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.

My new favorite thought.

Jason and I watched part of "Much Ado About Nothing" the other night. This is a movie that gets my romantic feelings going. So maybe that was what started this morning's line of thinking. Or it could have been the dream I had about Kirk Cameron falling in love with his black slave back in the 1800's, although I don't know where that dream came from.
But this morning I sat down on my couch and thought, "God, what is it about women and romance? Why do we want to perpetually stay in that state of new love where we blush, and sigh, and stare into their eyes as if we could touch their soul?" ( "One hundred and fifty-two insights into my soul!" -- quick, what movie?)
Then I remembered something C. S. Lewis said, which I'll have to paraphrase. "If I find within myself a longing that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most logical conclusion is that I was not made for this world."
So, is that what heaven will be like? What if, when we stand before the One who is Love, will we eternally live out "new love"? Will we blush when He says to us intimately, "I love you. You know I would die for you."? Will we get tingles down our spine when He cups our face with His hands and lifts it up to His? When our eyes lock onto His, how will we do anything else but stare -- as if by staring we could know all of Him at once?

Saving Memories for you, Part 1.

Dear Natalie,
Your Auntie and I were talking a few months ago about how limited memory can be at your age. She was sad, because she wanted Kate and Halle to remember everything she'd done with them for the last four years. If I could lock some memories down for you from the last three years, here are some things I would choose:

1. "Mommy, I love you more than a conker (conquerer)." I tell you and Elsie at bedtime that you are more than conquerers. I guess I'll have to keep saying it for a few years before you understand what I mean, but until then, I don't mind you using the phrase this way!

2. I would have you remember how nice you are to Elsie. The way you love her, speak kindly to her, play with her, and entertain her so she won't cry is amazing to me. You are an awesome big sister, and an answer to prayer.

3. "I miss you today."

4. I would have you remember how great you are at sharing. You are excited about sharing toys with your friends, and you even share your candy with Daddy and me.

5. I would have you remember all the times we played with make-up and jewelry.

6. I would have you remember how you used to sit snuggled on my lap, drinking milk out of a sippy cup and twirling my hair with your fingers.

7. I would have you remember each and every spontanious song you have written. Especially, "Hold my hand, 'cause there's a car. Hold my hand, 'cause Mommy saw a car..."
Great things are coming out of you!

8. "Is this gluten-free?"

9. I would have you remember how full of life you are. You are so excited about all of your accomplishments, from jumping high to climbing on the bathroom counter. You are so excited about life, and I don't want you to ever lose that.

10. I would have you remember what a compassionate person you are. You are concerned about your friends, and have a helpful heart.

These do not nearly describe everything I would have you remember, but it's not a bad start. I'm so grateful for you Natalie Rhae! You truly are "God's gift of joy" to me!

"You're so ... punctual -- I mean, beautiful."

Isn't that hair awesome? Seriously, don't you wish you could make your hair do that? What you can't see is that there are lots of individual hairs that stand up even taller than the more prominant ones in this picture.

I love Elsie's hair. Some people poke fun at it, but I've told Jason that part of me will be sad when Elsie's hair lays flat on her head. It's been sticking up since she was a month old. For the last seven months, this has been her hair. I make a point to tell her how great it is.

My dad always used to tell me that I had great freckles. He used to pretend that he was kissing every single one (I have a lot). And you know, I've never wished away my freckles. I never thought they made me ugly or tried to find a special freckle-removing cream. I didn't think they were my best feature, but I was fine with their living arrangements. I'm convinced it's because of my dad, and how he pointed out and complimented something that others find unattractive.

As part of his message last Sunday, my pastor spoke about affirming others. We all have a need for affirmation, and all seek it, but we are not all good at giving it. I think sometimes the most memorable affirmations are concerning the little things, the things you don't usually get complimented on.

For example, I remember 2 years ago when someone came up and told me that I was a good mother. It's not that the "often heard" compliments aren't appreciated, but we all like to hear that someone is noticing the little things about us that make us great. That's a real knack, I think. Noticing, appreciating, and telling someone that you saw something that maybe not everyone sees. And you liked it.

That is my challenge to myself. To really look at others, and take note, and then -- when I see something admirable, to tell them. This is harder with people we have known for a long time, but not impossible. And something makes me believe that when we start speaking the good things we see in a person, that person will begin to believe good things about themselves, too.