To five and six year old boys, baseball season never lasts long enough.
Top bunks and cement floors don’t mix.
No matter how many times you warn them, someone will eventually break a window.
Surprises can be life-changing.
During a drought, kids suddenly notice things like who has a well and who does not.
Driving east on Washington is guaranteed to elicit the same response from our boys every time: “There’s the good grass!”
Instructions from the six year old on how to get “good grass” of my own: “You need to mow it and then mow it again.”
No matter how bad you think you might not want what you’re getting, as soon as you’re not getting what you didn’t really want, you wonder how you could not have wanted it to begin with!
Kids take wishing wells seriously.
Shots are still the pits.
There are certain things in life that are unavoidably addictive to a child: card games, video games, and picking weeds.
PreK is only three hours a day. PreK is only three hours a day. PreK is only three hours a day.
While it has been excessively hot in Oklahoma this summer, one thing’s for sure: hell will be hotter.
In 14 years, we’ll be watching Brisco in the All State games…“if we’re still alive.”
Good friends and sisters are truly a blessing.
Kids don’t have to be coached when it comes to hamming it up for the camera.
We are no less competitive when it comes to playing pool than we are at playing baseball.
No one is man enough to eat the pink popsicles.
Twelve polished rocks make the perfect infield when playing backseat baseball.
Animal Planet’s Finding Bigfoot is not conducive to the sleeping patterns of children under age seven.
There’s nothing more un-apropos than a malfunctioning air conditioner in 110 degree heat.
There is definitely a quantifiable number of items on my bucket list. Touching live Sea Urchins and Starfish--check. Petting Sharks and Manta Rays--I’ll pass.
It’s never too hot to mow the infield or play ball in the back yard.
Never underestimate the power of a good book.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Monday, August 29, 2011
Who we become because of our kids
Oh for the days without worry or grief. You know. That time we often refer to as B.C. Before Children. Our world revolved around us. And our spouse. And maybe a good job, if we were lucky.
Those were the days when we planned for the weekends. For vacations. For dinner and a movie on a Tuesday night, if that’s what we wanted to do.
Things were different back then. If we saw a new pair of shoes and we wanted them, they became ours, even if we already had plenty in the closet. We wouldn’t think of dragging out those same stretched and snagged swimsuits we’ve squeezed into for the past six summers. We’d simply go out and grab another. And none of this pinching pennies for school supplies or for new tennis shoes that we just pray will make it till fall break. And Saturdays? Those belonged to us as well.
B.C. we were rested. Energetic. Organized. Focused. We knew where we were headed, and if we veered off course, that was OK too, because life’s an adventure. And it’s a lot easier to pack when you’re a one-man show.
But then it occurred to me. What about all the things we weren’t B.C.? What about the people our children have molded us into? What about the Who that we have become because of our kids?
Children have a way of forcing us to change. They can make a sweet person sweeter…or make him able to break the sound barrier with a single word. They can force an honest person to lie…or at the very least, help him perfect the often more popular art form of omission. Kids can get a lazy person up off the couch for a quick, two-hour stroll, or they can drive him to the darkest recesses of his home to curl up in a fetal ball, just waiting for the insanity to pass.
Yes, kids have amazing powers over our lives, which often forces us to think in new and sometimes ridiculous ways. Let’s face it, what childless man, creative or not, could come up with “Sink the Cheerio” or have success potty training his three-year old in only a half a day’s time by bribing him with candy? And who besides a mom could so ingeniously get her kid to eat broccoli by serving it and a half dozen other green goodies in a muffin tin…with a side of green milk? If only we could bottle that power.
And yet sometimes, our kids teach us lessons we could never seem to teach ourselves. We may have thought we were self-disciplined B.C., but you can believe if there is a chink somewhere in the armor, our kids will find it. We preach “control your temper” but have trouble maintaining our own when that crazy driver is doing 45 in the fast lane. We insist on using soft voices and nice words no matter how frustrated we become, yet we find it difficult after nearly breaking an ankle on a random, rolling baseball to maintain our own soft tones. And our angels see it. They point it out. Sometimes, much to our dismay, they emulate it.
And if our pride was something we formerly relied heavily upon, our kids can fix that problem too, with that innocent way they have of forcing us to be humble. They bring us down at just the right moment. Just when we start feeling a little too good. They’ll point out our bad breath or laugh at the hair on our upper lip, or proudly announce in front of a crowd that our legs feel like daddy’s whiskers. They don’t do it to grieve us; they are merely giving honest, unpretentious commentaries on what they see before them. And oh, how it can bring us back down to size.
Our children are our levelers. Our meter readers. They keep us grounded and keep us in line. They show us how to be resilient. How to rely on others. How to ask for help. And above all, they make us understand what it means to truly live as selfless human beings. We suddenly understand what it means to “die to yourself”. And maybe we just might learn to live it out not only with these beautiful kids, but with all those around us.
Yes, B.C. was a wonderful time, and if I tried, I could sing louder and longer than Archie and Edith ever thought about singing. But it doesn’t compare to pop flies and popsicles, early mornings and bed times, hair twirling and Berra hugs. These are the times of our lives. Whomever we are, and whomever we become, it is all because of our kids.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Those were the days when we planned for the weekends. For vacations. For dinner and a movie on a Tuesday night, if that’s what we wanted to do.
Things were different back then. If we saw a new pair of shoes and we wanted them, they became ours, even if we already had plenty in the closet. We wouldn’t think of dragging out those same stretched and snagged swimsuits we’ve squeezed into for the past six summers. We’d simply go out and grab another. And none of this pinching pennies for school supplies or for new tennis shoes that we just pray will make it till fall break. And Saturdays? Those belonged to us as well.
B.C. we were rested. Energetic. Organized. Focused. We knew where we were headed, and if we veered off course, that was OK too, because life’s an adventure. And it’s a lot easier to pack when you’re a one-man show.
But then it occurred to me. What about all the things we weren’t B.C.? What about the people our children have molded us into? What about the Who that we have become because of our kids?
Children have a way of forcing us to change. They can make a sweet person sweeter…or make him able to break the sound barrier with a single word. They can force an honest person to lie…or at the very least, help him perfect the often more popular art form of omission. Kids can get a lazy person up off the couch for a quick, two-hour stroll, or they can drive him to the darkest recesses of his home to curl up in a fetal ball, just waiting for the insanity to pass.
Yes, kids have amazing powers over our lives, which often forces us to think in new and sometimes ridiculous ways. Let’s face it, what childless man, creative or not, could come up with “Sink the Cheerio” or have success potty training his three-year old in only a half a day’s time by bribing him with candy? And who besides a mom could so ingeniously get her kid to eat broccoli by serving it and a half dozen other green goodies in a muffin tin…with a side of green milk? If only we could bottle that power.
And yet sometimes, our kids teach us lessons we could never seem to teach ourselves. We may have thought we were self-disciplined B.C., but you can believe if there is a chink somewhere in the armor, our kids will find it. We preach “control your temper” but have trouble maintaining our own when that crazy driver is doing 45 in the fast lane. We insist on using soft voices and nice words no matter how frustrated we become, yet we find it difficult after nearly breaking an ankle on a random, rolling baseball to maintain our own soft tones. And our angels see it. They point it out. Sometimes, much to our dismay, they emulate it.
And if our pride was something we formerly relied heavily upon, our kids can fix that problem too, with that innocent way they have of forcing us to be humble. They bring us down at just the right moment. Just when we start feeling a little too good. They’ll point out our bad breath or laugh at the hair on our upper lip, or proudly announce in front of a crowd that our legs feel like daddy’s whiskers. They don’t do it to grieve us; they are merely giving honest, unpretentious commentaries on what they see before them. And oh, how it can bring us back down to size.
Our children are our levelers. Our meter readers. They keep us grounded and keep us in line. They show us how to be resilient. How to rely on others. How to ask for help. And above all, they make us understand what it means to truly live as selfless human beings. We suddenly understand what it means to “die to yourself”. And maybe we just might learn to live it out not only with these beautiful kids, but with all those around us.
Yes, B.C. was a wonderful time, and if I tried, I could sing louder and longer than Archie and Edith ever thought about singing. But it doesn’t compare to pop flies and popsicles, early mornings and bed times, hair twirling and Berra hugs. These are the times of our lives. Whomever we are, and whomever we become, it is all because of our kids.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
No greater assurance
How often in life do we look for assurance? Assurance that the new job we are contemplating is right for our family. Assurance that we are doing all we can to properly prepare our children for life. Assurance that their precious self-esteem isn’t being crushed by a few well-deserved swats on the behind.
Assurance is a valuable commodity in the world of parenting. But our world isn’t always certain. Sometimes it’s not even rational. Is that sought after assurance even possible? Or are we chasing after the wind. Looking to calm our fears and ease our conscience. Clinging to a fleeting hope that we’re doing a good job, doing everything right.
It takes a rational mother about 10 minutes to admit she is helpless to do it alone. The simple act of putting baby to breast is proof enough that without the help of a handful of experienced mothers and The Great Almighty, we are lost. We alone are insufficient.
Of course we’ll spend the next 18 years telling those same babes that “Moms know everything. Moms can see it all.” But that’s just a rouge. A farce. An attempt to keep our kids in line and convince ourselves that we’re up to the task.
So how do we survive when our limits are tested? When our patience is pushed? When the path becomes treacherous, and we’re no longer sure how this hand we’ve been dealt is going to play out? How do we gather our strength and move on?
“I lift my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”
See, we were never expected to know all, to see all, or to do it all. We weren’t created to be super humans or super moms. That’s something we worked up all on our own.
Our assurance comes not from how many tasks we can accomplish in a 24-hour period. Not from how well we can provide for the worldly needs of our family. Not from how well we are able to explain to our children the unexplainable whys of this world.
Our assurance comes from knowing that we are all created, guarded, and guided by a Maker who does not slumber or sleep. A Guardian who will not let our foot slip. One who watches over us and keeps us from all harm.
One who is powerful enough to know every thought in our mind, every secret of our heart—yet, He loves us anyway. What greater assurance could we need? What greater comfort when our paths become rocky or the way seems uncertain, than to know that God has our back.
“He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
Kinda makes that perpetual mountain of laundry seem surmountable, doesn’t it?
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Assurance is a valuable commodity in the world of parenting. But our world isn’t always certain. Sometimes it’s not even rational. Is that sought after assurance even possible? Or are we chasing after the wind. Looking to calm our fears and ease our conscience. Clinging to a fleeting hope that we’re doing a good job, doing everything right.
It takes a rational mother about 10 minutes to admit she is helpless to do it alone. The simple act of putting baby to breast is proof enough that without the help of a handful of experienced mothers and The Great Almighty, we are lost. We alone are insufficient.
Of course we’ll spend the next 18 years telling those same babes that “Moms know everything. Moms can see it all.” But that’s just a rouge. A farce. An attempt to keep our kids in line and convince ourselves that we’re up to the task.
So how do we survive when our limits are tested? When our patience is pushed? When the path becomes treacherous, and we’re no longer sure how this hand we’ve been dealt is going to play out? How do we gather our strength and move on?
“I lift my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”
See, we were never expected to know all, to see all, or to do it all. We weren’t created to be super humans or super moms. That’s something we worked up all on our own.
Our assurance comes not from how many tasks we can accomplish in a 24-hour period. Not from how well we can provide for the worldly needs of our family. Not from how well we are able to explain to our children the unexplainable whys of this world.
Our assurance comes from knowing that we are all created, guarded, and guided by a Maker who does not slumber or sleep. A Guardian who will not let our foot slip. One who watches over us and keeps us from all harm.
One who is powerful enough to know every thought in our mind, every secret of our heart—yet, He loves us anyway. What greater assurance could we need? What greater comfort when our paths become rocky or the way seems uncertain, than to know that God has our back.
“He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
Kinda makes that perpetual mountain of laundry seem surmountable, doesn’t it?
And that’s All in a day’s work!
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