Lists and Responsiblities

I am absolutely awful with charts.  Reward charts, responsibility charts, reading charts, behavior charts, allowance charts,  eat-your-veggies charts.  I look at them and dream of all the stickers that will fill those beautiful pages. I have tried them...all sorts of them.  And I'm really good at completing at least one day! And then I get distracted.

"How many minutes did you read?  Oh...I didn't time it, either.  Let's give you 3 stickers." 

"When was the last time you did your chores?  I don't remember, either.  Um...probably shouldn't give you any stickers.  Let's start over, okay?"

"You were really kind today...but how do I measure 'kindness'...let's say 5 stickers!"

BUT, I LOVE lists!  I can create lists all day long.  I make to-do lists for myself everyday. 
So, this summer, I tried a no-nonsense-to-do list approach.  And it has WORKED for us!!!

Here is our simple chore list which hangs at kid-eye-level. 

a = Abby (and yes, I realize the "a" is backwards in the picture.  We have a resident 2 year old here.)
c = Caedmon
o = Once a week duties (usually on Saturday)
e = Extras, or special jobs which results an allowance to be saved for toys they want to buy.

(I bought these really cool letter magnets for Abby about 6 years ago from Ollie's...turns out, oddly enough, that after I made my to-do lists, these letters were 4 of only 8-ish that I have left from the whole set...worked out perfectly for displaying my lists! I love when a plan comes together!)

Above the orange line are "musts".  Those things simply have to be done everyday. Below the orange line are things that are "as needed:".  For example, once Abby straightens the bookshelf, it is usually not out of order for several days. She will check it and replace any books she finds. But if it's not messy, then she can move onto the next thing.

Every Saturday, I switch the "a" and the "c".  Both kids LOVE to clean the toilet.  That is the prized list.  Both kids hate to do the bookshelf.  See, they have so much in common...and they think of themselves as complete opposites! :)

It works out great to switch the jobs every week because it gives us all a change of pace. And if one child is not particularly "good" at a job (as in, when cleaning the litter box, a certain child gets freaked out by the poop and flings it into the trash can, scattering litter all over the place) then we can all take heart that it is only for 6 more days until they can switch again.  I help where needed, but for the most part, they take care of their chores without much involvement on my part, leaving me to drink coffee and eat chocolate bon-bons. :)  (yeah right...more like washing the dishes and picking up after the 2 year old!)

Both kids have been saving up for special toys they wanted to buy.  This week, they were really motivated (that is to say, competitive) and each picked several things from the "e" list.  Not only was the house clean from regular chores, but they also cleaned the van, the fridge, the windows and even donated some toys!  A definite win for this mom!  And we celebrated by a fun-guilt-free trip to Toys-R-Us and Wal-Mart.  I may be crazy...but I'm pretty sure they have played with these new toys with extra enjoyment because of the hard work involved!

We have been using this system since May.  I think I have finally found a system that works for us!
Tell me, what works in your home?

Yes, kids do LIVE here.

I've been living in a fantasy world for a few weeks.  It goes a little something like this: my world is perfect. My kids are always clean, and always put away their toys.  Dishes never clutter the sink.  The beds are always made. Even the dog doesn't shed...but if she does, I vacuum the hair immediately.  That sounds lovely doesn't it?  And I've even managed to maintain that facade...for a bit.

The problem is, that creating a perfect front comes at a cost. Here is what I've really experienced:

I'm exhausted. I stay up late to clean up so that I don't have to do it in the morning.

I'm irritable. It may feel good to wake up to a clean house, but when someone spills something I am less than kind.

I'm obsessive. I can't let things go. I keep thinking, "Just one more thing and then I will sit down." Funny thing about that philosophy...I always find exactly one more thing to do.

 The kids are frustrated and bored. They've been forced to watch entirely too much TV while I obsess.


And even after all the "maintaining" that a "good stay at home mom" has done, there are STILL areas that are not up to the standards of others.

I'm sick of myself. I'm sick of putting pressure on myself to live this way. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate a clutter free space. I like not having toys all over the floor and I think it's important for the kids to learn responsibility and pick up after themselves.   But I miss the days of playing in the grass, discovering new bugs in the yard. I miss "finger" painting giant pieces of paper (and the bathroom floor) with our feet.

Someone recently came to my house and made the comment "You can tell kids live here."  To be honest, it ruffled my feathers. I felt a need to explain.  But it dawned on me today as I was vacuuming the hardwood floors (really???) that I'm a people-pleaser.  I'm directing my attention to the standards of other people. My expectations for myself are based on the opinions of others.

But this is all wrong! I need only to live up to the standard of One. Jesus Christ.  And I can assure you that He cares more about the state of my children's hearts than the state of their bedroom. I'm reflecting on the things that I'm teaching their young hearts.  Do I want them to see exhaustion and people-pleasing modeled as a way of life?  Or do I want them to see a life surrendered to Jesus and worshiping him in all that I do? I want to be a reflection of Christ, One who looks not on the outward but the inward.  I want to be and I want my kids to be eternally-minded.  Going only where our Shepherd leads. Doing what HE puts on our to-do lists.

So yes, kids live here. There are stains on the carpeting and upholstery of our car. Construction paper and finger-painted masterpieces decorate my walls.  Toy cars are parked under the couch. Stuffed animals sit on the kitchen floor awaiting adoption from the "pet shop".  And super-heroes bask in the sunlight on the sun-porch floor. Yes, kids live here. They reside here. They learn and discover here. They rest here. They take comfort here. They have adventures here.  They LIVE here.   And, it's my desire that here, in this home, they will experience the wonderful, abundant life that Jesus gives us.

And I wouldn't have it any other way!

Motherhood: Drop Cloth and Bucket Required

Thank you Desiree for the title of this unbelievable day...

(Please note that this post is probably TMI...but well...it's life in the land of Motherhood.There are intentionally no pictures attached to this entry.)

Before I begin the unfolding of today's events. Let me start with the lessons I've learned (been learning) and had the opportunity to practice.
.
Lesson 1: Sometimes God does give us more than we can handle.  I texted a friend today and told her that I knew God
doesn't give us more than we can handle but I'm at my limit.  She texted back a surprising, but wonderful response: "Actually, I think God does give us more than we can handle so that we see our need to depend on Him."  Thank you! That set the stage for me today.  I listened, I leaned in, I survived!

Lesson 2: Godly friendships are imperative.  I can't do this journey alone.  I know that I can text several of my closest friends and ask for prayer and I know I will be prayed for in that moment.  That's so reassuring...and life giving.  I'm thankful for interceding friends. 

Lesson 3: You can either laugh or you can cry about a situation.  It's much more pleasant (and makes for better blog material) if you laugh!

Lesson 4: Blue and red icees are not as fun coming up as they are going down...but I am getting ahead of myself here!  On to the fun (??) run down of my day.

After a terribly hectic and long day, we arrived home late, put the kids to bed late...and went to bed late ourselves.  Around 1 am I hear the familiar "thump thump" of Caveman's foot steps (he's never been one to pitter-patter around the house).  I groan "Why can't these kids stay in their own beds?"  Then I hear "Momm....blahhhhh"....next is Hubby, "Ugh! He just threw up on me!"  (and we later found that he also got the entire basket of freshly washed clothes).

Yes, my 2 year old son was standing near the doorway of our bedroom and projectile vomited onto my husband. (I'm so glad that I sleep closest to the window!)  We break into clean up mode.  Wonderful Hubby cleans without ever a complaint.

Caveman now on the bed rolls all over my pillow and sheets while I'm getting a rag. <sigh> I just washed those too!

I go to his room to get fresh clothes and it's a regular slip-n-slide in there.  Yes, I had to change my clothes. I return and  flip on the light to find that he had apparently been facing the wall when his belly began to feel upset...yes...all. over. the. wall....but surprising not on his sheets.  Thanks buddy!

Finally all are settled back in bed and an hour later I'm awakened by Caveman who is complaining that he peed in his pull-up. Now is the time he wants to potty train???  I feel him. He's soaked.  We go to the bathroom only to find that it's not pee. Apparently his mouth is not the only thing that can explode during the night. <sigh>  Really regretting those oreos I gave him earlier in the day.

Back to bed and 2 hours later...same routine.

Hubby gets up at 5:30 and goes to his office (also the home of the zapped cat ). The next thing I hear is frustration as several trips ensue to the bathroom and the sun porch (in which the cat was deposited).  Yes. The cat had, in fact, pooped on Hubby's chair. Not knowing this, he sat in it.  The cat is not  currently  a favored household member.

Everyone is up and groggy by 7.  I finally get breakfast scrounged together by 8:30.

Hubby is planning to go out of town with his boss today and we have to leave the house by 9.  I'm feeling frantic because I've had no sleep. One child is sick. The other is in high gear. And my husband is leaving for 3 days.

My doctor's office calls just as I'm about to start crying.  "We got your tests back. You have an infection. We called in a prescription, but you need to know that these meds will give you side effects that we cannot treat until your 2nd trimester. Have a good day."  Of course that call would happen today. In that moment.  I'm 8 weeks along...it's going to be a long 4 weeks.

We get out the door, make the 30 minute drive to the house of Hubby's boss. Say a goodbye to him and off I go to pick up my prescription (fighting back silly tears in effort to be strong for the kids).

Once arriving at Target, one kid is winding down. The other is screaming his head off and wanting only to be held. Poor kid. He's sick. I get it.  In effort to keep them quiet and hydrated, I buy them icees. A red one for Blue Bird. A blue one for Caveman.  All are happy. I decide to glance over the clearance section of clothes in effort to find brown pants and a shirt for Blue Bird's lion Halloween costume.

At which point, Blue Bird says, "Mommy, I feel sick. My tummy hurts."  I'm sad to say that I didn't at first believe her, thinking it was only attempt to be like Caveman.  She proved her point when she deposited all her red icee into my lovely purple jacket...in the clothing section of Target.

She  tends to get insanely embarrassed. So I managed to hide her and clean her up without anyone noticing.


We rush over to the pharmacy to get my meds before any more red icee revisits us.  Just as I'm paying and saying "Thank you" to the pharmacist, I notice a look of utter disgust on her face. I turn around to see a steady stream of blue icee coming out of Caveman.  Blue icee everywhere! Blue icee....all over the pharmacy area. All over the clearance clothes that I  had in the cart. (I guess I'm committed to them all now.) All over the cart and Blue Bird's feet and shoes.

The pharmacy worker gave me a bag and some paper towels, all the while Blue Bird is crying out "He got some on my foot!  Please clean off my foot!"  And the other pharmacy workers could all be heard "It was a blue icee?"  "Do you think the icee made him sick?"  "I stay away from the blue..."  Yes...all duly noted.  No, it's not the icee. He has a vicious stomach bug and my husband is out of town and I have to have this medicine so that it can give me side effects that will linger untreatable for 4 more weeks.  Thank you!

So I strip Caveman down to his diaper and proceed to the check out.  Yes, it's fall. Yes, my kid is naked. Yes, he has a stomach bug. Yes, I brought him into a public place. My husband is out of town and I needed this medicine...oh forget it...just stop staring at me. I'm not a circus routine!  <please someone tell me they have been in this situation before!>

I survey the checkout people.  I avoid the mean ones and head straight for the one that is always smiling and happy.  So thankful that at this point a friend from church joined me in line and distracted the half naked, icee covered kids while I explained to Friendly Cashier that I would hold the tags of the soaked clothes while she scans them with her scanner-wand-thingy.  She was so. very. kind.  And I bagged my own items.

I was so glad to get home.  I'm so thankful for friends and their encouraging words and service to me.

Currently, I'm typing in the dark in the living room.  The kids are asleep in their sleeping bags, on their mattresses,  on the living room floor, with a trash can between them.  Tonight was supposed to be our "fun camp out" night. (a tradition of ours when Daddy goes out of town).  Maybe tomorrow will be more "camp out-ish".

But for tonight, I will sleep, with my drop cloth and bucket handy...


side note: 3 loads of laundry, 3 pillows, and a set of sheets was the total count for the day.

Eternal Preschool

I have a confession to make. I'm scared of teenagers. Well, I'm not really scared of them as persons... I'm scared of having some of my own.

At church yesterday, I was talking to a parent of a teen. He was telling me how quickly time has passed and that having a teenager is so different.  Then it suddenly dawned on me.  I'm going to have some of those one day. I got scared. It's not that I'm realizing this for the first time. Obviously, I know that kids grow up  and that it's all natural and we can't stop it from happening.  But you see, I'm a mom of preschoolers. The world I live in seems eternal.  My days are very much the same: feed them, clean them, play with them, clean up after them, feed them, feed them,clean up, put them to bed.

Both of my kids love to pretend.  Abby pretends to be everything from tigers to princesses. Caedmon prefers to be a fireman or one of the characters from Busytown Mysteries. And they like for me to pretend too, usually at the same time. So most days I'm Sleeping Beauty Sally Cat.

And I often get frustrated with the same conversations and same pretend play day after day. And not only that, but the endless cycle that is laundry and cleaning the house! It's enough to make a person crazy some days!

But I realized yesterday that eventually they will be teenagers, and these days of eternal preschool will be a distant memory.  Some day my little boy that looks up at me with those deep blue eyes and says "Holda me. I loves you, Sally!" will be asking me for the car keys.  And my precious little girl that begs me to play make-up with her and then smears eye shadow all over my face will one day think I have no sense of style and will keep her own private diary! <gasp!>

And then I realize how much of my day I spend rushing onto the next errand. Pushing towards the next task. Trying to achieve the perfect home. I don't want to rush this time or waste it on the unimportant.  I want to enjoy it.


This is my reminder to myself:

"Why are you always rushing?
Always worried, always toiling.
The house can wait. Your children can't.
The dishes will have to be washed again later. Let them wait.
Childhood is calling. Play. Pretend.
The days of pirates and princesses will not always linger.
Race cars and choo-choo trains do not wait.
Stop playing with "instruction" and "teachable moments" always on your mind.
Leave your grown-up world. Enter your child's.
Be amazed. Wonder. Dream.
Have camp-outs under the kitchen table.
Picnic in the grass next to the sandbox.
For soon that imaginative child that never seems to stop talking and has boundless energy
will be all grown up.
The trucks will be placed in the attic.
The dress-up clothes that carpet the floor will no longer fit.
The toys which never seem to be put away and the markers with mismatched lids will not be your permanent decor.
This is a season. The best advice I've ever received for this season: Enjoy your kids."


So, if you will excuse me, both of my kids are now awake and it's time for Sleeping Beauty Sally Cat to solve some mysteries in the princess beauty salon.

Turtle Guy

Abby is wearing a shirt today that says:

"Save:
         Pandas
         Whales
         Cheetah
          All of the animals"

This is unbelievably appropriate for my daughter. She. Loves. Animals.  She wants to have a horse ranch and save all the animals that she can when she grows up. "But only the cute ones" she admits.

Sometimes I think Abby feels overlooked. She's 4 but feels 6. She's not the baby anymore and being a big sister is tough work. She would add, "Especially when the little brother is a wild key-whapper." Thankfully, I was able to use Abby's love of animals to reconnect with her in a strange but exciting way.


Driving (faster than I should) down one our little country roads, I just barely missed a turtle in the road. It occurred to me that if Abby had been driving, she probably would have stopped the car and moved the turtle out of the road. I laughed.

Then I thought about how slowly turtles move and how fast other drivers (clears throat) drive. I felt bad.

I found a place to turn around and told the kids, "We have to go back."

The kids whined. Abby asked, "But whhhhyyyy, Mommy?"

"There's a turtle in the road that needs our help!" Her face lit up as she surveyed the road ahead.

I was regretting revealing my plan so early as I imagined that the turtle had already been smashed and I would have to now explain it to Abby.

But to my surprise, he was still okay and trucking along at a...well...a turtle's pace. :) 

So, I turned the car around again (to be on the same side of the road as the turtle), parked the car off the side of the road. Looked both ways, and saw a car coming. I had no time to hesitate...but just as I reached down to grab Mr. Turtle, he hissed at me! <I still get shivers when I remember it>  The nerve! I'm risking my life to save his and he hisses at me! I didn't even know turtles could hiss! But I couldn't drop him now, my kids were watching eagerly from the car!  So I kept hold of him and then tossed him into the grass. 

But oh! He landed on his back. I knew that wasn't going to be helpful, so I reached down the small embankment and picked him up again. <shivers>  This time, feeling less panicky, I carried him over to meet my kids.  They were thrilled!!! 

I put him back down into the grass (facing the opposite direction of the road) and got back into the car.

The look on Abby's face was priceless. Mommy was a turtle hero!  Her heart had been heard. And now she knows that Mommy is on her side, caring about the same things that concern her little (BIG) heart.

Caedmon, dubbed the turtle "Turtle Guy". Each day that we drive that road, we look for Turtle Guy.  I hope this is one of those stories that we share year after year at the Thanksgiving table!

I wondered later if Turtle Guy had a reason for crossing the road. Perhaps a family, or better food.  I may have actually set him back by a week. Perhaps the reason for his hissing?  <shrugs shoulders> We'll never know, I guess!

Discipline: Why?

Yesterday, Caedmon broke the latch on my brand new mother's day gifted picnic basket. He was trying to get the snacks inside,  in spite of the fact that I told him 4 times that it was not snack time and that he would have to wait. Refusing to be delayed, he ripped the entire latch completely off the front of the basket.

Immediately I scolded him and he hid his face. I was frustrated and really wanted to smack his hand to teach him a lesson.  But when he looked at me with tear-filled eyes, I (fortunately) had enough composure to sense that he did not need to be "taught a lesson". He knew his actions were wrong. Caed needed something much deeper from me.  I took his face in my hands and told him to tell me that he was sorry. He pulled away and said emphatically, "No!".  And that is how he got into time out.

I knew that he knew he was wrong. His tears displayed that fact. But he was feeling stubborn and refused to make it right.  So he sat, crying, in time out for 2 minutes.  As soon as I sat down next to Caed's chair, I asked him if he knew why he was sitting in time out. He nodded his head. I asked him if he broke my basket, and he confirmed.  I, then, stated that he would not tell Mommy "sorry". "Yes" was his simple reply. Then without me even asking, he said "sowwy" while rubbing his hand in a circle on his chest with his head low.

Something clicked in me.  I could hear my Father's voice in my heart saying "just as I forgive you, forgive others." Compassion raced through my body and I held out my hands to my son. A smile burst forth on his face. He literally dove out of the chair into my arms,  said, "I wuv you" and kissed me over and over.

Since that moment, I've been thinking about discipline with children and why we do it.  The Bible says

“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,
   and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,
⁶ because the Lord disciplines the one he loves,
   and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son."
Hebrews: 12:5-6

My goal as a parent is not to break the will of my children. It's not to prove that I'm boss or that I'm bigger and call the shots. I'm not set on "teaching them a lesson."  My goal is to foster within Abby and Caedmon a sense of self-discipline. This comes through setting expectations and boundaries and then following through consistently.

However, there's something more to discipline than just punishment for breaking mommy's expectations. Discipline should always include teachable moments. I don't want my kids to simply obey rules that I set before them. I want them to make decisions based on truth, not fear of punishment. I want them to understand the underlying reasons of my rules.  It is wrong to break someones picnic basket, because in our family we respect one another and anothers property.  Furthermore, it's wrong to walk away without apologizing, even if it was an accident, because in our family we treat others the way we want to be treated and that means making it right between us.


 Today, Caedmon learned a valuable lesson about forgiveness. Sure, he needed to know that trying to get a snack after I told him "no" was wrong. But what he needed enforced much more was how completely healing it is to say "sorry" and to receive forgiveness from the person that he wronged.

And I needed to learn, in a powerful moment of compassion, that "A gentle answer turns away anger."  (Proverbs 15:1).   I definitely do not have this mastered by any means. I can have quite a bad temper and have done my fair share of screaming at the kids. Just last week, I threw apple peels at the window...admittedly, not my best moment.   But yesterday, at least, I witnessed a taste of truth and healing in discipline that I hope Caed and I will  not soon forget.

Caedmon Alexzander

Tonight I have been looking through old photos and remembering the birth of our son, Caedmon Alexzander 2 years ago tomorrow.  What better way to celebrate Mother's Day!

 We call him Caedmon Roo because he is like a kangaroo. Though quiet and peaceful in this pic, when awake, he is quick, always on the go and usually hopping.  From the first day that I could feel him in my belly, Roo has been in motion.  Then it was kicking, now it's climbing, jumping, running... 

Caed entered our lives a few days after his due date, but still unexpectedly.  After a routine appointment and non-stress test, the doctors decided that we should go ahead and induce labor because of some minor complications.  I was thrilled!   Then after a night in the hospital (and some AMAZING chocolate cake) Caed arrived at 1:00pm on the dot (or at least it was our best guess...the Labor and Delivery nurses forgot to check the time!)

So tonight's entry is dedicated to our son: Caedmon Alexzander.

Caedmon, Son, I'd like to explain to you why we named you the way we did. I realize that it's a difficult name and you may someday wish we had just named you something simple like "Joe". You will probably spend the majority of your time correcting the way others say it. Even now at age 2 you are forced to call yourself "Big Guy" because you can't pronounce "Caedmon" (just wait until you have to learn to spell it!), but your name is so special and each time I think of it, I get a misty-eyed.

First, a little history.  Saint Caedmon was a man that lived in England about the year 660 A.D.  He was an ordinary man that took care of cows. He was unable to read or write.  In his day, people would sit around the fire in the evenings and tell stories and sing songs from memory rather than read.  But Caedmon hated this. Each time it was his turn to recite a story, his mind fell blank.  He enjoyed the stories of his companions: tales of monsters, heroes, great birds and dragons and ships at sea, but felt ashamed and frustrated with his own inability to narrate or sing.

One night after a particularly embarrassing experience at the hearth, a man came to Caedmon in a dream and commanded him to sing a song about the things that he knew best. Caedmon sang a song about  his experience watching over the cows in the field. This is his song according to legend:

Praise we now the Keeper of heaven's kingdom,
The mind of the mighty Maker,
The Glorious Father who made
The world and all its wonders;

How first He created the roof of heaven
For us, the children of men;
The the holy Creator, the eternal Lord,
Gave the earth to people,
This middle earth to be our home.

Caedmon went on to become a monk and to share his special poems of creation, Noah, King David, Jesus and many others.  Children of his day memorized his stories and told them to one another. For years to come, as people gathered together around the fire at night they would tell Caedmon's stories rather than tales of war and monsters.

Caedmon composed many hymns in his life, but many have been lost. Scholars think that Caedmon's first song is the earliest known poem about scripture recorded in the English language. Caedmon lived a full and happy life.

Now, Son, we did not name you Caedmon because we wanted you to slack in school and fore go reading and writing.  We did not necessarily plan for you to be a cowherd or a monk (though your sister, "Babby" (as you call her) , has many plans for you regarding taking care of the horses on her horse farm...and it should be noted that at the ripe old age of 23 months, you have heartily agreed with her plans!)

No, Caedmon, we have given you a name with purpose. Your name "Caedmon" means "Wise Warrior" and Alexzander means "Defender of Man".  Granted, there are some days when I wonder at our wisdom in naming you "Warrior and Defender".  Some days I wish we would have named you something that means "Peaceful Field" or "Quiet River".  :) 

However, Your Daddy and I believe that God has given each of us an opportunity to live for Him and to serve His kingdom on this earth. Saint Caedmon lived to tell others the stories of God. He related Biblical truth in ways that others of his day could understand. I have no idea what your purpose, your role, is in this life.  But my prayer for your life comes from the Bible.  Micah 6:8:

I pray, Caedmon Alexzander that "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

I pray that you, Son, will love God with all of your mind, all of your strength and all of your heart. I pray that you will love other people and that you will be filled with compassion. I pray that you will have wisdom and a desire to defend the wronged and those who have been over-looked.

I pray too that you will have joy and laughter in your life. That you will live your life not in fear but in trust because of the Truth that guides you.

Already, I can see a protector tendency in you.  One day, our dear dog Sophie (which you now refer to as "So") bumped your sister and made her fall.  Instantly, you went to Babby's defense. You jabbered and shook your fist at "So" for several minutes saying only what I could conclude to be some sort of condemnation. You knocked "So" on the nose before returning to Babby to give her a hug.  While I do not necessarily condone hitting the dog, I do love your protective instinct.

Caedmon, thank you for coming  into our lives. You bring spontaneity and laughter to our family like we have never known.  You have taught me, through your actions, to make fun in the moment with whatever is laying around.  I've never met a kid that entertains himself so happily and freely as you.

Thank you for showering me with your love. Even on days when Mommy loses her temper, you never fail to melt away the tension by dropping into my arms for a snuggle and a hug. I love your forgiving and caring nature.

Caedmon, as you enter into the age of 2, I hope that you will come more and more into the meaning of your name.  I hope that you will grow in wisdom and love this next year.

Happy Birthday, Caedmon Alexzander!  I love you. So much!

Just before bed, last picture being 1!

Being a Guide

I'm always looking for ways to build up Abby's trust.  I can't really explain it, but she has an underlining theme of mistrust. She always questions me to make sure I know what I'm doing. Sometimes it's about food that I'm giving to Caedmon ("Mommy, does that have milk in it?"). Sometimes it's about a task I ask for her to complete ("Okay, but why?")  Maybe it's the age, maybe it's not. I'm not sure. Never-the-less, if an opportunity arises to build trust between us, I try to take it.

We stopped in the Burger King near our hotel only because of the cool play place it housed. It was a labyrinth of colored twists and turns.

Many of the tubes had no windows and Abby could not tell which way to go in order to get out of the maze. I could tell she was getting a little nervous about it as she called out for help. So I decided to make a game out of it. She would tell me which color tube she was in, and then standing at the bottom, I would give her options of which way to go. "If you go to the green, you will have to go down hill a little then to the blue. If you go to the red, you will have to go up hill..." There was one point in which she had to cross a net into a tube then onto another net. As she was crossing from the tube onto the second net, the tube began to sway a bit and squeak. She panicked and froze. I could tell the tube was meant to sway. I reminded her that I could see what was happening and explained to her why it was squeaking. She trusted me and crossed over!

 It was fun event and reminded me of my role as her parent. I can often see twists and turns  that she cannot. I can direct her, but she is free to choose her own path. But I'll be there with her to laugh and wince all along the way.  And I'll celebrate with her when she comes out stronger in the end!

Can You See the Wind?

Each month, I recieve email updates from a parenting website about milestones that my children should be encountering.  One of the more recent 4 year old updates told me that my child will become an investigative reporter wanting to know the who, what, when, where, and why of every situation. THAT is an understatement!

I generally love questions from my Blue Bird. I like that she is thinking through things and discovering. I enjoy teaching her and explaining things...most of the time.  (Though, admittedly, in past weeks I have actually set a limit to the number of questions she is allowed to ask...It's funny to watch her weigh a question in effort to determine if it is worth using up one of her five allowable questions.)

The past two days, however, her questions have taken on depth that excites me. Yesterday, during lunch, she asked me a series of questions about how she came to be in our family:

A: "Why are some babies adopted?"
Me: "Sometimes mommies and daddies have a baby that they are unable to take care of, so they let another mommy and daddy take care of it."
A: "How was I adopted?"
Me: "You weren't adopted, Sweetie. You were born to Daddy and me."
A: "How was I born?"
Me: <deep breath to myself> "Daddy and I planned to have you and God put you in my belly.  Remember when Caedmon was in my belly and grew bigger and bigger? It was the same with you."
A: "How did I get out of your belly?"
Many of you are smiling here. :)  I'll not tell you my exact words, but I ended up assuring her that she did not come out of my feet. And she ended the conversation by saying, "I bet it hurts."  :) Um...yeah...it does, my Dear! :)

Today our conversation was more eternally focused.  We were eating a snack and listening to praise and worship music. The particular song started out soft and slow and gradually built up. 

A: "Why does the music get bigger?"
Me: "Because the singers are excited."
A: "How can we be excited about something that we can't see?"
Me: "That's a very good question. Let me think about my answer for a minute." <quick prayer for wisdom!>
I took her outside onto the step. I told her to close her eyes and tell me what she feels. 
A:  <giggling> "The wind blowing my hair into my face."
Me: "Open your eyes. Can you see the wind?"
A: "No"
Me: "How do you know it was the wind?"
A: "I can see it moving things."
Me: "Jesus is like the wind. You can't see the wind, but you can see the effects of the wind. You can see the grass moving and the trees moving and feel the hair blowing on your face."
A: "I can see the wind blowing your hair!"
Me: "Right!  Like that, we can't see Jesus, but we can see Jesus doing things around us. We can feel Him in our hearts." 

And through that amazingly open door into Abby's heart, I was able to walk in and share with her about my relationship with Jesus. I talked with her about spending time with Jesus by reading my Bible and praying. I told her about how He helps me make decisions and teaches me.

She soon was off the step playing in the wind and acting out the story of Robin Hood. I continued to sit in awe of the moment. I remembered a day when she was about 3 months old. I placed her in a baby carrier and took a walk. I was so afraid that day about how I would tell her about Jesus. What if I messed up or said the wrong thing? What if I ruined her for life, for eternity? I have prayed and prayed for wisdom in raising her. Today, I experienced an answer from Jesus.

I reflected on the love I feel for her. Love. You can't see it. You can't measure it. But when you experience it, you KNOW what it is.

My Dad - A La Mode

Today, my Dad turned 65!  Woo-Hoo, Dad!!! You've finally made it officially to retirement! I've spent the day reflecting on my dad and many of the things he has taught me through the years.  I thought I would dedicate this space to him this evening in honor of the wonderful father that he is!

One of my earliest memories of my dad is his laugh.  He has one of those contagious kinds of laughs. You know, the kind that makes you giggle even if you don't know what you are giggling about! As a kid, I was always afraid of going to bed at night. Even with 10 stuffed animals in my bed to protect me, the dark scared me. I found so much comfort in going to bed early while my parents were still awake. I would lay there hugging my favorite lion, Leo, listening to my mom and dad talk and laugh until I drifted off to sleep.  I felt safe when I heard his laughter.

My dad also taught me a great deal about compassion and love for other people. We always said, "Dad has never met a stranger." I really don't think he has!  It never mattered where we would go, he would always strike up a conversation with someone.  I can remember going to the mall with Dad would take hours. Not because he would shop that long, necessarily (though he was able to majorly kill time in the tool section at Sears).  But we would stop at every store and converse with people all along the journey from one end of the mall to the other.  I would sometimes complain about having to wait so long, but to be honest, I enjoyed standing next to my Dad and interjecting my "two cents" when I could. It made me feel grown up!

Dad also showed me what it means to love and be dedicated to family members.  My Dad was extremely devoted to his family.  Anytime his mom or dad or brother needed him, he would drop everything to help them.  He even invited my grandma to live with us after my grandpa died because she had a difficult time living alone.  (I guess she found comfort in my Dad's laughter at night too!)

Once, my Dad was grilling steaks on our back deck. He was SO excited about these steaks.  My Uncle Joe came over to have my Dad fix a watch band.  Dad, being very consumed in helping his brother, completely forgot about his steaks...that is until he saw the smoke!  He literally ran through the screen door onto the back porch...put a hole right through the middle.  For years after that, we had yellow string threaded through the screen so that Dad would be able to see the door!  But I don't recall Dad getting angry about the situation. I only  remember laughing... A LOT!

Many people know that Dad loved radios.  He was very interested in CB radios. In fact, I was named after one of his CB friends! But what many do not know about my Dad is that he had a dream to move to Cincinnati, OH and become a radio announcer. He worked at a local radio station while dating my Mom, and dreamed of doing radio his entire life. He would have been great at it too!  What stopped him?  His dedication to family. He saw that his parents needed him and recognized my Mom's desire to be near her family. So, he put aside his dream and raised a family...near family. That takes courage in my opinion.

I think it's my Dad that even stirred a sense of passion for missions in my heart.  Remember the commercials that used to come on TV in the 80's about children starving in Ethiopia?  Every time we would see those commercials, my Dad would remind me to pray for those children because their needs were so great.  Images like that stick with a young heart. I would pray for those kids, as earnestly as I knew how.  To this day, my heart breaks for people who are in need.

Dad not only loved people, he loved animals too.  He was my partner in crime in helping me convince my mom of allowing pets into our home.  My first pet was a blond hamster named Duke.  To me, Duke was as good as any dog. I even walked around the block with him on a shoe string leash! I think my Dad secretly loved Duke as much as I did.  Once, Duke was sitting on my shoulder and fell off onto the kitchen floor. Crying, I took him to my Dad and he did the unbelievable!  He gave CPR to my hamster...and actually revived him! Oh yes! My Dad is a hero!  A year later when Duke died, Dad gave him the most rousing eulogy I've ever heard.

Years later, it was my Dad that finally convinced my Mom to let me have a puppy! Going to pick out my new siberian huskey puppy with my Dad is one of my most exciting memories. Nikki and my Dad have many of their own adventures to speak of...but I'll let my Dad be the one to tell you those! :)

Oh, and then there was learning to drive. I never took a driver's ed course. I learned my excellent driving skills from my Dad...but not without a few mishaps!  Eager to get behind the wheel at 15, my Dad took me onto Gatewood Road, a curvy and narrow road. I think my Dad's technique for taming my enthusiasm for the open road came in the form of fear. Each time we came to an oncoming car, my Dad would make me pull over onto the side of the road. I was 18 and ready for college before I felt like I could pass another car without asking permission first! After driving on Gatewood Road, I was terrified of oncoming cars and going more than 25 mph. I guess he figured that if I were able to survive Gatewood, then I could probably survive anywhere!  But I  did get back at him.  There was a time when we were driving that I splashed through a deep mud puddle at such speed that my Dad thought he was going to lose his arm on a nearby mailbox. I just looked over at him and smiled and said, "Sorry Dad!".

There was one time that I pulled out in front of another car on the way to church and nearly caused an accident. Completely shaken and in tears, I pulled off the road.  I wanted to get out and let him drive the rest of the way, but he did something absolutely wonderful! He wouldn't let me get out of the driver's seat. He made me continue to drive to church. It was such an amazing moment because he proved the depth of his trust in me and helped me to believe in myself. He taught me to never give up, to keep working at it!

There are SO many other things to share, like the sacrifices he made so that I could go on the 8th grade trip to New Orleans with my friends. Even though we did not have the money for such a trip, he worked over time and even provided me with money to buy new clothes to wear on the trip.  There is also the time in high school when every one of my girl friends received a special Valentine's Day sucker from a particular boy...except me. I came home crying. My Dad took me out that night for a special dinner and shopping. I think he even bought me chocolate!  Or the time in college when I was going through a terrible breakup with a boy. My overprotective father called the young man in his college dorm and told him to leave me alone and stop dragging the break up on and on. I was furious when I found out...but now that I'm a parent, I TOTALLY get it!!  And there was the time that he called me the 2nd day of my honeymoon just because he missed me and was thinking of me. :) 

My Dad, Robert Lee Bragg, has shaped my life in unbelievable ways! I am so grateful for the myriad of sacrifices he made for me and for the love he has unconditionally showered on me my entire life! I love you, Daddy! Happy 65th Birthday!

Pride and Popsicles

Popsicles are a rare treat in our house.  I don't know why, but I seldom buy them.  So, you can imagine the joy that filled the air when Daddy came home from school today baring the gift of popsicles...Super Hero popsicles at that!! We managed to pull the box from little hands and put them into the freezer as dessert after dinner.

On any given night, Abby is our "good eater". She will eat most anything once you get her to stop talking long enough to focus on her food...especially if there's a promise of dessert.  Caedmon is the "picky one". There's only a handful of foods currently that will be allowed to pass his lips.  Among his favorites: mini pepperoni, frozen peas and corn, and sausage. But almost always, a reward of dessert will peak his interest enough to at least eat half of his food. 

But not tonight. For whatever reason, Caedmon refused to eat anything from his plate except tortilla chips. We made the statement that he'd get no popsicle unless he at least tried his food. And you know how it is once you make a stupid statement like that to your kids.  There's no going back. There's no room for any compromise. Now, before we are condemned of asking too much of our 22 month old, let me assure you that he understands what "just one bite" means.  We've been down this road before.  And so, he sat with his head on the table watching Sissy happily eat her popsicle.

Now the problem is, I really wanted him to have the treat!  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd enjoy a popsicle (especially a Super Hero popsicle!). I wanted to see his little eyes dancing as he slurped and dripped gooey goodness on a stick.  But I also know that he needs nutrious food.  I realize, as his mom, that without the not-so- fun healthy foods, he'd soon feel...well...not so fun.  It was so frustrating for me, as the parent, because I wanted to share this amazing joyful experience with him.  But he refused at every level to do the one thing I asked him to do.  And it frustrated me, still, because I didn't even ask much of him. I only asked him to take one bite!  One bite and he would have soon found himself dripping with sugary pleasure!  Such a simple little requirement. But he would not trust me. Instead he followed his own pride and went to bed without a popsicle.

As I was putting him to bed, it dawned on me.  It was as if my heart were holding up a mirror and saying "Do you recognize this?  You are stubborn and prideful too".  There are many examples in my own life when I have dug in my heels and refused to make small steps that would lead to something amazing...just because of my pride. Times when I know saying sorry would quickly heal a wound...yet I refuse because I want to be right. Times when I'm too headstrong to admit that my way is not working and that another's idea makes much more sense. Times when I hold on to my self-justification simply because I love self.

Tonight may have just been one of those evenings where "kids will be kids."  But the Holy Spirit used it to magnify some areas in my own life that need humility and trust...especially because I have little eyes that are watching me and following my example.

Dear Lord,
Help me to be humble and promptly follow Your lead.
Help me to trust You, even when the way doesn't make sense.
I want to walk in Your ways simply because I delight in You.
Teach me to trust more deeply,
And in so doing, may my children learn to follow too.

Fairy Godmother or Just a Step Sister?

I love the imaginings of my four year old.  She is full of stories of princesses, tiger tamers, fairies, vets and pirates.  I am especially amused at the occasional cross-over between real life and imagination.  It's very common in our house to hear Abby say, "Mommy, today I'm Belle. You be the Beast."  or "Today I'm Wendy, Caedmon can be Captain Hook."  A normal part of my daily conversation consists of, "And who are you today?" 

I particularly enjoy my role as Mrs. Potts. ( I can do a fun English accent).  And I enjoy being Capatin Hook because I get to fight with a sword.  I dream of being a fellow princess such as Sleeping Beauty (Who wouldn't want an opportunity to lay down and rest for 5 minutes?). I do not even mind being the fairy godmother!  In fact, I often feel like that delightful little old lady decked out in blue,  as I create games out of thin air, and entertain the "guests" for hours on end. I feel like the fairy godmother as I dress and redress little Prince Charming and suffer through multiple costume changes (with matching shoes) from my little Princess throughout the day. 

But I never expected to be called a "Step Sister"...though I did find it a bit amusing.  Yesterday Abby and Caedmon destroyed their room.  Abby pretended to be everything from a cat to a rock star.  Caedmon played with cars and "shoo-shoo's" all day.  Just before bed, I asked the kids to pick up their toys.  Aside from being distracted, Caedmon thought it was a fun game to join as he tossed cars into his box.  Abby, acted as though her legs were made of lead and couldn't move a single muscle. She complained with every single stuffed animal that went into her box.

As I completed my final rant about not complaining over chores, I overheard Abby mutter, "You're the Step Sister."  :)

And there you have it, mothers!  Sometimes your the fairy godmother and sometimes your the mean step sister!

This morning,  I told Abby that we will be able to go to the store and buy her the nightgown she's been wanting.  She squealed and excitedly said, "Really?  I get my very own nightgown?"  (Poor thing...I should have bought her one a long time ago...if only I'd known how much it would mean to her!) I mentioned  that I'm not such a bad step sister after all.  She looked at me as though confused and a bit embarrassed and then admitted that she didn't mean it.  It lead to a great discussion about frustration and how we sometimes say things we don't mean....we've all be there, right?

 Who am I to condemn?  I've used worse names than "step sister" and if the worst thing she can call me is a step sister, then I guess I'm okay for now!  At least when I buy the night gown I'll be reinstated to my rightful position as fairy godmother!