others on purpose, and we hurt them on accident.  And if we think we do none of that, then our issue is pride. Yet, in the midst of our hurtful ways, God loves us and He provides a rescue plan through Jesus. And by believing in Jesus, I am not only rescued from my own destructiveness, but I am given the opportunity to change. To grow to be more like Jesus: sacrificial, considerate of others, peace-making, patient, kind, gentle, possessing control over my wayward tongue. I have the opportunity to be an instrument of healing and restoration rather than a clawing, clamoring bundle of entitlement. I can't do it alone. I am transformed by him when I am close to him.

The trouble is, often the righteous behavior that is the product of God's work in my child's heart gets rerouted as the objective. When that happens, I am only teaching my child to do good works on his own strength. I teach him to value hypocrisy over humility. Prayer is a beautiful space for intimately joining our children in asking God to transform their hearts (and our own!). Together we can humbly acknowledge our struggles and ask for strength to do things differently the next day. We can ask for opportunities to show God's love to others. And we can pray on behalf of people we encounter throughout the day.

So when I pray with my children, here are some of the things we do:


1. Pray for whatever their hearts need most.
Are they fighting over toys a lot? Bragging and envying and competing? Hitting? Do they have a very short fuse with siblings? Or maybe, in the tween world, are there social conflicts and gossip? Giving a frenemy the cold shoulder? Feeling left out? Is there a general attitude of disrespect? Is there a lack of empathy? Do they think they are entitled to everything?

We are talking about Jesus and reading the Bible off and on throughout the week, so anything we pray can be tied back to something we've already talked about. Praying before bed is not the time to launch into lengthy explanations. Our prayers can be short and sincere because other groundwork has been laid. Some of our prayers have included:

-- Give us hearts that can care about others instead of only caring about our own wants.

-- Give us the chance to show extra kindness to someone at school tomorrow.

-- Help us get better at solving problems with our sister peacefully.

-- Help me find a way to be patient with ______ even when she says hurtful things about me.

-- Give my heart joy even when I am working hard and I feel tired.

-- Help me see where someone's harsh words might be the result of their own hurts.

-- Help me to remember to listen to my teacher's voice.

-- Help me find something good about ______.

-- Thank you for the way you have provided for us today - the beautiful sunshine, the birds building their nests in our backyard, the way we have healthy food to eat and a Papa who spent so much time preparing dinner tonight. Help us to remember that you have provided for all our needs, and help us to be able to see the difference between the things we need and the things we want.


2. Thank God, specifically, for them.
Because I have children through adoption or fostering, it is at the forefront of my mind how God has put us all together as a family. This is true of biological children, though perhaps not as obvious. It helps my children feel loved and whole when I share with God, in front of them, how pleased I am with them. How dearly I love them. How I delight in them. I also am giving them context - that no matter how or why we fit together as a family at this time, God did it because he loves us. And we can trust his goodness and provision.

-- I thank you for putting Sadie into our family. We just love her so very much. Thank you for giving her such a strong body, such a quick mind, and such a lively personality. Thank you, God, for her joy that shines through her beautiful smile. We are so grateful you brought her to us. And we are grateful that you have given her so many people to love her (and here I sometimes name all the grandmas and grandpas or aunties or whomever to help unite, in her mind, all the biological and adoptive family).

-- Thank you for Maks, God. Thank you for making him a part of our family for this time. You have given him two families so that he will always have lots of people to love and care for him, because YOU love and care for him. Thank you for his sweetness and his desire to always be helpful. We love him so much.

3. Pray for others, especially for those we don't know. 
Children will naturally think of all the sick grandmothers and dead family pets when asked to pray for others. But will they think of the drunk, homeless man? Will they include the unhappy child at school who is not very nice to be around? We can help them pray for these people's hearts - not just that they will get a place to stay (which may not be realistic where serious mental illness is concerned) or suddenly be nice (which is the result of a heart or situation change). We can pray when we hear a siren in the distance - pray for the person needing the emergency help. We can help them process what they experienced throughout the day by praying with them for the people who were part of that experience.

-- We pray for Wayne, God. He is very sad and lonely. Sleeping at night under the bridge is a scary thing. We ask that you comfort his heart. That you remind him that he is loved. Give him peace in the midst of all the scary stuff. Bring one of his friends to him, to be with him. We ask for another opportunity to run into him and see how he's doing. Help us to keep our eyes open to know when someone is lonely. Give us courage to say hi and to listen if they need to talk.


-- Lord, please be near that lady who was talking to us in the grocery store line. She said such nice things to us, but there was so much sadness in her eyes. Lord, we don't know what is going on in her life, but you do. Please find a way to let her know you are near. Please help her bring her problems to you. Help her to trust you. Bring good people around her to encourage her.


-- We pray for Stella. I don't like how she's been so mean to Tati. But we know that when people are acting like that there is something hurting them inside. We pray for that hurt. We pray that she would find a safe place to talk about that hurt. A safe place for her hurt to heal. We ask that you would give Tati courage to be kind to her, patience with her words. We ask you to give Tati a heart that is open to possibly being her friend.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our prayers do not have to be long or formal, though it is really cool when they can be intentional. I think if we include praying like this, we will also be developing humility, empathy, and dependence on God. Instead of approaching Our Father as a heavenly Santa with a wish list of ways to be delivered from uncomfortable circumstances, our children can ask him to make them better lovers of people, stronger in dealing with challenges, and more aware of others' needs. What a perspective change!

Not My Own

I would probably have missed this truth had it not been for the blessing of adoption. My ego, or my attempt to control, or the way my boy might have worn my eyes or smile might have obscured my sense of clarity.

My children are not my own.

It is not DNA that separates us. It is not blood or lineage or nine months in another mother's womb.

It is the truth that my children actually belong to God, and I am merely acting on God's behalf, acting as the physical presence of His embrace, His compassion, His correction. This changes everything.

For one, it is incredibly humbling. Every time I feel human rage gripping my throat - anger at how the older child hits the younger on the head, indignation at a child's disrespect and defiance, frustration with the incessant screaming or wailing or whining - I have to evaluate:  Is this holy anger? Is this anger born out of true righteousness or is it the swelling of my pride or a reaction to inconvenience? Is this response going to hurt or teach? When I am sober of spirit, I can take a deep breath and think before I speak.

But when I am feeling frayed, the words come out without filter. The words are harsh, the tone condescending, or worse - shaming. The words are loud, too loud. And after the tears, first on his face and then on mine, I must go to this little learning boy and apologize. I must tell him how I love him and how God loves him and how the way I spoke to him was not loving and kind, and how this is precisely the problem we have as human beings - God is perfect, though, and in that we can place our hope.

And oh, how quickly he forgives - for he is still a little boy who just wants his mama's arms around him.

It is good for me to remember that I am acting on God's behalf - it helps me take the deep breaths first. I try to take time to think creatively about how to turn an explosive situation into a teachable moment. I am reminded to ask for wisdom from above, for eyes to see the bigger picture, for patience despite the inconvenience or fatigue.

This truth also takes the ego out of parenting. My children do not look like an extension of me, therefore I am less tempted to see them as such. But this is just as important for biological children. Because they are God's, they are not required to fulfill our childhood dreams. They are not here to continue a family legacy. It is not important for them to attend the university we attended, to achieve the grades we maintained, to meet or supersede our athletic accomplishments (of which I have few, let it be known). They are not mini-me's competing with the children of our friends whereby we outshine our friends through our children. They are not required to be successful by the world's standards, nor are they required to maintain parental image or reputation. They are not an extension of us.

America is a hard place for raising children without ego. Everything in our society tells us that our children are like accessories - they accent or tarnish us. They bring us pride or shame. They are a way by which we may impress others - after all, if my child makes it into Harvard, isn't that a result of my good genes? My excellent parenting techniques? The superb education I worked hard to ensure?

But children are not purse dogs to be groomed and toted into public to advance our appearance or our career or our family name.

And then there is the responsibility part of this Godly parenting task. I have the responsibility to care for my children - to provide for physical needs, to teach self-control and kindness, to instill values and a knowledge of God.  But it is not my responsibility to control my child. To hover incessantly. To make the decisions for, to protect from every pain (after all, we learn most from trying experiences); this need to control is only born out of human fear, in some, or personal fulfillment, in others.

If I see myself as acting on God's behalf, I will not spoil my children with material possessions; I will give what truly matters - my time and affection and presence. I will not teach my child to satisfy the holes that swell up in his heart from time to time with entertainment and frivolous distractions, but rather with seeking God, with creating and maintaining life-expanding friendships, with giving to others instead of expecting others to always give to him. I will teach him that instead of looking out for Number One, he will find greater joy in serving others - that this will buoy his spirit, help him see his place in this world, reveal his sense of purpose. To love God and love man - there is nothing greater that is asked of us.  Is everything that I do, every gift I give, every experience we navigate as a family drawing us closer to this or away from it?

America provides us with a million ways to shirk our responsibility. If we are adults, we are sold on the idea that children should not infringe on our right to be "happy" - this limited perspective completely misses the truth that loving parents make sacrifices (and there is great joy in this at times). No, we don't become people other than who we have been created to be, but we are frequently inconvenienced for the greater good of investing in these little people within our care. We no longer live wholly unto ourselves.

If we are women, we are told we can be an amazing mother and have an amazing career at the same time - with others raising our kids. We are told that anything less is untrue to ourselves and uninspiring to our children. **

If we work hard, we are told we "deserve" time to ourselves. If we did not have much growing up, we believe our children "deserve" the luxuries we did not have. Our children are beaten down with advertisements that make them think they cannot live without Disney princesses or Halo or Wii systems or iPads or their own personal cell phone.

No. Instead of releasing my children to the whims of a culture obsessed with consuming and escaping, and then worrying about the nebulous dangerous strangers out in the neighborhood somewhere, I will release my children in the care of God, knowing that whatever befalls my children or our family is ordained. And if it is ordained by God, we will be given the strength to meet it and the healing to get through it.

Most of life is not an emergency, after all, though we often treat it as such.

And most of life is worth savoring, not escaping with mind-numbing, spirit-stripping substitutes.

I am just getting started on this run through parenthood, but this I know:  my children are not mine to make into my own image - to ruin through my own passivity, ego, self-pursuits, or need to control.  It does not matter if my children are of my own flesh or someone else's - they belong to God, and I will do my best to parent accordingly.

______________________________________________________
**Note: I am not throwing stones at mamas who work outside the home. I am only challenging the thinking that values outside-the-home work as worth more than mothering because it requires greater intelligence or education or talent, or because it is somehow more reflective of who we are as individuals. I also question the "you can, and should, have it all" messages we receive. Women's empowerment today often enslaves us to the impossible idea that we can/should do it all - and we breathlessly, joylessly, and overflowing with guilt attempt to live up to standards that can rarely be met and are not necessary bars to achieve anyway.

Aw, Poop!

WARNING: If you are not a parent or a medical professional, it is highly recommended you avoid reading the following post until you have, at the very least, spent three months raising a child.

It started out kinda funny. Little P took his first errant poop (post potty training) out in the garden - little bum hanging off the edge of a raised garden bed. It grossed Mama out, and some words were said about the appropriate place for poop. But Mama did not overreact. Mama was hoping that, if this was an attention-getting device, the lack of drama would kill any future overtures.

But no.

The next two adventuresome poops also occurred in the garden...and Papa dealt with the matter in his own way. Then came a series of poops in the overnight diaper some time after 7:00 in the morning. And finally...

Little P pooped in the plastic toy bin in his bedroom.

Really.

See, sometimes, when he is out-of-control or too wild or fake crying or screaming, or refusing to wear underwear, Little P is asked to spend some time in his room calming down or playing by himself until he is ready to sweetly (wearing underwear) rejoin other folks in the house. And sometimes he finds ways to show his displeasure. Prior to these recent pooping incidents, he would tear books. But that's another post.

Papa assisted in the clean-up of the bin while Mama fumed in another part of the house. And two days later...

Little P pooped in the plastic bug bucket in his room - the one that has a lid that is completely a magnifying glass. Does anyone want to know what poop looks like magnified 50 times?  I thought not.

So the whole thing went down like this:

Mama is sitting in the baby room, rocking and feeding Sadie. Little P was sent to his room for a little "calm down" time.


Suddenly he appears in the doorway with a small African drum hanging around his neck and no pants or underwear on.

LP: I need you.

Mama: I will be happy to talk to you when you are wearing underwear.

LP: There's poo-poo in my room.

Mama detaches the bottle from Sadie's lips, places her in her crib, and heads towards Benjamin's room. Fast.

LP: Wait!  No!  Don't go in my bedroom!  No, no, no, no no!

He races to his closed bedroom door and tries to block it. Mama swoops past him and into the room.


It smells like sh**.


Mama scans the room and spots it - magnified 50x in the clear plastic bug bucket. We will not even go into all the things that ran through Mama's head. Through all the things she wanted to say but did not, in an effort to be a self-controlled, effective parent. 


Instead, she grabs the bucket and marches into the bathroom.

Mama: Come in the bathroom, please.


LP enters, sucking on his fingers and looking worried. Mama sets the bucket on the floor next to the toilet and opens the lid. The poop is no longer magnified, but the smell is greater than ever. Mama swallows a gag.

Mama: Here's the deal. Whenever you poop in something other than the toilet, you have to clean it up.

Mama covers the poop with tissue so as to make it easier to pick up.

LP:  No, Mama!  No!  Waaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa. (Fierce sucking on the fingers, snot running, wet face.)

Mama: Yes. It is your responsibility to take care of your messes. If you choose to poop somewhere besides the toilet, you are responsbile for cleaning it up.

LP: I can't!  You do it!  Waaaa-aaaaaaaaa.

**NOTE: Papa arrives home for lunch. He never knows what he is going to walk in on. He watches from the stairway, holding back laughter.

Mama: I am happy to wait here until you are ready.  (Mama gets comfortable sitting on the edge of the bathtub.)

Some time passes, much snot is rubbed across Little P's face by the back of his hand. Minutes go by as he stares at the bucket with dread.

Mama: Do you need help picking it up?

LP: Yeah.

Mama reaches for his hand and puts both of their hands on the toilet papered poo. Little P panics. He thought that he could get Mama to do it for him. He whimpers and tries to tug his hand away. Mama is stronger.


With one of Mama's hands, and one of Little P's hands, the poop is lifted into the toilet. Both Mama and Little P end up with poop on their fingers.


LP starts yelling about the poop. He is distressed by seeing it on his fingers.

Mama: OK, now it's time to wash our hands.

Hands are scrubbed, a small bottom is wiped, the toilet is flushed, but the yucky bucket remains. Little P takes it down to the utility sink where he puts dish soap in it and fills it with water to soak.

LP: (after the ordeal is over, cheerfully says...) I'm sorry for pooping in my room, Mama.

Mama:  I forgive you. That's no fun, is it.

Little P:  No way!

Let us hope the problem is solved.

Uh, That's Mama to You

Little P decided he was done with his sandwich. Without informing Mama, he started playing around in the family room. As he has been eating a peanut butter and honey sandwich with oranges on the side, you can imagine this was a problem.

Mama:  Are you finished eating?

LP: (no answer)

Mama: Benjamin, please come wash your hands before you play.

LP dawdles, dragging sticky fingers across the couch.

Mama: Benjamin, come to the sink right now. If you choose to stay in the living room, there will be a consequence.

LP comes running into the kitchen.

LP:  Do not talk to me that way, Jessica. You are not respecting me.

Mama tries not to laugh. She puts on her serious face.

Mama: First of all, I am Mama. You call me Mama.

LP:  Oh.

Mama:  Second of all, I am talking to you like this because you are being disrespectful to me by not answering me.

LP: Oh.

Mama:  Now climb up here and let's wash your hands.

LP: OK.

Climbs onto stool and washes hands.

Mama: Thank you. You can go play now.

LP: (smiling) Thank you for respecting me, Mama!

And now...Happy Mother's Day!

To all you mamas out there, I wish to share this reflection by Matthew B. Redmond. You can reach his original post by clicking here.

Romans 8:1

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Thesis: Mothers, if you are in Christ Jesus, you ought to have no fear of condemnation because of your standing of righteousness because of Christ's work on your behalf on the cross.

Mothers, even though you may feel you are...

You are not condemned by your messy home.

You are not condemned by your lack of desire to homeschool.

You are not condemned by your personal sins.

You are not condemned by the knowledge of how easy it is for you to love one child more than another.

You are not condemned by your miscarriages.

You are not condemned by your lack of desire to have more kids.

You are not condemned - even though you feel it - when you read over and over about others' perfect parenting moments on Facebook.

You are not condemned by your inability to cook.

You are not condemned because your kids are not 'normal'.

You are not condemned because you are divorced.

You are not condemned by your desire to be alone, away from the kids, for a time every. single. day.

You are not condemned by your body, which may not be what it once was.

You are not condemned by your repeated failures as a mother.

You are not condemned by your rebellious children.

You are not condemned by the frustration of having to scrape mac and cheese off the kitchen floor. Again.

You are not condemned by all the fears and tears which flirt with insanity and take you to the precipice of despair.

You are not condemned by not being able to throw the birthday party of the year for your kids.

You are not condemned for not feeding your kids meals that did not come from Whole Foods.

You are not condemned by your need for a vacation. Away from the kids.

You are not condemned for not living up to the standards of your Mother or Mother-in-law.

You are not condemned by the stares of those who have no kids when yours erupt into volcanic screams in public places.

Mothers, even though you may feel condemned, if you are in Christ, you are not condemned. This is the real reality.

You are not condemned, because if you are in Christ, your identity...your righteousness is Christ alone. Therefore, enjoy the unending love and affection and acceptance of being a daughter perfectly loved with an unwavering love that flows from your Father in Heaven.

And to all those who are not mothers...

Do nothing as Pastors, Husbands, Sons, Daughters, Mothers, Fathers, Mother-in-Laws, Father-in-Laws, friends, acquaintances and advice givers to diminish this reality. Nothing.

Movie Night

Last week we did something special: we hosted movie night for Benjamin, in our bed, with stove-top popped, buttered popcorn. This was one of many creative attempts we have made to help Benjamin feel special. To help him see the benefits of being older (so that he doesn't feel the need to act like a baby to compete for attention with the baby).

And what did he choose to watch?

Blue's Clues. Yep. Our boy is still pretty innocent. Though he is three, he has only seen a couple of full-length films...Cars, Chitty, Chitty Bang Bang, and...perhaps...some of Monsters Inc.?  I don't know.  So movie night was quite a hit.

He adjusts, and I become a better mother, PART II

On Tuesday, we went to story time at the Starbucks in our neighborhood. One of the employees is a mama of two pre-schoolers and she comes to read stories and the kids get complimentary mini-hot chocolates in their sampler cups. The mamas chat, and the kids run around after the stories are finished.

On this particular Tuesday, Benjamin was totally testing boundaries.  I was talking to a mama while holding Sadie, he was playing with her daughter. They kept running off to places where we couldn't see them.  We corralled them until we all needed to leave.

Mama Monica's daughter responded with a sassy refusal to get off the rock she was climbing. I tried to help by telling Benjamin we were leaving, too, and asking him if he wanted to go in one minute or two.  He said two, so we waited and tried again.  This time, after some more defiance from the daughter, Mama Monica managed to get her daughter off the rock and ready to go.  Benjamin was watching this all quite intently. He would not look at me as I was talking, only watched this slightly older girl to see how SHE handled her mama.

So when I had to lay down the law (he was NOT coming down, but instead scurrying away from me - one side of the rock to the other...and I could not do much because I was holding Sadie), he broke into this loud shrieking thing that he does. He does this at home - sounding much like a school's fire alarm - but he has not pulled this in public before. Awesome.

He shrieked repetitively and scooted away any time I got close to him. I was helpless.  Mama Monica saw this and came over to help - she asked him to jump into her arms.  He did, and it was fun. Once on the ground again, though, he was running off. She held his hand and offered to walk us to our car. Gratefully, I said yes, gathered the diaper bag, my girl, and what was left of my coffee.

At the car, he fought getting into his car seat. I did not threaten - after all, what threat could I make that wasn't empty? But I was fuming inside. We do story time for him and he gets all kinds of freedom and fun time with kids after, and then he is a turd in order to impress an older girl. Oh, lordy. Foreshadowing the teen years, no? All I said was that there would be consequences for this disrespect and disobedience when we got home.

I did not know what to do. I prayed the whole way home that my anger would not dictate my approach to this. I know that further attention could only exacerbate the behavior, that anger would only alienate him further,  but that it was also inexcusable and needed to be addressed. 

How does God teach me? I wondered.

Gently, and with grace.

The aim is teaching, not punishing.

So. We arrived home, I put Sadie to bed, and he waited silently for me in the big chair.  I grabbed The Jesus Storybook Bible and found the story of Jonah. I prepped him for the story - saying how God asked Jonah to do something and he disobeyed. He was disrespectful and he ran away. But God loved him. God gave him a consequence because he loved him. And Jonah responded - he felt bad about his behavior, he apologized to God, and then he went and did what God had asked.

We then read the story and compared it to Benjamin's behavior. We did all this while sitting together in the big chair. I spoke kindly to him and he said a lot of sing-songy "ohs". It seemed he was really learning from this.

I could think of no appropriate consequence, and I really needed a break from him, so his consequence was going to bed early for his nap. He did not squawk, but went in and lay down.

I felt like I won that day.  I won self-control over my own anger which would have only been destructive if unleashed on him at that moment. I won over fatigue that would have lead me to simply lock him in his room so I wouldn't have to deal with him. I won over apathy that would have kept me from teaching, leading me the the quick-fix of punishment (which probably would have no lasting effect anyway).

I have no idea if Benjamin learned anything from that - the following day he was naughty for his MOPS teachers - but I learned something. I learned that parenting like Christ requires humility and creativity and thinking not of my own indignation, but of my son's need to learn and learn again of God's grace and holiness; and he will only learn if I take the time to engage during those teachable moments.

He adjusts, and I become a better mother, PART I

Benjamin is clearly in a state of adjusting to his new baby sister. The beautiful part of it all is that he likes to help feed her, he cuddles her, he touches her gently with his pudgy little (grubby) fingers, and he is eager to talk about his new "little sister named Sadie. She's cute."

But the other truth is that he has found it hard to patiently wait for my attention when I am feeding her, or to calm his ever-active boy body down when hanging out in her room. He is quite sensitive to noise (despite being able to make an awful lot of it himself), and covers his ear when she cries in the car. While he is capable of sweetness and compassion, I feel for his three-year-old self trying to be mature when he is just a little boy with needs of his own.

Since Sadie arrived, Benjamin has been far more emotional than usual.  To some degree, I don't know how much of the physicalness (needing to hit things and jump and stomp and run around and be so very, very loud) and emotional over-reactions are part of becoming three and entering another phase of development, or if it is more related to his adjustment to her. I do know that it is requiring a whole new level of parenting from me.

On Wednesday, while picking him up from the childcare at MOPS, I got the report that he was throwing things and running in the classroom. He was not respecting the teacher and he earned himself a time-out. This is normal behavior around our house, mind you, but completely out of character for how he acts around other adults. We are used to hearing how much his teachers love him, and how polite he is, and how he shares so nicely when other kids are grabbing toys out of each others' hands.  I guess this week's news was bound to happen at some point - I've just been lucky up til now.

I wasn't sure how to handle this, but here's what I've done. We talked about it immediately so he wouldn't forget.

Mama: I heard you got a time-out today.

LP: Yes.

Mama: What were you doing to get a time-out?

LP: What were you doing?

Mama: Did you throw things?

LP: Yes.

Mama: Were you running when the teacher asked you to stop?

LP: Yes.

Mama: Uh-huh. So were you respecting the teacher?

LP:  No.

Mama:  It's sad when little boys do not respect their teachers. It makes it hard to go do fun adventures like MOPS. We will talk about this more later.

I did not add my own punishment to the one he already received. And I did not give him excessive attention for his bad behavior - I do not want to encourage it inadvertently. But I do believe he needs to face the person he maligned and acknowledge his wrong-doing.

So I think what I am going to do is have him apologize to the teacher the next time we go to MOPS. And we will talk together, in front of the teacher, about the class expectations. Maybe I will even offer to have them come get me next time he needs a time-out so that I can immediately deal with it the way I would...just in case their version of a time-out is not effective. We'll see.

Now, for PART II.

A rose by any other name...

So we know that names are important. And at the same time they are not really critical. Unless you name your child something obnoxious that gets him teased on the playground.

But even so, names carry meaning. When I lived in Zimbabwe, I loved learning the names of my students for they were often so pragmatic - describing the conditions of the child's birth or the parents' circumstances. Thus we had children named Seven, Enough, Never, Tatende (thank God), Forgive, Chipo (gift), Partly Cloudy, Shame, Last, Jealous, Farai (be happy), Shungu (effort), Kudakwashe (God's will), Netsai (be a bother), Panashe (where the Lord is), Increase, Shamiso (miracle), Tafadzwa (we are pleased), Tarisai (everybody look here!), Inconvenience, Shout.

Some names described the child's personality, or the qualities they wished upon the child:  Talent, Clever, Beauty, Precious, Trymore, Givemore, Lovemore, Hamunyari (you are not quiet/are you not ashamed), Nyasha (mercy), Dadirai (show off), Winner, Governor, Dudzai (tell it like it is), Kudzai (respect), Muchafara (you shall be happy), Congress, Letwin (let win), Tichaona (we shall see...), Tsitsi (grace), Million (his last name was pronounced "make" and in Zim, they always write last names first, thus...Meki, Million), Knowledge, Method, Marvelous, Big Brain (no kidding!), and Bigboi.

And then there were the flat out warnings: Temptation, Chenjerai (be careful), Itai (just do it), Pepukai (be aware), Tambudzai (trouble), Danger.

I'm not sure where Limited, Anyway, Nevermind, or Maybe should fit.  Perhaps the underestimated?

So now we are in the position of naming a soon-to-be-born baby girl. For the most part we are just looking at something we like the sound of and isn't at the top of the charts. As much as I like Madeleine and Sophie, I refuse to give my daughter a name that is assuredly going to land her in the camp of - Maddie N., Maddie S., Maddie C., Maddie G.  When I was growing up - the poor Amys, Heathers, Jennifers, and Lisas were the most popular. Jessica was not overdone until 10 years after I had passed through school. I only knew one Jessica in elementary school and one in high school.

What names are being considered in The P-Pod?  I won't bore you with the list, but let's just say that the name combo currently at the head of the pack is Sadie Mae.  (No promises, though...there are still  other strong frontrunners, and ultimately it depends on what we think when we see her in person).

You can imagine my chagrin when I heard that celebrity Christina Applegate just named her baby Sadie. Darn you, Christina, and your good taste! It's my hope that she is enough of a has-been celeb that all the trend following girls out there will not have her on their radar, and Sadie will not become the "IT" name of 2011. Yeesh.

My Take on It

Dear Parents:

You must be stronger than your children - so that when they are grown, they will equal or exceed your strength.  If you are weaker than your children, they will become even weaker than you.

Love,  Mama


*I keep this in mind whenever I am tempted to give in to the tantrum, to parent from the chair, to lose my temper, to succumb to worry, to make idle threats.  The emotional, physical, and spiritual demands of parenting are great, and we must keep showing up - this is the loudest lesson children learn, for it is the one they test daily.

Just a look

I experienced something today that bothered me more than I thought it would. It disturbed me so much, in fact, that I was still thinking about it two-and-a-half hours later...one-trip-to-Costco and after-putting-my-son-down-for-a-nap later.

Benjamin and Buckley and I had gone to the dog park and then to Starbucks. Sitting at a coffee shop with Benjamin is one of my favorite things to do. He's a people person, and he tends to be compliant when out and about, so I thoroughly enjoy the moments we spend at a cafe table. He drinks his water through a straw while eating a banana or a bar, and I sip my double espresso on ice.

Today was less than idyllic, however, as we had Buckley with us. We sat outside and shared water with the dog. We didn't talk much as he was busily consuming a granola bar. I was distracted with Buckley.  But still, all was fine until we needed to go.

Benjamin's newest method of misbehavior is the silent treatment. I ask a question or suggest an action and he says, and does, nothing. To outsiders it may not appear to be much, but I know he is being defiant. I know he heard me. I know he is choosing to ignore what I said. And I don't tolerate this.

In this case, I told him we needed to leave soon, asked if he was finished, suggested that maybe when he was done he could throw his trash in the can. He used to love this routine. Today, he just decided to, at that moment, open his cup and dump the ice on the ground. Then he picked up ice and began eating it. He wouldn't look at me when I handed him the trash and, for a second time, asked him to put it in the can.

I knew this would be a loud, losing battle so I chose not to engage. I took the trash and put it in the can, intending to just scoop him up and leave. But as I walked over to the can, the leash tangled around Buckley's leg and he yelped.

He has been doing a lot of this lately - getting himself tangled up in something and yelping pitifully. I don't know if he is really getting hurt (it rarely looks serious) or if he wants attention. In any case, I don't take it very seriously unless he limps afterward (almost never).  So he yelps/screams and sounds like I just ran over him.

Here's where things went awry:

[Click the link below to read more]

Potty Training in The Pod

We're getting there. We started getting "serious" (if what we do qualifies as serious) a few months ago when Little P began a several-weeks-long campaign of bare bottomed-ness. He is now (mostly) in underwear. If you care to read about our journey, here it is.  If you have better things to do than to dwell upon the waste removal habits of a two-and-a-half-year-old, just skip this post.

To start off, some mamas are very good at setting goals and, with laser-like focus, meeting them.  Others are very good at doing things the way they are "supposed" to, as described by an expert or in a book.  I am neither of these. I can take those approaches, on occasion, when motivated to, but mostly I read up on my options and then see how things go once I jump into it. I'm the intuitive sort. (A total NF on the personality scale.) So it went with potty training.

I have heard of mamas who take a week to focus intensely on potty training. Some books claim that a child can be fully trained in that amount of time. (I question how "fully trained" would be defined...#1 and #2? Able to take naps in their undies? Trustworthy at the grocery store in undies? In a week?!)

I did not even attempt this method because I know myself well enough to see that this would be a dangerous way to go about it in The P-Pod. Here's why: I don't like to fail. I don't like doing things that I'm failing at. I am trying to get over this, but even the consciousness I have of my neurosis is not enough to prevent the feelings of frustration from arising.  I also have the habit of resenting the people or things that did not perform as expected.  By this I mean that, if I work hard and do everything I'm supposed to do and the result is not the one we were seeking, I feel annoyed and cheated and very, very irritable. (This will go away eventually, but still...)

I knew that if I set a deadline (one week, two weeks, by the end of the month) for Little P to be fully potty trained, I would be frustrated with him if we didn't make it. He doesn't need that kind of pressure. He doesn't need Mama's neurosis weighing him down like that.

I also knew that I did not feel like putting that much effort into it. Seriously...do you know how annoying it is to pull pants and undies and shoes off every thirty minutes, only to find that nothing comes out? That's nearly 30 trips to the toilet every day! Egads. Props to you mothers who actually did it that way. 

there's lots more...to keep reading, click the link

Things to Do - Montessori Style

OK, these things aren't limited to Montessori education; I just discovered them as I was researching Montessori education. These are excerpts from a list of 101 things you can do for/with your children.  

Here are some of my favorites:

3. Take the time to stand back and observe your child carefully and note the characteristics he/she is displaying.

5. Make sure your child gets sufficient sleep.

7. Teach grace and courtesy in the home. Model it. Use courtesy with your child and help your child to demonstrate it.

11. Read together daily.

13. Allow sufficient time for your child to dress himself/herself.

14. Allow your child to collaborate with food preparation.

15. If possible allow your child a plot of land or at least a flower pot in which to experience growing things.

16. Take walks together at the child's pace, pausing to notice things and talk about them.

18. Eliminate or strictly limit TV watching and replace with activity oriented things which involve the child rather than his/her being a passive observer. When the child does watch TV, watch it with him/her and discuss what is being seen.

19. From the earliest age give your child the responsibility to pick up after himself/herself, i.e., return toys to place, put dirty clothes in laundry basket, clear dishes to appropriate place, clean off sink after use, etc. This necessitates preparing the environment so children know where things go.

20. Hug regularly but don't impose affection. Recognize the difference.

21. Assign regular household tasks that need to be done to maintain the household to your child as age appropriate. (Perhaps setting silverware and napkins on the table, sorting, recycling. dusting, watering plants, etc.)

24. Talk to your child clearly without talking down. Communicate with respect and give the child the gift of language, new words and expressions.

25. When talking to your child, physically get on his/her level, be still, and make eye contact.

26. Sing! Voice quality does not matter. Sing together regularly. Build a repertoire of family favorites.

27. Refrain from over-structuring your child's time with formal classes and activities. Leave time to "just be," to play, explore, create.

30. Count. Utilize natural opportunities that arise.

31. Tell and re-tell family based stories. For example, "On the day you were born..."

32. Look at family pictures together. Help your child be aware of his/her extended family, names, and relationships.

34. Assist your child to be aware of his/her feelings, to have vocabulary for emotions and be able to express them.

35. Play games together. Through much repetition children learn to take turns, to win and lose.

36. Together, do things to help others. For example, take food to an invalid neighbor, contribute blankets to a homeless shelter, give toys to those who have none, etc.

37. Speak the language of the virtues. Talk about patience, cooperativeness, courage, ingenuity, cheerfulness, helpfulness, kindness, etc. and point out those virtues when you see them demonstrated.

38. Refrain from giving your child too much "stuff." If there is already too much, give some away or store and rotate.

39. Memorize poetry and teach it to your child and recite it together.

40. Put up a bird feeder. Let your child have responsibility for filling it. Together learn to be good watchers and learn about the birds you see.

41. Whenever you go somewhere with your child, prepare him/her for what is going to happen and what will be expected of him/her at the store, restaurant, doctor's office, etc.

42. Express appreciation to your child and others and help your child to do the same. Send thank you notes for gifts. Young children can dictate or send a picture. Older children can write their own. What is key is learning the importance of expressing appreciation.

43. Help your child to learn to like healthful foods. Make trying new things fun. Talk about foods and how they look or describe the taste. Introduce the word "savor" and teach how to do it.

44. When food shopping, talk to your child about what you see -- from kumquats to lobsters. Talk about where food items come from. Talk about the people who help us by growing, picking, transporting, and displaying food.

46. While driving, point things out and discuss -- construction work, interesting buildings, vehicles, bridges, animals.

47. Teach the language of courtesy. Don't let your child interrupt. Teach how to wait after saying, "Excuse me, please."

48. Analyze any annoying behavior of your child and teach from the positive. For example: door slamming -- teach how to close a door; running in the house -- teach how to walk; runny nose -- teach how to use a tissue.

49. Spend quality time with people of different ages.

51. Help your child to have positive connections with people of diverse ethnicity, language, and beliefs.

52. Laugh a lot. Play with words. Tell jokes. Help your child to develop a sense of humor.

55. Have a globe or atlas in the house, and whenever names of places come up locate them with the child.

56. Make sure your child has the tools he/she needs -- child size broom, mop, dust pan, whisk broom, duster, etc., to help maintain the cleanliness of the household.

57. Learn to say, "No," without anger, and with firmness and conviction. Not everything children want is appropriate.

59. Refrain from laughing at your child.

60. Alert children to upcoming events so they can mentally prepare, e.g., "In ten minutes, it will be time for bed."

63. Refrain from replacing everything that gets broken. Help children to learn the value of money, and, the consequences of actions.

64. Take a nighttime walk -- listen to sounds, observe the moon, smell the air.

68. Expose your child to all sorts of music.

69. Talk about art, visit statue gardens, and make short visits to museums and look at a couple of pictures. Make it meaningful and enjoyable.

73. Aid the child in absorbing a sense of beauty: expose him/her to flowers, woods, and natural materials, and avoid plastic.

74. Help your child start a collection of something interesting.

75. Talk about the colors (don't forget shades), textures, and shapes you see around you.

78. Refrain from doing for a child what he/she can do for himself/herself.

79. Provide opportunities for physical activity -- running, hopping, skipping, climbing. Teach them how. Go to a playground if necessary.

80. Teach children how to be still and make "silence." Do it together. Children love to be in a meditative space if given the opportunity.

84. Provide a place to just dig. Allow your child to get totally dirty sometimes without inhibitions.

85. Refrain from offering material rewards or even excessive praise. Let the experience of accomplishment be its own reward.

86. Don't speak for your child to others. Give the space for the child to speak for himself/herself, and if he/she doesn't it's okay.

87. Apologize to your child when you've made a mistake.

89. Learn to wait. Some things people want to give their children or do with them are more appropriate at a later age. Be patient, the optimal time will come. Stay focused on where they are right now.

91. Tell them what you value in them. Let them hear you express what you value in others.

92. Always tell the truth.

94. Ride the bus; take a train -- at least once.

99. Talk about right, left, straight, turn, north, south, east, west, in a natural way so your child develops a sense of direction and the means to talk about it.