It's not Personal

It rained today (well now it's yesterday) so our plans to spend the morning outside were diverted. We went to Target instead, Natalie wanted more bubbles and we needed to pick out Mother’s day cards. She really wanted blue bubbles (blue is currently her favorite color) and I hoped we would find some, we did; 100 fl ozs. I also got her this spill proof bubble kit hoping that it would help our bubble liquid last more than a few hours. We seem to trip over, dump out or Natalie decides to “take a bubble bath” with the bubble liquid each time we bring it out. We also picked up a little Thomas the Train toy and a puzzle map of the United States. Yes, these last two were total impulse buys, Target won again.

When we got home the rain had stopped and so we spent the rest of the morning outside blowing bubbles. The spillproof bubble blower kit is the best money I could have spent! It has made blowing bubbles a clean and accident free past time. After naptime we made chocolate chip cookies. Natalie loves to wear her apron, stand on the chair and pour the ingredients into the mixer. Because I have an unhealthy obsession with cookie dough myself, I let her lick the beater and the spatula and the bowl.

In between, these fun activities, I guarded Emmett and myself from episodes of kicking toddler legs, blocked the state of Nevada puzzle piece from hitting Emmett in the head while I fed him and took a wooden block to the collarbone. No matter how many times we tell her to keep her legs far away from all of us she loves to see how close she can swing them before she hits one of us or we wrestle her immobile.

Tommy got home and I eventually complained, “I thought we had such a good day, I bought her bubbles, we baked cookies…” And then I stopped myself.  I realized I had conjured in my mind this equation that doing fun things should equal something. Like, “I bought you bubbles so don’t hit your brother” or “we baked cookies and I let you eat the dough so don’t karate kick me.” Adults can’t even infer what another adult is thinking; why in the world would I think my daughter could read my mind?  I remembered my daughter is two, she is ONLY two.  Her “Terrible Twos” are not even terrible, she tests the limits, speaks in this whiny fake cry voice that drives us crazy, her legs are out of control and she gets really hyper right at bedtime.

I can never take it personally when I do not get the reaction from my children that I want. They can’t read my mind. I can’t let my feelings get hurt because I feel that my efforts are not appreciated. To my daughter, blowing bubbles, baking cookies, reading books, spending time together is just what we do. Just like her wild legs, experiments with gravity or not listening are not personal. She is two. She is learning and having fun. This is what she does.

Sometimes it’s the meal I make that I put more effort into, but she totally turns it down. Or I braid her hair and she pulls it out.  The day will come when we congratulate her on a performance, whether athletic, artistic or musical, and she will dismiss our words of praise and encouragement because she is critiquing herself on the inside. She will know herself best and will know if perhaps she could have given more or done something different. But we will never withhold our words of encouragement or praise even if they are not received in the way we hope for. I will never tell her she is ungrateful or unappreciative of anything.

I think the heart of my desire is good, I want to show my kids with everything I do and say, “I love you so much, don’t you know that?!” And it hits me, isn’t that what God is trying to tell me, too. And how often do I take notice, say thank you or change my behavior. I am so grateful He doesn’t stop trying, doesn’t get discouraged, and keeps giving over and over again.  I am confident in His love for me, knowing that it is regardless of what I do or don’t do. However, in the times that I really consider it, I am moved so much that I have to act. As a parent, I can only hope that my children are just as confident in my love for them, that they never have to say or do anything (what if so some reason they physically/mentally couldn’t, would that really change what I offer) Though, perhaps as they grow up and grow in more understanding of that love, it will move them too.

Unconditional love. May I never ever put a condition on anything I give my children. May I always say that I am a convert; that my heart is constantly changing, renovating, growing.

I guess it is pretty personal after all...

Mother Sparkler

Tommy got home on the later side tonight. Natalie and I couldn’t wait to tell him about our day. I helped Natalie get started.

“Natalie, tell Daddy what we saw on the way to the Y today.”

Natalie takes a deep breath, “Natalie saw f&#kers today, Daddy!”

Pause. What was that?

“She’s telling you about the sparklers she saw today,” I said grinning.

We spotted these blue and silver sparklers on the side on the side of road on our way to the YMCA. She asked me ‘What these called, Mommy?” And sparklers was the first word that came to mind. I should have called them Streamers or Shredded Pom Poms of Metallic Plastic. (No one ever tells you you have to be a walking thesaurus and be able to give the most accurate, yet simplified word/definition of everything your child sees.) I giggled all the way to the Y. I even warned the nice college girls in the child watch that if they hear something that sounds concerning, it’s sparklers.

I love how our children (well just Natalie for now, but Emmett soon enough) bring out the kid in us. Or, in this instance, the immature teenager. With every embarrassing comment or poor pronunciation, I have learned more and more to laugh and shrug it off. Another example, Christmas mass, I’m holding Natalie and she looks at me with this big sweet smile and puts her hand on my chest, (I’m thinking, oh sweet gesture) then she shouts, “Mommy’s boobie!” Right as the music stopped. Gloria, Gloria!! Let’s keep singing.

To anyone who believes that there is a definite state of maturity or grown –upness that must be reached in order to have children, stop looking. There is no aha moment of “I’ve arrived, I’m mature” because the funny thing is, your children will bring back the kid in you anyway. And its so much fun being a kid again. Just be ready to love like you have never loved before and they will teach you the rest.

For a long time I felt like I had to reach a state like the one I’m talking about. Sometimes I still think there will be a moment when I am officially considered an adult. As if being married almost five years and having two kids weren’t enough. But I’ve learned that what I incorrectly define as me being an adult has more to do with how I am portrayed by others and what milestones society defines as adult (job, age, finances, house, car, mom haircut, mom jeans, etc) than how I feel inside. And, if that’s the case, I have a ways to go. Tuesday, I was checking out at Wal-mart and the woman at the register called me sweetie probably four times. I wanted to offer her the suggestion not to call another woman with two kids in her cart sweetie. Last year, when I only had Natalie a man in the grocery store said to me, “What’s with babies having babies?” As much as our society loves looking youthful shouldn’t I be applauded for being 28 (next month), having two kids and still looking like a teenager? Haha.

Tommy and I have so much fun laughing together at ourselves and our kids. And its these moments that we will remember and laugh about at her graduation, wedding day, etc. I also think these are the moments that Tommy and I will remember and laugh about and connect over when it’s just us and the kids are grown.

Other words to avoid are Fox (use wolf) and the phrase, “Oh, sick” (just say gross).

Communication

In the whirlwind that describes our life these past two months, only recently have we been able to sit back and reflect. By reflect I mean having enough time to share a thought or two with Elizabeth before we are running off to help one of the kids with something or chasing our oldest running circles around the yard!
Elizabeth and I are both very talkative people. I think it is fair to say that we both would be described as chatty. During college it was often joked among my friends that they didn't like to walk around campus with me because I talked to everyone I knew along the way. I didn't just slow down my pace, share a quick hello, and move on. It was a stop and talk for five to ten minutes.
One of the things Elizabeth and I shared with each other this weekend deals with communication and newborns. Since both Elizabeth and I are talkative people, we have found having a newborn difficult in that regard. Obviously we don't expect a newborn to be talking sentences and quoting G.K. Chesterton but any sort of response, eye contact, movement, or noise we really respond to. We respond so well because we know communication is happening and a relationship is in the making. Communication is ideal for relationships to develop and grow and we are just coming out of a time where I know I was frustrated more times than I'd like to admit because of no communication between my son and I. I longed for just a response to when I would talk to him or a simple movement acknowledging communication was happening. This was plain hard for me. It makes me sad that I can't communicate with my son yet. I don't want to rush things but with that said I am still not proud that I was frustrated and sad when I was. Of course I couldn't expect a newborn to communicate the way I wanted right? Maybe I did expect too much. Either way, I learned something in this process. What hit me like a ton of bricks is that I do little to no communicating to my heavenly Father.
I love the way our lives here on earth are reflections in how life is in the invisible realms. In the way I communicate with my son and he with me, prayer is the way we communicate to our heavenly Father and He to us. I realized that I am very immature in regard to prayer. What makes matters worse, I have the ability to communicate my feelings, thoughts, desires to my Father but I don't. By this comparison, my son is more mature than me because at least Emmett is trying to communicate! Most of the time I don't even try to communicate with God. Because I can read and understand ancient theology or memorize some scripture passage I convince myself that I am moving on to maturity in spiritual life. In spiritual reality, I am only a newborn not able to communicate to my Father.
In the way I have been frustrated and saddened with lack of communication with my son, I am willing to bet God feels the same sadness with me, His son, doesn't communicate with Him. I get so excited and it completely makes my day when Emmett makes a noise or moves around in excitement. Even more so, when I say something to him and he coos or makes a movement in response I absolutely love it! He doesn't even have to "say" anything. He doesn't have to say deep thoughts in dissertations about the meaning of life. All he does is simply coo or move and I am ecstatic! Emmett only communicates in the ways he knows and I am overjoyed. Maybe I too need to take a lesson from Emmett and just share, however I can, with my Father. It doesn't have be extravagant (i.e. Matthew 6:7) just honest and heartfelt commensurate with my ability. This pleases the Father the most. To be in relationship with me is pleasing to him. With Emmett, his honest heartfelt communication to his father commensurate with his ability is so pleasing to me. I love being in relationship with him.
We are now at a point with Emmett where he is responding and telling us things more and more everyday. This makes me so happy. There is no feeling like it. It only gets better from here. Our relationship is growing and will continue to do so. Glad you are in my life Emmett!

From the Inside, Out

I've never been a blogger. In fact when it comes to technology I don't get too excited and am pretty skeptical about the latest gadgets or new ways of social "interaction". However, I would like to share an experience that has inspired me to write a blog and share the most meaningful things about life as they are encountered. My hope is that readers would be able to see the little bits of truth that are all around us but we have trouble sometimes being able to see. The most fun I think I will have is to be able to share this experience with my wife. I have to say, she is a much better writer than I am but the goal is to share thoughts as her and I experience life together as a family. This is what I/we hope to capture.

During the early days after our son was born last month, I  had the honor of spending lots of time with our 2+ year old daughter. In all of the different things she is soaking in about life, one thing she is into right now is art. Painting, crayons, markers, you name it. It is really awesome to sit back and wonder what is going through her mind as she draws different lines, circles, etc.

She asked me to draw with her one morning after breakfast. Now I am not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. I have a very hard time drawing a cute stick figure. Naturally I feel a little insecure when I draw because I usually have a very beautiful picture in my head of what I would like to convey on the paper but something gets lost in translation.

The lesson for me here was this. There are many thoughts, images, questions, etc. that I have in my mind. No matter what, I should put away any insecurity about communicating them and just get out what I am thinking, feeling, or experiencing on the inside. For the benefit of my relationship with my family, sharing the deep parts of myself will only be a gift to them. No matter how immature I think the communication medium may be, the gift isn't in how well spoken (or well drawn for that matter!) my inner most thoughts are but the fact that I am sharing the deeper parts of myself with my children and wife is the gift. Guys are not typically good at communicating what is going on with them on the inside. This happens for a myriad of reasons I will not get into. I hope this story can be an encouragement to guys to just get out what you may be thinking, feeling, or experiencing on the inside to those closest to you. This will only strengthen bonds.

To me, my winter landscape picture I drew in crayon with my daughter was pale in comparison to the beautiful snow covered rolling hill farmland image I had in my head. I would like to believe that Natalie saw a masterpiece by the likes of Picasso or Caravaggio!

This blog serves as yet another medium to share what is happening on the inside.