Tag Archives: Parenting

With the grace of a kindergarten teacher

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Photo: Will Foster on Flickr

I have a confession to make: I have some anger issues.

When I was a kid, my parents were strict. They were loving, but strict. I thought so anyway. The rules and moral code I had to adhere to placed the bar just above my head and I was always striving to reach it. I was a good kid. I was never spanked (ever), but I was disciplined with a wave of guilt that only a father can bestow upon his daughter. My dad used to say, “I’m disappointed in you.” Well… he may as well have beaten me. That was usually plenty to make me change my tune. When it wasn’t, though, he yelled.

He yelled loudly.

He yelled because he loved me and hated that I was making poor decisions. He yelled because he couldn’t make me choose to behave better. He yelled because he felt powerless to fashion me in to the awesome person he knew I could be, all the while resting the idea of how well I turn out on his own shoulders. In truth I’m not sure if that’s how he felt, but it sure is how I feel about my own kids.

I yell too.

The other day I was helping out in Mini-Man’s kindergarten classroom with their lunch program (could you imagine trying to feed eighteen 5-year-olds without any assistance?!) and I saw the kids interacting with their teacher before and during lunch. I watched as they tried to stay still on the carpet, as they budged in line while waiting to wash their hands, as they poked one another and giggled. All the while their teacher was correcting them gently and moving on to the next task. Her voice never wavered.

She’s soft and firm.

See, she loves her job and is awesome at what she does; I think you have to be in order to actually survive being a kindergarten teacher. She cares for each child and wants them all to succeed, but because they’re not her kids she doesn’t need to feel any burden for how they’ll turn out as adults. I’m sure she hopes that in some way she’ll make a lasting impact on the life of each child she teaches, but I’m sure she doesn’t lose sleep over it.

She doesn’t yell.

Honestly I’d be angry if she yelled at my kid. Why? Because it’s inappropriate and ineffective. I love my kids and I love being a mom; and I care for each of my children and step-children and want to see them succeed. But I have heaped on my own shoulders the complete and total responsibility for how my children turn out as adults through my own condemnation of other parents whose children have faltered. My own judgemental attitude has set the bar way higher than any parent can hope to achieve.

What I need to do is remember that my kids are only on loan to me. I have been charged with loving them, teaching them and protecting them but I MUST remember that they belong to God; and parenting is God’s work. He is the one who bears the ultimate responsibility for how they turn out. He is the one who created them with a plan and purpose. He is the one that will work in their hearts as we scatter seeds of faith in their lives and aim, by the grace of God, to pour out the fruits of the spirit in our homes – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.

Notice yelling isn’t on the list.

What I need to do is correct them gently each time they fall short of my own expectations. I need to lovingly show them the right way to behave and then move on to the next task. I need to hand my kids over to God at the end of the day understanding rightly that the ultimate responsibility lies with Him.

I need to parent with the grace of a kindergarten teacher and trust God for the rest.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” [Matthew 11:28-30 NIV].

Parenting is God’s work

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Photo: Britannia Willes

Children are a gift from God.

They’re a gift to us; they’re a gift to this world. They’re His children, His creation… The kingdom of heaven belongs to them (Matt 19:14). He loves them infinitely more than we ever could. He has a perfect plan for their lives. Not one of them is an accident. Not one of them was unplanned. Not one of them was unwanted. Not one of them arrived at the wrong time or the wrong place or to the wrong parents.

Not one.

How we treat our children is a reflection of how we treat Jesus. If we don’t have time for our children we don’t have time for Jesus. If we yell at our children we yell at Jesus. If we smack our children we smack Jesus. Every time we sin against our children we are spitting on Jesus and mocking him on the cross over and over again.

Sometimes I feel absolutely overwhelmingly frightened at the sheer magnitude of the responsibility. Sometimes I feel like my heart is going to break when I realize that they need more than I will ever have in me to give.

Every parent is given a monumental task… a mission… a ministry. To them. To our kids. To train them up in the way they should go (Prov 22:6). To not provoke them to anger (Eph 6:4). To love them. To teach them in humility and with patience. To speak truth into their lives and to model the fruits of the Spirit of God: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal 5:22-23)… It’s a high calling and a daunting one.

But God is able.

Remember… whatever He has called us to do He will do it. He is the one who fed the crowd of five thousand with just two fishes and five loaves of bread (John 6:1-15) and so we are able to raise up our children even without the best of examples (or even any example at all!) … just God’s promises and our faith.

And yes… I’m mostly just writing this post to myself.

Second Child

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Photo: Britannia Willes

So I was feeding Mini Boy earlier today and I was thinking how different it is with the second child.

When Mini Man was born, I vowed to be the perfect mother. I was going to get him to sleep perfectly, eat nothing but organic and whole earthy foods, nurse until he was in kindergarten and know all the countries of the world and their states, provinces and capitals by 8 months. He would be taught to crawl at 4 months, walk at 6 months and be snowboarding by the time he was two. He would learn violin at the age of 3 and write his first concerto by the time he was 5.

Well… now I get to enjoy number two.

Today I found myself feeding him Kraft Dinner and getting excited that he can clap at 10 months.

Morning mind-shift

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Photo: hddod on Flickr

I have to admit I’m not at my best first thing in the morning.

Getting up early in the morning was so much more enjoyable before I had kids. I’d get up between 5 and 6am, make coffee, sit around and watch the early news on TV, bumble around the house… have a shower and slowly get ready to face my day.

As any parent knows, however, when you have kids your day is going to get started whether you’re ready for it or not. It usually starts with the sound of a small child’s voice saying, “Hi Mommy!” And I have come to the conclusion that there is one, and only one, very specific thing I can do to make sure each day starts off well:

I must get up before my kids.

See, if I wake up to a little face peering at me – no matter the size of the grin on it – I am usually not in the right head space to get up and be the best mom I can be. Waking up to immediately fulfilling others’ needs even irritates me a little if I’m being honest. I’m just not that selfless. I wish I were. I SO wish I were… it would make those middle-of-the-night crying/barfing/falling-out-of-bed moments that much easier to deal with. However, I am not. So while I am very good in a crisis, fulfilling plain old everyday kid-needs goes so much more smoothly when I’ve had a chance to get my head on straight beforehand.

And so I must get up before my kids; in fact, my best days start at 5:30 am.

My best days start with a cup of way-too-strong coffee from my French press, my backside firmly planted in my favourite corner of my couch and the coffee table pulled close. I get out my bible and a devotional book and put them on the table with my coffee… and I pray. My best prayers usually pour out first thing in the morning before the day has wrapped around me and surrounded me with detail.

I then open up my devotional book to find the day’s scripture passage – I find having a devotional book helps direct my bible reading; I wouldn’t really know where to begin without one. I often find relevance in whatever passage I read. It almost always seems to be on a topic that has either been on my mind or applies to a specific situation I’m currently dealing with. For instance, just this morning I was praying that my life would be a testimony of God’s goodness; that somehow the way I live my life would show evidence of God’s love to those around me. After all, sometimes I think people who know me outside of my church life would have no idea I’m even a Christian, or worse: that they would know I profess to be a spirit-filled follower of Jesus but my actions don’t indicate any love for others. So I pray often hat I would love others in a very genuine and practical way.

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22:37-40

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34-35

Then this morning’s reading was from Matthew 5:13-20 on being “Salt and Light” and I was reminded of the commandment to “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven”.

This little morning ritual helps me to get my head wrapped around the most important things each day before I have to selflessly give of myself to my kids. In fact, after spending this short but so meaningful time I usually find I’m more than willing to pour out my love to my family and friends.

It’s funny what just a little mind shift can do. Now if I could just be disciplined enough to go to bed early.

A new perspective from Miss Mack

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I’d like to introduce you to someone: It’s not that I feel the need to share the details of my relationship with you just because, but I’d like to set the context for this post if I could. I have been hanging out with Big Mack for a few months now and we are very much enjoying getting to know one another. In fact, it’s safe to say we know each other very well at this point. He lives in another part of our lovely province – the Okanagan Valley. Ahhhh how I love the Okanagan Valley… so beautiful. And very little rain = win. So between us, we have been traveling back and forth and finding time to spend together every week or two. This driving time – roughly 5 hours each way – has given me plenty of opportunity to ponder things in depth, listen to sermons, sing at the top of my lungs with no one laughing, and just think about the greater things in life. It’s been quite theraputic.

So anyway, here are the details: Big Mack is only slightly older than I am, he is a Christian, he is divorced, he has a great job, he has 3 children and he is quite awesome if I might say so. After all, we have a lot in common and, well… I am quite awesome. Okay… perhaps he’s a little more humble than I. Or a lot more. Whatever.

I have now had the opportunity to spend 3 visits with Big Mack’s kids. They are 6 (girl), 7 (boy) and 10 (girl). It’s been really fun spending time with girls. It’s been a long time. I lived with a partner many years ago before I met my late husband and he had two girls that I grew to love. It’s nice having girls around again. This past weekend, I had the opportunity to sit with Big Mack’s oldest girl – I’ll call her Miss Mack – and have a nice conversation about stuff, get to know her, and really listen to what she wanted to say. Well something she said that prompted a revelation in me:

I don’t take enough time to really be 100% present with my own kids.

See, when I take the time to prepare everything at home – arrange for childcare, plan everything that needs to be planned and commit to not doing anything (read: chores) in my home environment for a time, I am free to visit with Big Mack and his family without a thought about the things I “should” or “could” be doing. There are no errands to run and none of those nagging little jobs that have been on my to-do list for months that I really should get around to doing at some point. I make myself present for those with whom I am visiting. I am free to focus on them. I am free to give them my attention so I can really hear what it is they are saying to me. I am free to relax and laugh and enjoy them. I am free to get to know them deep down inside because I am free from the distractions of everyday life and I can take the time to ask questions that may produce a long answer.

Why, then, do I not take the time to elevate the quality of my own family time?

There is no good answer. See, it’s not that there were no chores to do at all – in fact, when I’m visiting with the Macks I’m helping them out and Big Mack certainly can’t ignore all the ongoing chores required in a home with 3 kids – there were plenty of crunchy things on the floor, socks on the coffee table and dishes to wash at all times – just so he can spend time with me. However, I found myself being more relaxed and accepting of daily “stuff” and perfectly willing to just get it done so we could enjoy our time together. At home I find I don’t want to let that stuff just sit there even though my son wants me to spend time with him.

This will change now.

When a child opens up to you about something on their heart, it is a precious gift. And how we react as parents can have a lasting effect on their sense of security, confidence and trust. I want my boys to always know that I love them, that my love for them is unconditional, that I want to know what’s going on with them, that they are more important than the chores on my list. I want to know what they’re thinking way in the depths of their hearts and I want them to trust me to always make them a higher priority than random busy-ness, dirty dishes and laundry.

So I’m living and learning… and I’m just so grateful that I could sit with 10 year old Miss Mack and learn to be a better parent from her.

Sometimes it’s all a matter of perspective.

The Joy of Parenting

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Photo: PhotograTree on Flickr

So I’m thinking of writing a parenting book but I can’t decide what to call it…

  • Rocks in my dryer
  • Don’t eat that
  • Yogurt on the carpet
  • Why do bananas have to have those stringy things anyway?
  • Eggs are a dinner food
  • I love you too; that’s why I’m so mean sometimes
  • I don’t want to make the lego tank again
  • Yes I know mommy said a bad word
  • Crayons in the couch
  • God didn’t give you eyes on the back
  • Jam side down
  • Sand in my shoe
  • My purse is not a garbage bag

What do you think?

For the love of food

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Photo: Lea on Flickr

I have a confession to make: I just ate Mini-Man’s half-eaten pizza for dinner. In fact, I have subsisted for days at a time on nothing but kid-leftovers. It’s true.

I hate food.

There was a time I loved food – as evidenced by my not-so-svelte waistline – but those days are long gone. Now, food is a necessary inconvenience. With a 4 year old and a 7 month old, I feel like all I ever do is nurse, prepare food, feed someone and clean up afterwards. The other day I sat down to eat for the first time at 6:30pm and that was while the small one was crying from his bed. Not exactly my idea of an enjoyable meal.

I suppose they don’t make feed bags for children huh?

My normal day looks like this:

  • 5:30am – Sit kid #1 down in front of the TV with a yogurt (yeah, I’ll do a whole post on TV use another day) and make coffee for me
  • 6:00am – Nurse kid #2
  • 6:30am – Prepare breakfast for kid #1
    *after this is the time I may – or may not – fit in a shower*
  • 7:30am – Prepare solid food meal for kid #2 and feed it to him
  • 8:00am – Nurse kid #2 and put him down for a nap while I clean up from his meal
  • 9:00am – We go out… if we’re not out of the house by 9am I don’t get anything accomplished
  • 11:00am – Back home again; nurse kid #2 and put him down for his main nap
  • 11:30am – Prepare lunch for kid #1 & shovel something into my own mouth
  • 12:00pm – Convince kid #1 to take a nap then clean up from his lunch
    *when both are asleep I may get a nap or I may clean up random coloured debris strewn across my humble abode*
  • 1:30pm – Nurse kid #2
  • 2:00pm – Prepare snacks for both kids and get out of the house for the afternoon
  • 4:30pm – Return home and prepare and feed solid food dinner to kid #2
  • 5:00pm – Prepare dinner for kid #1 while trying to entertain a fussy, tired kid #2
  • 5:30pm – Put kid #1 down in front of the TV with his dinner (I know – mother of the year, right?); get kid #2 ready for bed then nurse him again
  • 6:00pm – Put kid #2 to bed; he is often exhausted and over-tired at this point. Crying may ensue all around.
    *this is also when I try and shovel some more food in my own mouth – usually cold since it’s been sitting since 5:30 or earlier*
  • 6:30pm – Put kid #1 in the bath and either continue trying to console over-tired, teething kid #2 or clean up from dinner.
  • 7:00pm – Get kid #1 ready for bed
  • 7:30pm – Finish cleaning up from dinner.

Now, I have been very successful at ensuring both my kids are in bed, quiet with the lights out by 7:30pm so that I have my evenings to myself. This schedule evolved naturally out of Mini-Man’s natural inclination towards an early bedtime as an  infant. But I thank God for that quiet time in the evenings. Dave and I used to sit down to dinner together after Kai was in bed… at least up until he was old enough to benefit from eating with us. Then we had to start eating at 5:30/6:00-ish.

I think that’s when I lost my love of food.

The Proposal

I have a proposal: I would like the world’s finest medical researchers and food scientists to develop an IV or injectable substance that provides all the nutrition and energy we need to maintain optimal health. Wouldn’t it be great if we coud just plug in to a little machine… kind of like an insulin pump… and have it feeding us all day long every day? No blood sugar fluctuation, no one would be overweight or have high cholesterol… we could basically rid the world of the consequences of poor nutrition. If I never had to eat again I think it would be awesome… I think of all the extra time I’d have to enjoy life!

In the meantime, I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy a nice meal again…

Sweet Sleep and Eternal Worry

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Photo: dugasj on Flickr

Why is it that moms worry about everything? Maybe it’s ingrained in our DNA to worry about our offspring as a way to ensure we don’t give them away or eat them, but I don’t think there’s a mother out there who doesn’t worry about her kids.

And I can understand the worry about the big, bad things – drowning, car accidents, falls from windows etc. – but we also find a way to worry about the good things.

Last night, mini-boy slept over 11 hours straight.

I had fallen asleep early – something very rare in my world (side note: I have a hard time forcing myself to go to bed at night because the non-kid silence is so lovely and I know that once 6am rolls around it’s non-stop mom responsibility for the next 13+ hours) – and awoke at 1am… still fully dressed as I was when I laid down thinking I’d just rest for a few minutes. After being up for 45 minutes or so I actually got myself ready for bed thinking I’d have another hour or so before mini-boy would wake me with his little cries.

So 6am rolls around and I wake up in a panic… and soaking. No cries.

Fighting the urge to run in to the kids’ room and check his breathing I laid there thinking about the grim possibilities.

I remember this with mini-man – now 4. He had been on a regular schedule of sleeping 8pm-midnight, waking for a feeding, then sleeping until 4am, waking for another feeding and then he would go back down until maybe 6:30 or so. I remember so vividly the night he first ditched the midnight feeding… I woke up (also soaking, I might add) about 5am and realized there was no crying. I thought he was dead. Then I went in and checked his breathing… still breathing. So then I worried that he’d awaken at midnight as usual and I’d somehow slept through his crying… then I felt awful and berated myself for being a terrible mother.

Then I realized he’d just slept through. Most likely. He began to sleep 8 hours straight every night after that.

At least with the second child the worry is a little reduced because I finally realized how insane I’d been the first time around. But honestly I don’t know of a single mother who hasn’t, at some point, checked her sleeping infant’s breathing… even sometimes going so far as to wake the baby to make sure he’s alive.

Why do we do that? Sleep is a good thing, right?

And now that this hurdle is over, I can go on to worrying about more important things… like food allergies, milestones, weaning, injuries, tantrums, back-talk and questions about where babies come from.

Just one baby – A day in the life

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Oh how our perceptions change.

I remember thinking 4 years ago how difficult life with a baby was. I’m not sure if it was the postpartum depression, the personal adjustment to becoming a mother or the adjustment my marriage took to figure it all out… perhaps it was a combination of all of the above. I sure found parenting to be a wicked change from my blissful life simple adult life life before kids.

Now when I find myself with just one baby, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do with my time. There’s a weird sense of relief and boredom all rolled in together at the thought of not having to entertain a curious and energetic 4 year old, but having only to occupy a not-quite-5-month-old baby whose only source of frustration is when he can’t get the toy to his mouth in a timely manner.

Today, mini-man was with his Nona and I had not had the foresight to make any plans in advance other than a music rehearsal this morning. My mom came over to babysit mini-boy and was horrified when he slept through the entire visit (she drives a good 45 minutes to get here). I put him down for a nap at 9:15am and was certain he’d be awake by 10, but I returned at noon to a disappointed Nana who kept peeking in to see if she was going to get any cuddle time whatsoever.

I filled the rest of the day with take-out sushi, a trip to the store for light bulbs and a new booster seat for Nona’s car, visits to a couple of open houses in the neighborhood where I’d like to live, a nap and some reading. After our busy afternoon **insert sarcasm here** I talked on the phone, played with mini-boy on the livingroom floor, fed him, gave him a bath and put him back to bed. Then I indulged in a glass of wine, some leftover pesto pasta straight out of the plastic container I’d stored it in and settled in to my couch with my book. Then I fell asleep.

It was 7:30pm.

For the life of me I can’t quite put my finger on why I found parenting so difficult when I had only one baby with two parents. Now I guess I’m getting used to having two kids with one parent… Anyway, for any of you who are finding adjustment to new motherhood hard, take heart… you will one day look back and wonder what all the fuss was about.

Just one baby… easy peasy.

Did I Just Say What I Think I Said?

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teeth-brushing“No, son, you can’t have any broccoli, you just had chips.”

“No. You can’t brush your teeth, I’ve already done it.”

I’m sorry… pardon?

Sometimes I hear myself as if I’m on the outside looking in and when I opened my mouth to speak it made so much more sense than it did once the words actually left my mouth.

Why on earth would I not want to encourage my son’s excitement about brushing his teeth himself? What would possess me to say no to a second helping of broccoli under any circumstances?

I sometimes have to take a step back as a parent and re-evaluate my reasons for saying no to everything. Every so often I feel like life has been an endless stream of barking and no’s without as much joy as parenthood is supposed to bring.

Usually those are the times when I’m focused on my own wants.

I can’t be bothered to clean up after letting a 3 year old get his own milk from a 4L jug. I don’t want to put all my stuff down just so I can pick him up to press the elevator button himself and then try and scoop my stuff back up before the door opens. I don’t always offer the grace to wait while he puts his own shoes on or the patience to wait while he looks for whatever toy he’s fixated on. There is no shortage of similar scenarios when parenting a pre-schooler.

I can see why he gets frustrated sometimes… it must be tough to have no control over your life.

Mom needs to loosen the reigns sometimes.