My Children, Do what I Say, Not what I Do.

1. Don't let your child cram so much food in their mouth that it becomes a liquid mess and they can't swallow it.

2. The table should be cleaned after every meal.

3. So should the dishes.

4. Don't allow yourself to become frustrated with your children. After all, they are with you because they still need training.

5. If you let your child sleep in your bed for naptime, be sure to remove all pens and paper from your nightstand. Otherwise they will only color.

6. Don't leave a kleenex lying on the floor. And even if you think you didn't, look again. And again. Because somehow, your baby is still chewing on one.

7. When your child uses the bathroom, and you come in to find out what's taking her so long only to discover that she's gotten off the toliet and now there are large, brown smudges on the toliet seat and her legs, don't look at her and say, "That's disgusting." She needs to know that she's beautiful even when her legs are smeared with poop.

8. If you carry an important paper and a baby at the same time, don't be surprised to see a small rip on the top. Be surprised that there aren't any visible bit marks.

9. If you take your child to the store because you want her to help make decisions about which clothes you will buy for her, know that she very well may forgo your favorite item for another that wasn't even on your list of choices.

10. When your child moves from a crib to a bed, expect that she might take advantage of her new freedom by getting out of bed. Even two years later.

I was expecting toothpaste.

In the last month, Natalie has:
-eaten a fifth of her tube of toothpaste
-tried our toothpaste
-eaten the remains of Elsie's bottle of teething tablets
-painted her toenails all by herself (only one drop spilled where it couldn't be cleaned -- it was red, however)
-spent naptime in our room and in her room pulling books and things off the bookshelves.

Actually, all of that took place within the course of one week. For some kids this might be the normal happenings. I spent much of Natalie's second year expecting this kind of thing, but she never really did it. After she turned three, I stopped worrying. And now, at three and a half, it has come. Even so, I wasn't prepared for last night.
Jason gets up for work at 3am now (yes, really), so our normal plan is to put the kids to bed at 8 and go to sleep ourselves. We stayed up a little later last night (we saw American Idol was on), but had the lights off at 9. Imagine my surprise at 10 when Natalie walked into our room and asked for a drink of water. After Jason and I fumbled around for a moment, I grabbed a mug on my nightstand and filled it with water in the bathroom. I tried to hand her the mug, but she said, "I can't hold it." A little frustrated, I said, "Natalie, hold the cup. I don't know how much you want to drink." She obediently took the cup and drank. Then I took her arm to lead her back to her room. I noticed her arm was sticky. Not a good sign.
"Why is your arm sticky?" I asked.
Natalie whimpered.
I stood in front of her and repeated the question sternly.
Same response.
I got down on my knees to look her in the face. Then the beam of the nightlight shone on her. I took a second look, then pulled her into the bathroom and turned on the light. Bright pink and black were streaked in a large circle around her face, and her arms were covered in the same pink, with blobs of it here and there.
"Why were you playing with my makeup?"
No answer.
I searched the counter for similar markings, but there weren't any. In fact, my makeup bag was no where in sight. I walked to the door of her room and realized her lamp was on. Elsie was still asleep. There, on a pink Dora toddler bed, was my makeup bag and remains of eyeshadow and blush. I stormed out and went straight to our room.
"What is it?" Jason said in a groggy voice.
I gave him the story.
No response. He was tired, and I guess makeup is my department anyway.
So, I started the clean up process. I was fully intending to give Natalie what she had coming to her as soon as she was clean, so I tried not to say to much until then. But when the moment came, I didn't want to do it. I'm not sure what happened. I wasn't angry anymore, but even when I was calm I knew she deserved some sort of punishment. She knows my makeup is off limits, she knows she can't turn her lamp on after we leave, she knows not to get out of bed and play. There were so many violations. Normally, I have no problem being a disciplinarian. I mean, I'm a stay at home mom, so how much does Natalie really get away with? It's not much. I wondered if I just felt like she needed mercy; I'd read something about that lately. I don't know if that was it or not. I explained the concept of mercy to Natalie; I mean, if I was going to give it to her then I was going to make a lesson out of it.
It's just that . . . I don't know, she's three. I could picture her putting on that lipstick and mascara, feeling grown-up and pretty. What a nice thing to feel, it's not so wrong.
I went back to bed and asked God again what was going on with her. If there was something that I'm missing. And the only thing I can think is, she's three. I think she's trying to figure out who she is and how independent she can be.
All I can say is Natalie, be nice to my grandbabies.

With Honor from my Heart.

I've been reading Honor's Reward again. It's an excellent book by John Bevere that I would recommend to anyone (and everyone, really). So my thoughts have been on honor a lot lately, and what that looks like for me.
There's a chapter in the book about honoring those under your authority, such as employees or children. John uses the passage in Matthew 10:40-42 that says, "He who receives Me receives Him who sent Me...and whoever receives one of these little ones with only a cup of cold water in the name of a disciple, assuredly, I say to you, he shall by no means lose his reward." First of all, this makes getting up to get Natalie a refill at lunch seem like way more of a big deal -- as well as the attitude I have when I do it.
But secondly, it got me thinking about Mary. How did Mary treat Jesus? How did she honor Him? I mean, she knew He was the Messiah. So that was in her favor. But what if I knew my girls were going to be the next Dr. Cho or Amy Carmichal or Mother Theresa? Or the next amazingly, awesome person whose name no one knew except the hundreds whom their life touched? Because (and I hope this isn't presumptious) isn't everyone's call, in some way, as important as Jesus's? Don't get me wrong, Jesus is holy and He is God, and He is the only way to the Father, and He is the only means to salvation. I'm not trying to devalue Him. But... it was important that He obeyed God and fulfilled His call. Could it be true that it is just as important for us to obey God and fulfill our calls? (Let me know what you think about this one. I'd like to know if I'm being heretical, here.)
My point is... if I knew I was raising the world's next most amazing living being, would I treat them differently? Would I honor them better? And even if that's not their destiny, shouldn't I still honor them that way? Because if it's just as important for them to obey God as it was for Jesus, well then I'd better honor them the way Mary honored Jesus. So again, what does that look like?
It made me really glad that I'd laid in bed with Natalie for a few minutes the night before like she asked, instead of saying, "Not tonight, Honey. I'm so tired," which is what I really wanted to do. I think she actually felt the honor of perfering her in that moment. So many little ways to show honor. Holy Spirit, help me listen to You.

When I look at you...

Hurray for strong internet access! It's been a long time since my last post. Since then, I've thought of a hundred things to blog about, but I have something fresh on my thoughts that I want to write about today.

I was holding Elsie this morning before Natalie woke up, and I was struck -- as I often am -- with the thought of how blessed I am to have her. Elsie is my miracle baby, which is funny because there was never anything wrong with her, as is usually the case when that term is used. My pregnancy and delivery were textbook perfect, as a matter of fact.

When I became pregnant with Elsie I had finished recovering from a surgery from an ectopic pregnancy only two months earlier. Jason and I sat down on the bed, looking at a stick with a little pink plus sign, and didn't say too much. Really, we were expecting that plus sign, we'd been trying for that plus sign, but we were still in shock.

After Elsie was born, at my six week check-up, all I could do was sit and stare at the little pink bundle in the carseat. It was a year and two weeks after my surgery. And the thought hit me, I could have spent this last year with no pregnancy, and no baby. Jason and I could have spent the last year trying, and being depressed, wallowing in pain and sadness. Or I could have become pregnant and spent nine months in oppresive worry. In fact, I remember telling Mary R. that I didn't know how I could ever become pregnant again without being in constant worry (She wisely spoke words that I will always remember: But Eleanor, worrying only takes away. It never adds). Instead our story had a different end -- a different middle even. It was a time of great healing for us, of expectation, of hope.

It's that of that story that Elsie continually reminds me. Please understand that I am not saying -- and would never say -- that a loved one lost can be replaced by another. But Elsie is a reminder of the abounding mercy and the abounding love of God in my life. Of all the ways things could have been, but weren't. She makes me grateful for so many other things, and for so many other people that I still share this life with. That's why Elsie is my miracle baby. I see in her the miracle of God at work in our lives.