that's what she said

Every now and again, I catch myself saying something to my kids that, once upon a time, my mom said to me.  Take this morning, for example.  A rare morning where we had no appointment, no buses to catch, and no plans.  It was a leisurely breakfast where every kid had seconds, and some had thirds, until I finally cut them off.  Not that I was worried about rationing our bread and cereal.  Obesity is more of a concern than hunger in US middle class families.
Not even an hour later, and before the breakfast dishes had been washed, the kids started asking for snack.  I held them off for a half hour, but soon Brett was arranging the bowls and pulling out snacks, juice, and cups for everyone.  Lydia was not pleased with Brett's snack choice, so she went to the snack cupboard, rummaged through it, and began proclaiming,

"I can't find anything!"



 After a few minutes, I was done listening to it and that's when it came out:

"Lydia, there are kids all over the world who don't have a full cupboard designated for their snacks.  I don't feel sorry for you!" (not to mention, the bowl full of fresh fruit on the counter).

She decided on cereal, the same she had for breakfast.  Next on our lazy agenda was outside playtime, where my overindulged child had a fit because she had two sweater choices, and didn't like either one.

This is just an example.  The other two kids can be just as ungrateful!  But it leads me to wonder how to raise my privileged kids to be humble and appreciative...rather than feeling entitled to such goodness.  I think a good place to start is through my example. 

Yes, I am internally aware that I am one of the fortunate ones.  My home is not in foreclosure, my husband is gainfully employed, and I am, by choice, not.  And all of our cupboards are full beyond necessity.  But I think I could do a better job of outwardly expressing it in ways 2 and 3 year olds understand.  Any ideas?

parenting my child with special needs

Parenting my child with special needs is way different from having a nice neat little 30-minute-a-week counseling session with a child with special needs. In a counseling session, I can give 100% of my attention, while in life, most of the problems arise because I can't solely devote all my energy to one child. In a counseling session, whether it was productive time or not, it ends and I can move on with my week. In a counseling session, I may care about what's best for the child, but I don't love him deeply.

I have learned more from parenting my child with special needs than from any book. I have learned that I don't have all the answers. I've learned that sometimes it's hard to take my own parenting advice. I've learned that sometimes even the best parenting methods don't work.

I've learned that I'm impatient, and I have very little control over what my child does - and he knows it. I've learned not to judge parents by their children's behavior.

I've learned no matter how much I don't like my child's behavior, I still love him more than my own life.

I'm learning humility. I'm learning every minute of every day I will fail as a mom without God's grace. I'm learning even a mom can't fix everything.

forbidden fruit[snacks]

Last Sunday's sermon at our church was entitled [sin]happens. In our house, when dealing with our children, we call it a "wrong choice", so here is a little story where [wrong choices]happened:

The last time we went to visit MeeMaw and Papa, MeeMaw sent some treats home with the kids, which included a special box of fruit snacks for each child. We already had fruit snacks in our snack cupboard, so I put the boxes on my makeshift pantry/shelves in our laundry area. When Lydia was helping me with laundry, she found her My Little Pony fruit snacks and wanted them. I told her we were going to finish the ones we had open first and she needed to put them back. Over the next couple days, she repeatedly got the box out and I repeatedly told her to put them back. One morning, all the kids were playing in the family room near the laundry and I went to clean up breakfast. I was in earshot, and it had gotten way too quite, so I went to see what was going on. I found Lydia standing in the middle of the floor opening her fruit snacks...and Brett was also opening his Buzz Lightyear fruit snacks. But he was laying on the couch with a blanket pulled over his head and hands and the box of fruit snacks. He was hiding his wrong choice. Honestly, it looked so funny, I had a really hard time keeping a straight face when I confiscated the fruit snacks.

We are all born with a desire to make wrong choices. It appears as though somewhere between the age of 2yrs and 3yrs, we become aware of our sinful nature and feel a need to hide from - in this case - Mom. But it reminded me of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Hey, it was even the "woman" (Lydia) who led the "man" (Brett) to the forbidden fruit[snacks]! Once Adam and Eve had sinned, they felt a need to hide from God.

How often in my wrong choices have I tried to hide from God?

And how funny did it look to Him?

dancing in the rain

Our December calendar has been packed. There have only been 2 or 3 weekdays the kids and I have stayed home all day all month, and our weekends have been busy with Christmas preparations and gatherings. All the running has worn me out.

But the Children's Museum was having a special music presentation today that I knew the kids would enjoy, so I mustered up the energy to take them. Everyone was finally ready a half hour after I had wanted to go, and we stepped outside to -- rain! Mind you, we hardly ever get rain in December. It's 34 degrees- which is wonderful because I deemed it warm enough to skip mittens- but we still have about 2 feet of snow on the ground.

There's a song I always sing with the kids when it rains. It goes, "If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops, oh what a rain that would be..." The kids immediately started singing it. I was slightly less amused. I ran to the car with Reggie while Brett and Lydia tagged along behind me. I was buckling Reggie in his seat when I turned to see if Brett and Lydia were coming. All I could see was Brett with his little tell-tale grin that something was going on-and I was not going to like it! I finished buckling Reggie in, and went to investigate.

What I found was Lydia giggling and jumping in a half-frozen puddle on the patio, directly under the edge of the garage roof where water was pouring down onto her head.

After a change of clothes, we went to the museum. But it was a good reminder to stop and enjoy what's happening at the moment. I am continually surprised by the amusement my kids get out of the simple (even dreaded) things in day-to-day life. They didn't need to go to an overcrowded children's museum for a special music presentation. A little rain and a puddle would suit them just fine.

I'll be posting pictures of our Christmas gatherings after this coming weekend's Second Christmas. For now, back to laundry and packing...