Little Fingerprints

We have only one step separating my dining room from the rest of the house, yet we should have installed a railing; a cute little railing at exactly 2 feet high. Because we don't have this railing, my youngest, who is still very unsteady on stairs, uses the wall to steady herself.

Did I mention that this step separates the dining room from the rest of the house? The dining room is the space where people eat messy things like spaghetti or work on great finger-painted masterpieces.

There are sinks in several locations throughout the rest of the house, but to get to any of them you need to go up that stair.

I get to wash my wall a lot.

It reminds me of a favorite poem by Edgar Guest ~

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;

Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;

Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then

Right there you've got t' bring 'em up t' women good an' men;

And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part

With anything they ever used - they've grown into yer heart:

The old high chairs, the plaything, too, the little shoes they wore

Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

- excerpt from "Home"

I'm keeping a few thumb-marks . . . but I'd still like that railing.

Think of a solution

I'm hungry. ~ It's hot. ~ I can't find any pants. ~ This is too hard. ~ I don't want that book. ~ I'm tired.

My new response to all of these complaints is now "I can't act on a complaint. Think of a solution and ask for it."

I know it sounds mean. Really, what kind of mother won't give their child something to eat when they say that they are hungry? This mother - the worn out kind. I have no problem with feeding the child, but the entitled, negative attitude is getting on my last nerve.

When did my children loose the ability to ask for help? We haven't always been whiners, but somehow the complaint-monster slowly invaded our house and has now infected my sanity.

Think of a solution and ask for it. I'm happy to answer questions. I'm happy to reach your pants for you. I will gladly open a window or give you an apple.

Just ask.

Listening to Mom

I love that my mom is still busy parenting me.

• When my kids are sick, she calls to make sure that they are improving and to suggest ways to make them more comfortable.
• She babysits at the drop of a hat.
• She calls from the store to see if there is anything that we need or to let me know about a sale.
• She is there to listen when I need a safe place to break down - and to set me straight when I am worried about nothing.
• She is always so gently leading and teaching me when I need it.

And, best of all,

• She tells me to take care of myself. "You sound tired. Maybe you should go to bed early tonight."

Aahh... I love those words!

I hear her words, and then I hear them coming out of my own mouth, telling my kids to be careful on icy steps or to speak kindly to one another. It is funny how often I think "Mom would . . ." and it makes me smile. My 6 year old, on the other hand, doesn't always think that my mom's words are as great as I do "You sound tired. Maybe you should go to bed early tonight." Just doesn't have the same ring to little ears.

I guess that is the sign of a having really great mom - when you intentionally think though situations and wonder, "What would Mom do?"

I am so thankful for my mom and her wise yet gentle guidance!

Don't Do This

By sharing this story I am going to inevitably make myself look like an absolute moron, so in my own defense let me start with a quick disclaimer: I have been sick with the world's worst stomach flu for the past 6 days and have been functioning in a severely dehydrated and malnourished state, which is obviously affecting my decision making. At least, I hope it is, because I am fearful of our future if this is me at peak mental performance.

Tonight while getting the kids ready for bed my husband opened up the window in my daughter's room. When I walked in I could smell construction waste burning. (Remember, we have been under construction for almost 13 years, so it is a very familiar scent.) Considering that we have two new houses being built nearby, this didn't concern me too much.

I read the kids their story, tucked in the baby, snuggled with my little boy, and then walked back into my oldest daughter's room to turn off her lights and kiss her goodnight. She complained that her nightlight was too bright so I reached down to move it but had to pull my hand away.

The wall was scorching hot! Not just behind the bulb, but for a good 8 inches to either side and above it. The paint had already begun to bubble away from the sheetrock and a frightening charr-black circle told of near disaster!

Oh my! That construction waste scent - that was my daughter's bedroom slowly igniting. Thank goodness she mentioned something or we would have been frantically dealing with a house fire in the middle of the night. Not just a house fire, but one that would have started in my precious daughter's bedroom, at night, right beside her bed!

So here is the embarrassing confession that I warned you about:

Earlier this evening while the kids were brushing their teeth, my oldest asked me to replace the bulb in her nightlight. We didn't have any new nightlight bulbs, but we did have some other small base bulbs and I grabbed one without checking its wattage, popped it in, and sent her on her way.

It was a 40 watt bulb.

I am officially an idiot.

Thankfully, God's provision covers idiots.

Happy Easter!

Our family is home sick this Easter. Not exactly the way I intended to celebrate the resurrection, but obviously this is where we need to be today. Resting, relaxing and healing.

Hmm... didn't we do this "sick during the holidays" thing recently? Oh yeah, it was this past Christmas, and the Christmas before too. Blah!
Regardless of our circumstances, the Lord is Risen and we are celebrating today - just a bit more quietly than usual.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope

through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead...

1 Peter 1:3

Art is Messy

It is. In fact, sometimes it is very messy, and it is easy to use that messy-ness as an excuse to avoid playing with art supplies.

First you have to drag out all the supplies, then you spend time doing the project, and then, just when you think you are done, the adorable little artists lift their finished masterpiece off of the table and reveal this:

"Gah!!!" Oops, I mean, "Nice work honey. Now would you please hang up your project and then bring me the box for the pastels, and the broom, and a hot soapy rag, and ... oh, no, your shirt is a mess, could you get a new one ... no, wait, please don't touch the walls, quick run to the bathroom and wash up and then and then help your sister ... then come back here and hopefully we can get all of this cleaned up before Daddy gets home from work."

When my kids were tiny I used to tape their art paper directly to the wall of our shower, strip them down and let them make all of their messes right there. Then I could wash them and the tub all at the same time. Unfortunately, they have grown out of that stage, but I still want them to have the freedom to create messes, despite my general loathing of the clean-up process.

So I created a group. This is my new solution to everything. If I can't be accountable to do it alone, I drag other unsuspecting parents into my plight with me. We meet every month, study an artist, create a mess (that isn't in my house) and they all stay to help me clean it up before we leave. Sketch has been a God-send this year.

Ha, take that messy art projects!

Learning to see

Vision is something I take for granted. I can see. I don't think about it, I just do it.

Things aren't quite as easy for my daughter. We found out a few months ago that she has several vision problems, none of which involve poor eyesight. Her eyesight itself is actually rather good, as is her comprehension of what she reads, but the process of making her eyes work together is what she struggles with. She crosses her eyes a tiny bit (just like her Grandpa), has trouble tracking (following from one letter to the next), struggles with quickly discerning one shape from another, and a bunch of other issues to a lesser degree. The good news is that she is getting better, much better.

When we started vision therapy I didn't expect much, but I was desperate to find a way to make reading easier for her. Her frustration at "simple" tasks was obvious, and painful to watch.
But now look at this little lady! She is voluntarily picking up tasks that require those vision skills we have been working so hard to help her develop.

I'm a proud momma!