7/31/2014 0 Comments 2 As I lay in bed, I'm giddy thinking that in just 2 days, my main man and home-slice husband will be home from his 8-day adventure in Colombia. It's been a long week. But I know it will be worth it for the sake of eternity. It's funny how even though we've been married for over 5 years now, which isn't much to some, but is something that doesn't happen much anymore, when he's away, and calls me via "FaceTime" how I get butterflies all over again. It's like when we first dated. I don't know why, but the emotions that come up and down when he calls and I can hear his voice over the thousands of miles between us, makes my heart beat faster. I'm looking foreword to his return so much, and so are the kids. We've been talking about it. We've been counting down the days. Planning what we will do once he's home with us, and how all the things we will do will be together- as of we've never had him here at all. But tonight it got me thinking. Don't get me wrong, it's perfectly natural, and in my case, healthy, for me and the kids to miss the hubs. That is a good problem. But how much more should we be longing and yearning for the homecoming of Christ? Do we talk about it every day, and how it will happen one day, sooner than later? Do we talk about how much we will do once He returns? Do we plan all our events leading up to that day in preparation for it? Am I teaching my kids to be excited and ready for that day, more so than the day their dad comes home from a missions trip? Because I have to be honest: it's one of my many shortcomings as a parent. My first born daughter loves to talk about when Jesus is coming back. I have my awesome mom to thank for that one. McKenna will tell you that Jesus is coming again one day. He will come from the clouds, and will be riding a white horse. She knows He's bringing her a crown and a white garment to trade out for her earthly body. She knows that He is only coming for those who love Him. And she knows that if you love Him, you obey His word. I can't brag about it as something I taught her, because honestly I didn't. Sure I've told her about Jesus. And we've takes about the bible and the stories inside of it. We've talked about the cross and the manger and angels and Noah's ark and Jonah and David and the familiar stories. But my mom told her about Jesus' return. (Insert heartfelt thanks to my mom here) But tonight I was convicted because as parents, we should be prepping and training, and teaching our kids to look to the heavens and long for the coming of the Son. What a glorious day it will be. Parents, let's do a better job at I stilling excitement into the hearts of our kids when it comes to Jesus' return. Because it IS exciting. And He's coming soon! And when the trumpet sounds, I want my kids to know what it is, and to look up, and be taken with Him. Yes, Paco is coming in just two days. No, I don't know exactly the day or time Jesus is. Absolutely. My kids will know and be ready and waiting for Him to come home.
0 Comments
7/30/2014 0 Comments Vocab. Lesson The original post can be found here: http://mom.me/baby/12874-10-words-take-different-meaning-after-kids/ But I found this to be refreshingly hilarious! So ready on~and add some words to your vocabulary! " So, you think you have mastered the English language. You're sure you know the meaning of these commonly used words, right? But then you have kids. And you realize that these words you thought you knew take on a whole new definition once you become a parent. Here are 11 words that you’ve had to relearn since having kids, with brand-spanking-new definitions. RELATED: Why is Our House SO Loud? 1. Tired Pre-Kid Definition: Feeling sleepy Post-Kid Definition: EXHAUUUUSTED. Frickin’ BEAT! A condition usually brought on by severe lack of sleep which happens night after night with no recovery. Every muscle in your body aches. You feel like you just competed in two Iron Mans back to back. Your eyeballs burn. SO, SHUT UP, PRE-KID DEFINITION! 2. All-Nighter Pre-Kid Definition: An entire nighttime period spent partying and having fun. No sleep is experienced because one is too busy drinking, dancing and being free. Being so free and alive. So free … Post-Kid Definition: An entire nighttime period spent up with your baby or toddler who is crying incessantly and won’t go back down in her mother-'effing crib. Like, she won’t stop crying and it’s making your face melt. And this goes on all night long. 3. Quickly Pre-Kid Definition: Doing something with swiftness, efficiency, in a short amount of time. Post-Kid Definiton: Leaving the house before noon. Or getting out of the grocery store in less than 2 hours. Pants Pre-Kid Definition: Trousers or nicely ironed slacks or skinny jeans Post-Kid Definition: As in, yoga 4. Eating Out Pre-Kid Definition: Going to a restaurant and enjoying a leisurely meal wherein you eat and possibly have a glass or two of wine while you talk about world issues and/or the latest episode of RHOBH. Post-Kid Definition: Going to a restaurant with the hopes of getting food in your belly before you a) either leave voluntarily with ranch dressing across your shirt and tears in your eyes, or b) are kindly asked to leave by the restaurant manager after more than 3 surrounding tables complain about the croutons flying from the circus happening at your table. 5. Nap Pre-Kid Definition: A brief episode of sleep, usually taken mid-day to rejuvenate and reenergize. Perhaps taken in a hammock after just a few beers or a delicious, slowly eaten meal. Post-Kid Definition: Something that is a daily struggle to get your baby or toddler to do; something that doesn’t exist for you anymore, honey. 6. Pants Pre-Kid Definition: Trousers or nicely ironed slacks or skinny jeans Post-Kid Definition: As in, yoga 7. Sex Pre-Kid Definition: Hot, torrid and potentially spur-of-the-moment boot-knocking that happens often and anywhere Post-Kid Definition: A major event. Likely put on the calendar. To occur in your bedroom, done quietly as to not disturb young housemates, in an amount of time usually cut short by said housemates with a “MAAAAAHHHMMMM!” Or just crying, either of which pretty much kills the mood. 8. Gross Pre-Kid Definition: Very unpleasant, foul, even repulsive Post-Kid Definition: BOW DOWN TO ME, PRE-KID DEFINITION!!! 9. Chillin’ Pre-Kid Definition: Relaxing. Taking time to do absolutely nothing. Kicking it. Post-Kid Definition: This word does not exist. 10. Acceptable Pre-Kid Definition: Able to be agreed upon. Suitable. Post-Kid Definition: Whatever you can do — be it begging, bribing or surrendering — to get your small child to just put on her stupid pants. RELATED: My Parenting Spirit Animal 11. Love Pre-Kid Definition: A feeling of deep affection or attachment Post-Kid Definition: You never knew how your heart could burst with such happiness and intense affection for a tiny little human that looks sort of like you. Your soul lights up when you see him. Your heart aches when you are away from her. And you can’t even begin to imagine your life before they were in it. Even if you actually got sleep back then. Another reminder that once you have children, everything changes — even the definitions of words." 7/29/2014 0 Comments We Could Change the World We Could Change the World This past week my husband left for an 8 day trip, with the youth at our church, to Colombia on a missions trip. We discussed the idea long before baby number four was even born, and I agreed. And every day this week, I am literally going through my mind trying to come up with some reason as to how I didn't actually agree to the trip, or that I was "influenced" by something the day we had the conversation. But the truth is, I did agree to it. I knew it would be hard work, being alone with four kids four and under, for a long time. I knew I would be tired. I knew I would be dying to have a "day off" or a "minute to myself" because I wouldn't have my glorious husband home to "releive" me. And while I never actually get a moment "alone" when he is home, somehow it lessens the load when he's just present. Paco is also the more heavy disciplinarian at our house, and keeps the kids in line on days I simply cannot. I think that's a double-sided coin being that I am home all day, so by five, or six, or nine, or whenever he gets home, the kids are sick of hearing from me, just as much as I may be sick of hearing whines from them. I know Paco is my head, my help-mate, my number one fan, but like anything of worth, you notice and appreciate the value when it's missing. And this week has done just that. Now I could go on and on about how Paco helps with putting the kids to bed, and how I miss terribly that his duty of "bath time" I've had to pick up. I could rant about the fact that I miss him being here to unload kids, groceries, or anything over paper-weight status from the car upon arriving home. I could even tell you how amazing it will be when he's home, because he will take the garbage out into the hot humid florida outside, stinking with diapers and chicken cutlet wrappers in all their glory, and how I won't. But I will not. That's not the point of this blog. It was brought to my attention yet AGAIN, by a very distant and far-away friend....in a blog post she shared with a bunch of moms. So I thought I would take the time to re-itterate the point even further: We Can Change the World. As a mom, especially a stay-at-home-mom, it can be really easy to overlook missions. Or really difficult. It's hard to see commercials about starving kids, dying generations, poverished villages, and know that in my season of life, (forget money cause that is a WHOLE different issue!) I just won't ever get to help. Now, if I HAD crazy amounts of money left over from my "left over" money, that is, money that's available after bills....and then the remnants are used for things like diapers, wipes, Clorox (you can see the picture now can't you) etc.....but I would, I really WOULD send some to those poor people in the far-away tv land. I would probably, selfishly, spend some on myself because it is so rare, to get a massage, or have my hair "professionally" colored. But I would support and send, donate and divulge my "riches" for their rags. I would. Given that the above simply is not, time is the next big thing. And it's more "achievable" for me, being in the middle class. Time. ha. That is another luxury I don't have. I don't have three minutes to go to the bathroom alone, much less fly to a country 8+ hours away and MINISTER to other people? Let's just be honest. One day, when my kids are grown and out of my house, so at LEAST 18+ years from now, I MIGHT get to go. MIGHT. Or maybe my family members will see it in their hearts to give up their time to let me go....Bless their little freaking hearts. But let's be honest: Time is a luxury for a mother. I don't care if you're a working mom, a S@H mom, a crunchy mom, a mom of one, a mom of twelve, ESPECIALLY a single mom (Lord knows I've had a small glimpse of that life this week, and I have moved the single moms up my prayer list about 27 spaces....because that is a TOUGH job. So shout out to all you single moms, rocking the single life, and sacrificing EVERYTHING to make life happen. Y'all are the BOMB dot COM. {notice the caps locks was on!}). So how do I change the world? My hands are literally empty. No money. No time. And usually tied up behind my back and held hostage by four small children. So what could I possibly do to "Change the World". (Circa to Matt Redman....because he has an answer in his song.) But it brings me to a story. well....actually, lots and LOTS of stories in the good o'le Bible. Moses. Gideon. Samson. Mary. There are countless others. But let's just focus on Moses for a moment because that's the one burning in my heart right now. Here he was, a man who wasn't even in the blood-line of Pharoah. Chosen, and literally, hand-picked and dropped into Royalty's lap. Literally. That part of the story is a miracle to be recognized....but I don't have the time with four kids to blog multiple stories at once. He then gets a bad...although righteous, attitude one day and MURDERS a man. He then run away from everything He knows. He can't speak well....as in he stutters, and stammers over words. He doesn't have money, time, respect. He doesn't have anything but a stick to walk with. To lean on. A crutch, for thought. He gives all, and has all, the reasons to NOT do the very thing God tells him to do: Free the people. Free MY people. Save them. Deliver Them. Change the WORLD. Moses basically freaks out. And tells God why he simply cannot. And God replies in a fairly humorous way, at least in my opinion. He says "who made man's mouth? Was it not I?" I mean.... God is pretty hilarious and baller if you ask me. And He goes on and tells Moses...forget all the things you can't do.... Take that pathetic stick you have IN YOUR HAND, and I will do great and mighty things with it. Do you see where this is going? We can argue with God. We can give Him reasons....valid and true reasons why we cannot do what He has asked of us, but He MADE the very things we call "excuses". And if we would simply give Him what is ALREADY IN OUR HANDS, He will use it, and do GREAT and MIGHTY things with it. The things He's given me? My kids. Yes...I probably cannot allot the time or funds for a mission trip abroad...but my mission trip starts when my feet hit the floor in the morning, or middle of the night, or whenever my kids get up. It ends when they leave my care. It's the longest, most intense mission trip of my life. Because I am literally responsible for discipling and training up WORLD CHANGERS, and I get to do it with every luxury that the Western American Culture offers. I don't have to sacrifice my AC. Or my comfortable bed. Delicious and comforting foods. Family life, or all the perks of being home. But all the more responsible I will be for training these people, who've been loaned to me, (YES I said LOANED. They aren't mine.) to know the Maker of the world. They will be bankers, politicians, news anchors, teachers, writers, for the next generation, and my MISSION is to teach them all about Jesus, so they can GO into their worlds, and make disciples one day. Our MISSION as MOMS is not to minister abroad....our first calling is to our families. And if we cannot minister to the people who live in our homes, we are not ever going to minister to those in another country. If we say we have a heart for missionary work, and cannot have a heart to make lunch and pray for our own children, then we are decieving ourselves. You have a mission field. It's not cheap, but it is free. It's not hard, but it is the most difficult job you will ever have. And it's one that you will have to answer for when judgement day comes. I don't know about you, but I want to be able to look Jesus in the eyes on that glorious day, and when he asks what I did with my talents...scratch that.... children, I want to answer with things other than: I showed them every Disney movie ever, and they know all the classic songs! or I gave them so many of the best sensory experiences, that they learned a lot about the world around them, and opened their minds to all kinds of cultures! I want to be able to say more than, I spent every minute with them, playing, baking, laughing, learning, and creating the best family bond ever! Don't get me wrong....those things are fun. And some of them are good. But in the sceme of eternity, they pale in comparison. I want to be able to say " I taught those four kids EVERYTHING I knew about You, and they learned even MORE because I showed them the truth of Your Word, and they CHANGED THEIR WORLDS because they knew JESUS!" That is my goal as a mom. That is my mission field. And as small and as impossible as it seems, if I allow God to use what I have here with me, He will bless it, He will use and work through it, and He will honor it and make it greater than I ever could, would, or will. Moms.... GET ON A MISSION TRIP. Because you have been since you conceived your first child. Be Mission Minded...whether at home or abroad. Minister in the grocery store. At the doctors office. In school or extra-curricular activities. Be Jesus. Train them up to know and love Christ, because His word promises that that will NOT return void. They will NOT turn away....they will NOT depart from Him. And you can take that to the bank. I'm on a mission trip, and so is my husband. His ends at the end of the week. Mine.... well, they say parenting never quits, until you or your children leave the earth. So I guess I'm on this thing indefinitely. Go with me. It WILL be worth it. Let's change the world. One kid at a time. 7/28/2014 0 Comments Bys Vs Girls There's a great debate that's been going on for centuries, and still baffles the most intelligent of minds to this very day. The argument of which gender child is easier to raise. People argue considerably over the topic, usually slinging mud and slime in all directions. Pro-girl-sided people will say that girls "are more compliant" and need "less hands on time" or are "more advanced for a younger age". While those on the male-dominance side rebuttal with "girls are drama queens and emotionally unstable" and "boys are more fun" and the classic "boys are much easier when they get older, girls just have periods and mood swings". I've heard them all. And I have both, girls and a boy. And while I haven't made it past the grand-old-age of five, I have my own personal opinions on the matter. But instead of jumping the gun, or onto the band-wagon of people on opposition of a side, let's just look at what I've learned so far. Girls, in my opinion, are easier to change when brand new. Yeah, some of you would disagree. But Wesley, my now 23 month old son, had a severe diaper rash with open, bleeding, blistered sores from about day 4 o his life until about 2 months old. We had prescription creams, we powdered his bum, we changed his milk, switched to cloth diaper inserts, used water instead of wipes...you name it, we tried it, but the kids still had gaping wounds in his pants. Not to mention he was circumcised at 10 days old. So on top of the "watch-out-boys-pee" bit, you couldn't wipe him anywhere on his "downtown" space without sending him into torturous cries. Once he finally healed, there was poop everywhere. I mean it. And not to be graphic, but let's just be honest: poop gets conveniently trapped in the crevices of scrotum. Plain and simple. One Point for the girls. Wesley has a sense of humor. From day one, the kid was telling jokes. Ok maybe day 148, but still...he is hilarious. He will growl at you when he's angry. He will laugh at you if you trip without getting seriously hurt. He applauds his own achievements, tackles his sisters, and even makes the most ridiculously funny faces I've ever seen. The girls, while they can be funny, spend most of the day whining about trivial things such as, "Wesley tackled me for fun". Which simply adds to the hilarity of Wes and his actions. Point for boys. The girls are tidy. Neat. Organized. Sometimes to a fault. McKenna (nearly 5) spends most of her "free time" organizing toys in cubbies, making her bed, folding laundry I've slacked on, or sweeping tile floors with a broom. She potty-trained in less than a week because she didn't want to "get her dress dirty". Teaghan (3) will obsessively guard her tutus and jewelry in small safety-deposit boxes she's had installed at our home. Ok they are actually just zippered play boxes, but they might as well be vaults from Malaysia the way she keeps them. She brushes her hair, buckles her own shoes, and washed her hands and applies lip gloss because she is a girl, And us girls like to look and smell pretty and organized. Boys are like noise with mud on them. I don't even know a grown man who can walk out into humid weather, do absolutely nothing, and not come back inside smelling like the boys' 10th grade locker room. Boys have this need to strewn clothing about, all over the house, usually not five inches from a laundry basket. They spit, and pick, and use sleeves to wipe bodily fluids. Maybe it's because I'm one of the prissy clean girls, but I have to award some serious point values to the ladies on this one. Girls are up by one. Boys are tough. Tough to keep clean, but even tougher when they fall down. My son can bust his lip open on the entertainment center (Thursday he did), or wipe out in footed pajamas that've been worn out down the hallway and wallup his forehead into the tile floor so hard that a purple knot grows instantly (last wednesday), or smash his fingers in the door jam in the worst of ways, all to stand up, brush it off, and when asked if he's ok, say "yeah". My girls cry real tears of distress over imaginary boo-boos. Seriously. They wear bandages like Purple Hearts from fallen soldiers. They could singlehandedly win every award at the Academy for "best actress in a traumatizing situation". They practice everyday. They accidentally brush against a blanket made of Indian silk, and they cry foul play. Their "faking-an-injury" skills would put every team at the 2014 FIFA World Cup to shame. I can't handle the whining and crying. So the boys get the tally here. The examples could go on and on. There's a hundred reasons that each side is "easier", and honestly, in various categories to each his/her own. But I know this: regardless of gender differences, each is equally love-able. Each has a sweetness unlike the other. Each teach me lessons on how to love others outside of my home more effectively. God made them, make and female, he created them. And somedays it's hard, really, REALLY hard. But everyday they're good. Because He said so. 7/24/2014 0 Comments SUPER {tired} MOM! SUPER {tired} MOM!!! Behind every baller mother, is a strong pot of coffee. In fact, when I saw the above photo online, it hit all too close to home with the hurricane of children's belongings strewn about, the mom who is clearly ready for the day (wink wink) - and she's also pregnant! Not that I am again, thank you Jesus! But I know the feeling for sure! Being work out, strung out, and figuring out the beat way to tackle the day. Usually for me, with a 9 week old baby, who doesn't always sleep through the night, I brew coffee in ratios that confuse my coffee pot into thinking its an at home espresso barista, and I keep a steady stock of things like zebra cakes to keep my sugar level buzzing. Like so many of you, I find myself learning a new definition of tired each day. If the baby sleeps all night my almost two-year-old son is up until 2am refusing to sleep, and running between his room and ours. He thinks we can't hear him, but by 1:30 I've given up and Decide to let him play tag alone. If he sleeps- by a miracle of God- then my four year old wakes up with leg cramps, or she's too hot, or she needs more "paper towel", translated into toilet paper, that's sitting right behind her on the pot. If none of those things happen, hell has frozen over, but I have a three year old who dreams or something- which makes her cry and scream Bloody murder - but the worst part is, you can't just console her. It takes violent shaking and yelling her name to actually wake her before you can attempt to call her down. Which wakes not only her but the other three kids. You can see my Dilemma. I could probably count on one hand, the amount of times in the last five years that I've slept all night, for the recommended "8-9 hours", uninterrupted. But I am certainly super mom, even though I'm tired Beyond belief, as you are too. The kind of tired that slurs words and thoughts together, which means you forget which child is which, calling out every name you know until said child answers. The kind of tired that skips a shower before bed in the hopes of sleeping an extra 15 minutes. (Don't worry- I only do that every other day.) The kind of tired that crashes at 3:00pm. And either more coffee must be made, or weeping and gnashing of teeth will commence. The kind of tired that swells when you have to go to the bathroom, and you sit- yes on the toilet- for the first time today, and the aches and pains of lifting and pulling and hulling children through life is allowed free reign in all limbs. The kind of tired that doesn't want to make dinner, again, because dinner means eating, which means cleaning the dining room and kitchen all over, after detailing spaghetti remnants from chairs and walls just minutes before someone says "I'm hungry". The kind of tired that makes you doze off with your eyes still open, when a rerun of "Mickey Mouse clubhouse" is on, and dr daisy sing her "then what's the matter?" Song like a lullaby. And as you're reading the symptoms above of extreme exhaustion, and as I type them, the laughter comes because it's all too familiar, followed by choking back tears, because it's all too true. Don't worry, say the other moms, with kids who are grown. It's over soon. Or so I've heard. That even though the days are unbearable long, they are quick in passing. One of the wisest things I have heard in my "young" parenting, is "don't wake up to your Children, wake up for them." Even in my severe fatigue, even for just as short as 5 minutes, I try to wake up before the kids. I have one early riser too, so inevitably i'm up before the sun. But those few minutes allow me to regroup. To have a "team huddle" with my team leader: Jesus. Most days he is Jehovah Jirah....because he's providing me a way to manage without falling over. It give me just enough time to screw over my feelings, and remember that as the sun rises- literally- that mercy has been poured out anew. That as surely as the sun rose, His word will come to me, and you. And that has made all the difference. Yes in so certain tired. I could cry about it because it's so. But if these days, like every older mother says, are fleeting, then I'll sleep all too soon. Until then, pray for me. And I'll pray for you. That exhaustion is merely a state of mind, and that rest, is poured out from God in an unmeasurable amount. ustom HTML 7/22/2014 0 Comments Walk the Line Mr. Johnny Cash clearly knew a thing or two about parenting. I find myself daily wondering where the "line" is on many issues. How much junk is too much? How many hours can go by without having to bathe them all AGAIN! Is corn an potatoes an adequate "vegetable" serving? Is PBJ still ok even when the kids refuse the peanut butter part, making it a sugar filled sandwhich? Is two movies back to back, too much tv for my three year old before noon? Does running in the hallway count as "physical activity" for today? GAH. Most of which are trivial. But then there's questions that hold more weight. One of which I'm baffled by each night at bedtime with our 23 month old son. He's nearly two, and I remember with my girls that two was like everyone says. Terrible. We had birthday parties for each of them, and the next morning it was as if someone had replaced our sweet baby girls with demons with orders to kill me off by loss of sanity or constant cleaning- whichever came first. An for Wes, it seems that those challenges came about ten minutes after he was born. He had eczema so badly on his face when he was born that he would scratch it and bleed. He had a sever diaper rash, which coupled with his healing circumcision to create the most delicate of diaper situations. He also managed to pee on every clean outfit I had at the time. He's been a handful for his whole life. A cute one. But a Handful none the less. He recently moved into a toddler bed. Not by my choice of course. By his own. He started climbing out of the crib. None of the girls ever tried it. So for safety and lawsuit purposes- we removed the front of the crib and positioned the mattress low to the ground. The first night he did fine. It was new enough to keep him from attempting anything, and he was tired enough to fall asleep. After that, he wasn't. And he hasn't ever been tired- or so it seems- since that day, which was at least 4 weeks ago I can't get him to stay in his bed. I can walk him in, give him bribes, hold his hand and stroke his hair. I can scream louder than an air horn or whisper quieter than a lullaby. I can spank and spank and spank that boy over and over and he will come back out of his room moments later- smiling. So where is the line? Because the struggle is real. And I know in some way or another- you struggle too. Where's the line of discipline and abuse? How far is too far? What is acceptable and what isn't. What is love and what is not? And each time I'm taken back to the cross. Because there isn't a verse where Mary is found spanking Jesus' little white butt to comply. But there is one about letting the little children come. There is one about disciplining those he loves. There is one about loving so much that he gave. So I find myself on my knees, begging for wisdom each night. Allowing the Holy Spirit to guide me as I guide Wes. Some nights- like tonight- are harder than others. And other nights are harder still. But sometimes I just let him come sit with me. Sometimes I let him be a 1 year old boy for another night. Since he will be two so very soon. Maybe- just maybe, the line isn't so much about where I draw the discipline lines. But maybe it's about drawing the prayer line. Maybe Wes is here, with the sole purpose of keeping his mom prayed up. Because of it is, it's working. It's working really, really well. 7/15/2014 0 Comments Married. (With Children) Married. With children. First comes love. Then comes marriage. And if you're like us, there's four baby carriages that quickly bombard your home, an your life, and said marriage relationship. An if you're also like us, or any other human couple who spends longer than about 5 minutes together, chances are you've had a fight. Or two. Or ten. Or ten-hundred. It's a thing of beauty really. You're learning to cooperate, to compromise, and communicate with another complex being. One who is probably nothing like you, which makes the task that much more daunting. But I wanted to touch on the subject of marriage as it pertains to parenting. Why? Because I find myself in the throws of needing reminded myself. The topic of marriage is taboo anymore. Don't get me wrong, people are doing it. But they have lost sight of the real institution of marriage. Marriage between one man, and one woman. I find it interesting and yet disturbing that my three and four year olds ask about "marriage" often. The don't have a handle on the concept as a whole. But they know a few basic principles: - we don't marry our family. -we marry to make one mommy and one daddy. -you get married and THEN you have babies. -you get married when you love each other. -when you're married, you kiss. While those aren't the statutes that outline marriage in most legal documents, they are a pretty good description of marriage, in a biblical sense. But recently, they've been asking if you can have two mommies. Or two daddies. Or if a girl could marry a girl. Our response? God says just one mommy and one daddy. Just like I'm your one mommy, and your dad is your one daddy. It comes down to the example, an their tiny minds compute the example into reality, and accept it. We have Friends who have "step" children. And my girls cannot quite understand how this process works. But for now- at four and three- it doesn't have to. I want to take this opportunity to say, that stressing the importance of God-given marital boundaries, is critical from the beginning. The minute you entertain the idea of something else, is the minute you allow the enemy to plant a see in your child's mind about hat marriage really should, could, and will one day look like. If you see questions or confusion arising from a depiction of "marriage" on tv, at the park, in another family....take the time to immediately address it. Rather address it now with small words, than have to explain it away with big ones later. Another thing my kids see about our marriage here at the Curzio house, an we say it often, is that Paco and I are on the same team. This helps when they ask one of us for a priveledge, and that parent says "no", so they UNDERMINE the parent and ask the other. I emphasize that word because while it may be funny or "cute" at 2, 3, 4, it will NOT be cute at 10. In fact the bible is clear that manipulation is witchcraft. That seems harsh, but it's the word of God, and I can't argue with it. Emphasize the team of your family with your family. But the head of that team is mom and dad. This is hard for some parents, especially in our society, that says the child needs to be able to "express" themselves. But remember that mom and dad were the family unit BEFORE little tommy entered the world. And they will continue to be a family into AFTER he leaves home as well. We can see a picture of this in genesis 1, when God creates the first "family". He doesn't say "it is good" when the man is alone. But he does say "it is good" once he has a wife. Notice God didn't add 2.5 children, a cat, and a goldfish to complete the goodness. Certainly, children are a blessing, and we are told to "be fruitful and multiply". But god created the perfect family unit, with a male/female, husband/wife model. Sometimes this can be difficult. Being on a team with my spouse can be a challenge at times. Like many of you know, there are ups and downs with marriage. Good times and bad times. But it is critical for us as parents to be "on a team". Because our kids are watching. When they see us fight and holler and disrespect each other, they learn to treat people they care about the same negative ways. When they wake up to find a parent sleeping on the couch for the night, it teaches them that running out when things are hard, is easier. Well of course it is! Make the time to make-up with your spouse when conflict arrises-because it inevitably will- but also make a point to make-up with your children who watch from a distance all that goes on. The most important thing a father can do for his child, is to love the child's mother. And the same goes for moms. We cannot expect our children to trust us, or to view us as role-models if we cut apart and tear down one or both of the people they see as "super-human". Every time you degrade your spouse, not only are you degrading yourself, but you're picking at who your children are. Be on the same team as your spouse. Model forgiveness. I can't tell you how much I forgiveness runs abounding in church. And the perfect place to teach, model, disciple people to forgive, is in your home. You give them the tools to be Christ to others, by modeling the behaviors in your marriage. I know this can be hard. There are days when my husband doesn't communicate clearly. Days when he has said something that's hurt me deeply. Days when he leaves a mess through the house that I spent hours tidying before he came home from work. There are moments when he annoys me, and makes me want to leave. But of all these things I am not innocent. There are days I've bagged and whined. Days I've spent money, shopping for frivolous things when he worked hard for the money. Days when I've promised to complete a task and never got around to it, because I chose my own interest over his. Days when I've been short and moody for no reason at all. That is marriage. It's loving someone beyond their crap. And I've learned from the best: God SO loved me that He gave His only son, so that I wouldn't die, but have life with Him forever. Before I knew Paco even for a day, I had nagged and dissappointed, let down, and betrayed a holy god. And yet He showed me forgiveness, love, grace and mercy. And that is the example to follow. Teach your children how to love others by modeling it with your spouse. If you value someone, you spend uninterrupted quality time with them. You listen to them. You do nice things for them. You speak well of them, even when they aren't around. Show your kids how to do this. Because one day, they will be grown, and married themselves. And their future spies will thank you for giving them the tools needed to love and appreciate them. And once they've gone, your marriage will have stood the test of time, and will still be burning strong. 7/8/2014 0 Comments The Other MotherWhen you’re the “other” mother. Life has lots of “others”. Sometimes people are the “other” friend, the “other” woman, the “other” church, or job, or child. But what about when you’re the “other” mom? Society has pegged me as a target because of my differences in today’s parenting age. I didn’t breastfeed for “6 weeks to 6 months” which was best. I chose the “other” method of feeding, and thusly, perhaps poisoned my kids, and gave any other child a head-start against them. I don’t have 2.5 kids. In fact I’ve nearly doubled that and become a “crazy other”, like some sort of circus spectacle. I want to homeschool, and I’m not organic. The two seem to go hand in hand these days. Either you’re an “other” for completely sheltering your children from all things processed or man-made, or you’ve exposed them to the dangers and torments of the world we live in. I’ve chosen the “worst” of both: my kids get refined carbohydrates and high fructose corn syrup, AND a home-grown education where they may become socially awkward. (Wow I feel like I’m winning already!) But I’m the “other” mother on a terrifyingly new, and heartbreaking story, that’s more real life than I wish it to be. A distant friend of mine lost her sweet baby boy, just weeks before he was due to make his entrance into the world. And I happen to be the “other” mother, who can’t relate. I’ve never had a miscarriage. I’ve never struggled to get pregnant. In fact, I’ve found myself, three out of four times, pregnant with a baby that was “unplanned”. I’ve never had a long, hard, or difficult pregnancy, delivery, or recovery. I’m the “other” mother, who had all of her kids in less than 5 hours labor total, didn’t gain lots of extra weight, lost said weight within about 48 hours of having each of those babies, and who recovered well. So well that within the “6 weeks recovery” period, I got just that: a period. But I don’t know what to say or do now. Not because anyone actually will ever have the words or things to say or do to anyone who has loved and lost. But because in some ways I feel guilty for having the “ease” that I’ve had along the way. The story of David and Bathsheeba comes to mind in fact. And my friend and I, are two halves of the story. You read about David, having looked at this beautiful woman, and without so much as batting an eye, he takes her for himself after having her husband murdered in battle, appearing to be an honorable death. He and the woman conceive a child-a child born from the result of sin. My friend however is on the flip side. She had the most holiest of unions. A husband and wife made one by a Holy God. Who had conceived a child out of purity and love, carried out only to end in loss and pain and torment. Just like David and Bathsheeba, her baby boy died. Dear Jesus, why. That’s been the question that haunts me as the ” other” mother. The one who had her fourth baby, again unplanned, and to be candid, unwanted, up until about 6 months of pregnancy. My mind won’t let me rest, and every moment I spend alone feeding and soothing, changing and burping, watching, talking, rocking, and holding my sweet baby, I think of her. My mind haunts me, and yet hers must be more. My heart breaks, but undoubtedly her is more broken. My sadness is deeper than I’ve known, and yet hers deeper than most will ever imagine. Guilt and shame and embarrassment fill my mind, when I post photos of my baby. When I let the world know of a new milestone in her life, I feel as though her, the “other” mother will resent it. Or me. Or maybe she finds peace knowing her baby would be doing the same things In the same season, since our babies would be so close in age. Maybe she feels comforted by the similar smiles and features of a new baby, even though they will never compare to her own.
And regardless of me, or my friend, or you or an “other”, we should be drawn to worship. Whether on the highest of mountains, or in the muck of the lowest valleys, we too should pour out our songs of sadness, praise, thanks and worship to the Maker of all. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve learned in the last four years that the love of God is deeper than my deepest feelings of love as a parent. That my babies are gifts, and I cherish them. That regardless of methods and means, they too are part of the ransomed chosen children of Christ. And for that I am yet again blessed. But I pray that I would be found worth of the cause of worship, in my everyday as a parent. Usually people have to remind themselves that “God is sovereigb” as they walk through hardship. I’ve been walking through someone else’s hardship reminding myself that He is as well. But it’s a new perspective for sure. The last time I found myself throwing up because of an “unwanted”pregnancy, I found myself clinging to words that He is the cornerstone, regardless of my position. And recently I’ve found myself asking for forgiveness because my heart was not aligned with God’s plan that is perfect. And I pray that the perfection of His plan, although difficult at times, would be realized by my friend sooner than later. In fact, every time I look at my baby, I remember hers, and pray for sweet peace to flood their home. I pray, That God would grant her the grace to find each day easier than the day before. Please Jesus, do it. And even though she has been broken into pieces by circumstances out of anyone's control, she, like David, has poured out beautiful worship to Jesus. I know that not because of the "songs" I've heard her sing. But because her responses, and her actions, in the everyday grind, which is where it is most difficult, have been an anthem to the God who is now holding her sweet baby, until we all, one day, rise again in Christ.One thing I do know is this: there is NO “other” deserving of my worship. Or hers. Our yours."My hope is built on nothing less Christ alone
|
AuthorBri is the mom to four little people, the wife to a gentle giant, and a lover of Jesus. She's figuring out the best ways to parent by trial and error, and sharing her struggles, successes, and stories with you! Archives
June 2018
Categories |