Looking for the thrill

A few weeks ago, a blog post, titled "Let's Bring the Holidays Down A Notch" caught the eye of many of my friends in Facebook-land because it voiced feelings so many of us have about kids and celebrations. Every last one of us loves doing fun stuff with our families, but the expectations to have Pinterest-worthy holidays and contribute time, money, crafts and/ or food to FUN events at school almost every stinkin' week is a wee bit overwhelming. Now as the Easter-candy hangovers start to wear off, everyone is once again swearing off sweets, toys and projects. Except that June, July and August are coming and it's time to plan a magical, activity filled summer break right now!

Exhausting, isn't it?

The consensus seems to be that we keep over entertaining our kids because we, the parents, love it. We are addicted to that moment when the kids come down the stairs and see what "Santa" left, or the thrill of going to school because it's a party day, or whatever the magic moment of the month may be. Thanks to a highly-commercial culture, the easiest way to get that guaranteed spark of childhood joy is to buy it. Buy a new toy; buy 100 eggs to hide around the house; buy into the idea that every kid needs an Etsy-worthy craft to bring home from the party. The problem is that we parent type have to keep working harder and harder to make these magical moments happen. How do we give them joy -- how do we give ourselves joy -- without creating greedy little monsters and a very empty bank account?

Since seeing that blog post, I've been more conscious of looking for the thrill. I am not gifted in the art of being a hostess, so I will never be able to present my family with any "perfect" celebrations. My children are normal human beings; they would love to have the toys, the parties, the stuff that they know other kids have. On the other hand, they aren't totally jaded yet, and I'm trying to see the moments where they burst with happiness over something simple. Then I can mentally bank those times to remember when our celebration days are more low-key than the events happening in other houses.

So here's what I've got this week. These are moments that are just as good as Christmas morning. In fact, they were unexpected, so maybe they were just a bit better:

• "Baby plants!" I have yet to hear Anna shriek about any present the way she does when spring finally comes and those little green shoots start poking up. I couldn't have hidden an Easter eggs as well as God hides the seeds and bulbs that give her such a thrill this time of year. What's even better is that she's out looking every day and it's just as exciting to see a new plant grow taller as it is to see its first peek out of the ground. 



Doing a little gardening:
A broken rake outside is currently more fun for
William than any new toys inside. 

• Bubbles: This morning William and I took a break from putting down mulch and vacuuming out the van to blow some bubbles. There isn't much on earth as cheerful as watching a toddler happily screeching and chasing bubbles. Since he hasn't figured out how to blow bubbles without my help, I think I'm getting points for doing something pretty amazing. 
• "Cool." The reason my kids hate shopping with me is my tendency to seek out every clearance item in a store. I have three growing kids, so buying a $3 off-season, too-big shirt makes a lot of sense to me. The payoff, beyond the pocketbook, is sometimes finding just the right item to get a smile. Yesterday I happened upon a cheap, red (large) T-shirt. It was goofy: marshmallows on a cocoa mug jumping in and shouting, "Cannonball!" Red and silly seemed a perfect buy for Erik. I put it on his bed and told him later in the day to take a peek at what I found for him. He did, laughed and said, "Cool." It was a simple, but honest reaction. The odds of getting joy from a clothing purchase when a Christmas or birthday present is involved are minimal, but I had a moment of satisfaction for being able to clothe my oldest child in a way that made him happy. 

So, there you have it. Nothing spectacular. Nothing to rock the Internet with my profound insights on parenting. And yet enough simple joy of getting it right as a mom, for just a moment, by being with them and seeing what makes them happy. (For cheap!!!)

Doing it right!

Kudos to the First Years company for standing behind their product. Not surprisingly, my darling toddler and his razor-sharp new teeth managed to tear through one of their soft-spout sippy cups. I contacted the company to see if I could buy a replacement lid. They kindly send me an entire replacement cup. I was told "just this once" but still, that's wonderful. It was a favorite cup and now it can live on. For now. Anyway, thanks First Years!

Square peg; round hole? Make a bigger hole!

You know those old Fisher Price shape sorting toys? Do an online search for "vintage shape sorter" and you'll see what I mean. It's the yellow cylinder with a lid that has three holes for shapes. Babies are supposed to develop sorting skills and hand-eye coordination by popping the a plastic shape into the matching hole.  Well, two weeks in a row, my dear precocious 18-month old son has used that very toy at our library. (We have a similar toy at home, but everyone knows that the toys at someone else's house -- or library -- are much more interesting.) Either when he encounters the a pile of shapes left by another child or when I hand a shape to him and ask him which hole it goes into, he simply pries off the lid, dumps the shape or shapes into the can and clicks the lid back on. Done. Next toy, please.

You have to give him credit for problem solving a more efficient way to get the job done. Someday, he's either going to be a brilliant student or we're going to get a lot of calls from teachers. Or both.

(By the way, this same "toddler" is becoming infamous for sneaking into his siblings' classes. So he will be well known to teachers by the time he legitimately attends these classes -- and can verbalize his preferred way to do the assignments.)

Sniff, sniff, giggle!

Complete surprise of the day: William loves the NoseFrida! Most of us have colds this week, which means trying to find the most soothing means to calm children who don't have time or interest in such silliness. Dealing with a drippy baby is never fun, but when William had RSV last year we were desperate to ease his sniffles and found the icky, but effective, NoseFrida. (Look it up!) Not surprisingly, he found it as appalling as we did ... until last night. I had misplaced the thing, but when Jamieson relocated it, he didn't run. Instead, he was curious. To my complete surprise, he now finds it to be the funniest thing ever. He loves it. Do you know how hard it is to clean the nose of a child who is laughing? Difficult, but entertaining!

Some thoughts on the unthinkable

In 1999, I was a graduate student at Northern Illinois working toward certification as an English teacher. One April evening, the class I was taking did not did not have the usual discussion on curriculum and pedagogy. We talked instead on the tragic news of the day. Among other topics, our instructor asked us if the horrific shooting at Columbine High School affected our desire to become teachers. My answer was impulsive, but true. I wanted to teach more than ever. Honestly, I can't remember what my exact explanation was in the moment, but I know I that day moved me from looking at teaching as a job and into seeing it as a vocation. Unfortunately, it also made it very real that schools were not safe from the world's evils. A few years later, I stood in my own classroom flipping through the school's "incident manual" and thinking through ways that I could possibility protect students of my own in a similar, horrible situation. Then NIU itself suffered through a tragic shooting and the feeling was not just "How could this happen?" but also, "Why, here? Why so close to home?"

Friday's violence in Connecticut was not physically close to home, but the grief it brings is so physically real. Those children, those beautiful, sweet children, were the same age Erik and his friends. I think I heard the beginning of the news on the radio early in the day, but it didn't register in my mind what the announcers were saying. Thinking it was about the recent mall shooting in Colorado, I turned off the station quickly, as I usually do when any of my kids are in the car and news of violence is reported. Just before heading out to pick up Erik at the end of the school day, I checked my email. The public schools sent out a message recommending ways to address the situation in Connecticut with children. Confused, I checked the news. And then I started crying. I did not wait in the car line to pick up Erik. I parked and stood where his class lines up. I watched the faces of other moms and dads who were all visibly distracted and upset, but trying to keep their emotions out of view of the kids. I took Erik's hand as soon as I saw him and we all went home, where -- for once -- I ignored the clutter and I sat with my kids. There were not enough hugs, kisses or books to be read to satisfy me.

Almost every night, I end William's bedtime routine by singing the last verse of "Away in a Manger" If you've forgotten, it goes like this: "Be near me, Lord Jesus/ I ask thee to stay/ Close by me forever/ And love me, I pray./ Bless all the dear children/ in thy tender care/ And take us to heaven/ to live with thee there." Saturday night Anna was in the Preschool Christmas Worship service (with a cute little sheep hat, singing every word right in the center of the stage). This morning, Erik was in his Sunday School Christmas service (as a wise man, who sang almost every word, when he wasn't grinning at his friends, the shepherds). In both services, the kids and congregation sang "Away in a Manger." Both times, I first thought it was sweet that William  seemed to think we were all trying to sing him to sleep. By the second verse, though, I was crying. I was crying for the children and teachers who won't be celebrating Christmas, or any other holiday, with their families. And I was crying because I can't protect my children. I can do my very best to take care of them when they are sick, to make them fasten their seat belts, to teach them not to talk to strangers. Their school will lock the doors and use every safety procedure. It may not be enough.

The thought of letting any of the kids out of my sight is now terrifying. Erik and Jamieson went to the final event of his Lego club Saturday morning, a big open house and competition. When I got there and saw a police car parked by the entrance I felt relieved that someone there could keep all the kids safe. Then the squad car drove away and I wondered if the dads manning the entrances really knew what they were doing. Sunday morning during church, William got squirmy and I was about to take him to the nursery, but I just couldn't. I wanted to hold him and listen to Pastor try to assure us that God really is in control, not worry about who might be coming in to the building and walking down the hall. In the morning, every parent in America has to let their child go to school and trust that it will be okay. We will see them again. We will serve snacks and dinner, and do homework and argue over how much computer time is okay and read to them and tuck them in with a kiss. Please, God. Please bring home safely. Every last child.

I will take Erik to school. I will not drop him off in the car line. I will walk him to the classroom. I will give him a hug. I will exchange glances with other moms that say we will be praying for all of them all day. I will try to fill my day with business so I can stand the wait till he comes home. I will pray and pray and pray. I will pray God protects my child. I will pray God gives his teachers wisdom and courage. I will pray for the peace of the families grieving right now. I will pray that God gives me peace, too, because I  know that He loves all these children more than even moms and dads. I know they really belong to Him. I also know that He gave them to us to take care of. We love them. I love my children more than my very own life. And I do not want to give them up. Ever. Please, God, help us all.

Well done

As I was backing out of the driveway to take the kids to school, I observed that it was a wet and foggy morning. That, I said, was why I decided to exercise safely inside instead of running outside in the dark and fog.

"You made a good choice, Mom," said Erik.

Aw. Positive affirmation for moms.

Why the election turned out right

Christian voters were handed a great blessing last night. That may be a surprising thing to hear coming from someone who was disappointed last night that "my guy" didn't win. Frankly, I woke up feeling very discouraged. Then, this morning, I read an email sent out from Helen Alvare of Women Speak for Themselves. Her point was that had the presidency gone to the Republicans, Christians may have found it too easy to rely on government to address important matters of social policy.  As the results stand, Conservative voters know that there is much work to be done and we -- individual Christians -- need to get busy.

We Christian types often toss around the Biblical paraphrase that we are to be "in the world but not of it." Yet, our daily lives don't reflect that we believe that truth. American Christians have it too easy. Sure, we know our neighbors may find it odd that we get out of bed early on a Sunday and write checks to that big building on the corner, but we don't live with the reality of daily persecution that Christians in other parts of the world experience. Yet. Despite what the vice president said in the debate a few weeks back, the healthcare mandate is truly attempting to take away religious liberty from people of faith. Those who define family in traditional terms are being made into pariahs by government policy, school "awareness" weeks, and, of course, nightly television programs. The heart of Christianity -- sharing the Gospel message -- is viewed as offensive by our culture, and so we enter the season of "Happy Holidays" rather than celebrating the love that is Baby Jesus.

So, Election Day 2012 was a blessing. It means the policies that brought us to this point have only just begun and it means life as an outspoken Christian will get harder. And that means put up or shut up time for people who claim to believe the Bible. Do you believe those rock-star preachers who proclaim that if you believe enough you'll have success in life or if your church follows just the right steps it, too, will have overflowing parking lots every Sunday? It's a lie, folks. If they put our savior on the cross with nails, how dare we think life will be easy for us? A presidential administration that makes Christians uncomfortable is a good thing. It means we will stop coasting on the fallacy that this is a "Christian nation" and start doing the things that each and every Christian ought to do. If our leaders are passing laws that make us cringe, we need to do better. None of us will ever get it right. There will always be more, so much more we could do. Yet, we need to try.  Instead of spending the next four years griping about the election that got away, do something.

That something, by the way, is love. Jesus, himself said: " Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Kill 'em with kindness. Supporting your favorite candidate is a grand thing, but so much better is shoveling snow for a neighbor or donating the same food to the food pantry that you feed your own family. Christians love to proclaim the evils of abortion, but do we celebrate family and help crisis pregnancy centers or do we look down our noses at the girl who got "caught" and make jokes about the big families who "haven't figured out how that happens yet." Be better. If a family with a mom and a dad and some kids is ideal, live like it is. Don't complain about your kids and roll your eyes about your spouse. Make it something worth aspiring to instead of just another bunch of people in the same house. I'm talking to myself here, too. Nothing changes until we all act like that Jesus guy actually matters.

The world is going to be messed up. All the time; every day. That's a given. In Heaven we can ask God why he put people in charge of running his creation and why he left us running the shop for so long. Until then, we can sit in the mire and talk about how it used to be better and it ought to be different or we can be better and do different. Remember all that talk of hope and change? Our hope is in Jesus, but our mission is to change hearts and lives for him now.





"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you."  -- Jesus in Matthew 5: 44 

"I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth." -- Jesus in John 17: 14-17.

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." -- Romans 12:2