Telling Stories

A Candid Talk About Weenies {with my four-year-old}

Perhaps you remember my very mature post about girl parts and boy parts? While it was probably my favorite blog post ever, I realize there's a level of inappropriateness in discussing such things...and at the risk of being equally as inappropriate, I have another story to share. 

It starts with a child:

A perfectly innocent, sweet, four-year-old child...

This weekend, I began to realize the extreme need for bribery with Sam when it comes to keeping him in his bed at night. He just does not need a lot of sleep, that kid. And it kills me (because I DO!) So, I whipped out my trusty treasure chest and implemented bribery. 

We have to do what works around here (can I get an Amen?) 

The deal was, if he stayed in his bed, he got to pick something out of the treasure chest. Little toys I'd picked up to entice him to stop running all over the house at night while I'm desperately trying to blankly stare at the TV. 

Well, it worked like a charm. That kid must LOVE treats because he stayed in bed and I fell in love with him all over again. (Apparently my love is conditional.)

In the morning, he picked his prize. A balloon. 

Seriously? A balloon? Didn't he see all the cool stuff I bought? A Mario Kart candy toy? A Spongebob stuffed animal? And he chooses a balloon? (It's here I'm wondering why I spent the money on everything else, but it is what it is.) 

Later that day, I sat upstairs watching my mom fold clothes (she's yet to master the art of sitting still. Me? I've got it down) and Ethan and Sam were downstairs playing some weird version of balloon volleyball. 

And that's when it happened. The tattle-fest. Tons of giggles and then...

Ethan :  Mom! Sam drew a weenie on his balloon! 

Me: Ethan, I'm sure it's not a weenie. He's four. 

Ethan: It IS! And he did it with a PERMANENT marker! (he runs up the stairs) 

Me: Ethan, seriously. This is totally inappropriate. 

Ethan stares blankly as if to say "That's why I'm telling you. Do something. You're the mom." 

Me: Sam! 

Sam: What? 

Me: Come up here and bring your balloon. 

He bounds up the stairs and walks over to me, wide-eyed. I take the balloon from him and look at it. I see nothing inappropriate, so I'm thinking I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

Me: Sam, what is this? (Thinking all along that Ethan is overreacting and there is no way Sam drew THAT on this balloon.) 

Sam: (matter-of-factly) It's a weenie. 

While I do not, in any way, think it's funny for my children to "tell butt jokes" (Ethan got in trouble for this at school) OR draw weenies on balloons, I cannot for the life of me tell you what came over me. 

Perhaps the word "Weenie" was the culprit. It's no "giant cowboy" but darn, is it funny.

I looked at Sam, who was so up front about his artwork AND obviously VERY proud of it and I lost it.

I.could.not.stop.laughing. 

Sam sort of stared at me, then seemed to shrug it off, dismissing me as a crazy lady. He grabbed the balloon and started hitting it again (paying no mind to the pain he might inflict on the balloon weenie.)

Finally, I regained my composure and started to reprimand him. I said, "Sam. This is serious..." and then I lost it again. 

But, really...can you blame me: 

Huh?? 

My mom said (through tears) "I think he needs an anatomy lesson." 

Is the balloon just head and weenie? I'm confused. Where's the torso? 

Somewhere along the line, I think perhaps I stopped maturing when it comes to talk of such things. I honestly could not have a straight-faced conversation with my four-year-old about weenies if my life depended on it. 

The darn balloon is hilarious. 

Lest you think all of my children are obsessed with inappropriate things, I'll share my video of Sophia singing at her school talent show last week. She's taken to calling herself my "only normal child."

She has a point.

Happy Tuesday! 

  

How Our Move is Hitting Home {hard}

It's hard to explain how a son can steal your heart unless you have a son that's stolen yours. 

bad iPhone photo. It is what it is.

The relationship between mother and son is unique and different and very special...at least around here. Ethan is my most sensitive child, but he's also my least verbal. At least when it comes to talking about his feelings. 

Oh, he loves a good rambling round of Twenty Questions (in which he asks approximately twenty questions on the same topic before moving on to a new topic and starting over...) because he's curious and intelligent and likes to dissect things. 

But ask him how he feels and he clams up. Cries. Struggles.

A few weeks before we really knew we were moving back, I started probing the kids. Ethan came with me to run an errand and when I wouldn't let him get something in the gumball machine he said, "You know Grammy would let me get it." 

Uh-huh. But I'm not Grammy. 

He sighed. "I know." (Read that with an extreme amount of disappointment. Because that's how he said it.)

I said, "You miss Grammy and Poppy?" 

He nodded. 

"What if we lived back by them, would that be a good thing?" 

He thought for a second and said, "You know, I never really wanted to move here in the first place." 

So I thought we were golden. It was the girl I was worried about. 

Then we explained to the kids that this was a very real possibility, and as I suspected, Sophia cried (she has this great little group of friends at school...) 

And Ethan said "Okay. Can I go play the Wii now?" 

But then a few days passed and Sophia remembered the good things about Illinois, including her friends there...

And CYT and the school she'd loved...

And Ethan still said nothing. 

Then I started getting emails from his teacher. Bad behavior. Wild. Talking out of turn. 

At first, my inclination was to punish him. No kid of mine was going to be the troublemaker. I don't care who his daddy is. 

But after a couple of days of emails like this, it dawned on me. For all of Ethan's "not caring," I knew that somehow, inside, he was having trouble processing this. In three years of school, he's had three different schools. And the one he loves is the one he's in at the time...which right now, is in Colorado. 

I sat Ethan down and told him I'd had another email from his teacher. We talked about his behavior, and then I dug my heels in and tore the band-aid off. "Is something upsetting you? Because usually you only act up when you're upset about something." 

It took a minute, but then he burst into tears and said "It's just hard that we might be moving back to Illinois." 

I said, "But I thought you were excited because you never wanted to come here in the first place?" 

And he said, "But then I started thinking about all the good friends I have here." 

And what could I say? Because I've thought about all the good friends I have here too. I've cried over the distance we're now putting between us and them...I've hated how flighty we seem to keep traipsing across the country. 

I've had dreams that we're doing the wrong thing mixed in with dreams we're doing exactly what we're supposed to...but more than anything, I've lost sleep worrying about these kids. 

I switched schools exactly twice in my life. Once in 2nd grade and once in 9th. It was traumatic both times. Kids are resiliant, yes, but how do you, as a parent, explain that this is the right decision for our whole family...not just for the grown-ups? 

How do you give them a chance to explore feelings they're much too young to have when really, you want to be wild and talk out of turn and throw your ball at your classmates just like they're doing? 

I know he'll be okay...but he's still processing right now...and so am I. My feelings are so mixed in spite of being so sure we're in the palm of His hand...

And I suppose that's normal...but that doesn't make it easy. 

I have no conclusion today. Just ramblings. Just questions. Just typical mom-worry...

And the hope that when all is said and done...we're going to be okay...

10 Ways To Build Self Esteem in a Child

I feel like a fairly passionate person. At least about some things. I think I'm passionate about theatre and movies and my family. But I'm also passionate about building self esteem in young people. Kids, pre-teens, teenagers. 

It's important to me to have that in my life. The opportunity to say to someone "You really are special" and not sound like a Veggie Tale. 

Perhaps the most important person I am saying that to right now is my daughter, Sophia. She really is special, but as she approaches the dreaded sixth grade year (my most challenging year as a child), I see her struggling with some of the same issues I struggled with. 

Self-doubt and insecurity. 

I'm sure there are moms out there with brilliantly well adjusted children who never question whether or not they're good enough/smart enough/pretty enough...but when those moms wake up from their delusions, I really don't want to be there. 

The truth is, no matter HOW much you build up a child, there's always more building to do. It may seem like you're not getting through or they aren't listening to you, but I promise you they are. And even if they don't get it the first twelve times, maybe thirteen is your lucky number.

It's too risky not to keep trying.

So, because I'm list-girl, I've got a collection of

10 things you can do to build self esteem in a child, regardless of their age.

I've found it works especially well to start the process early and not beat yourself up when you see they need another pep talk.

Remember, you're sending them out there in the world everyday where the positive reinforcement gets harder to hear.

1. Teach her to celebrate her differences. Explain that God made her for a unique purpose and just because she may not be the best person to have on your "Zombie Tag" team, she could be the best person to lead worship in chapel. If YOU celebrate her uniqueness, then she will too. 

2. As often as you can, tell her specifically what you love about her. I prefer to divide this into three areas: 

• A physical feature
• An intellectual feature
• A talent/skill or ability 

I've read that you should focus not on their physical appearance, but I think you have to include it. Let's face it, girls want to be told their pretty. That's just human nature. So tell her, specifically what about her is pretty...but back it up with what makes her pretty as a person. (She is kind. She is selfless. She is creative.)

3. Make HER tell you something she loves about herself in each category. When she gets down, a great way to build her back up is to guide her in the process of finding out what she loves about herself. She will feel like she's bragging. Explain to her that loving yourself isn't haughty as long as you stay humble. She needs to see the good inside her. 

4. Give her a visual representation. Print a photo of her like this one: 

Give her a Sharpie and let her highlight those things on her list. Hang it up somewhere for her to see it, like the bathroom mirror. Feel free to add the things you love too. 

5. Talk to her about your own insecurities. For a long time, I thought it was best to pretend, but I've found that pretending is just phony and no one likes a phony. Be honest with her, but be positive. For instance, I might say, "I always hated that I had these hips..." but I'd follow it up with "Thank God I had them when I gave birth to a baby that was 10 lbs., 2 oz." Sometimes the very things we hate about our bodies are the things that serve a purpose. 

6. Convince her to focus on what she can control. Sophia can get caught up in being the tall girl or the fact that certain clothes look better on her than others. She wants long, flowing curly locks. The sooner she can start accepting the things she has no control over, the better. It's taken me years to realize it really makes no sense to dwell on the fact that I have short legs. 

7. Determine if she's frustrated because she wants to learn something. Is she frustrated because she's not good at something she can learn--and wants to learn? For instance, if all of the girls in her class are learning to play volleyball and she really thinks it looks fun, but the two times she tried she hasn't done very well, how can you help her? Can you sign her up for a camp? Can you give her a fighting chance? Show her you're on her side. 

8. Make sure she sees the airbrushed pictures in magazines. Sophia is too young to read most of the magazines that are airbrushing actresses to look like plastic, but if she realizes now that the photos in those magazines aren't a true representation of real people, I think she'll walk into the next season with her eyes wide open, hopfully unwilling to compare herself to a fictitious representation. THIS LINK has some good examples of before and after pictures.

For example:

(Why can't we let Kelly Clarkson be Kelly Clarkson...super talented phenom?)

9. Talk about what makes her love someone. What things does she admire in her friends/teachers/family members? What does she want to be known for? Guide her so she focuses on kindness, skill, work ethic rather than the way someone looks. Then point out those things are all within her reach. 

10. Explain how God sees her. It's hard to grasp this concept. I can say that because I'm still trying... but if we despise ourselves, it means we despise God's creation. He's an amazing artist who knew just what he was doing when he made her. Show her verses that prove it. 

We love you, Sophia...

Being Present

When you're pregnant, it seems there's a ton of advice out there floating around, doesn't it? Also, everyone wants to touch/rub/speak to your belly. 

Being the non-touchy-feely person I am, this never went over very well with me. 

I used to say I wished they came with an instruction book...because when I brought Sophia home from the hospital, I sure didn't know what I was doing. 

This weekend, she turned eleven. And I thought about all the people who told me it would go in the blink of an eye. It's my least favorite thing that older people say. It makes me feel like no matter what I do, I'm going to miss out on something. 

I get it. It goes fast. But what good does it do to reiterate what we all already know? That she'll be independent before I know it? That I can't keep her from growing up? 

That one day, she won't be my baby...she'll be my friend. 

This weekend, time stopped...for her. And I'm so glad it did. We didn't work. We didn't write. We (Adam) didn't compose. We were fully engaged. Fully present. 

...and sometimes I think that's why time moves so quickly...because we're not really paying attention. It's like driving across town, reaching your destination and having little memory of how you got there. 

I realize it's fleeting...this is why I scrapbook. It's why I journal. It's why I keep this blog... so one day I can look back and remember the days that turned into months that turned into years... and I can smile on the other side of it. 

Smile to think of all the adventures she's had so far...New schools. New friends. Discovering she loves to lead worship. Discovering we have a love of theatre in common (it's important to find common ground, I think...) 

Discovering her own personal relationship with her Heavenly Father...and her sweet relationship with her earthly one. 

And how many more adventures she has ahead of her...eleven years feels long and makes me feel old...and yet, it's just a drop in the bucket. She has so much to explore. 

 

For now, my plan is to be more engaged. To look into her eyes more often. To realize that when she gets out of bed at night, she's not always stalling...sometimes this is the best time to talk to her. 

That when she asks if I want her to sing to me, it's often because she can sense I had a rotten day.
This is her way of cheering me up. 

That she is going to grow up, whether I like it or not...and so far, she's proven that she's going to do that in a beautiful way. 

That she needs to be independent. It's okay. I was too. 

That it's important to bring out her silly side...and often the best way to do that is to find mine. 

That when she has a revelation about God, I most certainly will stop and listen to it...often he uses her to teach me something I need to hear. 

That she is sweet in so many ways...

Happy Birthday to my amazing eleven-year-old beauty. 

It may go fast, but I'm going to tune in to every little moment...

Five Things NOT To Do When You’re "The New Kid at School"

Sophia's first day as the "new kid" after our move to Colorado. Fourth Grade. 2010.

Sophia is quite busy being bored this week. She sent Adam an email explaining why she should have a blog, and I admit, she was quite convincing (despite her typo): 

"I think that i am olf enough to have a blog. Mom was saying that you can get a password so just your friends can look?? Please! I am responsible enough and i have nothing to do with all my creative genius." 

When I was younger, I remember putting together a full-on presentation to convince my parents why I should be allowed to attend public high school rather than stay at my small, Christian school. After I convinced them and started at the new school I tried to convince them to send me back. 

They said no. 

I digress. 

My point is, my daughter, who is on spring break, has decided that this is the perfect time to start a blog. As a trial run, I've asked her to do a guest blog here on my happy little virtual home. Having been the new kid at school not once, but twice in the last two years, Sophia thought she might be able to offer a bit of advice for other "new kids" out there. 

(I am not going to edit it, and I'd like you to notice the tone of voice she gives her mother.)

(Sophia's first day as the new kid at her current school. Fifth Grade. 2011.)

So without further ado, I give you my almost 11-year-old daughter's

"Five Things NOT to do When You're the New Kid at School." 

 1.    Don’t paint your nails with your new black Crackle nail polish the day before school or (if your mom is like mine,) you might have a conversation like this:

 “Sophia, go take that nail polish off.”

“But Mom, It isn’t even dry yet!”

“Well, good. Then you won’t have to use up the nail polish remover. It costs a lot of money you know.”

“Why can’t I wear it?”

“We don’t want the people at your new school thinking you’re Goth!”

“MOM! It has bright pink underneath it!”

“I don’t care. Go remove it or I take your iPod.”

“UGH.”

This is from personal experience. So, if you don’t want your iPod taken away, then you should wait until the week after school starts to be cool.

2. Don’t wear a dress and try to climb on the top of the monkey bars, even if your friends tell you to. Because, you finally get up there, then they tell you to do a flip off, and you do, not only will you land flat on your face because you can’t move your legs apart, you will not notice that everyone, even the football boys, saw your underwear. They were from 2005. And about 3 sizes too small. Yeah. Embarrassing.

3. Don’t draw pictures in your journal during Bible time unless you are an amazing artist. Your new friend might want to see what you drew, but it might be completely pathetic and you think she might not be your friend if she saw. Well, you thought right. You sat by her at lunch, and she didn’t acknowledge you. Oh well, you think. You get up and sit by some other people. You’ve been friends with them ever since. Yay! Happy ending!

4. Don’t tell everyone that your favorite song is “Just the way you are” by Bruno Mars. You might get in trouble with the teacher for singing the bad parts in the middle of class. At the top of your lungs. Let’s not forget to mention it was during a test. Yup. A test. Indoor recess for you.

5. Never, never, ever, NEVER bring yogurt to school while wearing your best dress. When you open the top, it usually splurts out a nice little hello all over whatever is in front of it. So if you open it towards your chest it says hello all over your favorite dress. Wonderful, right?!

There you have it. Advice you can use.  

If you've learned nothing else, you now know that I 1. Routinely threaten to take her iPod away and 2. Think nail polish remover is "really expensive." 

Ah, the stuff you can learn...

Suddenly my big girl is little again...

Sophia has always been a really smart kid. In third grade, she was reading at the 12th grade level. She rarely pronounced words wrong, memorized books, spoke in complete sentences. In many ways, the "little girl" wore off of her a long time ago. 

But lately, as she gets older and stretches her wings a little, something funny has happened. Her "big vocabulary" is getting all mixed up. And it's a mother's dream. That reminder that she's still a little kid... what could be better? 

At first I thought it was a fluke. We were getting dinner ready in the kitchen one night and something came up that required extreme teasing. Sometimes a girl just needs to be teased...and who are we to deny her that need? 

Finally, after a few minutes of this, Sophia  slams her hands on the counter and says, "Will you just GET OFF MY SHOULDERS ABOUT IT?" 

The trouble was, she was being funny BUT deadly serious in her choice of words. 

One time thing, right? It wouldn't happen again, so we adopted the phrase "get off my shoulders" as a household and moved on with our lives. 

Then, a couple weeks ago, she came to Adam with a question about two words. "So, what would be the forfeit of that word?" she asked, straight-faced. 

Adam stared at her for a minute and then finally realized she meant "What would be the replacement for that word?" Where she got forfeit, we still don't know. 

Finally, last night, we were playing Scrabble in preparation for Adam's tournament today. (Yes, I am serious.) I should also add that I hate this game. I'm horrible at it and feel like my game play is an insult to writers everywhere. Anyway, we were playing and Sophia tried to play the word "HIPE." She puts it down and immediately starts celebrating...

"YEAH! I'm awesome! Take that! In YO FACE!" 

Adam and I look at each other...

"Uh, that's not how you spell hype," Adam says. 

She deflates. "What?"

"It's H-Y-P-E." 

"It can't be spelled with an 'I'?"

Adam and I shake our heads. 

Sophia takes the tiles off the board. "Oh, yeah, fine, just go ahead and blow my thunder." 

Blow my thunder? 

I've yet to uncover where her mad cliche skills are coming from, but in the meantime, I'm writing them down and working them into straight-faced conversation with her. I can't tell you how much joy it brings me to hear her messing these things up. 

I wouldn't forfeit this little girl days for anything...so get off my shoulders about it. 

Spice Up Your Family Night...No Money Fun!

When you're married to a former children's pastor, there are certain "perks".  For instance, if you find yourself feeling like you need a fun family activity but don't feel like going anywhere or spending any money, odds are good a creative former children's pastor can come to the rescue. 

(Prepare for orange-tinted indoors-at-night photos...)

We do like the occasional board game, but every now and then we mix things up. Adam's work with kids has taught him how to entertain. While I assume we need some big production, the truth is, all you need is: 

• a tall laundry basket
• stuffed animals
• paper (two sheets) 
• marker or pen

Send your kids on a hunt to get all the stuffed animals they can find. 

Be prepared for some (or all) of them to become hoarders once they've determined which ones are the best:

(Make no mention of the garbage waiting to go out. Pretend it's not even there and no one will notice.) 

Have your kids create markers (like bases in baseball) at 20, 50, 100 and 500 points. 

Ethan made ours, cutting two sheets of paper in half long-ways. Then, you set the papers out ala "The Grand Prize Game" each point value getting farther away from the laundry basket. 

In the first round, each person gets 3 chances to get their animals in the basket. They choose what point value they want to go for. 

Certain members of the family may attempt (and make) the 500 point shot just to show off. 

Celebrate his victory by trying to distract him on the next throw. That's the sportsman-like thing to do. 

This can become quite an intense game. Especially if one child in particular finds herself with a goose egg for the majority of the game. 

(I'm not naming any names.) 

Encourage your children to go for the gusto. Mine have this fine art mastered. 

And, of course, be prepared to step in and show them all how it's done. 

In Round Two, we changed things up a little. You could call "Double Points" on any of the markers, BUT if you missed, you were negative whatever the point value that marker said. For instance, if I was on the 100 and called double and missed...I had to deduct 50. 

This is how I lost my lead. 

Darn Double Points. 

Prepare for this game to cover a wide range of emotions. From sheer joy...

To extreme silliness...

To deflation at the prospect of negative points...

It's anybody's game...and one you should play with your kids the next time they're bored or you need a break. We had a blast and it was completely FREE! 

What do you do for some no money fun? We're always looking for great ideas! 

A Mature Talk About Boy-Parts & Girl-Parts

I want to post something meaningful today. I'm writing my third book in the Sweethaven series and I'm at a fairly poignant part. I love writing these parts, when the characters have those moments that make your heart lurch. 

But this post will not make your heart lurch. Because I live in a house with three boys (and only two girls.) And sometimes the blog fodder they provide is about as far away from poignant as you can get. 

My story starts with a boy:

A boy whose photo-smile is as fake as it is endearing. A boy who is, thankfully, still as innocent (pretty much) as the day he was born. 

...and a girl:

(who dressed up as a punk rocker for Halloween)...and who is a little bit more of a troublemaker than she lets on. 

Let me just set the scene for you. 

Adam and I were working on the Hercules script (for the musical we're writing for CYT Chicago) in the kitchen at my mom and dad's house when we heard Ethan, in his little boy voice shout at Sophia, "Hey! You just hit me in the NUTS!" 

I should also tell you that the phrase "nuts" is a new addition to his vocabulary. Sam calls it a "peek" (no idea) so whenever anyone talks about boy parts, that's pretty much what they're called. "Nuts" is a second grade word, one that he picked up at school.

And I giggle every time he says it. (What am I, twelve?) 

Adam and I stifled our laughs and called Sophia in the kitchen. Adam handled it brilliantly (and sensitively as being hit "there" had him cringing a little and feeling sorry for Ethan.) 

Adam: Sophia?! Don't do that--you can really hurt him if you chuck something at his nuts. 

I'm snickering again. 

Sopiha: But...

Adam: No, "but" nothing. How would you like it if he hit you in the vagina?

This is where I lose it. Since when do we use anatomical terms with our children? Doesn't he know it's called a po-po? (Again, no idea.) 

(I added a photo in case you'd started to doze...) 

So, Sophia goes back into the living room to continue their obnoxious playing in which people inadvertently get hit in their private parts...

Sophia: Did you hear what dad just said? (She's giggling. She really should be more mature when talking about girl-parts.) 

Ethan: Yeah. 

Sophia: What'd he say? (Clearly she wants to embarrass her brother) 

Ethan: He said if you hit me there again I get to hit YOU in you GIANT COWBOY. 

Well, howdy, pard'ner!

I don't even know what else to say. I can't even think about it without laughing for five minutes straight. What? Giant Cowboy? WHERE did that come from?

Last night, Sophia came to me with a serious question and she said, "Mom, can I talk to you about my...giant cowboy?" 

And I just lost it. Again. 

And then, I was half asleep when it popped in my head and I started laughing out loud and woke Adam who actually, in spite of sleep-delerium laughed right along with me. 

What is wrong with us? 

Regardless, I'm curious, do you use correct terminology when speaking to your children or do you cute-ify the words for their girl and boy parts? Inquiring minds want to know. 

*PS. I'm emailing the winners of the Jeanne Oliver E-Course today! Watch your inboxes!

A Christmas Surprise (Or why it's sometimes okay to lie to your kids)

About a week before Christmas, Sophia had a choir concert out at the outdoor mall here. It was, in a word: FREEZING. Much like my parents' house, but that's a story for another day. 

After she sang, I took the kids for Early Dinner at a restaurant at the mall. Adam was going to meet us after work. To make small talk, I said "So, what do you guys wanna do when we get to Grammy and Poppy's?" Last year, Christmas was non-stop FUN for the kids, so I assumed they'd be excited. 

Until I glanced at Ethan and realized he was trying (unsuccessfully) not to cry. 

Public restaurant, mind you. 

Ethan and my sister's son, Cooper are about four weeks apart in age, and  they only see each other maybe twice a year. They live in Georgia, so it was hard even when we were in Illinois. But I had no idea how torn up my son was over the prospect of not seeing them this year. 

(Someone must teach my son how to smile for photos.)

 Because my sister's family wasn't making the trip. And we were. 

What Ethan didn't know, and what I couldn't tell him,was that a few days earlier I'd gotten a call from my dad. It went like this: 

Dad: Hey. 

Me: Uh...hey. 

Dad: So, you know Carrie's coming for Christmas, right?" 

Me: long pause. 

Dad: You already knew that, right? 

Me: Um. (confusion in voice) No. Did you just totally ruin the surprise? 

Dad: (mumbles incoherent sentences as he tries to back-pedal. A beat. Then the distinct impression that he's given up) Well she never told me not to tell YOU!

I still laugh when I think about the fact that Carrie told our DAD of all people. We later found out he told at least eight other people. That he could remember. 

Anyway, sitting in the restaurant, I was *thisclose* to spilling the surprise all over the table just to stop the tears. Because when this boy cries, it just breaks my heart. But I held it in and talked him off the ledge, knowing my lies would be worth it in the end. 

So, Christmas Eve, during the day, I got a text from Carrie that they'd just pulled in...

And I couldn't WAIT to see Ethan's face. (My mom's too because she had NO idea...)

I went outside to snag the baby and Cooper snuck in the kitchen, alone. So, my mom turned around and there he was...and mass crazy chaos ensued. But these two guys...

...who are very "cool" and "nonchalant" the entire rest of the visit...

...couldn't hide their happiness that they got to spend another Christmas together. 

I could cry just looking at it because I knew how happy Ethan was going to be. And he was. I LOVE when a surprise works out...in spite of my dad's best efforts to spoil it. 

The rest of us were pretty thrilled too...because we had the makings of a week-long slumber party, and it ended up being exactly what we all needed. 

I hope your Christmas was Merry and Bright. 

Don't forget you can still enter to win a spot in Jeanne Oliver's Creatively Made E-Course! Scroll down!

My Month So Far in iPhone photos...

I have to catch my breath. The word "Whirlwind" seems to describe my December so far and I'm putting my foot down. I'm making a point to inhale the winter chill, to marvel at the lights, to feel the joy of my four-year-old as he tells me he wants to see Santa. 

I have one last giveaway before we pick the winners, but it's not quite ready yet, so I'm changing my own rules and posting it tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm sharing something I know you're all dying to see...my iPhone photos that document the past few weeks. 

Riveting, right?! I mean, where else can you see this...

Proof that I can screw up even the simplest of dishes. This Jello dessert did not make it to our Thanksgiving dinner and it's pretty clear why. What a mess. I have a feeling I won't be asked to write a cookbook anytime soon. 

Sophia, on the other hand, is taking mighty nicely to the kitchen...

...and baked Adam cookies one night after she saw how miserable my dessert turned out. 

We went to a craft show where my friend Jenn was selling goodies. I picked up a couple of these for Sophia...

She broke it the second time she wore it. 

Last year, we didn't put up a tree. It was dismal in our rental and we did nothing to help that. So, this year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, I nagged insisted we get festive...

And by "we" I mostly mean "Adam." 

I write by this in the evenings and it's the coziest thing ever. The third book in the Sweethaven series is a Christmas book, so I'm soaking up all the magic and pouring it onto my pages. 

We  started a new tradition this year of going to Target and choosing a new ornament. This was Adam's:

Those of you who know him will understand. He is often seen with a pencil behind his ear. It was fitting. I think I was wise to nag him about the tree...it's made a huge difference in my Christmas spirit. And we all know the spirit of the house comes from the mother. At least that's what I'm told when I'm in a really crabby mood. 

For a couple of days in a row after the tree went up, Sam stood in front of it, decked out in his jams and said "I just want to stand here." Remember how cool Christmas was when you were little?

I treated myself to a Clearance mug at Pier1 and have washed it every single day since so I can have my coffee in it. Suddenly my previous favorite mugs have lost their appeal. Why is that?

This photo is so telling of my days...I start each one right here with coffee and the computer...tackling the to-do list of my job and thanking God he hooked me up with Webster's Pages in the first place. 

Adam decided Sophia was old enough to watch "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Thinking back on it, I'm not so sure I shouldn't have intervened, but apparently she emerged unscathed and it was a nice way for the two of them to spend some quality time. (And suddenly she has a crush on Merry.) ha. 

Naturally, when she found these:

She wanted to buy them for Adam. I said a picture would suffice. 

I'm such an orc of a mom. 

Adam and Sophia recorded a song Sophia wrote. It's a praise and worship song. It's not done yet, but I've already asked if I can share it with you when it is. Because I really like it. And because I want to be one of those braggy moms who always talks about her kids all the time. I think I'm good at that. :) 

 

Then I threw my back out. That was fun. I was down for several days and still am not 100%. The good news was Sophia gave me a pedicure. My toes are now aqua. 

Are you jealous?

Last week we headed out to Ethan's Christmas program at school. He's a sheep. 

A sheep with glittery fingertips.

And then this weekend, we celebrated our anniversary:

Turns out we're kind of boring people who sort of relish our boredom. We had so much fun shopping, having dinner and reminiscing about all the anniversaries past...

And then deciding that the past couple of years have almost felt like a new beginning. 

And loving that. 

So tomorrow, the Big Christmas Giveaway is going live and you don't want to miss it! And I'll post winners of all my giveaways later on this week. I cannot WAIT to draw names! :) 

Thanks to everyone for playing along!

 

 

Scrapbooks, Freebies & Sonic Colors

Yesterday I got five packages in the mail. (See, next week, I'm doing this super cool giveaway thing on my blog and no, I cannot wait...) but among those, I got a little treat...a couple of copies of the new issue of Scrapbook & Cards Today. 

I'd forgotten what it feels like to get the magazine, leaf through it and find your layout. The editor, Becky (who is pure genius) asked me to do a layout that focused on the journaling...for their From the Heart column. Yeah, I pretty much loved everything about this assignment. 

My layout turned out as almost a year-end wrap up. Kind of appropriate for this time of year, don't you think? 

My photo needs a V8. What is it with my inability to take a straight photograph? 

Anyway, the layout features a letter I wrote to myself. I think I've written it to myself before (many times) but the older I get the more it seems to sink in. 

Adam used to tell the kids in our ministry to stop and take a "moment in the middle." Literally freeze time for a second and let it all sink in...the sights, the sounds, the smells, the way you felt...

How often do I do this? 

Really not enough. So, that's what it's about. And I'm thrilled with the way the magazine turned out. You can view the whole thing online too. 

Another special surprise was that they included the 2012 Sketch Calendar. It's REALLY cool... And you can buy one of your very own on their website if you want. (You want!) 

I'm also excited today because I got to post some Freebies over on the Webster's Pages Blog. You don't have to be a Scrapbooker to appreciate free downloadable Christmas tags.

They're adorable!! You can download eight different tags, print them off and use them in your scrapbooks or on your gifts this year...Check out the blog for more info and download yours right away! 

Today is a writing day for me. That means, I face off with my deadline and I will be the first to pull the trigger. (Cue whistling, western-y music in the background.) I love falling asleep thinking about my characters and what trouble they're going to get into next...so I'm anticipating this day. 

But before I go, I leave you with just a taste of what I'm contending with trying to work from home amid the constant interruptions of my goofy little Hobbit...

Even though I clearly don't have any idea how to hold a phone when recording a video (thus the black on either side of this)...this is still worth sharing. 

So, I give you...a conversation between Sam & I in which he schools me on the characters of Sonic Colors (after two days of calling me "Amy" and only responding when I call him "Sonic"...) and a little Christmas wishlisting. 

(I know it's cut off on the right but that's probably actually better...)

Ignore the mess in the background. 

And the fact that he's still in his jams. We do what we can. 

Have a great weekend! :) 

 

5 Ways to Fight the Christmas Overwhelm

The world wide web is filled with all kinds of glorious holiday goodness right now. 

It's the beginning of a new month and crafty bloggers (including me over at Webster's Pages) will be telling you all kinds of cool things you could be doing to make your home more holiday-laden. 

I love these blogs for the same reason I love Pinterest. Pure eye candy, plain and simple. 

But for whatever reason, I'm conditioned to perform. Not on a stage (not anymore) but there's this thing inside me that feels an incredible need to achieve. And at this time of year, that need gets kicked up into hyperactive overdrive. 

If you happen to be a novelist/working mom/stay-at-home mom/harried/tired/worked to the bone type of woman, pull up a chair and let's talk for a minute. 

Let's just be real. 

Girls. (And boys?) I'm overwhelmed. 

None of us can do it all. 

I was pretty pleased we got our tree up...this was a huge accomplishment over the weekend given the way I've been feeling lately. But then I started flying around the internet and realized that wow, I don't have anything else to offer. My crafting is for assignment purposes so I can't share it. I don't have the time to paint or even create handmade gifts right now. My writing is for deadline.

My creativity is all tapped, assigned to other places...like my job, my kids, my books. 

And as I click out of all these beautiful, gorgeous, jaw-dropping blogs, I think Gosh, I am not going to inspire anyone this holiday season.

And Wow, my house isn't Christmas-y at all yet...except for the tree...but that laundry basket full of unfolded clothes sort of ruins the effect.

And Let it be said that some people can't be trusted with Oreos in the house. At least not when they're Double Stuf. 

(It's all related somehow, I know it is.)

But here's the important thing. Here's what I"m trying to grasp...ways to fight this overwhelming feeling at Christmas...this need to compare and do and create and inspire...

And so far, this is what I've come up with:

1. Christmas will still be magical even if I don't make a single holiday craft. 

2. My house is still cozy even without detailed touches in every nook and cranny... if I concentrate on picking up, keeping things orderly and then focus on the people in the house, I'm going to come out on top. 

3. I can admire the homes and crafts of my friends and fellow bloggers without walking away feeling insecure about my own productivity. Or lack thereof. We all do what we can...and that's enough. It's enough.

4. I can support handmade artists and give handmade gifts without having to be the one to craft them. It's okay. I'll live to create again. 

5. The real nostalgia behind Christmas isn't wrapped up in home decor or holiday tutorials. I may not have a wealth of inspiration hidden in my back pocket to share with you on my blog...but I can still participate in Christmas. It doesn't banish me to the sidelines. 

Here's the deal. Do what you can. Enjoy your holidays. Don't let them scream on by while you take your harried, frazzled self to bed at 2 a.m. every night lamenting all you didn't do. 

It's Christmas. The only time of year you get to hear "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime" 100x a day! 

And if you're one of those crafty mamas who has creative things to share...share away! And know that those of us who can't will be admiring all of it...and taking notes for next year. 

Do what you can.

This year, instead of worrying about all I'm not doing...I'm going to make a point to focus on what I can do...to focus on what matters...

Jesus. Family. Tradition. Friends. The sights. The sounds. The smells. 

And I'm going to let the hard work and creativity of others fill up my tank. 

And that is perfectly magical. 

Don't Cry Over Spilled Icee

(pictures from my swoony trip to Cozy Cottage here in Loveland.)

At the marketing seminar I went to last month in Chicago, one of the things I carried away with me was that as a writer, I create content. That's what I do. 

It's what I do in my job with Webster's Pages. 

It's what I do as a novelist. 

It's what I do as a blogger. 

I create content. 

So when the well runs dry and the content seems mentally unreachable, it leaves me wondering what on earth do I want to say? (Am I the only one?) 

Some days, I'm just lucky to get by. Some days I spill Cherry Icee all over the counter at Target only to have the annoying guy at the cash register shoot me a look like it's my fault he forgot to give me a lid. 

And did YOU know those things poof up like a teased out 80's perm? I had no idea. I filled the cup, set it down and watched it rise. And rise. And rise. 

Dripping and messy, I took it to the counter and swallowed my cherry-covered pride. 

"Can you please help me with this?" I asked the guy. (Who, the last time I was there made a point to tell me that he's the only one who can get those lids on those cups without a problem but it's probably because he's been working there for years. Years, he said. To which I responded, "Huh, maybe they should get new lids.") 

He turned up his nose and set down the big brown box in his arms. "Let me just...get a glove." 

I think he thought he had something to prove because he snapped that lid on in milliseconds and handed it back to me. "There you go."

*smile.* 

I.was.a.sticky.mess. 

He had a glove. 

I pushed the cart one-handed,  holding Sam with my other sticky, red-stained hand while my two older kids trailed behind. We hit the parking lot and were nearly plowed over in traffic. 

I swear these Colorado drivers are INSANE. 

So. What kind of content do I hope to create? 

Apparently the kind that humiliates me and offers no take-away, no value or importance whatsoever. 

Yep. I'm in the business of creating empty content today.

And yes, my hands are still pink. 

7 Things You Can Expect When Celebrating a Child's Birthday

Birthdays should always be a big deal, don't you think? 

I mean, you only get one every year, so it needs to be a big deal. But for some reason, when it comes to The Hobbit, it hasn't worked out that way. Perhaps it's because all his friends are named "Sam." 

Coincidence? Methinks not. 

Now that we've been doing this kid-birthday thing for almost eleven years (good lord, we're getting old)...I can say, I've learned a thing or two about The Birthday. 

Here are some tried and true things you can expect when preparing for your next kid-birthday:

1. No matter how posey he is for photos, if the Birthday Boy gets woken up at 6 a.m. by an altogether too-excited older brother, he's NOT going to be fun. 

2. Despite all attempts to buy only gifts you haven't told anyone else to buy, you will get doubles. Your newly four-year-old will handle this with grace and the maturity of a child three times his age. 

"WHAT?! I ALREADY HAVE THIS ONE!"

You'll watch in horror as the box goes flying across the room and the pout spreads across his face. 

"We're working on being thankful." 

Sometimes, you even get duplicate presents while the other person who bought the same gift is standing in the store with you. 

No, really. She was standing beside me while I paid. 

I call her Mom. 

3. Cupcakes are an ideal birthday treat. Everyone gets to pick their own kind...and they're preportioned so you can't eat all the corners and claim that you haven't really had a piece. 

Three of us had pumpkin with cream cheese frosting. 

Others had less tasty flavors. 

Still others simply played with the sandwich skewers and frosting, claiming to be "full"...as if he couldn't bear the thought of forcing down the frosting. I'm still wondering if something happened in the hospital and they gave me the wrong kid. 

Just kidding. 

This one is all mine. 

4. When your husband gets a hold of the camera, you can almost always expect embarrassing shots to pop up that you weren't even aware he was taking. And some that he force-posed you for that turned out ridiculous. 

Feel free to blame him completely. Surely it's his poor photography skills that made you look like a pasty white snowman with straw for hair. 

Perhaps that assessment was too flattering. 

5. Big brother love birthdays. It means they can begin concocting manipulative plans to unarm the birthday child of his new booty. And by "booty", of course I'm speaking as a pirate. 

And not insinuating he wants to steal Sam's butt.

After this weekend, I've nicknamed Ethan "The Hoverer..." because boy, did he ever. I handled it quite well, hollering from the other side of the room "Dude, Ethan, would you let him open them himself?" 

To which Adam responded by pulling Ethan aside and apologizing for the mental state of his frazzled mother:

6. No matter how few people are there...no matter how small the celebration...a four-year-old is happy surrounded by his family and a pile of presents. 

7. Suddenly, as you're tucking your four-year-old baby into bed, it will hit you that he's really, really grown up. 

...and you fight back the desire to get all weepy over it. The fact that you don't really have a baby anymore. You have a little kid. A little kid who is rapidly becoming a big kid. And while he's been your hardest child so far, he's secured a special place in your heart. 

And that's kind of awesome. Just like him. 

Happy Birthday, Samster.

This is My Red Balloon...

Last night, I found myself again, pensive in the wake of another busy day. Things had quieted and the distraction of real life calmed, leaving me to think about today...and what the rest of my family will be doing around 10 a.m. 

Last Thursday, my cousin's little boy passed away. His funeral is this morning, and I'm told that as the funeral procession crosses the bridge in our little hometown, people will gather and release red balloons in his honor. You can read about that story, and Colton's story HERE. 

It's times like this I wish Colorado wasn't so far away from home. 

I have an uncanny ability to detach myself from emotion. When I was studying theatre, I learned how to conjure up emotions to create a character. We'd stand in front of the class and talk about a time we felt rejected...recounting each and every detail under we went "under" so to speak. I do it now, to an extent, as a writer... but in my daily life, I cut myself off. 

But this? This one keeps creeping in. 

Around Christmas time last year, Colton was admitted to the hospital. We were home and actually had just seen him a few days earlier, so we went to the hospital. It's there we began to see the pieces of the story fall together as we stood praying over his limp body. Something had gone terribly wrong. 

And regardless of how close to the situation you are...or how close you are to all the people this directly affects, the pain of it all is palpable. Because the sad fact of the matter is, this didn't have to happen. Someone else decided to mistreat him...someone who was supposed to protect him. 

Instead, she chose to do the exact opposite.

In my life, I've known adults who were abused as children. I've seen the horror played out in the strangest ways, as they try to compensate for what's been done to them, to make sense of a world that betrayed them in such a sad way. In our ministry, I watched our kids like a hawk for any sign that something was amiss. 

But the truth is, you can't always see those kinds of things simply by grazing across the surface. Things like that root themselves in deep and find a way to stay hidden. 

It's like that with evil, isn't it? 

I read in the news yesterday about a pair of teachers who were caught on a recording bullying a special needs student in their class. Later in the day, I saw where a ten-year-old girl hanged herself because she was being made fun of. Another story ran across the screen about a 13-year old who'd been coerced into sending a video of herself taking her clothes off to a boy who said he wouldn't like her anymore if she didn't. 

He then sent the video to everyone in his contact list. 

Who is protecting our children? 

Sometimes, I think we, as parents, try to let our kids figure things out for themselves, almost to a fault. It's important that they do, right? They need to learn how the world works. We hear critics of homeschooling say that those children don't have  a grasp on the way of the world...but I say, do we really want them to?

We stay a little "hands-off" because we're afraid of being that mom. But sometimes, we have to step in and protect them. We have to be the annoying one that says "Look, this happened to my kid and it's not okay with me." 

And more than that, we have to teach our kids that it's okay to tell someone else what is and isn't okay with them. We can't let them sacrifice their own health and well-being for the sake of what someone else. Not like that. 

Today, Ethan came home from school with a story about a boy in his class who's been "bullying" him. I don't know that Ethan knows what that really means, but as he described some of the things going on, his voice stayed steady...and then he got to the part where he said "He told me that if I didn't do that, he wouldn't be my friend anymore." 

His voice shook and his face contorted as that thought registered in his eight-year-old mind...the horror of having that one boy not accept him as a friend was enough to tie his stomach in knots. 

It broke my heart a little. 

I've decided that when it comes to my children, I will err on the side of protecting them at the risk of making myself seem neurotic. I will, like a mama lion, fiercely stand guard around the hearts of the children God has put in my care. 

I can't turn a blind eye. I can't keep quiet. Because these children trust me. Because I"m their mother. 

Protect your children.  Be vigilant and fierce. Be demanding on their behalf. Get in their business. Show them you'll defend them. And if you start to lose it...if you get the urge to kick your child in the chest...get help. 

I don't care what anyone says...they deserve to stay in a bubble for as long as they possibly can. 

Rest in peace, Superman. 

I thank God you are walking, talking, laughing and smiling...sitting on the lap of Jesus. The things you've taught us won't soon be forgotten. 

Please pray for Colton's family today. All of us, near and far, are shocked and saddened by this loss. 

Top Five Reasons to Date Your Spouse

The other night, Adam and I had the chance to go on a much-needed night out without children. Otherwise known as a date. Complete with dinner, a movie and a darn awesome babysitter. It was heavenly. 

(I have the cutest husband.) 

 We were seated at a booth in the bar and after about ten minutes, another couple was seated behind us. Let's just say they were...ahem...very affectionate. I'm all for affection, but at the table of a restaurant? 

It started me thinking, which is always dangerous, about how typically, married folks (I just said folks...I think I just aged myself 15 years) don't publicly grope each other. We may not even hold hands. We're so comfortable with each other that it's second nature to settle into that laid back, nonchalant relationship we've grown to love like the soft, fraying quilt hanging over the arm of the couch. 

While you're not likely to find me participating in heavy petting at a restaurant (especially at a tall table...these two were talented...) perhaps there's something to be said for dating your spouse. So I've made a list. 

The Top Five Reasons to Date Your Spouse. 

I know you've already got your pen and paper out. Ann Landers has nothing on me in the advice-giving department. 

Ann Landers? 

But truly... if you think of your marriage like something precious you can hold in your hand, it needs a little care...some spit-shine...every now and then. Here's why it's good to make a point to date your (hot) spouse.

Reason #1: You're more than Roommates.

It's so easy to fall into this weird disjointed roommate type of relationship when you're married. You harp on his inability to put the lid back on the peanut better. He throws the pile of clothes you've oh-so-neatly (translation: not neatly at all) draped (translation: thrown) over the end of the bed into a heap on the floor. 

This is part of living together, but it's not the fun part. Getting out and reconnecting. That's the good stuff. Just make a rule that you can't talk about housework on your date. (One of you is bound to fall asleep...or worse, dart out the bathroom window ala "bad-blind-date" from your single days.) 

Reason #2: Routine is a killer.

It's so easy to fall into a routine...every night looks the same:

• He gtes home, recharges alone for 20 minutes while I try to keep the kids occupied. 
• I  throw together some weird concoction of a dinner. 
• Everyone eats. 
• We shuffle the kids through their bedtime routine. 
• We trade off chores for the next day like two old people playing gin. 
• We sit on the couch and watch TV. 
• The end.

I don't have to tell you, this isn't great for a marriage. Mix it up! Get out of the house (I'm preaching to myself). Let someone else cook for you and break that routine. Routine is a GREAT marriage killer. Fer reals.

Reason #3: It reminds you why you love each other. 

We may not be the couple at the tall table, but sitting in a booth across from Adam, listening to what's on his mind and then sharing what's on mine...I remember all the things I love about this man. When he comes out of the bathroom and says "I really don't feel 36." I realize I don't feel 35. Maybe because we just had a date that took us back ten years? 

Reason #4: It gives you a chance to trade in your "Mom Jeans"...

Please don't tell me you're really wearing mom jeans. If you are, friend. Let's talk. 

Just kidding. I'm not criticizing considering that I rarely wear anything but yoga pants. And therein lies the problem. I recently asked Adam if he would still love me if I just "let myself go..." something worth asking considering the amount of Halloween candy I've consumed this week. 

And the fact that I'm not wearing make-up nearly as often. 

Or pants with a waistband. 

The truth is, sometimes it's okay to not be a mom. To let your husband see you as a woman. Paint it up a little, ladies. Let your inner hottie out. 

Reason #5: Children suck the life out of you.

Often, our conversations go like this. 

Adam: So, I was walking up the stairs when...

Ethan: Hey, dad, do you want to see what I built?

Adam: In a minute, Ethan, I'm talking to Mommy. (back to me) So, I was walking up the stairs...

Ethan: But it's really cool, Dad. You have to come see...

Adam: Right, I will. But let me finish talking to Mommy first. (back to me) So, I was walking up the stairs...

Ethan starts bouncing and flailing his arm, motioning in the direction of his room...where "what he built" is waiting. 

Adam: Ethan, really? (Ethan walks away in a huff. Adam takes a breath and turns back to me.) Anyway, as I was saying...

Sam (full on, ready to play): Daddy! You can't get me!

It's at this point we both get up and go away. We'll talk about it later. A date ensures that the only one interrupting you will be your waiter...and that's only because he wants to do things for you, so it's a complete 180. 

It doesn't have to be fancy (though that would be fun) or expensive (we often opt for "couch dates" where we're employing the same tactics only in the comfort of our elastic waistbanded pants), but a date every now and then will sprinkle some life back into your marriage. 

And we could all use a little life-sprinkling now and then, don't you think? 

So tell me...when was the last time you dated your spouse? How do you keep your marriage from getting as stale as the month-old crackers in my cupboard?

Training a Daughter Not to Have an Eating Disorder...

...When you've had one ever since you can remember...

Gosh, I'm trying not to project my body issues onto my daughter. 

I think she's stunning. And beautiful. And a little snotty, but mostly good-hearted. And this week was incredibly eye-opening for me. 

Sophia has this performing arts thing going on. She's got some great natural talent when it comes to singing and acting...of course she has a lot to learn, but the passion is there. And she's good. 

She has dang vibrato. She teaches herself songs on the piano. I could never do any of that. So, we enrolled her in dance last summer because I can tell you from experience that performers can only benefit from having some dance training...

And she picks it up fairly quickly. 

But she hates it. The summer classes were fine, but from the second she started this fall, there has been nothing but tears and complaining. It's horrible. Wednesday morning brings with it the hovering dread of 5 o'clock. It's gotten to the point where I don't even remember why we were doing this. 

It's important to finish what you start. That's the lesson we wanted her to learn. That and the fact that even though you have a modicum of natural talent, there's still SO much to learn...and no one learns by being lazy. 

Instead, all we've taught her is that dance is something she has to do, whether she likes it or not. 

So, after posting on Facebook about my revelation that maybe forcing this on her was a bad idea, I got a wealth of knowledge from other moms and even people who'd been there as kids...and it started to make so much sense to me to pull her out...to let her study an instrument and voice and pursue the performing thing in another way...

But my friend Ali mentioned something about digging a little deeper...maybe there was something more to this...so last night, I took Sophia shopping with me. Apparently, it's winter and no one has appropriate outerwear, so off we went. 

And as we scooted through Target, she asked me how you find out how much your supposed to weigh when you're ten. 

And just like that, I was a kid again, back in my own dance class and embarrassed to be wearing a leotard. Just like that, I was the tallest (and probably biggest) kid in my class, feeling awkward and out of place in my own skin. 

"Is that what this whole dance thing is about?" 

She shrugged. "The other girls in my class are like *this little*" She put her hand below her chin. She's right too, they are the tiniest girls. 

Because dance isn't really friendly towards girls who aren't tiny. And there's not a lot of sympathy for changing bodies and the awkwardness of not wanting to wear a skin-tight leotard in front of a bunch of smaller people. 

How do I, with all my disordered eating, a former anorexic/bulimic, train up a girl who doesn't see herself as anything but just right? How big a deal do I make of this to help her see that health is the most important thing? How do I encourage her not to let that feeling of being different stop her from being amazing--from going after the things she's so good at? 

And most of all, how do I make sure she knows she is loved...exactly the way she is? 

It's interesting to see your struggles reflecting in the faces of little ones you love so much. And as I talk to her and tell her not to compare herself to other girls...and explain that different is GOOD and it makes us special and unique...I wonder if these are the same words God's spoken to me over and over again...

The same words I have yet to really hear.

How do you teach a child to be exactly the opposite of you?

When he's an artist and not an athlete...

We had parent/teacher conferences last week. I never know what to expect because at home, sometimes my kids make me nuts. Like, roll into a ball and rock back and forth nuts. 

I see all the good...and all the bad. 

So it's always a bit of a crapshoot going in there. 

Especially with this guy...

I know. He looks sweet and innocent, doesn't he? We had our family pictures taken this past Sunday and I was fully prepared for the Sam-meltdown...but Ethan was the one that gave us the most trouble. Funny how that happens. 

Also, he's started doing this twitchy thing with his face. I caught it in this picture:

But you can't get the full effect. Not that I have anything against weird twitchiness, I'm just imagining him getting made fun of and that worries me. But don't worry, I've been really compassionate about it. I think the last thing I said to him "Will you STOP doing that weird twitchy face thing?" 

To which he responded "MY NOSE ITCHES" 

To which I said, "THEN USE YOUR HAND!"

I suffer from an innate loss of sympathy. 

Anyway, Ethan's teacher is this cute, adorable, sweet girl (and she really is a girl. I am getting OLD, friends.) and she had so many great things to say about my son. It made me so happy. Especially when she said "Ethan is really a leader. The kids just want to be around him."

I knew Sophia had leadership qualities, but I was a little surprised to hear this about Ethan. I was also kind of...okay REALLY excited...when she said "He is an amazing writer." That one I'm holding onto. I remind myself of it every time he gets twitchy or doesn't listen or does that high-pitched whine that really makes him sound like a wounded animal. 

So far, it's helping. 

I always expected to have a son that loved football. And cars. And hated school. (I don't know why--Adam and I both loved school.) I didn't expect to have one who spends his free time making these:

In 3-D:

Or making cards for his friends...

in 3D:

Or writing books...

But I am so happy this is the kid God gave me. 

In our society, it's tempting to discourage kids from exploring their creative side. It's easy to assume boys will love sports and cars and boy things...but the world needs creative thinkers. People to plan and build and write and draw. 

I welcome this side of my boy, twitchy face and all. 

I think he's going to do amazing things...

She Holds His Hand

 Sometimes through my lens I catch something beautiful. 

A look. A smile. A relationship. 

She's growing up. It doesn't scare me. I'm excited for her. 

But I'm sad. Because what if one day she doesn't fall into step beside him...what if she thinks his wisdom is outdated and runs instead to the arms of another boy? 

What if she doesn't go on for a year and five minutes about what happened at school that day or she forgets to give us every. single. detail. and then tell us again an hour later?

When the day comes that she no longer tells us everything, where will I be sitting? What will I be doing? How will I let her go? 

The other day I looked at her and thought, "Wow, she's tall..." and in a split second I was holding her again for the first time, trying to figure out how to be a mom, certain I was going to fail. Sure I didn't have what it takes. 

Recounting all my faults and all the ways I'm not good enough. All the ways I'm not like my own mom...who is brilliant at this job...

And now she's a decade old and I'm a decade older and she still talks to me and she still worships him...

What happens the day that she doesn't? 

What will I say to her then? What would you say to me then? 

I'm not ready.

The Look of Love

How much of these days will you remember? 

How much of these days will I remember? They pass by speed-of-light style. One glance in the wrong direction and they're gone. 

But sometimes I stop. And sit. And see.

Which is what you do a lot of the time. You stop. You sit. You see. 

I could learn a lot from you. 

Your busyness is all about play. It's fun. I wonder, will you remember me as the mom who didn't know how to have fun?

When you think back on these moments, will you feel the love I've tried to give you, though maybe not in the way all mothers do. 

I am not goofy. Or often playful. I am routinely rigid and sometimes boring. 

But my heart fills when I look at you. That feeling writers try to capture but no one ever quite has. 

Like your insides are swollen and the pulsing of your lifeline pounds in your chest, between your ears, in your veins...

and you realize in that moment what you have is something you never want to lose. 

It ups the stakes, really. 

It scares me sometimes how much I love you and how hard it is to take the time to make sure you know. Do you feel it? In my hugs? In my smiles? In my sitting with you in the quiet to watch the train go by?

What will you remember of these days, I wonder? 

Doubtful that it will be my bad posture or my penchant for not wearing makeup. 

I hope it's the things I intend for you to remember. I hope it's maybe indescribable. Like the writers, you can't find the words...

...but deep down, you know you were well loved.

Sophia's Take on Mandy Moore

 

I do realize we set this up to record vertically and it looks weird but I didn't want y'all to see what a mess my office is right now. 

No, really. It's a disaster. 

I posted an earlier version of this on Facebook, but this morning Sophia really wanted a "do-over." I understand why because I think she was nervous last night. 

I really should've painted my walls something other than yellow! The whole thing looks like mustard. 

Anyway, yesterday was a hard day. Adam's been gone five days (six now) and I didn't feel well... but she came in my office with me and started singing and my whole day changed. I love to hear her sing. I love to encourage her in this because she loves to do it...and because knowing there's someone in our family to carry on the theatre tradition kinda makes me giddy. 

Hope you're having a great Sunday!

When there are no words...

My last post was all about me making light of all the things I seem unable to keep up with around here. Let's face it, we can't all be domestic goddesses. Some of us are just better at self deprecation then housekeeping.

Truth be told, I'm floundering a little...so I don't have a lot of extra words floating around. Only guilt.

And Jim Gaffigan quotes. (Chip Chop Chip? What does that even mean?)

And pictures of my girl before she got her hair cut...

 

That's all I really want to share today...pictures...

In spite of her hair, I think she's beautiful. And lately there are days when I want to strangle her but more often I want to hug her and tell her I"m proud of her. And I do. 

The other day when I was working on projects for my Papercrafting book, she sat with me in my office, doing her own creating. She made this:

It's a prayer jar. I didn't help her at all. I didn't even give her the idea. She just wanted to make a jar where she could tuck in her prayers. 

That sort of amazed me. She has a big heart, but her faith she mostly keeps to herself. It always surprises me when I see it coming out...and then I remember that I'm the same way, really. 

She's also picked up another one of my habits (though this idea didn't come from me either)... writing notes to herself on the mirror. Affirming love letters to herself. Nothing makes me happier...

She got that idea from a devotional she's reading written by a girl about her age (and her mom.) 

Sometimes I forget she's not this tiny person anymore. She's got a mind of her own. She needs independence. She needs to spread her wings a little. 

Never mind that the last time she "spread her wings" we found her on the other side of the neighborhood (where she isn't allowed to be) and is now grounded for the rest of the week. 

Those are just silly details. 

Speaking of details...

How about two winners of the Preschool Hands-On Bible??

The first winner...

Sharon said...

Courtney, I'm not quite sure why I have never visited your blog...but I suppose He drew me to it tonight with the post on FB about winning this :)

Good luck to me!

ReplySeptember 29, 2011 at 08:33 PM

and the second winner...

AnnaMarie said...

Ok this is pretty freakin' awesome!! :) How uplifting to be involved with a project like this...and love that it is experiential - it will really help the children to process the stories. Even if I don't win, I am so ordering one for my preschooler!! :) Thank you for the opportunity to win! :)

ReplySeptember 27, 2011 at 09:45 AM

You ladies need to send me your address so I can send you your Bibles! 

Thanks to everyone who entered! Hope you're having a great Tuesday. (Is it Tuesday?) 

 

Things I'm Really Good At

(An exercise in building one's self esteem.)

It's important, I think, for a work-at-home mom to reflect on all the many talents she has. It helps those banging-the-head-into-the-wall days seem much more bearable. 

I recommend everyone create a list just like mine. You're bound to uncover talents you never knew you had. 

So, now...a list...of the top ten things I'm really, really good at.

10. Laundry. My forte, really. 

'Nary a day goes by I don't at least think about doing it. 

9. Effectively executing my healthy eating plans for the family...even when I'm on deadline.

And let's not forget the importance of healthy drink.

8. Consistently maintaining an empty lint trap. I'm a real stickler for this one.

(and no, I did not attempt to turn that handful of lint into a craft project thankyouverymuch.)

7. Obeying the law by refusing to allow my three-year-old to operate a motorized vehicle.

 

6. Maintaining neat and tidy living quarters by promptly returning folded laundry to its home inside the dresser. 

I know. It's a gift. 

5. Unpacking my suitcase in a timely fashion. 

(It's only been six days...)

4. Keeping a mental tally of our food inventory so as to not waste money on things we already have.

3. Changing the toilet paper roll as soon as it's empty.

(I swear I didn't chuck a roll of paper towels at my daughter earlier tonight telling her in my best Tim Gunn voice to "Make it Work...")

2. Sweeping. I'm great at sweeping.

(...and that's about where it stops. That pile could be there for weeks, who knows?)

And the number ONE thing I'm great at: 

1. Knowing when it's inappropriate to take photos of my children. 

Like when they're in the middle of a tantrum. 

I'm really, really good at that. 

How about you? What are you really good at?