There have been so many things happening in our lives lately that I've barely had time to think - much less write about it. So let me try to catch you up on our happenin's.
I went on a vacation to the Bahamas.
We did some light reading.
We planted some raised bed gardens.
We planted some fruit trees and bushes.
We graduated one, handsome, young man from 8th grade into high school.
The hubby and I got away for a couple days of R and R.
Oh, and then there's the ever-present antics of these two.
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| especially this one.. |
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| But especially this one |
Let it suffice to say that these last few months have been busy ones - good ones, but busy nevertheless.
Now that the warm weather seems to be here to stay for awhile, we've been enjoying some good times outside. Levi (4) seems to think that, in order to have a good time anywhere he must be wearing a certain pair of stunning, red, sports shorts. These little beauties have a set of shiny, white, racing stripes down the sides. He hasn't said a word, but I suspect that they make him feel a little more like Lightning McQueen. If they end up in the washing machine (which they mysteriously happen to do during bath time about every other day), he moans and wails and seeks them out until they are dry. He has a couple pairs of backup shorts that will do in a pinch, but he much prefers his beloved red ones. These shorts have been the source of quite a bit of woe lately, especially since the days (and especially the evenings) have gotten cooler. He hasn't been allowed to wear them much. A few nights ago, he asked Mark if he could wear them to bed. Mark replied, "You better ask mom. I don't think she'll want you to wear those to bed tonight." Levi said, "Wait... are you the boss, or is mom the boss?" This comes from the boy who is always very miffed if he thinks he's being "bossed" by anyone. He likes to tell me, "Mom, I just don't like to be bossed, because I like to do what I like to do. Don't you know that?" Then I try, to no avail of course, to explain that we tell him what he can and can't do in order to keep him healthy and safe. There are a variety of opinions of how Mark should have answered that question. He answered something to the effect of, "I am. Now put on these sweatpants." Which, call me old-fashioned, is fine with me. I am glad I don't have to be "the boss", and I'm glad the buck stops somewhere else.
I am always thankful that the kids are healthy, but sometimes I'm a little vexed that they are so sharp. Violet likes to pull hair. Last night in the van, Violet started pulling Claire's hair... HARD. Claire was screeching, and I was telling Violet from the front seat, "Let go of Claire's hair." She just laughed and pulled harder. So I said, "Claire, pull her hair!" Claire asked, "What?" "Pull her hair!" I shouted above the din. (I couldn't stop Violet, and I thought if she knew how it felt she might not keep doing it.) Claire reluctantly tugged lightly on Violet's hair. Violet smiled and pulled Claire's with more force. Sadie said, "Claire, you gotta do it till she screams like you're screamin'... till she screams ouch." Claire looked skeptical and continued to pull lightly on Violet's hair. Violet, smiled big and said in an exaggerated tone in her adorable baby talk, "Oh, ouch! Ooo... it hurts!" Then she laughed manically. We all burst out laughing too. This ended the hair-pulling... at least for that time.
When I was young and I did something wrong I received something awful... it was called "discipline" or a "punishment". A person rarely hears such barbaric words anymore. I find that people still dole out the types of things that were considered punishment, but these things are given words like "consequence". I have children in a wide variety of age ranges. These children have lied, cheated, hit, screamed, thrown tantrums, disobeyed, disrespected, been unkind, been hateful, and just about any other wrong in a child's grasp. I don't think they do those bad things because they've seen me do those things. I think they do them because they are wrong-doers. In fact, the majority of those things I don't even do anymore... especially the hitting and tantrum throwing. In those ways, they are worse than I am. On the bright side, they are often also right-doers. Which, in many cases, makes them worlds better than I am. My oldest daughter Sadie (10) likes to "motivate" others. That's a nice way of saying that she likes to control other people, but she does it in such a way that leaves those around her (especially Levi) thinking, "I just did what she told me to do, and I liked it. What just happened here?" In fact, her most recent motivational tool for positive reinforcement is a chart she made on the felt board. In this chart, everyone in our family was assigned a color. Each person receives a heart if they do something loving or kind and a star if they do something helpful or otherwise unobjectionable. I think it's great. Sadie did reveal her intent to remove these hearts or stars if anyone did something worthy of their removal. Notice that Levi (green) got right to work earning his reward points.
We've tried another type of positive reinforcement in our home. It had to do with earning points (in the form of marbles) to earn prizes based on their interests. This worked nicely for awhile until it turned into a thing where everything they did needed to be accompanied by a reward of some type. From Claire asking for a reward for cleaning up her own messes to Austin asking if he'd get paid to carol to shut-ins at Christmastime, it just wasn't gaining the desired effect. In fact, it was bringing out something very negative in my children - GREED. Come to think of it, maybe it's brought about something negative in me - bribery? (Notice, I capitalize their wrong and not my own.) This method of positive reinforcement has gone by the wayside for the time being.
There are undoubtedly parents who enjoy correcting their children. These are the parents (almost always mothers or presumably female caregivers) that I see at Walmart who can't stop - even for two seconds - hollering and/or talking down to the miserable, little "heathen" in, on, and/or around their shopping cart. They can be heard from aisles around shouting... "Caleb, stop touching those apples!" "Ashley, put that back!" "Do you even have any idea how annoying you are?!" "Joshua, sit down and shut up!" They say things most kids can't even understand like, "Oh, you need to get over yourself!" Where do they come up with this hideous jargon, much less assume that the children will respond to it with a, "Yes, mother dearest. Your wish is my command." So many times I glimpse this (usually) woman - often by herself or with a mother in tow. If there happens to be a man at all, he's skulking several feet back hoping no one (especially not "old yeller") notices him, else she turn her miserable wrath on him... bossing him and treating him like an imbecile.
I, on the other hand, would rather take a beating than correct any of my children. This often results in me not doing it when it probably should be done. Thus (if you've read any of my previous blogs), you can see why children are oft times running amuck. However, they are happy, as far as I can tell, and they aren't making anyone else miserable either (including me), and that's pretty much the best I'm going to be able to do at this stage in my life with the many children I have.
There are, of course, moments when character issues must be dealt with, of course. After all, I can't have these people living with me for the rest of their lives because they are too obnoxious for anyone to tolerate, can I? So we stick with the biggies, for the most part... things we don't want them to do to others: ie. hitting, lying/cheating, disrespect, etc.
In the last couple of months, my 15 year old has struggled with anger toward his mother, who, incidentally, I am not... as she likes to remind me. Inevitably, after a particularly frustrating day with her, he displays anger or mistrust or disrespect (or any combination of these) with me. If you know Austin, you know that these things are most generally out of character for him. Austin is usually an optimist - finding the best in every situation. He has become a little more jaded in the past few years, as adolescents often do. However, he usually still finds a bright side. This has historically made him extremely difficult to correct. I often joke that if I would put him in the cellar, he'd make friends with the rats. This basically means that if we take away his electronics, he says, "Oh, that's good. I've had some reading I wanted to catch up on anyway." He's not just saying it. He means it. He has had to live this way - as one tends to learn to do when often faced with disappointment.
A few weeks ago, and non-coincidentally the day after Mother's Day, he lashed out at me as I was helping him clean his room... claiming that I didn't care about his things. He then gave me more and more attitude until I just told him my usual, "Stop giving me that attitude," and walked upstairs to get away from the situation. He had asked me earlier in the day to take him to a soccer game with some friends. I had told him that we'd, "Wait and see." As I climbed the stairs, fuming with anger, my flesh was screaming, "What is his problem? Who does he think he is, and why in the world would he think that I'd take him to soccer now after the way he's being?" I went into our bedroom to talk to my comatose (works nights) husband who mumbled a few unintelligible words before drifting back to dream land. I then, as a last resort, asked God what he thought I should do. As I waited for awhile I felt Him tugging at me to be full of grace and mercy and to seek to understand the root of his anger and mistrust. "Just let him treat me this way?" my flesh asked sardonically. That would set a bad precedent. "No... just understand this isn't who he is. It's what he's doing, and he probably doesn't even know why." I sat down in the chair and he came up behind me and said the obligatory, I hope this will get her to take me to soccer, "I'm sorry." Long story short, I told him I loved him and that I cared very much about him and the things that are important to him. I gave him a cookie and told him to go get into his soccer clothes. He broke down and asked, "Why are you being so nice to mean when I was such a jerk?" All I could think was, "I think this is what loving someone looks like."
I don't claim to be perfect at knowing how to love people - not my husband, not my own children, and certainly not my step-son. But I know the One who is the Author of Love. He gives me the love I don't have in my often-depleted supply. He is giving me supernatural abilities to love. People like to tell me I'm such a great mom to Austin... that I'm such an amazing person, blah, blah, blah. It's not true. It's not me. I am as human as everyone else. I say and do things I regret. But I'm certainly ready to admit those things, and we've become very good at apologies around this house. It's pretty easy to love a person when they're cute, cuddly, and quiet. It's much more difficult when they're breathing fire in your face. It's true love when you're consistent in your behavior either way.
I've often felt somehow inferior to my children. Sadie, for instance... she remembers everything. If we are going on a picnic, she'll remember spoons for the yogurt, straws for the drinks, sippy cups for the baby, and (I kid you not) wet paper towels in a ziploc baggie for cleaning sticky fingers. She is far superior to me in the area of organizational ability. She is also better with kids (having none herself) than I am (having 5). Tonight, for instance, the kids came home from the library (summer reading program) with parrots to color. Levi (4) wanted to color his right away; so Sadie sat down with him at the small table with some colors to help him. It was, however, 8:30 and time for bed. As Mark announced bed time, Levi began to meltdown. He started to cry, at which point (before Mark or I had to intervene), Sadie said, "Levi, you know I think daddy is right. Your parrot probably had a long day and needs to have a rest before you color him. It's going to be an important thing for him. So he needs a nap first, okay?" Then she ushered parrot away until the morning. How could he argue? Sadie's 10. She, of course, knows all about what stresses out a parrot. I think she might make a great hostage negotiator someday. Somehow I think the phrase, "Now, I think that we're all a little tired and you might just want to put down that gun, and we can go get some ice cream," might be in her future. Claire is good at everything she touches. Austin is bold, brave, and (sometimes over) confident. Who knows how the other two are going to overshadow me. How great is that? I might be fading in the mirror, but parts of me are remembering where I'm supposed to be going, convincing toddlers that felt boards are more fun than mud puddles, saying no to second helpings, and standing up (respectfully) to bullies. All of me is having FUN as it all unfolds.
Last week, our oldest turned 15. Thus begins a stage of my life for which I am scarcely ready... driver's ed, girls, jobs, independence, girls, buddies coming over to "hang out", and did I mention girls? Ugh... I have to say it's been a rough couple of adolescent years. Attitude problems, personal crises, emotional upheaval... and that's just me. I wouldn't trade any of those problems for the world, for they are the things that test bonds and... more importantly even... create them.
This evening, my 4 year old decided that, since he had peed in the toilet at the same time with daddy last night that he should try peeing with Claire (7). As a result, I turned around to her screeching, "Levi! Don't pee on me!" as he was peeing into the empty space behind where she was sitting.
Confused? Bewildered? Yes, these things would describe me. BUT... I am convinced for myself and my children of Ephesians 2:10 10 For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. I love the wording of the NASB... "so that we would walk in them." Good works aren't just something that we should pull out on Sundays or at Christmastime. They are a lifestyle for us to "walk in". It was a lifestyle that was prepared for us to do "in advance". So, if we don't walk in it, who will?
