the worst game

My kids invented their own game.
'Tis a bit dangerous.

Player one hides in ample cardboard box.  Player two & three close box.  Player two & three vigorously stab holes in box with pens.

Umpire steps in and calls cease-fire.  Sends players two & three to penalty box.  Discussion of infraction ensues.

Game over.

love/hate relationship: Lego

I have a love hate relationship with Legos.  They keep little hands busy for a long time.  Yet someone always dissolves into tears.

Can't find a piece?!
Dude, we've got like, 300 more!

Will you help me build this?!
I'd love to.  But we're out of clean underwear.  And clean dishes.

And the shooting pain when blindly stepping on a "lost" piece.

Yet watching them build is sorta like watching their brains work.  And the joy on their little face when a creation is complete!

Lego :)

Time to do the dishes

It's just one of those days where I wish to curl up on the couch to take a wee nap.

But my kids hid the couch cushions.

So I guess I'll do the dishes instead.

What I learned from Days With Frog & Toad...

I am the mother of a four-year-old boy, a (soon-to-be) 3-year old girl, and a 1-year-old boy; my days are busy & loud. So every morning I set my alarm for 5 a.m., brew a pot of coffee, & bask in the silent peace of the morning.

As Elisabeth Elliot wrote of her late husband, Jim, "He began to get up early in the morning...to read the Bible and pray.... He was realistic enough to recognize the slim chances of fitting in any serious study and prayer later in the day. If it had priority on his list of things that mattered, it had to have chronological priority...he began to note down on paper specific things he learned from the Word and specific things he asked for in prayer. "It is not written as a diary of my experiences or feelings," he recorded in his journal, "but as a 'book of remembrance' to enable me to ask definitely by forcing myself to put yearnings into words."

So, as I lay out my pink leather "book of remembrance," each morning, I am giving chronological priority to the thing which matters most in my life, as well as beginning my day with a bit of peace which I sometimes long for throughout the day.

However, the stillness of the morning is not so much interrupted by, than accompanied by, the soft pitter-patter of my daughter's feet, at about the time my coffee is poured, & sweetened to perfection.

My daughter is no-doubt a morning person. I have said, on more than one occasion, that you get the best of Ellie first thing in the morning. Her eyes are the sparkliest, her cheeks are the rosiest, and her disposition the sweetest, not only of herself throughout the day, but of anyone I have ever known.

She never utters the first word, as if knowing this is a special time for me, she just quickly ascends the empty stool beside me. Only after I have given her the appropriate affection and ask her if she slept well, she requests paper and a pen, and smiles at me, as if we shall be silent co-conspirators. I remind her to keep quiet & let her know that this is "momma's special quiet time." I do not explicitly tell her I'd rather be alone, yet at times, I sense that she knows I would rather be without her for the moment. How does one begin to explain Luke 10:27 "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind..." before the eyes of a child who cannot see God?

Well, it just so happens, that some of the wisest literature is found in the pages of a children's book, so that we can read it together, and learn in mutuality (talk about an All-Wise God!). I was reading Arnold Lobel's Days With Frog and Toad to all 3 of my kiddos, my stomach was in just as much of a knot as Toad's, over why Frog would leave a note on the door that said,

"Dear Toad, I am not at home... I want to be alone."

Of course poor Toad imagines that Frog doesn't want to be his friend anymore for all the dumb things he does & silly things he says. I had imagined the outcome of this story was going to be some moralistic tale in which we need to apologize & be more careful of one another's feelings. However, I was pleasantly surprised, that that was not the case, and even further surprised to find that I could apply Frog's response to my own life! After Toad gives Frog some lunch so that he, "would be happy." Frog says, "But Toad, I am happy. I am very happy. This morning when I woke up I felt good because the sun was shining. I felt good because I was a frog. And I felt good because I have you for a friend. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to think about how fine everything is."

As I closed the book, I looked at Ellie & said, that's how momma feels early in the morning. I am happy. I feel good that God made me. I feel good that I have you & your brothers as my kids. I like to think about how fine everything is AND thank God for it. :)

The one about mother's day...

On Saturday, May 7, 2011 this is what God's grace looked like to me. From my kitchen window, I saw my kids playing out on their swing set full of energy & happiness. I knew in my heart that I am blessed infinitely more than I deserve.

Happy Mother's day to my Momma, she is an inspirational lady. She gave me a great childhood, even though the odds were stacked against her...No driver's license, English as her second language, little formal education. I played sports & took music lessons, yet the greatest gift my mother gave all four of us was the fact that she single- handedly drug us to church every Sunday & gave us the opportunity to know God. Most mornings I would find her at the kitchen table hunched over her Bible.

Happy Mother's Day to my Aunt Stephanie, whom I love dearly. I feel blessed to have been given a second mother who is able to fill in the gaps of my life that my mother could not. She always gives me encouragement & wisdom. When I pray for my children, I pray that God wraps His arms around them & fills in the gaps that I may leave. I pray that godly people will step forward, like my Aunt Stephanie has, and fill in those gaps.

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers & people who have been like mothers to us. I am thankful for my wonderful husband & 3 beautiful kids for making me a mother. Have I mentioned how wonderful God's grace is?

Its wintertime in Maine. I don't mind snow. I don't mind cold. Its the snowsuits. They are a hassle. Caleb and Ellie are 3 and 2 now, therefore, going outside is inevitable.
At 3 p.m. I locate the appropriate snow attire. I dress my 5 month- old in 2 fleece snowsuits, wake Ellie up from her nap. Proceed to dress both toddlers in full out door gear: hat, insulated mittens, snow boots, snow pants & jacket. Walk children to garage (while carrying Aiden, of course), locate large baby back-pack made for serious out-door activity. Load Aiden into back-pack, tightening all neccessary straps & buckles. Retrieve mail, stuff into inner jacket pocket. Ready to engage children in fun snow play...
"Mommm?" Long pause. "I gotta poop."
Time stands still for a moment. I feel the brisk air cling to my jeans. Notice the contrast of the bare tree branches against the gray sky. Then I spring into action.
Leaving Ellie in the front yard, I rush Caleb to front door, Swing front door open, lift Caleb inside, rip off mittens in one, fluid movement, & throw his jacket onto the floor.
"Go in & use the potty, I'll be right there," I instruct from the doorway. I watch him hurridly waddle up the stairs, still wearing snowpants & boots, to the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Ellie hasn't moved from her spot in the front yard, real tears streaming down her face. What injustice!
"Don't worry, babe, I'm coming" The tears stop. She smiles. I scamper across the crunchy snow to my little marshmallow lady, & shuffle the little body up the slope to our front door. Lift her in. Shut front door. March her up the stairs. Swing baby-backpack off. Oh yeah, Aiden was in there. He must have liked that thing. He commences crying. It doesn't matter, I have a situation to attend to. To the bathroom!
I walk in.
"Mom, I did it."
"Caleb, I am proud of you" I say.
We finish up.
"Mom? Can we go out and play? I still have my boots on."
"Sure, Caleb"
Yep. Its wintertime in Maine.

The giggles

As the parent of small children, I often find myself awed by the instructions & demands leaving my mouth. As members of my househould, these small beings should share my mores and values, however, certain behaviors leave me baffled. Today I witnessed Caleb overturn his cup, raining little droplets of milk upon the kitchen floor.
When I confronted him with the inappropriate action; dripping milk, I expressed the fact that this is unacceptable. In an effort to teach him responsibility for his actions, I asked him to please wipe up the milk. He happily obliged me by appropriating my bathingsuit for this purpose!
I called him over & locked eyes with the child, in my ordinary scolding method, and I attempted to explicity state that he, "May NOT use my bathing..." when suddenly I was convulsing & twitching...then smiling...then laughing,before I could even realize I was undermining my very own authority!
I stopped, took a breath, & tried again, "Caleb, you MAY NOT use..." Then I was smiling & twitching again. I took a deep breath and sent him to his room. I obviously needed his time-out to collect myself. And the poor child was obviously confused...
This isn't the first time I have been awed by the words my own mouth has uttered. But this has been the first time I have broken down with the giggles. Try looking deep into anyone's eyes and declaring "You MAY NOT use my bathing suit to wipe up your milk."