I share my failures quite often on this blog but today I thought I would switch it up a bit and share one of my successes. The other night, as we were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, I looked over just in time to see Truett kneel on the open dishwasher door. The dishwasher lurched forward and the door bent at an odd angle. I said his name and he quickly hopped off and said, "Sorry Mom. I didn't see it there." I told him that wasn't true and he turned and walked away. I called him back and talked to him about how it wasn't okay to pretend that he hadn't tried to sit on it. He walked away again and I went back into the kitchen.
As I was finishing up some dishes, I felt a prompting to go and find him. So I walked into the family room. He was sitting in the recliner, still glowering. I got down on my knees in front of him and told him that sometimes people make bad choices. I make bad choices and he made a bad choice to sit on the dishwasher but that it was okay. He sat forward, threw his arms around my neck and said, "I'm sorry I sat on the dishwasher Mommy."
And I knew that I had made the right decision to go and find him and offer him grace. I didn't shrug it off and continue with my task. I didn't make excuses and say that I had already talked to him or that he wouldn't really understand it anyway. And his response showed me that he needed to hear those words. So my prayer for this week has been that God would continue to prompt me. That I would be able to notice the times when my children need a little extra grace and comfort and that I would step into those moments without reservation. Because that feeling of having his arms around me and knowing that I had just soothed his heart was fantastic!
photo from: thesideproject.me
There are days when the only word I can use to describe being a mom of such young children is exhaustion. Days when everyone seems to need all of me all of the time. Days when I could swear the clock is moving backwards and I'm just hanging on until bedtime.
I recently watched an episode of Dowton Abbey and there was a conversation between the Dowager Countess and Isobel. It made me feel so much better about those days.
The Dowager: One forgets about parenthood; the on and on-ness of it.
Isobel: Were you a very involved mother with Robert and Rosamund?
The Dowager: Does it surprise you?
Isobel: A bit. I'd imagined them surrounded by nannies and governesses being starched and ironed to spend an hour with you after tea.
The Dowager: Yes. But it was an hour, every day.
photo from:thekarmickitchen.blogspot.com
It is interesting to watch your kids and see little gestures or facial expressions that remind you of someone else in your family. To see traits and be able to say that "they get that from so-and-so." It makes me feel connected and I love the sense of merging my family and our history and genes with Sam's family.
Caia is currently displaying a trait that comes from my side of the family. Her new favorite pastime is to put a small, yellow bucket on her head and walk around. She must be able to see just enough of her feet to steer clear of large objects. She thinks it is hilarious. Neither of the boys ever walked around at that age with buckets on their heads. But do you know who did? My brother and one of his girls.
And when I see one of my traits come out in our kids, I hold it over Sam's head. I use my Arnold Schwarzenegger voice to tell him that my powerful genes have defeated his weak ones. It's good stuff. Now I can only hope that a few of the more useful traits start to come through as well. Not that walking around with a bucket on your head doesn't require a certain amount of skill, but it really won't take you very far in life.
One day, when I was around three years of age, I got out of the car and slammed the door. As I slammed it, I looked at my mom and said, with pride in my voice, "I shut that door damn hard." Mom thought she must have misheard me and asked me to repeat myself. I said it again with a little less confidence and quickly learned that was something we didn't say. Meanwhile, my mom went inside to call her mom and talk to her about watching her language around us kids.
Sometimes your kids say something and you're left trying to figure out where they picked it up from. Did they hear it on tv? Did someone say it at preschool? Did they hear it from a friend or another family member?
Then there are the times when the answer is obvious. My mom didn't need to think about it. She knew where I had heard that word.
The other night, Sam was putting the boys to bed and came across a large mess. Tru had dumped legos out in the upstairs hallway. Sam asked Tru to pick them up and Truett responded by yelling, "You're the worst Daddy! You're the worst!"
As you can imagine, that didn't go over well and there were some consequences. I spent some time thinking about it and wondering where Truett had heard that phrase. Then, the next morning as I was ironing a rather tricky sweater, I heard myself say, "Ugh, this sweater is the worst." As soon as it came out of my mouth I knew. I knew that I was the one who had introduced that phrase to my boy. It can be pretty wild to listen to your kids talk. They pick up on so much. And there are things that I say out of habit that aren't good things. I don't even realize it until I hear it coming out of their mouths. And then, suddenly, it isn't okay to say. I don't swear around my kids so I sort of assume that I'm doing good. But this showed me that I need to have more care with all of my words. It is so easy to call something stupid or say that it's the worst. It can be second nature to throw out a sarcastic, "really?" when something isn't going the way I want. And my kids pick up on it and echo it and use it in hurtful ways. So here's hoping that I can model some beautiful words for my kids to help replace the not so great ones I've already given them.
photo from: cutecopy.com.au
I try to say kind things to my kids. Or at least to not say anything that is unkind or hurtful. I know the power that words can have, how something negative can stick in your brain and stay with you years after the fact. So I want my words to them to be uplifting and loving and true. And I obviously have to say things to them that they don't enjoy hearing like, "Please go pick up your legos" or "I need you to stop doing that." But even those sorts of things can be said in a loving way. And that is where I fall short quite often. My words may be neutral or loving, but my tone can be judgemental and harsh.
I hear it in myself and it makes me cringe. It's this tone that conveys exasperation or impatience. A tone that says, "Really? How could you not realize that?" even while my words are encouraging them to keep trying or assuring them that it's okay.
I don't know if the boys are old enough yet to have picked up on the subtle nuances of my tone. However, they are able to pick up that I'm unhappy even if they can't interpret it. And at some point, my tone will begin to carry more weight than my words and I will hurt my children. They will sense it and feel that they can never live up to my expectations. I don't know where the cycle goes from there. I just know that I don't want it to continue.
So my goal for this month and the next is to pay attention to those moments when my tone conveys something that I don't want it to. Or those moments when I use my tone to tell them how I'm really feeling and then tell myself it is okay because I didn't use any harsh words. If I don't pay attention to those moments, then I will just continue to do it without thinking about it. I doubt it will be a fun exercise but if the end result leads to me being more gentle and loving in both my tone and my words, then it is worth a few (or a lot) of moments of feeling like I've messed up again.
photo from: www.abccopywriting.com
Sometimes, my logical normal-person brain gets overridden by my exhausted mom brain. Take today for example. We pulled into the garage after preschool and the boys asked if they could play outside. Logical brain said, "It just snowed last night and most of the snow has melted. That means a lot of mud which isn't a good idea." But exhausted mom brain just steamrolled over logical brain. There was the argument that the boys could wear their snow boots, thus keeping their shoes clean. That was followed by the idea that lunch could be made without someone asking when it would be ready every 15 seconds. Then there was the reminder that the boys have a lot of energy and it's good for them to be outside. Completing the whole argument was the plea for just five minutes alone. So exhausted mom brain won and I helped the boys put on their snow boots and went inside.
Ten minutes later, we were all in the laundry room. Tru was crying because he had to sit down to take off his mud-covered pants while Jem tried to wash his muddy hands off in the sink. I did my best to dance around both of them, reminding them from time to time to keep their hands off me. By the time we were finished, I had to run a load of laundry, both boys needed new pants, and the floor had to be scrubbed. Thanks a lot exhausted mom brain.
The other night as I was saying a goodnight prayer for Jem, I was reflecting on our day. It hadn't been a good one. He had been defiant and belligerent. I had gotten upset and used my angry voice. There had been struggles and apologies on both sides several times through the course of the day. As I thought about it and about how much I love him, I started to tear up. I said a quiet "amen" and then, as I was smoothing the hair back from his forehead I said, "You know what buddy? I love you. Even when I get angry with you, I still love you. I will always love you no matter what." And as I basked in the glow of that precious moment, my son looked at me and with a touch of exasperation said, "I know that Mommy. You've told me and told me. Like a bunch of times," and then rolled over to go to sleep. And my beautiful, touching Hallmark moment vanished.
I walked out of his room feeling embarrassed that I had actually started to tear up. Embarrassed that I had allowed my emotions to get the better of me because he obviously hadn't. Then I realized that his reaction was actually a gift of its own. It was a confirmation that he has been listening, that he has heard me tell him that I still love him even when I'm upset or when he does something wrong. Maybe it wasn't the emotional bonding moment I had built up in my head but they don't all have to be
tearjerkers.
photo from:
www.yourlogoresources.com
