The Ugly Moments Of Parenting

November 12, 2014April 6, 2016Leave a comment

I am not above ugly moments.

I do not believe any of us are.

I get angry. I even yell. I sometimes blame my kids for the times when I lose my temper.

There are ugly moments in parenting. There is yelling in parenting. Boundaries are pushed in parenting. It happens to everyone.

It is not the yelling that is the problem.

The world will tell you that. The world will tell you to live in peace in harmony. The world will tell you to shove your angry feelings aside and “understand your children” in a calm and patient way.

The problem isn’t anger or the yelling in parenting. The problem is us. As human beings we are wired to mess up. We are wired as humans to lose our cool. If you yell at your children you are in fact only human. Just like the rest of us.

The solution is what happens after the anger and the yelling.

Just yesterday I was talking to my sweet kindergarten boy about girls and what girls are like. He told me, with his big brown, compassionate eyes, “girls like to tell us boys what to do.”

I mean. This is deep truth from my kindergarten boy. As a girl telling boys what to do all the time I know his words are true.

He went on to tell me about the times I tell him to pick up his toys and how I say if they are not picked up, whatever is left on the ground is being thrown in the trash. These are my ugly moments. The moments when I tell my children I will throw their toys in the trash, Toy Story’s worst nightmare coming alive in my own home, on my watch.

There is also a time when I told my sweet Asher boy that I would pop his balloon if he cried about it one more time. And I did. I popped it. With scissors. Right in front of his big beautiful blue eyes. I am not proud of this moment. This is another one of my ugly moments in parenting.

The dagger really went deep into my heart when that night, during our prayers to Jesus, he called me out during the confession time, “mom, aren’t you sorry for popping my balloon?” Right there in front of Jesus. Ugly, ugly moments.

Popping balloons and threatening to throw toys into the garbage. These are my ugly moments.

I believe as parents the power comes not from preventing the yelling or the threatening. I believe the power is in what we do after the ugliness has already happened.

Some people will tell us just never to yell in the first place. But you know, I believe it shows our children much more character when we make a mistake, or show emotion, and then appropriately be responsible for our crap rather than to act comatose and all Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood about things.

Are we brave enough to show our kids we make mistakes?

Are we brave enough to show our kids the moments when we need forgiveness before the Lord?

Are we brave enough to say I’m sorry? Or I was wrong?

Are we brave enough to live out a life of I’m sorrys and faith before them, right before their eyes, so they can experience first hand this so called power of the gospel we’ve been reading to them about from their Storybook Bibles?

Yes. I have ugly places.

Yes. I pop balloons like Gru from Despicable Me.

Yes. I threaten to put toys in trash bags and send them to the dump just like the ugly moments that haunt the very worst nightmares of Pixar’s Woody and Buzz.

But…

The thing about the ugly moments of parenting is always that there is a much more significant moment to show your children the gospel.

A much more beautiful moment follows the ugly one if you are brave enough to embrace it.

We are beautifully created people that find ourselves in ugly moments and we need a Savior to rescue us when we are angry, popping balloons like a villain and out of control.

I believe that in gospel believing homes, it is more powerful to our kids when we yell and repent than to never have yelled in the first place.

There is power in the ugly moments of parenting when you tell your children, “Mommy was wrong and mommy needs Jesus just like you.”

Yes. I have ugly moments. I have ugly moments because I need a Savior.

I want to show my children my need in my ugly moments so later in life when they themselves are without me in this big world and they find that they themselves are in an ugly moment, they will remember a great Savior. A great Savior who wants to rescue them in their ugly moments.

Ugly moments are an opportunity to show our children great character because of a great Savior.

Show them how to respond in the ugly moments.

Be brave.

You are always LOVED, ACCEPTED and BEAUTIFUL to God. Even in those ugly moments.

How The Power Of Choice Saved Me

November 11, 2014November 12, 20142 Comments

I haven’t been married or parenting for very long according to most of your terms.

But the power of choice has saved me as a wife and as a mother.

In my life I have lived with mostly men. I have been married for almost a decade and I have three sons. Before my married life, I lived with my brother and because my mom passed away when I was fourteen, I had to try to learn to communicate with the opposite gender, my father, from a very young age.

For the last almost twenty years I have been communicating with mostly men and I have learned a special secret that seems to keep everyone happy.

The power of choice.

It is simple.

The power of choice has always worked for me in the past and now I find it working in my marriage to diffuse small conflicts with my sons, as young as eighteen months, when it comes down to meltdowns vs. happy places.

The power of choice.

What I have learned about myself:

I have learned as a woman that contrary to popular belief, I actually know exactly what I want. I know how I want it done, when I want it done and what kind of wrapping paper it should be in. I know that sometimes when things don’t go exactly the way I want them to go I tend to lose my cool. So, I have developed my system to make things eb-and-flow in our household a little more eb-and-flowish.

The power of choice.

What I have learned about men:

From the wise-aged-grandfather types to tiny-toddler-master-minds. If they are male, they want to feel like they made the final choice. They want to bang the gavel. The power helps them feel more male or something. This is not chauvinistic, or demeaning. Men just want to feel respected. Making the final choice helps them feel respected.

Men also really dislike being told what to do. Just giving orders like, do the dishes or take out the trash seem bring more agony to the task than the simplicity of the power of choice.

So in the most loving way, I have learned to turn over my power. For their respect and for my good.

I let the boys and my husband choose almost everything. It’s really simple and it can work for you too with the boys in your home.

How this plays out in our home:

With my husband I give him the power to choose.

“Hey honey, I need the dinner cleaned up and all four children need a bath. Which would you like to do?”

“Hey sweetheart, this diaper needs to be changed and the laundry needs to be folded, which do you choose?”

“Tonight we are going on a date, where would you like to go?”

Or the best, mother of all master plans, I give my husband a list of ten chores and I tell him to choose which four he would like to do. A scurvy twist on the honey do list. But after everything is finished everyone is happy.

With my sons this looks like:

“Which shirt would you like to wear?” ( I have chosen two acceptable choices and then they are allowed to bang the final gavel.)

“I am going to clean up this mess, would you like to be responsible for the legos or the action figures?”

“You have an assignment to do. Would you like to do it now, or would you like to wait until after you play?”

“You have to eat you dinner. Would you like to have three bites or five bites before you are allowed to have dessert?”

Truly, every battle you have with the males in your home can be made into some kind of choice.

And males love the power of choice.

The power of choice has saved me as a woman outnumbered in this home. If you are outnumbered or even if you have any males that you love in your home you need to know about the power of choice. It has saved me so many scuffles and actually, in it’s humble approach, has given me power.

You can do it too.

Give those boys the power to choose.

Make your life easier.

Tell others about the power of choice.

Sister, it will save you too.

Sometimes It Feels Terrible

November 9, 2014November 12, 20143 Comments

In a few weeks I will be turning the corner from two to three with my third child.

Sometimes it feels terrible. Like today as I walked my sweet child into church, my husband’s place of business, and he shouted ” I am not a child of the Lord.” Over and over.

Sometimes it feels terrible to have a two year old.

The lines between baby and big kid are blurred.

They want to be independent but still need help at the same time.

It feels terrible and my heart aches for my littles at this stage. If it feels terrible for me, as a somewhat mature adult, I can only image how terrible it feels for a child who is crying face down on the ground.

Yes, they may be crying because they did not get to go to church naked or maybe you buckled their seat belt instead of them.

Mine likes to carry on if his blankets are not smoothed down in a particular way or the seams of his socks are not perfectly straight.

To us it feels ridiculous but their tears are telling you it is a big deal to them.

To this little human child in a big world there are things that are a big deal to them. It feels terrible to us but it is important to them.

I have been trying to be patient because it is my third time in this place of feeling terrible. I tried to leave extra time for my third son to buckle his own seatbelt without me getting flustered because I am worried about being late.

I try to understand him when his socks don’t feel right and his blankets are not straightened and tucked. (I am a tad more compassionate here because I am a similar particular human being.)

Sometimes it feels terrible to have this child, in between baby and big kid, carrying on about things that seem ridiculous to mature adults. I know.

I have walked in this three times. I have rolled my eyes. Raised my voice. I have lost my temper.

Even though it feels terrible and I think I know better, I still think we can be better as parents for our two year olds and beyond.

It feels terrible in this frustrating stage of parenting, but I think and I believe God is calling me to be better.

I believe God is calling me to grow as a parent instead of using the parachute of a passed on cliche.

Sometimes, parenting a two year old feels terrible however, I will not let my child conform to a cookie cutter cliche. I know that to God, my two year old matters. I know that to God, my two year old is important and I know that to God, the things that are important to my two year old are important to Him too.

I wish I wouldn’t let the cliche overshadow who my child is to God.

I wish in the moments of feeling terrible I would remember that God cares for me when I am losing my temper and crying on the floor about things that may seem ridiculous to Him.

I wish I could remember that even though it feels terrible to parent a two year old sometimes, I have a Father in heaven who is patient with me who could feel terrible about my tantrums but choses to love me instead. Just where I am.

Yes, having a two year old feels terrible. But maybe God is using this terrible stage to teach us to love others. Maybe God is showing us how He loves us when we are throwing ridiculous tantrums about things He knows are going to work out just fine.

Maybe God is calling us as parents to something better in the year of two.

Those precious babes are important to Him. And so are you.

Please read: Why The Twos Aren’t Terrible

Unraveling Anxiety

November 5, 2014November 5, 20163 Comments

I dance with worry and anxiety too often. Sometimes I let anxiety lead the rhythm of my step. I find my feet walking to it’s beat.

Just like you when a child naps in the afternoon who usually does not I may begin to worry that he may be ill. I am walking in anxiousness waiting for that thermometer to read above 100.5.

Or other times when my husband is not home at the usual time and is also unreachable on his phone. My mind assumes that something is really wrong, most of the time assuming the worst and waiting for an officer to show up at my doorstep to tell me my husband has been in a terrible car accident. The rhythm of anxiety causes my mind to pace just to keep up with it’s steps.

Most of the time what I see in myself when I am dancing is really just the symptoms of anxiety. I see the dance of anxiety and I am beginning to recognize it’s luring rhythm. Racing mind, racing heart, outrageous thoughts, sweating plams, edgy tone, words that spew out of my mouth like an unredeemed child with an out of control God. Words like:

I fear…

I can’t…

It won’t…

I try to cover up the symptoms of anxiety with prayer and verses memorized from scripture or verses found in the Bible topic glossary under the bolded words: worry and anxiety. But the worries come back. I find myself back in the luring rhythms dancing with worry and anxiety because I am only seeing what is above the surface.

I forget to go down deep below the surface and take a good look at the giant glacier below me- where worry and anxiety are breeding a faulty foundation completely out of sight.

I am lured by worry and anxiety in my thought life because beneath the surface I have an unbelieving heart.

Beneath the surface I am drinking from the broken cistern of control. (Jeremiah 2:13 For my people have committed two sins. They have forsaken me the spring of living water and they have dug their own cisterns:broken cisterns that cannot hold water.)

Beneath the surface I am a beautiful jagged mess of pride and unbelief.

My pride desires to be in control. I want to know what is coming. I want to prepare my heart. My pride believes if I know what’s coming I can be more prepared. My pride tells me I am able to do all things. Like Eve, I want to taste the fruit so my eyes will be opened and I will then know like God knows.

My unbelief is screaming I have giant patches of cold glacier where I fail to know the character of a loving God. In my unbelieving desire to control I forget that God is in control of all things for his redeemed children. In my unbelief I choose to dance with the enemy instead of the One who truly loves me and knows the plans He has for me. (Jeremiah 29:11)

I’ve always known I am prone to worry. When I sing the words from “Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing”

Prone to wander Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love- I think of my anxious adulterous dance. My constant pattern of leaving the God I love to wander over and let the rhythm of worry and anxiety control my steps.

It has just been recently that I have had the courage to look deep beneath the surface at the giant glacier of pride and unbelief breeding below me. Where the desire to control and the unbelief in my Great God are growing beneath the surface of my anxious symptoms.

Before I can examine what is tangled up beneath the surface I need to know how loved by God. I need His presence and His Spirit to be present with me.

So with courage and the armor of the Holy Spirit I have been willing to go down beneath the surface. When I see the beautiful jagged mess below. I am heartbroken. I didn’t even know about my broken cistern to be in control. But with the armor of the Holy Spirit I remember that God knew this about me anyway and He still sent Jesus to die on the cross for that icy jagged mess. I place my hand on my head to remember that no matter the mess my helmet of salvation is secure.

image via “practical pages”

With the armor of the Holy Spirit I can begin to unravel all the tangled up dances from wandering back and forth between belief and unbelief. With the armor of the Holy Spirit I know I have a Great Surgeon who helps me go to work, ever so gently to unravel the wandering mess I’ve made.

For now I am going down deep beneath the surface to fight the unbelief and pride of my heart. Not alone but with the armor of the Holy Spirit. With truth. With the gospel of peace. With the helmet of salvation secure.

I am called Sought Out. A city not forsaken. God remembers me and He cares for me SO MUCH that I am sought after. (Isaiah 62:12)

Why do I let the myths of anxiety lure me when I have a God like this?

I believe. Help my unbelief.

********

Where do you feel the lure of the dance of worry and anxiety?

Marriage?

Family?

Election?

Job Security?

Relationship Security?

Final Exams?

*********

Is God calling you to look beneath the surface at the glacier below you? Take your armor with you.

Let the Great Surgeon help you unravel.

And dance with the One who calls you Sought Out.

*********

I See You

October 28, 2014October 28, 20151 Comment

I see you there in the grocery store with your child carrying on about wanting that toy back by aisle which-ever-it-was. I see you and I give you an encouraging smile.

I see you and I hope that my smile felt encouraging and not judging. I see you because that was me not but a few weeks ago.

Children all piled into a grocery cart that needs more seats than spaces for groceries and a mother that has set a boundary. I see you. You are not being judged.

I was you. I am you.

My smile means I am with you. My smile means I know those days when the battles are hard and the tears may flow.

I smile because like you I know you are doing your best. You are doing your best just like me in this uncontrolled environment of a grocery store, just getting your milk and bread and dealing with the other disapproving looks of passing customers.I see you because I am just like you: a mom setting boundaries and doing her best.

I see you in the parking lot losing your temper over the one child that broke the long line of hand holding and wandered into harm’s way. I smile at you too. My babies have wandered away from e in the parking lot far too often and this sin that is deep inside my soul causes me to lose my temper sometimes too.

I see you because if I am not you today, I was yesterday, or maybe I will be tomorrow and I will need someone to see me too. I will need someone to see me when I am the one standing there, temper flaring, only because I love my child and I am concerned for their safety.

In the parking lot. I see you.

I see you at church smiling pretending like the lost hours of sleep are not wearing on your soul. I see you. I know that face. You are smiling but you are one mention of sleep or feeding away from tears. Those first months are taxing and are parenting’s cruel, cruel initiation and I promise not to ask you if your baby is sleeping though the night or if you feel rested.

I see you because I have never had a baby sleep through the night sooner than six months.

I see you overwhelmed with love an under-slept all at the same time. I see you and my smile is simply an affirmation and an “I’ve been there too.” I know you are tired. We are in this together.

I see you where you are.

I smile because I want you to know our mom shirts put us on the same team.

I see you because I am you. I am with you.

Will you see me too?