Plans

I hate change. Really. Perhaps it's because we moved around a lot when I was a kid. New schools, new friends. And most of the changes we faced weren't entirely pleasant (like the repossession of our mobile home and many times not having enough money to buy groceries). As an adult, I really like to know what to expect and when. I'm a chronic list-maker. I make lists of my lists. Before kids I did this because I was (am) a touch OCD. Now I do them because if I don't put "Brush Your Teeth" down in writing, it really may not happen. Sad, but true. That's why I find it interesting/challenging/boundary-pushing that God seems to be calling our family lately to live in a constant state of change. So far in 2014, He has called us out of long-held relationships, out of our church of nearly 14 years and we feel him calling us out of the neighborhood and home we've had for well over a decade. I've said yes to things that will take more time and effort than I am usually comfortable with at this stage in my life. Sometimes I look at my my many to-do lists and wonder what on earth I was thinking. But looking back over the year of change, it looks very much like God is tilling up the fallow ground in our lives, preparing us for a planting of something new. A few weeks ago I was sitting in church, contemplating all the new things in our lives and wondering what it all means. I felt God speak to my spirit, so gently and quietly. "I have something better for you. Something better than you could imagine." And because God knows I'm not easily convinced, mere moments later the pastor spoke those same words. "He has something better for you." Our family made its annual trek to Topsail Island, North Carolina in early July. As usual I planned several weeks in advance. Made my lists. Checked them twice. Prepared the eight hour car ride almost down to the minute with games, treats and movies. That schedule included a stop at the Chick-Fil-A in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina. We usually stop there for lunch and let the kids play and blow off steam for about an hour before we put them back in the car. The trip was going along smoothly and all of my plans were working out. Success! Until we arrived at Chick-Fil-A. It was slammed, but that's always the case so I wasn't too stressed. We got our food, miraculously found a table to accommodate everyone in our family and all was well. Until we saw the sign in front of the play area that said it was being cleaned. We asked how long this would take. About an hour. Seriously? You chose lunchtime on a Saturday to clean your play area? I was irritated. I wanted to speak to management. In the meantime, my kids decided it would be a good time to hold a wrestling match on the floor. My husband, who is always calm and cool, whipped out his phone and opened up an aerial map of where we were. There was a baseball field tucked behind the shopping center across the street. We put the kids back in the car and in less than 60 seconds we pulled in front of the baseball field. But it wasn't just a baseball field. There was also a playground, some swings and a huge shade tree. The kids burst out of the car, shrieking with joy and descended on the playground like locusts over a field. As I sat under the shade tree with my baby playing in the grass and a cool breeze blowing I heard God speak to me again. So sweetly, so softly. "See, I have something better for you than you can plan for yourself. Something you couldn't have even known." Yes, I smiled. This is better. I don't know why He has set us on this course. I don't know why we've said so many tearful goodbyes. I don't even know where He wants us to move after we sell our home, I just know He doesn't want us to stay here. I do know that His plans are better. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

What's in a Name?

I was sitting in the hospital recently after giving birth to my newest treasure, listening to the sweet patterns of his breathing and falling more in love with each little sigh. He's a dream come true. I've wanted four boys for as long as I can remember. Hard to say exactly why. I had no idea that building our family would be anything other than simple and easy. I was wrong. We buried our first son, Adam. We were devastated and the wounds from that loss sometimes haunt us even today. Then we had Caleb, a stressful pregnancy but easy delivery. The two to follow weren't so easy. Each of them had frightening stays in the NICU that had us, at one point, wondering if we were going to be burying another child. When it came time to try for our fourth and last baby, my body wouldn't cooperate. We were told we probably couldn't get pregnant again without the help of medication. We decided to wait and think it over. God had a different plan and I got pregnant after all. I wanted a fourth boy and knew from the start that the baby I carried was the boy I longed for. The pregnancy and delivery were the most physically demanding I'd ever had. But it was all worth it for the bundle of heaven I held in my arms. No complications. No NICU stay. Just sweet perfection. I decided to name the baby Benjamin long before he was even conceived. The story of Benjamin's birth is powerful. Rachel, Benjamin's mother, had an extremely difficult delivery and ended up dying as a result. Before she died, however, she named her son Ben-Oni, which means Son of My Sorrow. His father, Jacob, whose name means The Deceiver, knew all too well the burden of a bad name. He understood that carrying the guilt of his mother's death through his name was too much for a child to bear and renamed him Benjamin, Son of My Right Hand. God himself decided to relieve Jacob of such a burden and renamed him Israel, God Wrestler and Father of the Twelve Tribes. What you call yourself is important. What God Himself calls you, even more so. In Isaiah 62:2 God promises "...you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will bestow." So I named my son Benjamin because I could very well declare our journey to build a family hardship. I could name it pain or loss, sorrow or fear. Or I could give it a new name: God is faithful, God is My Healer, God is My Strength and My Song. He is faithful and He wrote the story of my family with His own hand. He has turned my wailing into dancing, He removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

So, today was one of those days that you know going in, it's going to be hectic at best with the potential of being a waking nightmare. I took my boys to have their pictures taken. Now, this isn't something I've done for a really long time. It's expensive and the shots haven't always been wonderful. But there was a Groupon for $16 for nearly $200 in photographs, so I decided to take a chance. How bad could it be?

The day started out with a plan, but any plans involving a 5 year old, 3 year old and 1 year old are dicey from the start. I laid out the kids' clothes and kept them naked until I was almost ready to go out the door. The Bear, however, found a Father's Day chocolate left abandoned out in the open. No problem, he's naked. Enjoy your chocolate, son. Somehow, though, he managed to get in a wrestling match with his brother, rolled over onto the shirt I had for him and DROOLED chocolate onto the collar. Sigh. So, it IS possible to get your clothes dirty EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT WEARING THEM. So, I had to take a few minutes to rinse the collar out and then dry the shirt with a blow dryer. It looked almost clean.

Once we got to the photography store, they checked us in and took us back. The boys were excited about having their pictures taken, which was hopeful. The photographer was less than thrilled, which is odd since this place shoots almost nothing but children. He placed my kids (manhandled them really) and proceeded to bark at them for the next half hour. Put your hands down. Close your mouth. Stand still. These are legitimate things to say when photographing children (which is probably as difficult as training fleas for the circus) but I wasn't so sure his tone needed to be quite so gruff (the language I used in my head to refer to him was far less G rated). At one point he turned to me and said, "You're kids are really good listeners." Really? Thanks. How about not yelling at them then.

By the 11th pose my 1 year old was all done and announced that any further pictures taken of him would include red eyes and a pouty lip. So we called it day. We waited for 15 minutes while he processed them and I should have known I was pressing my luck. The place was set up for kids to run around a bit, so I let them expend a little energy. By the time the pictures were ready to view they were nearly wild with having been good for far too long. I looked over the pictures, chose the ones I liked best (while trying to manage the quickly disintegrating situation around me: Don't climb on the table. Stop pulling your brother's arm. Stop screaming!!) I picked the best shot of the three boys and a few others (of course we all knew this would happen) and waited for the pictures to print out. She brought them out and I realized to my horror that I'd chosen (for my Groupon package that included 8 color pages) of a shot where my 5 year old had one eye almost closed. Hand to forehead.

I took the boys to Chick Fil A as promised and collapsed in the chair while they inhaled nuggets and fries. It'll be a while, I think, before we try this one again. Unless the Groupon is too hard to resist!

Time Out

So, it's been a while since my last post. Caring for and homeschooling three little ones leaves very little free time. Who knew?

I have a confession to make. I hate taking a shower. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE being clean. I just hate taking time out of my day to bathe. Same is true for drying my hair. Both activities require me to stand still and do NOTHING ELSE for at least ten minutes. If I'm going to be still and do only one thing, I'd like for that thing to be sleep.

I'm a chronic multi-tasker. If I find myself doing only one thing, I feel like I'm doing nothing at all. I don't even watch TV without doing something else at the same time: fold laundry, check email, work out. I have found over the last year of being a Mom of Three that standing still is going backward. Laundry not folded today is a pile of laundry threatening to humanize and take over our home tomorrow. Dishes multiply in the sink like algae in a swamp. Untidied toys unite in cover of darkness, plotting mutiny.

My aversion to showering is especially acute when I don't get to bathe until the boys are in bed, which is more often than not. Once they're in bed, I really want to make the most of every precious child-free moment, doing all the things I can't do when they're awake. I don't want to waste a single minute standing still in the shower.

I understand that I may be alone in this. I'm sure many women see those few moments in the shower as alone time. It's funny what becomes a simple pleasure when you're too busy to remember to brush your teeth. Going to the grocery store alone is a rare luxury. Though I find that, without the incentive to get out as quickly as possible, the grocery bill is slightly higher when I shop alone.

Even sitting here typing this takes me away from a million other things that demand my time. I guess that's why these entries are few and far between. So, I'll step away from the computer and try to decide which of those million things comes first. I think I'll start with hugging my boys.

What's That? By Golly, It's a Spade!

I try to keep my posts light. I think focusing on the humorous side of parenting really keeps me sane. We as moms try really hard to stay PC, never telling another mom that a choice she’s made is wrong. This is wise and kind. For the most part, we are all doing the best we can with a pure motivation of love for our kids. The pressure is so hard to “get it right” that we don’t need our own fears of inadequacy voiced by another person. There are a few things, though, that I think should be a no-brainer and yet I see it so much that I just have to comment.

The other night I went to see a movie (one that is clearly not for children) and there were four young boys sitting behind me. The youngest looked to be about four or five, the oldest maybe ten. Every time there was a violent or sexual act on the screen I cringed, wondering what must be going through those little minds. So, I’m just going to say what I believe. Children should not be watching violent and sexual images.

I believe strongly that “You Are What You Eat.” If you want a healthy body, you need to fill it with good things. If you want a healthy mind and spirit, likewise. There are images I don’t think adults should expose themselves to, not to mention our children.

What really disturbs me is the trend in society as a whole to believe that all images and subject matters are appropriate for children of all ages. Sex Ed for kindergartners? Why? Oral sex education for 5th graders? Madness. (Note: These programs were being discussed for public schools in Montana). If we all agree that a fourteen year old shouldn’t be having sex, then why on earth would anyone hand that child a condom? The argument that “they’re going to do it anyway, so let’s make sure it’s safe” is akin to “mass murderers can’t help themselves, so we should just make sure they’re properly educated.” It is the natural tendency of my toddler to want to run out into the parking lot unattended or eat junk food all day, to scream and throw himself in the floor when he doesn’t get his way (a behavior he has to LEARN to control) but I train him otherwise because, as his parent, I know what’s best for him. Does he still ask for cookies for dinner and throw tantrums? YES! But I don't give up on training him and just try to teach him "safe" ways pitch a fit. Do we not, then, train our teenagers in the same manner because it might be hard? I surely hope that's not the case.

Our children get to retain their youth and innocence for so short a time. What’s the rush? Why do we need to expose them to the harsh realities of adulthood before they’ve really had time to enjoy being children? If you could go back to believing the store running out of your favorite flavor of ice cream is the world’s greatest tragedy, wouldn’t you do it?

So much of parenting can feel like guesswork, but when it comes to whether or not my child should see someone murdered or violently attacked, I don’t have to hesitate. I know we live in a culture of Go Along to Get Along, but every now and again I like to call a spade a…well, you know.

Straight Outta Sodor...

We took the boys to Day Out With Thomas today at the B&O Railroad Museum in Baltimore. It’s always a great day for little train lovers. They have train tables set up for the kids to play with, balloons, temporary tattoos, moon bounces, train rides and lots of junk food. Needless to say it’s a young boy’s ideal day. The boys spent a little time playing at the train tables until it was time for us to load up for our train ride.

The main attraction, a life-size Thomas the Tank Engine, is hooked up to a line of passenger cars and the kids get to take a ride with him. It was the highlight of my day when Bear saw Thomas for the first time. His face lit up and he screamed like William Wallace going into battle. Strangely enough the train ride is my least favorite part of the day. The expectations built from the first glance of Thomas makes the end result rather anti-climactic. Sensing a possible let-down, the parents tried admirably to get the crowd excited about a 10 mile-an-hour train ride into the depths of inner city Baltimore. No small feat. Even more entertaining was listening to the parents try to come up with creative answers to their little ones’ questions: Mommy, why are there plastic bags in the trees? Mommy, what are those colorful words on the side of the building? Mommy, why is that lady lying so still at the bottom of the bridge? Honestly, after a solid mile of graffiti-covered landscape I was glad the Bug is only just starting to read…and doesn’t know the significance of a swastika. At the end of the train ride, though, my boys were still in awe of their “ride with Thomas.” I suspect that once we take them to Disney World they’ll no longer fall for trying to pass the mildly diverting train ride off as something fun and exciting.

Events like these also provide me with an opportunity to watch people in public. Here I get wonderful ideas on what to do on outings with kids…and what NOT to do. I’m sure I display the latter on my fair share of occasions, but I made some classic observations today and felt it my duty to pass them along. In regards to the Gift Shop at this event, I strongly recommend you do NOT buy the train whistles they sell. They’re very cute, but it’s a purchase you will regret almost the instant the transaction is complete (or at the very least as soon as you get in your car with your little one and his noisemaker). Secondly (and I can’t stress the importance of this enough), don’t take your kids into the gift shop with you. While your spouse or a grandparent watches them jump themselves into giddy oblivion in the moon bounces, you sneak away to browse and perhaps pick up a trinket or two to commemorate the day. Then, instead of having to carry your angel out of the shop screaming and flailing, you get to be the wonderful mommy who magically appears with a few well chosen treats.

Now, to be honest, I have yet to figure out how to end any fun activity without tears. No matter how long we’ve stayed or how much fun we’ve had my four-year-old always cries like we’ve sentenced him to years of manual labor. Soon after the tears, though, comes the hush of children sleeping in the back seat, the sweet sound of a successful day.

Let's Do the Time Warp Again...

My day is about three hours too short. Before I had kids I managed to accomplish all sorts of things, and still got a full night’s sleep (even the occasional nap). Why should things take so much time, you ask. I asked the same question Before I Had Kids (BIHK). Here’s the answer: If you ask an adult to cross the room, he could do so in a matter of seconds. If you ask a child to cross that same room, he’s first going to ask you why (and since he probably won’t move until your response becomes ‘Because I Said So’, you may as well start out with this one). When he finally does start to move he’ll get about halfway across the room before he turns back because he’s decided that he wants to cross the room backwards and has to start over to get it right. Then he’ll want to cross again as a kangaroo. A frog. A snake. This describes any given activity with a child.

Like most people, each of our days begins with a list of things to be done. This list is ordered by priority and divided into what can be done with the kids awake and what needs to be done while they sleep. But a day with children is never predictable and this list suffers many modifications and sadly most things get pushed to the next day when you swear you’ll make the time to get it done. Most days I have to choose between taking a nap and taking a shower. And even though I have jelly in my hair I choose the nap more often than not. Little things suffer neglect. Who has time to replace the batteries in the remote or check the mail (we’re expecting our mail carrier to vandalize our house any day now).

I also used to wonder BIHK why parents of small children were always late to everything. Now, I pride myself on the fact that I’m nearly on time more often than not (at least within the margin of error), but leaving the house in a timely manner takes the timing and precision of a military operation. While the kids are sleeping or otherwise occupied, I gather all supplies necessary (diapers, snacks) for our trip and put them by the door. Way ahead of the game, right? Not so fast. Now begins the Circus of Getting Out the Door. My boys often remind me of the Pac-Man ghosts. They bounce around until they hit an opening and then go through it. Therefore, I spend a maddening amount of time going after one and then the other (and then the first one again because he left my grasp to go bouncing around the room). Then the baby starts screaming because he doesn’t like the car seat and the other two begin to fight because they both want to be the one to open the door. Once we’re out the door (and I’m already tired) my task then changes to keeping them on path toward the car without being distracted by rocks and dirt (I suppose this is their version of cheesecake and diamonds; things I personally cannot resist). So the next time you see a mommy arrive at an event with children in tow with everyone reasonably dressed and breathing, give her a standing ovation. She certainly deserves it.