I know...the third post today...but I couldn't end the day without sharing Jack's latest comedy routine. Of course he didn't intend any of this to be comedic; nonethless Luke and I were in stitches.
On the way to church this evening we listened to Jack's rousing version of "Glorious Day" by Todd Agnew; he belts it out for all to hear. Coming home, the cd changer had switched to the next cd in line which happens to be one of the collection from Northgate Noise. In particular we ended up listening to "All the Gold" -- I actually have no idea what the given title of the song is. Anyway, we had to sit in the car until the song concluded; when the door opened to the back seat Jack began belting out acapella "all the gooooold in califoooonia is in a bank in the middle of bearly knolls in somebody else's name. so if you're dreeeeeeaaaamin' about califooooonia it don't matter at all where played befo' califooonia's a brand new game." He was so loud I was worried the neighbors were going to come out of their houses. (and no, we don't listen to this often...Jack just has a way with music memorization).
Move to inside. We were letting the boys play a little before bath in hopes they would both come down from their super-stimulated post church phase. Jack handed Luke a red bouncy ball and then held up a little Gideon Bible someone gave him a long time ago. He asked, "Do you know which sir this Bible belongs to?" Completely confused by the question Luke answered in the negative. Jack responded, "Mr. Jack! And now I'm going to tell you a story." Jack opened the Bible like it was a picture book with the text facing out and said, "a long time ago there was a man named David. And there were some Jewish people and they RAN AND RAN AND RAN (picture Jack doing the running man style dance). The end." We eventually asked enough questions to discover that Jack combined the stories of Moses leading the Jewish people out of Egypt with a character sketch of David in his pre-king days. He was so cute it was difficult to keep a straight face. Plus you can't see the running-man and not laugh.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Ever tried to herd cats?
Luke and I first heard this saying uttered by a passer-by one Sunday as we tried to convince our class of 12 two year olds to walk quickly from the playground back to the classroom. Truer words have never been spoken. The phenomenon was repeated again today as during our playgroup's annual costume party we moms attempted to convince 12 small children ranging in age from almost 4 years -- 6 months to sit still while we snapped photos like the French paparazzi. I'd post the pics that I did get but I know some moms are wary about their little ones faces online. But so you know we didn't get a single shot of everyone sitting much less in the same scene all at once. Most kids are in various stages of climbing up and down the furniture or crawling to mom or crying in every single shot. Plenty of shots include close-ups of mommy bottoms. There are very few smiles as most of the kids look a little freaked by all the goings-on. After the picture of course we did figure out that a cookie in every hand would have solved most of the issues. Oh well, there's always next year!
It's a hard knock life...
Bless my baby's heart. He had a rough morning of learning some pretty difficult lessons. Turning the other cheek and realizing we are called to a higher standard are tough for adults to master much less my three year old. But like I mentioned, today Jack faced both.
In a Bible study I'm working through right now I realized -- or rather more accurately God rebuked me -- that I have not been parenting through Scripture. My rules and guidelines are of course based therein yet while I am always mindful to explain reasoning to Jack (even if it's "because God made me responsible for you") I've never slowed down long enough to teach Jack the Scripture that birthed the guidelines. The ability to immediately put into action my recent realization made this morning such a sweet experience with Jack. We pulled away from the other kiddos like always (no one needs to see correction) and I explained to Jack that sometimes things happen that don't seem fair and sometimes friends act ugly to us BUT God teaches us that we should love everyone even if they are being ugly and that God never says it's okay to be mean to someone just because he/she was mean first. The lesson had to make a couple of passes through Jack's head and we had quite a lengthy conversation as he worked through what this new lesson meant and what ramifications his newfound knowledge had on his behavior and attitude.
In the end, the lesson seemed to make a difference. But goodness was it hard for my mommy-heart to teach him these things; I wanted to right the wrongs and correct the injustices for him. I only thought the hard part of parenting was the late nights. I told Luke if I knew pre-children how hard this would be I might have tempered the baby-fever a little longer. Jack has since calmed and the issues of the morning have faded from his memory; me on the other hand -- I am having a little trouble coming down from the ledge...perhaps I should go stand in front of the mirror and have a little chat with myself about forgiveness.
In a Bible study I'm working through right now I realized -- or rather more accurately God rebuked me -- that I have not been parenting through Scripture. My rules and guidelines are of course based therein yet while I am always mindful to explain reasoning to Jack (even if it's "because God made me responsible for you") I've never slowed down long enough to teach Jack the Scripture that birthed the guidelines. The ability to immediately put into action my recent realization made this morning such a sweet experience with Jack. We pulled away from the other kiddos like always (no one needs to see correction) and I explained to Jack that sometimes things happen that don't seem fair and sometimes friends act ugly to us BUT God teaches us that we should love everyone even if they are being ugly and that God never says it's okay to be mean to someone just because he/she was mean first. The lesson had to make a couple of passes through Jack's head and we had quite a lengthy conversation as he worked through what this new lesson meant and what ramifications his newfound knowledge had on his behavior and attitude.
In the end, the lesson seemed to make a difference. But goodness was it hard for my mommy-heart to teach him these things; I wanted to right the wrongs and correct the injustices for him. I only thought the hard part of parenting was the late nights. I told Luke if I knew pre-children how hard this would be I might have tempered the baby-fever a little longer. Jack has since calmed and the issues of the morning have faded from his memory; me on the other hand -- I am having a little trouble coming down from the ledge...perhaps I should go stand in front of the mirror and have a little chat with myself about forgiveness.
Friday, October 17, 2008
A New Favorite Read
I took the blog list off but this new one is entirely too wonderful not to mention. The author is Omar Garcia: Missions and Evangelism Pastor at KBC, possessor of a truly mission-minded heart complete with a desire to help lay folks navigate the sometimes treacherous world of mission fields, gifted writer and teacher.
Omar's blog shares its title with the Missions ministry at KBC (Go Beyond); the blog is full of stories from Omar's travels and of lessons he has learned, tidbits of treasure that he has found along his many mission adventures. He so eloquently and gently shares each experience all the while challenging and encouraging readers to Go Beyond.
If you've got a moment or two to spare I encourage you to visit Omar's blog. It's worth the time!
Go Beyond Blog
Omar's blog shares its title with the Missions ministry at KBC (Go Beyond); the blog is full of stories from Omar's travels and of lessons he has learned, tidbits of treasure that he has found along his many mission adventures. He so eloquently and gently shares each experience all the while challenging and encouraging readers to Go Beyond.
If you've got a moment or two to spare I encourage you to visit Omar's blog. It's worth the time!
Go Beyond Blog
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Man Business
Serious parenting dilemma here folks -- need some insight. Hopefully there is a preschool teacher reading or a more experienced mom or at least someone with a half more clue than I have....
Background info pertinent to problem: Attempting to teach kids to be independent. At 3 this includes solving playground problems without tattling -- when a kid hits Jack knows to express his lack of appreciation for the action to the offender first (with words not fists). While I understand that as a man-in-training Jack is a warrior in God's image it simply will not do to have him pummel every bully out there -- plus we all know the guy who hits back is the one that gets caught, it's never the kid who initiates.
Setting: At church after Wednesday night meal, in the gym waiting for WAM (kids choir) to start. Little kids are running amok, parents are off to the side watching and chatting.
Scene: Jack runs up to me holding his crotch. My first thought is that he is about to have a bathroom emergency (sometimes he plays a little too hard and forgets to go). Oh no...was I ever wrong. His eyes well up with tears and he says, "that boy kicked me in the weiner." (ouch I think) So I give my usual tattling comeback (and yes in this instance the tattling was warranted but still...Jack has more than a sufficient vocabulary to handle himself here) "well you know what to do -- tell him you don't appreciate being kicked and that it really hurt and ask him not to do it again." Jack was ready for this response, answered okay and ran to confront his attacker. Good boy I thought. At this point I begin watching Jack a little more closely (and the kicker too). Jack is running with his best buddy Mason and then stops to talk to a grown-up who has joined the game. I recognize said grown-up as kicker's mom. At that point kicker walks up, rares back and kicks Jack AGAIN in the crotch AGAIN. I expected kicker's mom to handle things so I simply walked over and collected my injured child. All mom did was say the little boy's name (Luuuuukkkkeee) and let him continue playing. THAT WAS IT...
So here is the dilemma -- In hindsight I realize that I should have taken a more active role in the situation and said something BUT there will undoubtedly be times (like school for instance) when situations like this are repeated and no adult is there to intervene. How do I teach Jack to handle this situation? I don't want Jack to walk around kicking kids in the crotch but perhaps in this situation a kick in the man business would've taught the offender a lesson worth learning. I don't want to raise fighters but I certainly don't want to raise sissies either. At 3 I suppose the responsibility falls to me to solve the problem (with the mom not the kicker) and I failed miserably last night...but the situation will inevitably repeat at some point in Jack's lifetime.
uggghhhh...the entire situation left me feeling yucky and out of balance all night.
Background info pertinent to problem: Attempting to teach kids to be independent. At 3 this includes solving playground problems without tattling -- when a kid hits Jack knows to express his lack of appreciation for the action to the offender first (with words not fists). While I understand that as a man-in-training Jack is a warrior in God's image it simply will not do to have him pummel every bully out there -- plus we all know the guy who hits back is the one that gets caught, it's never the kid who initiates.
Setting: At church after Wednesday night meal, in the gym waiting for WAM (kids choir) to start. Little kids are running amok, parents are off to the side watching and chatting.
Scene: Jack runs up to me holding his crotch. My first thought is that he is about to have a bathroom emergency (sometimes he plays a little too hard and forgets to go). Oh no...was I ever wrong. His eyes well up with tears and he says, "that boy kicked me in the weiner." (ouch I think) So I give my usual tattling comeback (and yes in this instance the tattling was warranted but still...Jack has more than a sufficient vocabulary to handle himself here) "well you know what to do -- tell him you don't appreciate being kicked and that it really hurt and ask him not to do it again." Jack was ready for this response, answered okay and ran to confront his attacker. Good boy I thought. At this point I begin watching Jack a little more closely (and the kicker too). Jack is running with his best buddy Mason and then stops to talk to a grown-up who has joined the game. I recognize said grown-up as kicker's mom. At that point kicker walks up, rares back and kicks Jack AGAIN in the crotch AGAIN. I expected kicker's mom to handle things so I simply walked over and collected my injured child. All mom did was say the little boy's name (Luuuuukkkkeee) and let him continue playing. THAT WAS IT...
So here is the dilemma -- In hindsight I realize that I should have taken a more active role in the situation and said something BUT there will undoubtedly be times (like school for instance) when situations like this are repeated and no adult is there to intervene. How do I teach Jack to handle this situation? I don't want Jack to walk around kicking kids in the crotch but perhaps in this situation a kick in the man business would've taught the offender a lesson worth learning. I don't want to raise fighters but I certainly don't want to raise sissies either. At 3 I suppose the responsibility falls to me to solve the problem (with the mom not the kicker) and I failed miserably last night...but the situation will inevitably repeat at some point in Jack's lifetime.
uggghhhh...the entire situation left me feeling yucky and out of balance all night.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Day of Remembrance
I should be updating family via our personal website but I didn't want to miss this opportunity. Tomorrow, October 15, is the National Day of Remembrance for infant and pregnancy loss. While I personally have never experienced the agony of losing a child (born or not) I have friends and family members who have suffered anguish over their little ones' passings. Let's all take a moment tomorrow and pray for those who have suffered loss that God will exhange beauty for their ashes, gladness for their mourning and a garment of praise for their spirit of despair.
Here is a blog that I follow Bring the Rain. The author knows a thing or two about loss -- and she invites you and I encourage you to leave in remembrance your own story. Be advised: her blog is not one to read if you aren't somewhere that tears are welcome.
Here is a blog that I follow Bring the Rain. The author knows a thing or two about loss -- and she invites you and I encourage you to leave in remembrance your own story. Be advised: her blog is not one to read if you aren't somewhere that tears are welcome.
Friday, October 3, 2008
I was looking for a muse...
Realizing it has been some time since my last post I have been searching for a muse. Something to inspire the creative spark, to spur on the writing bug to bite -- for no other reason than I hope this blog and the family website maintain a dichotomous relationship. I was coming up blank -- nothing and I mean NOTHING was happening that was blog worthy...until tonight...
We made the trek to Pearland to have dinner with my parents and sister (Kristen rarely comes home -- between work and finishing school and finding a job -- so her visit prompted the trip). The fam made its way to the Pearland watering hole that my father has been visiting since he moved to Pearland in 1968, the place that my family frequented weekly until I left for college (the trips continued only I was absent): Juanito's. Juan's -- as it's affectionately called by my folks -- is a quaint little eatery where you can get Mexican food and for old-time Pearlanders still see people you recognize. I digress...we had finished a somewhat quiet dinner (Jack and Sam were there) and were on our way out when I ran into an old high school friend, his wife, newbaby and in-laws. Here is where it gets interesting...
This particular "old friend" actually used to be a boyfriend -- for about 2 months my freshman year (we started dating around Homecoming and had broken up before my birthday). We were in band together and remained friends after the break-up, obviously reserving some time for wounds to heal. I moved on and began dating someone else and eventually my "friend" found a new girlfriend (who is now his wife). She hated me back then -- with a passion that was and is unrivaled -- and I never really knew why. Life happened and we all moved on. I went to TAMU, met Luke, got married, had babies, etc.
***pause for an interruption....ugggghhhh gotta get the rhythm back...***
Anyway....I haven't seen this "friend" nor his wife in literally years, as in 8 years... When we ran into these folks tonight I honestly thought that all that high school crap would be gone. I knew she didn't like me then but seriously who holds on to that kind of garbage?? Apparently my "friend's" wife does that's who. She saw me and you would have thought she had smelled rotten meat the way her face contorted. My "friend" (I'm using quotes because can you really call someone a friend you haven't seen in 8 years and who you never talk to ??) wanted to stop and show off his son but his wife had different plans as she wheeled that baby away as fast as she could.
So here's my issue -- after all these years who really holds on to high school crap? I can honestly say there is not one person that I had an issue with in high school that I still have an issue with now -- mainly because I don't see those people anymore so what's to worry about, be angry about... Haven't we all moved on? Seriously...all of this happened when I was 14 years old and apparently still merits rude behavior. Haven't we all matured to the point that we realize we were DUMB at 14 so what bearing does anything that happened have on today???!!??
Obviously I got all kinds of fired up about this...less about her behavior because really -- I don't care -- like me, love me, hate me-- it has no lasting effect on me (especially since it will probably be another 8 years before I see them again...) but more about people's inabilities to move on, grow up, get on with life. I'm simply incredulous about the entire situation. I just don't understand lasting judgment of another person like that...it really boggles the mind <-- that was a grammatically terrible couple of sentences by the way; just consider it a stream of consciousness...
So I'm moving on and getting on and all that garbage -- and being thankful for a muse.
One more note: According to Jack, God holds your hand always so that when you cross the street you don't get hit by a car, or eaten by a crocodile or hit with a rhinoceros's sorn (yeah...apparently a cross between a horn and a sword...). Now you can all sleep well knowing this tidbit of wisdom...
We made the trek to Pearland to have dinner with my parents and sister (Kristen rarely comes home -- between work and finishing school and finding a job -- so her visit prompted the trip). The fam made its way to the Pearland watering hole that my father has been visiting since he moved to Pearland in 1968, the place that my family frequented weekly until I left for college (the trips continued only I was absent): Juanito's. Juan's -- as it's affectionately called by my folks -- is a quaint little eatery where you can get Mexican food and for old-time Pearlanders still see people you recognize. I digress...we had finished a somewhat quiet dinner (Jack and Sam were there) and were on our way out when I ran into an old high school friend, his wife, newbaby and in-laws. Here is where it gets interesting...
This particular "old friend" actually used to be a boyfriend -- for about 2 months my freshman year (we started dating around Homecoming and had broken up before my birthday). We were in band together and remained friends after the break-up, obviously reserving some time for wounds to heal. I moved on and began dating someone else and eventually my "friend" found a new girlfriend (who is now his wife). She hated me back then -- with a passion that was and is unrivaled -- and I never really knew why. Life happened and we all moved on. I went to TAMU, met Luke, got married, had babies, etc.
***pause for an interruption....ugggghhhh gotta get the rhythm back...***
Anyway....I haven't seen this "friend" nor his wife in literally years, as in 8 years... When we ran into these folks tonight I honestly thought that all that high school crap would be gone. I knew she didn't like me then but seriously who holds on to that kind of garbage?? Apparently my "friend's" wife does that's who. She saw me and you would have thought she had smelled rotten meat the way her face contorted. My "friend" (I'm using quotes because can you really call someone a friend you haven't seen in 8 years and who you never talk to ??) wanted to stop and show off his son but his wife had different plans as she wheeled that baby away as fast as she could.
So here's my issue -- after all these years who really holds on to high school crap? I can honestly say there is not one person that I had an issue with in high school that I still have an issue with now -- mainly because I don't see those people anymore so what's to worry about, be angry about... Haven't we all moved on? Seriously...all of this happened when I was 14 years old and apparently still merits rude behavior. Haven't we all matured to the point that we realize we were DUMB at 14 so what bearing does anything that happened have on today???!!??
Obviously I got all kinds of fired up about this...less about her behavior because really -- I don't care -- like me, love me, hate me-- it has no lasting effect on me (especially since it will probably be another 8 years before I see them again...) but more about people's inabilities to move on, grow up, get on with life. I'm simply incredulous about the entire situation. I just don't understand lasting judgment of another person like that...it really boggles the mind <-- that was a grammatically terrible couple of sentences by the way; just consider it a stream of consciousness...
So I'm moving on and getting on and all that garbage -- and being thankful for a muse.
One more note: According to Jack, God holds your hand always so that when you cross the street you don't get hit by a car, or eaten by a crocodile or hit with a rhinoceros's sorn (yeah...apparently a cross between a horn and a sword...). Now you can all sleep well knowing this tidbit of wisdom...
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