The Things They Make Me Do!

They make me crazy!  The way they demand every ounce of my energy and the constant bickering, and asking for things.

All I wanted was a deceiving picture of their love for each other.

They make me stressed!  Why can't they learn to pick up after themselves or eat one meal without leaving the floor looking like it needs to be taped off with yellow cautionary signs.  

They make me so many things.  But nothing seems to affect me quite like the way they make me...

Laugh

This is Ethan's self-proclaimed bad cowboy, stunt-man, spy look.  He fell gravely ill shortly after this.  He told me he could barely get in bed because he was so sick and he would have to walk on his knees.  I told him we would probably have to skip the field trip to the honey farm tomorrow so that he could get better.  In between gasps of air (oh the drama) he said he could make it to the field trip and maybe walk a little bit.   He's so brave.

Smile

My little sweetheart.  Tonight, after a long day without Andy, I came down stairs to a clean living room.   "I cleaned up for you, Mommy."  Oh, those sweet little moments!

Skip heart beats

Allison makes my heart flutter and skip everyday.  I love the way she takes my hand and walks me around the house.  "What's that, Mommy?"  She points to an object.  "That's a pillowcase."  She then repeats the word to store in her ever-increasing word bank, "Pillowcase?" she says in a rhetorical sort of way and then lets out a long, "Ohhhhhh." in her raspy little voice.  This continues on until her thirst for knowledge is temporarily satisfied.  

Those little rascals and all the things they MAKE me do!

  

  

I Always Have to Steal My Kisses From You

A warning to all new mother's of sons:  Something will happen to your boys later on that makes them go from this:



To this:


It's very sad.  I don't know exactly when it happened to Ethan.  It was probably around the same time he made the sign for his door that read, "No Slimy Girls Allowed."  


As I look back at the last six years with my boy, I can't help but see the slow progression.  Boys have stages of affection.  They are as follows:


Stage 1: Defenseless-  At birth, you can smother your child with affection and there's not a darn thing they can do about it. They have to sit there and take it.  This is a wonderful stage.  They don't even have control enough of their hands to bat you away.


Stage 2: Cautiously Allowed- Toddlers love the word "no" but they still need and want Mommy's love and affection.  It has to be the right time though.  Luckily this still happens frequently.


Stage 3:  The Plague-  I think boys have a "love and affection meter" that once it fills up, they just can't take anymore.  Mommy's love and affection is needed for medical emergencies only (i.e. scrapes and bruises and in times of extreme fatigue).


Now, as an over-affectionate mother, this last stage will not suffice.  You see, I have a "love and affection meter" as well and mine is a bit of a gas guzzler.  It only gets about 5 kisses to the gallon so I find myself in need of filling it back up daily.  Sometimes this is in the form of bribery ("You want a cookie?  Give mommy a kiss first.")  Sometimes this is in the form of a surprise attack ("Gotchya!")  But my favorite time is when my little boy reverts back to stage 1.  When does he do this?  When he is sleeping.  


Aren't they precious when they are sleeping?  Every night I look forward to checking on him before I go to bed.  I kiss his sweaty cheeks and take the same deep breath I did when he was little.  Of course, the smell of pink lotion has been replaced with dirty, sweaty wind smell.  It's a smell only a mother can love.  

I Have My Pride

One thing I can rightly be accused of is talking about my kids too much.  There is just something about their accomplishments that makes my heart swell up and skip a beat.  Don't get me wrong, there are times I want to leave my cart, run down the next aisle and exclaim, "Who's kids are those!" (I could get away with it too because all my kids look just like their dad and very little like me).  But I think that's what makes their accomplishments so sweet.  As their parent, I know their struggles and watch their progress and so to see something defeated or mastered brings me such joy.

Yesterday was one of those special days when one sentence out of my son's mouth made me gulp down my enlarging heart.  Andy gave the kids special permission to stay up late and read (or look at pictures for Abby) if they sat quietly in their beds.   Ethan took a flashlight and grabbed a book Andy had been reading to him at night.  They were about halfway through it.  The house was quiet except for Abby's occasional stroll out to the living room with things she had to do before she could sleep (I bet you didn't know 4 year olds are unable to sleep unless they pee three times, drink water and get tucked-in again if their covers get messed up).  Finally, it was 10:00 PM.  A little, sleepy-eyed boy comes out to us with a flashlight and book in hand.  "Mom and Dad, I finished this book."

There it is!  Did you miss it?  What's the big deal you ask?  Let me explain.  You see, Ethan has been reading for a little while now.  He has been reading level books for beginning readers.  Last night he took the next step on his own and finished a chapter book.  It was Magic Tree House: Revolutionary War on Wednesday.  Maybe not a big deal to the observer but to his Mama who's been working with him for the last year on reading, immeasurable pride.  

Let Them Scrape Their Knees

One of my favorite childhood pictures was standing outside a friends house, arms linked with my buddy, Shelly.  We were probably three or four.  We were holding umbrellas even though it didn't appear to be raining and both of us sported some awesome band-aids on our knees.  Band-aids are like badges of honor for kids.  It's their war stories.

Today my kids were riding their bikes outside.  Ethan had the bright idea of tying some rope from his bike to his sisters.  Having super-mother psychic powers, I could foresee crying kids with scrapes and bruises.  I told them I thought the idea may not be the greatest and gave them my best words of warning.  They were so excited about the idea they begged me to allow it.  And you know what, I did.  I saw no possibility of serious injury or death.

Guess what?  Ethan turned too fast and Abby fell.  Not a grand fall, just off her trike.  I held back the native mommy, "I told you so" response and comforted Abby.  She got over it and got back on her bike... with the rope still attached.  They made some adjustments to the rope and bikes and went at it again.  They did learn an important lesson: where you tie the rope makes a difference.

This one is a hard one for me.  I struggle with being a helicopter parent- wanting to hover over my kids every move.  But Hello Kitty and Spider-Man band-aids deserve a chance to be used.  The popsicles in my ice box are getting freezer burn and the Cars and Princess ice packs look brand new.

It could be argued Abby's fall was preventative.  Perhaps some would call it neglectful.  I call it teaching kids to tie a rope.

Why Homeschool?

Because I am better than you and my kids are smarter than yours...  Just kidding.

Let me start a few years back before we had children.  I was a teacher and I absolutely loved it.  I had great students (my fifth graders are graduating from high school!), I loved planning lessons and I couldn't wait to have kids who would one day be a part of the same educational system.  I didn't know whether we would place our children in public or private but I did know one thing for sure:  We would NEVER homeschool.

Homeschool kids were weird.  They lacked social skills, hygiene and a structured environment.  I based this on my knowledge of approximately two children.  My kids were going to be normal.  They were going to be raised like my husband and I.  We went to public school our whole lives and were relatively unscathed.

Fast-forward about five years.  Andy is in seminary and my best friend homeschools.  I constantly joked with her about this and felt the need to give her my advice from years of teaching and schooling (It's amazing she kept me around).  But slowly the wheels began to turn.  Through one year of observing her children, I realized they weren't weirdo kids with no social skills.  They were respectful, loving, God-fearing children.  They sat down for book work at certain times of the day but most of their learning happened outside structured time.  Her oldest knew more about science from his backyard and library books than any student I had ever had.

Now, I must pause for a second to explain that I am not saying I found/find homeschooling to be superior.  I am simply stating I was shown that my own presuppositions were wrong.  I started to think I could do this too.  Not only could I do this, but I would be the best home schooling mom ever!  In fact, with my knowledge and training, I could really do some good.  Slowly, this arrogance faded as I realized my training actually put me at a disadvantage in some ways.  I had to let go of certain expectations.

 What I love about homeschooling is working at his pace.  For example, Ethan does really well in reading/phonics.  He is well above grade level.  We work ahead in that area.  Ethan struggles a bit more in math.  I was trying to bulldoze through the lessons to get to a certain point before the end of the year and realized in the process, my son was beginning to hate math.  We put the breaks on and started taking time with each lesson, spending weeks on it if need be.

So, here's the thing.  Somehow, we as mothers have made this topic incredibly controversial.  I want to state that I do not believe this is a sin issue.  It's a personal decision that each family has to make as to what they feel is best for their entire family.  We get too caught up in polarizing topics that have no biblical grounds.  We're Christians, aren't we polarizing enough?  We spend so much time arguing what is best for other people's children we neglect our own ministry to our family and stop showing people the love of Christ.

Ethan and Abby went to preschool this year.  They loved it.  They learned so many things that I hadn't thought of yet.  They had a great teacher and they made great friends.  I loved that they were there.  I also homeschooled Ethan through Kindergarten this year.  He was suppose to start this year but he was really close to the cut off and I wanted to wait.  We started it at home and he did great.  Next year we are homeschooling.
 Will I continue to homeschool until kingdom come?  I don't know.  I do trust we will make the best decision based on the needs of our family.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

We had the Ingle family stay with us this weekend and the kids played non-stop while we enjoyed good conversation.  Their middle, Colin, is about one year older than Ethan.  They're good buddies.  Anyway, we put the boys to bed in the basement and later we all went to bed.  Around two in the morning I wake up to a little voice. "Mommy," a little shadowy figure says standing in my doorway, "I'm scared of the dark."  I initially think this little boy looks too tall to be mine and I say in a half awake daze, "Honey, your Mommy and Daddy aren't in here."

The little boy acted as if what I said meant nothing and walked right up to my bed.  I couldn't see his face because it was too dark but realized I may have made a mistake.  "Ethan?"  I asked.  At that, he climbed into bed and right over me.  He snuggled beside Andy.  I laid back down to go to sleep and noticed a big hole in Ethan's shirt.  I remembered one of the Ingle boys had a hole in his shirt.  "Andy, is that Ethan?" I asked. Andy woke up and tried to feel the little boy's head, "I don't know," he said.  Just then the little boy must have fully awoken because he said, "This is Colin... Ughhhh" and proceeded to bury his head in the pillow.  He was totally embarrassed.  I informed him his parents were sleeping in the living room and dragged this 45 plus pound boy out of my bed trying not to laugh but totally giggling all the way down the hall.  When I got to the living room I let go of him and without missing a cue he started the process over again.  "Mommy, I'm scared of the dark."  and he climbed into bed with his Mama.  It took me 20 minutes to get back to sleep because I couldn't stop laughing.

                    The Ingle Family- Colin is the little boy on the right.

 It's been one of those weeks.  Somebody slipped my kids sugar bombs that go off sometime at night when it's time to start winding down.  We can't seem to keep them calm.  If there's one thing I know about hyperactive kids, it's that one kid comes to me in tears at some point in all of the action.  "So and so jumped off the couch onto my leg..." or "I was jumping on my bed and fell off..."  The possibilities are endless.

I'm weary, dear friends.  Weary of being the mom who says, "No!" "Stop that!" "Go to your room!" "Stop biting the eraser heads off the pencils!"  That last one might be specific to Allison.  I thank God my third child is growing up in a time of non-toxic markers and crayons.  I think conservative estimates would put her non-food consumption at a dozen eraser heads, an eight pack of crayons and the color sucked out of about five markers (She bites the heads off those too but for some reason she won't swallow them so I fish them out).  Before you ask the inevitable question, no, they are not where she can reach them.  Big brother and sister are learning important lessons in responsibility recently.

The icing on the cake was Ethan got in trouble at Sunday School last week for hyperactivity, disrupting the class and ripping the page he was supposed to be working on in half.  I searched my brain for excuses as to why he was behaving so poorly.  I came up empty.  Maybe there are reasons for such behavior that only he knows because he sure wouldn't share them with me.  Besides, I chalk it up to being a little sinner.  But the bottom line is he was out of line and he had consequences for his actions.  I'll tell you what, this whole parenting thing keeps you humble.  I had grand ideas for how my children were going to behave before they were born.

So where's the grace?  This is what I love about our God.  He is so thoughtful in the little things.  This week's "little thing" was checking on them before I went to bed.  There they were, sleeping so peacefully.  I could feel the stress and frustration melt away with every breath they took.  I took a picture as a reminder of that peace.

I may need to be reminded of these pictures the next time my hooligans decide to push the envelope again.

By the way, these were taken in the middle of the night so my flash has mad skills.  There is no Ally picture because frankly, it wasn't worth the risk.  She turns into a Gremlin at night.