Making Martha Mad

 Here’s the scene: noise levels elevated beyond what is safe for human ears; various kinds of bombs exploding all around; communication between Lieutenants being shouted to be heard above the din; orders of cease and desist being commanded repeatedly to insubordinate soldiers; food rations being stuffed into pockets and ears.  Is this an intense war scene?  Indeed.  

Welcome to family dinner time.

Dinner is sacred and special to our family.  It is NOT something that would make Martha Stewart proud.  We don’t use embroidered napkins or fancy place cards; and we don’t eat a five course gourmet meal.  I’m quite sure if Martha were to sit in on one of our family dinners, she would shake her head and frown.  Although I do think our meals are better than prison food...!

Dinner IS a time when we come together as a family.  It’s a time we share about our day and usually a “happy” and “sad” (a high and low) is shared by each person.  It’s a time when we sit down and attempt to learn some table manners while enjoying a meal prepared with love (and hopefully no added spit up).  It’s a way my hubby and I put our foot down (usually in something squishy we regret) and say, “No matter how busy our lives are or will become, we WILL HAVE FAMILY DINNER…doggonit all.”  And that is that.

I’m not usually awed by stats and numbers (math was never my favorite school subject), but the stats on family dinner are pretty impressive.  Here are some of them:

* The average parent spends only 38.5 minutes per week in meaningful conversation with their children. (A.C. Nielsen Co.)

* Family dinners are more important than play, story time and other family events in the development of vocabulary of younger children. (Harvard Research, 1996)

* Frequent family meals are associated with a lower risk of smoking, drinking and using drugs; with a lower incidence of depressive symptoms and suicidal thoughts; and with better grades in 11 to 18 year olds. (Archives of Pediatrics and Adolescent Medicine, 2004)

* Adolescent girls who have frequent family meals, and a positive atmosphere during those meals, are less likely to have eating disorders. (University of Minnesota, 2004)

* Kids who eat most often with their parents are 40% more likely to say they get mainly A’s and B’s in school than kids who have two or fewer family dinners a week. (National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University)

So whether it’s steak and lobster or sloppy joes, ring the dinner bell and round up all your little cowboys and cowgirls to the table for something meaningful…noise, mess and all!  And don’t worry about making Martha mad, she might look even cuter with some spaghetti stuck to her face.

My sweetie loves to vlog (and is great at it!) and has a channel on You Tube of our family.  If you want to experience our dinnertime “war zone”, check out this vid:

Coles Chow Down!

Wild Texas Bushpoppers

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Million Dollar Babies

Sometimes we are asked what life is like with four kids under the age of five and I reply, “We are more satisfied than a man with a million dollars.”

“Really?” comes the surprised response, “How’s that?”

“The millionaire wants more.” I answer.

All joking aside, we are just taking life one day at a time.  To have more children or not, that is the question.  When we were dating, I was hoping for eight one day and Bob was thinking four and a half so we’ll see where we end up…in other words, we’ll see who the real boss of this family is.

The decision of how many kids to have and how close or far apart to space them is something each couple must prayerfully consider when they decide to start a family.  It’s a great idea to seek (or at least appreciate) input from friends and family as each couple weighs out their options but ultimately, it is a choice we each make and must live with; so why not make it a good one?

That being said, let’s give each other a break (I’m preaching to the choir here also!) if someone else decides to have a different kind of family than the kind we chose.  We have four kids close together and happen to really love the way this is working for us.

Are we busy?  Hell yes.  Do we regret it for a second?  Hell no.

(Yes, I feel quite strongly about this!)

There are families that like their children spaced at least two or more years…great.  There are families that feel two kids are just right…awesome.  There are couples that enjoy a life of insanity for a bit and space their children a year to 18 months apart and breed like bunnies (ha!) and are happy with that…neat.  Some couples like to have a kid every five years until their oldest starts college…wonderful.  

My philosophy on children has always been and will always be this (in spite of the circumstances or who they are born to): they are truly and without a doubt a BLESSING from the Lord.  Each child is born with a calling from God and with unlimited potential to change the world.  Children are precious and priceless.

We may have taken on this adventure of parenting in a way you and your sweetheart did not.  We may have spaced them closer than you think is normal (besides, what IS normal but a setting on the dryer?!).  Both of us could perhaps debate the pros and cons of having different types of families but if we both have no regrets and have total joy about our lives, why bother?  Why not just let other people be different from us and appreciate that God doesn’t force any of us into a mold?  And if God doesn’t even force us into a mold then why should we try to force each other into one?

Here is a great story that I cherish in my heart about a man named William Borden.  The year is 1904 and he is graduating from high school with more than good grades, he was loaded to the gills with family money.  Most graduates receive a card or small gift after the ceremony but Will got his socks knocked off when his parents presented him with a round-the-world-trip ticket to celebrate (and no, he didn’t do it in 80 days).  

His travels brought him face to face with hundreds of hurting people in Asia, the Middle East and Europe.  He wrote back home and expressed his new-found desire to be a missionary.  This notion was scoffed at by all, “You would be throwing your life away!”  His friends warned him.  His quiet answer to this was two words he wrote in the back of his Bible,

“No reserves.”

With this trip still etched in his memory, he returned home and four years later graduated from Yale University.  When he was presented with many different high-paying job offers, he turned them all down and quietly added another note to his Bible,

“No retreats.”

With a heart that was fixed on reaching the Muslim people in Asia, he traveled to Egypt as a missionary to begin his language studies.  While there, he contracted spinal meningitis and within weeks, 25 year old Will was dead.

The news reached America and made all the papers as a wave of shock was felt around the country by the thousands that knew and loved Will.  When his Bible was later opened, two more words were found written under his previous entries,

“No regrets.”

Will was a man of no regrets.  He made choices that were perhaps very different from those of our own.  His life took him in a direction that broke the mold of what people expected a man of his education and money to take.  Yet in the end, he had chosen wisely,

“No reserves.  No retreats.  No regrets.”

A life of no reserves, no retreats or regrets is a life that is made up of choosing what really matters.  It’s a life lived to the fullest with joy about the calling and the family God has given you a passion for.  Each of us has a unique calling and I think God likes that He broke the mold for everyone of us.

YOU Are The Expert

YOU are the expert.

The expert in being a mom or dad to the unique child God gave you both!

This thought stuck in my brain after a conversation with a new mom who mentioned she did not feel like an expert on parenting.  I told her, “But you ARE an expert!  As soon as you held that baby in your arms, you were equipped by God with everything you need to raise that sweet child He entrusted you with.”

Sometimes the journey of parenting can feel overwhelming as we realize the huge responsibility to care for this little person that depends on us for EVERYTHING!  Yet there isn’t a difficulty we’ll face nor a side of our children we may discover that God hasn’t already given us the gifting and grace to handle…and to overcome.

You are an expert parent to YOUR child because YOU are exactly who God was thinking of when He made your boy or girl and gently placed them in your arms to be a steward of.

I am not opposed to getting some good parenting advice from books, shows or friends and family (in fact, I soak it all up like a sponge) but sometimes, we just need to trust our gut more.  If something doesn’t feel right, modify.  If you don’t have peace about a decision, rethink it.

Let’s take it one day at a time, thanking God He’s by our side through this great adventure called parenthood.

Gigantic Messes and Grocery Stresses

It was the worst of times and the worst of times...and it was only 5:30!

Bob was sufficiently warned when he walked through the door after work tonight, when I said, “Just pretend you are entering a war-torn country that has been bombed and nothing you are about to see will shock you.”

It was one of THOSE days...

After coming home from the grocery store, inspiration struck (I really should have just struck it back and chosen sanity instead) and I decided to reorganize all my kitchen cupboards and pantries.  Of course, while I was doing this (with Gabby in my backpack), the kids were busy “reorganizing” the rest of the house.

After 3 or 4 hours of simplifying and redecorating, we had one gigantic mess.

Ask me the question if I ever take on too much and I can’t tell a lie, the answer is an emphatic YES!

It’s as if I have a speech impediment that prohibits the word no from being formed in my mouth or entertained in my mind.  Let’s run through today’s events and see what went wrong…

Thought: I’m going to go to the grocery store with my four children.  

Solution ending in happiness and mental health: DON’T DO IT.

Thought: Now that I’m home and done unloading a dump truck load of groceries in freezing weather as my baby’s wailing so loudly that the neighbors put earplugs in; I think I will now reorganize every cupboard in my kitchen.

Solution ending in happiness and mental health: Obviously this is a thought from the devil, don’t do it!

Thought: Okay, now that I’m neck-deep in cans and boxes of food, why not cook some freezer meals since I have all this food out?

Solution ending in happiness and mental health: Take a nap instead.

Well, here’s the update: the mess is still alive and well, held at bay for now by the closed pantry door (by the way: don’t open that pantry, my dear, if you want to see tomorrow) and I skipped out on helping Bob get the rest of the house back to normal so I could get dinner with a friend.  There are days my man could earn his weight in gold; bless his heart!

When I got home tonight, two thoughts entered my mind and I think they are finally some good ones.

1.  You must do less.

2.  Tomorrow is a new day (and this big mess will be waiting for you then).

His mercies are new every morning…Lam. 3:23

Squeezing Skittles

Travel with me a few hours back in time to tonight at the check-out in Wal-Mart (pretty glamorous location, hey?).  Here’s the scene:

I’m waiting for the cashier as I bounce a crying baby on my hip and try to wrangle my wallet out of a purse that is buried under hundreds of bags in the cart.  Suddenly, a little Hispanic boy in bright yellow t-shirt wanders past me holding a bag of skittles.  

That’s a little strange, I think, is he alone?  

He couldn’t have been much older than two and seems a little confused as he roams around the check-out area by himself.  It’s as if time stood still and all the noises and people disappeared as I stared at this little lost boy.  One thought pulsates through my mind,

What if this child were mine?  

What if one of my boys wandered off and no one helped him find me again?  The “what if” questions were almost unbearable to even consider.  I didn’t care how incontinent it was at the moment, it was time for action.  

I hurry up to the boy as he is about to disappear down another aisle and crouch down as I hold onto Gabby, “Where’s your mom, honey?”  When he stares blankly at me, I realize he may not speak English.

“Donde esta tu mama mi hijo?  Come se llama?”  His brown eyes are big with worry as he shrugs in response.

We hold hands and I walk him to the service counter, explaining the situation to the workers and entrusting him to their care.  I head back to the cashier, who is waiting for me to pay, all the while watching the scared toddler who is sitting on a bench by the service area.  I then see a frantic mother from a few aisles away break into a run when she spots her lost son.  

Nothing beat the pure joy I felt as I saw a happy little boy with a bag of skittles clutched in his tiny hands jump into his mommy’s arms.

I don’t have to just wonder how I would have felt if that child were mine because there was a time when that child was mine.  

A few months ago, an elevator closed on Gideon before we could get on with him and he got lost at our courthouse in town.  It was the kindness of a stranger who saw a confused little boy and gently took his hand and kept him safe until they could locate me.  

I can’t even imagine what this world would be like if we were all too busy to take the hand of a little kid squeezing skittles to help them find their way home.

It’s the courthouse workers, Wal-Mart shoppers and many other kind strangers that make up the community we need to raise our children.  It truly does take a village to raise a child...and it doesn't hurt to have some skittles too!

Squatty Potty Props

You know what I want to do?  I want to go to Thailand again and use a squatty potty.

Yes, it’s really called a squatty potty.  It’s the perfect name for a toilet seat (just the seat) covering a hole (literally) dug into the ground that is famous throughout third world countries, including Thailand, where I once lived for a few months as a missionary.

I did not enjoy using these uncomfortable toilets (great for the glutes though!) so I don’t REALLY want to use one again, I just want to be reminded again of what the rest of the world is really like.

I DO want to get outside of my own little world for a day so that I can get a fresh perspective on things again.

Maybe if I remember that most people in this world don’t even own a toilet I wouldn’t groan when it’s time to clean mine (a common job with two sharp shootin’ potty training boys that love to pee standing up).

Maybe I wouldn’t sigh when I have to kneel down to change a dirty diaper if I could remember mothers around the globe who don’t have the luxury of disposable diapers to make this task a relative breeze.

Maybe I wouldn’t mind eating macaroni and cheese (again!) with my kids for lunch when I think of the children around the world that would be amazed by the amount and variety of food we can choose from here in America.

My boys when they were younger found a box of ice-cream cones and went to town!

Just maybe...

There is so much that a simple squatty potty can help you to remember.  

Happy flushing!

Must Love Dogs

I’m coming to the conclusion after being married for almost six loooong years (I know, still a novice really!) that men are like dogs.

Guys, before you put pen to paper and write me hate mail, please read on as I think you may be quite pleased with how this theory will turn out.

I do have a disclaimer before I begin.  I do not like dogs, as all my dear friends know well!  I WANT to like them, they are adorable to LOOK at but the actual presence of a dog (dog hair, barking, slobber, dog food to buy, kennels to clean and food bowls to fill) is just too darn annoying to me to actually enjoy the end result (loyal protector and best friend for life).  

So I am the first to admit I am no Cesar Millan when it comes to understanding dogs and training them but I have been around the furry little fellows enough to get some dog basics 101 that I think apply perfectly to men.

Dog Basic #1: If you want a dog to do something, it must be trained.

I’m learning when I want something from Bob, just TELLING him is not always enough.  I need to model it and then quietly show him again, giving him a good petting when he does get it.

Dog Basic #2: If the dog doesn’t get something, you don’t kick the snot out of it.  You just teach it the concept again.

Enough said.

Dog Basic #3: The dog will learn if it receives LOTS of rewards and petting.

I will freely SHOWER praise on my children for accomplishing little task we’re teaching them such as using the potty, clearing their plates and putting their laundry in the hamper.  As soon as that plate is put in the dishwasher or dirty clothes in the laundry, I am smooching their cute little faces and exclaiming, “I am so proud of you!  Good job, bud!  You bless your Mommy!  Thank you!”.

Yet when my spouse accomplishes a task I’ve been “reminding” (i.e., nagging) him about, such as replacing the doorbell batteries (hint, hint, Bob!) or cleaning his workshop area, he’s more likely to get a tiny smile upon completion and something along the lines of, “Well, I’m glad you got that done…finally.”

Little have I realized when I walk away after neglecting to give him the praise he would feel so blessed by, it’s like he’s a little puppy that stops wagging his tail and collapses into a dejected pile on the floor.  

There’s no doubt that puppy wouldn’t be very eager to do that task again when his master commands him to.

I think there are a lot of discouraged puppies out there.

Thus, I am attempting (so help me God) to implement some dog basics around this home.  Imagine with me this scenario the next time your man completes a job that you’ve been ever so sweetly (remember, we’re imagining!) reminding him about.  What if we said (with as a sincere a heart that we could muster), “OH BABY!!  You are amazing!  Look at how well you did this job (trash, cleaning, child care, etc.)!!  Its obvious you threw your heart into getting this done and it is so EXCELLENT!  I feel SO blessed by you.  Thank you!”  Now, if this were followed by a hug or kiss and (situation permitting) a little trip to the bedroom…I think you would have yourself a VERY happy and obedient puppy.  

And I bet that puppy would grow into a strong and happy dog that is eager to do whatever his master (that’s us, ladies!  Ha ha!) commands.

Okay, guys, how do you feel about that?  Are you okay with your wife using a little dog basic 101 training to motivate and reward you to accomplish tasks and maybe even change a little (just a little, we know you’re pretty darn close to perfect already)? 

There is a famous saying I have stuck to my refrigerator that says, “If you want your husband to grow into a man, love him like a little boy.”  I think after today, I will modify that to say, “If you want your husband to run with the big dogs, love him like a little puppy.”

A Happy Heart

We have a little saying around our home that is often said when we need to keep life in perspective, “Because a grateful heart is a…”  and the boys always shout the ending, “HAPPY HEART!”  

Today I was thinking of yet another reason to have a happy heart, something that is easy to take for granted in our country which is the land of the free and the home of the brave. That reason is: the freedom to be who God made us.

Black or white.  Young or old.  Tall or short.  Blond or brunette.  Catholic or Jew.

This hit me in a fresh way a few days ago when I was reminded of the shocking and sickening statistic of over 70,000 of a particular group of people that were killed during Hitler’s reign.  These were not Jews (though that statistic is also staggering and sickening) but rather fellow Germans who were deemed “imperfect” by Hitler’s standards.  

This definition included anyone who suffered from deafness, blindness, mental or physical disability or any other birth defect you could imagine.  Hitler had actually commissioned a large team of doctors and staff working in all the medical care fields to “dispose of” (i.e., murder) any person that had imperfections in his dream to create a “perfect race”.

Some of these commissioned medical workers went as far as to visit the homes of people with new babies, check them over for defects and take them away (under the guise of doing further test to help the child) to kill them or put them in secret facilities with other “defected” children.

What really brings this sad piece of our world history home to me is that my son, Judah, would have no doubt been taken.

He was born with a birth defect of a cleft lip (that was easily repaired with a surgery when he was three months old).  After being reminded of this dark evil that happened many miles away and many years ago, I held my baby boy a little bit tighter today.  I watched him with a greater sense of wonder and joy.  I thought to myself while he did the things that normally would drive me a little crazy, “Thank God for this kid.  Thank God for his amazing life.”

Our precious Judah on the day he was born.

And thank God that we can raise our family in a land that is truly free because of the brave that defend our country.  The brave that stand up for the rights of children, both born and unborn.  The brave that advocate for people with special needs.  The brave that live out God’s unconditional love to people of all races, religions and physical/mental abilities.

Thank God I can hold my son everyday without fear of him being taken away.  That is why my heart is thankful…and happy.

Judah at 3 months, the day of his surgery

Love this moment: Gideon (20 mo.) wanted to be just like Jude and asked to wear tape over his lip too when his brother got home from the hospital.
Reminded me of how Jesus showed us his love by becoming human and feeling our pain.

Still buddies today-brothers Gideon (4) and Judah (3).