Lay Down the Guilt, Mamas.

It was one of those days. You know the type. The days where you wake up ready for bedtime, the full moon is wearing on the senses of certain kiddos, you've snapped before pouring a single crackle or pop into a bowl for those cherubs faces. I call those "coffee-to-wine" days. Or maybe you've been too forceful in tone or heavy-handed in a swat on the tail. Maybe you reacted out of anger, and your apology hung in the air. When that long-awaited sandman arrives, it is a blessed thing. You love those small people dearly, but...seriously. 

For. The. Love.

They will find you.

When you fall into bed exhausted from a day filled with refereeing and tongue-biting, you thank Jesus for each one of those precious snowflakes asleep in their bunk beds. They drove you batty all the livelong day, but you could still be moved to tears just thinking about how fast they're growing up. You slap your hand across the light switch to turn it off and then roll over to pray with the hubs. Approximately two seconds after the “Amen” he's asleep (Don't ask me why God gave men this instantaneous shut-off valve. I am seven shades of green with envy over this talent.).

And then the mommy guilt hits.

It's not like a tsunami that engulfs us. It's usually more like a gentle shower of paver bricks. And not like the spray-painted foam kind in the original Star Trek episodes. Ladies, I posit that there is just about no worse feeling than middle-of-the-night mommy guilt. You know what I'm talking about. Our head hits the pillow, and doubts slam our soul. The space between our ears becomes the Devil's own playground.

Sooo...you've got some grandiose plans...for someone who loses their cool, wastes time, throws down judgment and attitude. World changer, huh? You'll be lucky to make a dent within your own family, let alone the world. But, no. You go ahead. I'm sure tomorrow will be peachy keen. World changer.

Thanks, Satan. Sleep can wait.

May I suggest something? May I suggest that we are heaping on a whole mess of stuff that Jesus already knows about? He chooses to love us through and despite our shortcomings. May I suggest that we think too highly of ourselves if we truly believe that our every action will be either our child's doing or undoing? How 'bout we just unclench a teensy bit?

Is parenting important? Um, yeah. Should I be on my knees, in the audience, on the sidelines, shivering under an umbrella supporting my kids? Of course. Is the whole world going to stop on its axis if I miss a game (or even *gasp* a season)? Actually, no. Will salvation expire for my daughter if there's a day that my prayers for her consist of pursed-lip* sputters like, “Jesus, feel free to come back today.” or “Thank you, God, for the poetic justice when she ran into the doorjamb while stomping away with her saucy self. I needed a boost today. And now please also send me the bladder of a twenty-two year old.”? Not likely. Of course, if all of humanity hung on our flimsiest moments and weakest instances of faith, the lot of us would be doomed. The book of Acts would have been over in a hot second, because none of us would have been able to launch something as big as Church Beginnings.

So, here's the deal: You are exactly the gem you are supposed to be, flaws and imperfections included. God's going to keep refining and polishing until you gleam in His presence, but that doesn't mean you're worthless and useless in the meantime. It doesn't mean you fail as a mother. The actual refinement process is exactly what produces such incredible final workmanship. Every single hard moment of mothering is just more of that polishing.

There's this beautiful treasure tucked in 1 John 4. John is reminding his readers not to fall prey to lies and deception, and then in verse 4, he lays down this stunning reminder: "You are from God, little children, and you have conquered them (the lies), because the One who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world."

Bam. Drop mic.

God is SO FOR YOU. He is for your parenting, and for your marriage, and for your New Year's resolution to read the bible with your kids every day. He is in your corner, because He is actually IN YOU.

Even when you fail.

Get Some Sleep,

Cynthia

*This is fondly referred to as “The Grandma Face” in our house. She had a way with The Look that could pucker your butt cheeks, bless her.

Did That Really Just Happen? (Home Edition)

Because I believe in transparency...

Because truth edifies...

Because there is power in stories...

But mostly because you'll feel better about yourself...

Did That Really Just Happen? (Home Edition)*

For my domestically-minded readers, may I suggest you take this post with a stiff drink, because you're about to lose all faith in my housery abilities.

1. When the Holy Spirit suggests you invite dear friends over, may I suggest you ask Him to remind you that your friend is a vegetarian, and also that chicken enchiladas are not a vegetarian meal? This close to having to serve up PB&J.

2. If you find yourself in a position where you will be instructing 20 girls in the mysterious ways of Origami cups, practice much. Measure twice, fold once. Unless you enjoy having 40 eyeballs glued to you while you attempt to decipher 6-step instructions that are clearly meant for people who have a working knowledge of pictures and folding things. BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO FOLD PAPER. This is not rocket science, I assure you. Just. Cups.

3. If you are dressing for a casual family event where a certain one year old is going to be climbing all over you for 5 hours, wear a turtleneck. This will eliminate any concerns you may have that your adorable baby will pull your stretchy top until the neckline meets your waistline. It only takes a second, precious readers, to scar your father-in-law.**

4. During remodeling and moving, if you happen to have a screwdriver handy, it will make a poor excuse for a pintail comb. You will use it anyway, because SMOOTH PARTS BE HANGED.

Looking for more blunders? Remodeling has afforded us many a ridiculous moment, which will henceforth be referred to as "blogging fodder". Additional (ahem) transparency is forthcoming. You're welcome. 

Smile,
Cynthia


*If you're looking for the Original and Parenting Edition, look no further.
**Who may (or may not) avoid sitting facing you for the remainder of the day. It could be coincidence. Yeah, it's probably just coincidence.

Mommy (rose-tinted) Goggles

If you've been anywhere online this past week, you've probably seen the link for a video by The Skit Guys. Mom Goggles has gone viral on social media, as do most videos extolling the virtues of mothers everywhere. If you haven't seen the video clip (SPOILER ALERT), the helpless dads rush order Mom Goggles so as to survive a weekend with the kids while the moms take a much needed weekend getaway. These Mom Goggles supposedly reveal the secrets of motherhood, which include cheering on mediocre art projects, being overprotective, fearlessly changing the most putrid of diapers and expertly folding fitted sheets.

I score one out of four.

I don't pour on the compliments for scribbly drawings, I gag when I change especially pungent diapers, and linens go directly back on the beds after laundry day week specifically so that I don't have to fold those possessed fitted sheets.* So basically, I'm guilty of being a tad overprotective. Yay me!

This is where, just like Grandma's giblet gravy, the plot thickens. A lump-in-your-throat phone conversation brings it all the surface. It goes something like this "Thank you, thank you, thank you. How would we ever survive without you? We're all so undeserving of you. Crap the kids are destroying things again."

Well, you get the gist of it.

To their credit, The Skit Guys have produced some top-notch videos for fathers too. They have directly addressed the importance of a dad's role in family life, and even touched on sentimental and emotional moments for fathers (not exactly the social norm). And yet, in my admittedly limited perusal of their father videos, I didn't find a single instance where the woman expressed true dependence upon her husband, and apologized for not telling him enough how much she respects him and appreciates all that he does. I'd love to be proved wrong on this one, because The Skit Guys are doing important work and casting a broad net within mainstream evangelical churches. I'm just not sure that men need more reminders to lead their families, work hard, pray more, take the lead, sacrifice, oh and be a leader!

To summarize, inspirational videos to dads issue a call to rise to a new standard, whereas inspirational videos to moms issue a call to dads to rise to a new standard. I've already hashed out my feelings on The Battle of the Sexes (part one and part two), so I won't bore you with a rehashing. Suffice to say that with an over-inflated view of my role, I would do well to see a few videos reminding me that I'm not "all that" in the home. That I am fortunate to stay at home and should be thankful for a hard-working husband who makes that possible. That I need to be vocalizing my respect and appreciation. It's not wrong to call women out on our uppity attitudes; It's wrong not to.

For several years, the Social Opinion of Stay-At-Home Mothers pendulum swung toward belittlement and disregard (I've whined about my own experience with this). We've sailed right past the place of balance, and are camped out at the other extreme. Now motherhood is being heralded as the World's Toughest Job, complete with no breaks, no life, no food...basically prison life in Sing Sing in the 1800's would be preferable to the back-breaking work of staying at home with children.

In reality, there are hundreds of jobs that would be tougher for me to manage. Aside from occupations which are outside the realm of my physical capabilities, there are scores of jobs that I wouldn't last one day on the payroll.

Nevertheless...

Lest you think I take my parental role lightly...There is absolutely no other job that can slice me to my very soul. There is no other job where I feel my failure as acutely. There is no other job where the stakes are so high it leaves me on my knees, in His word, seeking counsel, and scouring resources. In that sense, yes, my job is incredibly challenging. However, this burden weighs just as heavily on working moms, and (GASP) dads too. True, dads may not ugly cry over daddy guilt or scroll through parenting blogs for creative discipline methods, but their burden is just as real, just as fierce, and just as deep.

So why, oh why, do we continue to tell mothers, "You are the pinnacle of all society. We salute you." and we tell dads, "Stop sucking. Oh, and lead your families, because it’s biblical." Perhaps it's time to stop swinging wildly from the motherhood pendulums and shift some of our focus onto the Social Opinion of Fathers pendulum.

Can we band together to begin the momentum?

Ordering Daddy Goggles,

Cynthia

*...which DO NOT fold flat "like a charm" so just WHATEVER Pinterest.

Write Over The Wrong

I may or may not have just hugged my oldest a smidge too tightly and a moment longer than usual as I fought back tears. What the heck?!?

It's November.

And I'm a wee bit wrecked.

I can see you're a teensy bit lost.

Last November, I chalked it up to her and my Adoption Awareness Month blogging series. I'm nothing if not consistent. Apparently. November, 2013 rolled around and I am, yet again, blindsided by nostalgia. I've not written in a while and my brain is bursting at the seams with words needing a place to call "home". I'm at risk of emotionally vomiting all over you. I'll choke it down, but you might want to grab a bucket, just in case.

A year has flown by. An. Entire. Year.

Our oldest is a determined soul. This month the CEO set her sights upon turning ten. And she did it. The nerve. To the mother of a 20-something, 40, 50, 70-something, "ten" is merely a cute lil' drop in the bucket. But to this mama...oh for the love. Must she? We celebrated her entry into double digits by giving her a weapon. Aren't we such saps? 

Our youngest is much like the CEO. Eerily similar. As in, a thick slab of déjà vu wrapped in "been there, done that" paper. Ergo, it stands to reason that she would also possess a lot of nerve. Enough nerve to turn one year old in another week. Goodbye baby, hello toddler! Allow me a tiny pity party, m'kay? Could you please pass the cheese to go with my whine.*

The other night all of this collided in my tired brain (Stick with me. I promise this is going somewhere). Jubilee was a basket-case, and couldn't fall asleep (hello shades of Mikayla). As I sat there rocking her, I watched her cycle through the I-want-to-sleep, relax, no-I-don't, stiffen, sit-up-and-scream routine. Charming. However, every time she relaxed, she melted into my arms and we connected. Because she's mine. I considered each of my children, and despite the one in my lap screaming (and the memories of a certain sister doing the same), my heart was held fast by a different daughter; One whose story is the broken story of millions of others. 

Months old, and unable to fall asleep. There are no mother's arms; Just the chilled bars of a crib. Cries may eventually be met with arms, but they are all wrong. Overnight, so much became wrong, and it only got more wrong from there. Wrong arms, wrong sounds, wrong words, wrong faces. Then, more wrongs until nothing was right anymore. Wrong scents, wrong tastes, more wrong faces, wrong world. And even though these faces smile with tears coursing down pale cheeks, and hug me tenderly, they're...wrong. 

Turning ten, turning one. Both of those daughters have never known the wrong arms.** Some days they resist them, but they have always been right. For Sophia, my arms are good. They are reliable, trustworthy, safe, satisfactory. But they may never be right. Much like the scream-relax-scream-relax bedtime routine, there are stretches of time where stiffening the heart feels so much safer. And then there are the precious moments of connectedness, where a little chocolate girl rests in my arms. Trusting me with her heart, secure in the knowledge that she is, indeed, mine. I will store up those moments to replay on the days of depletion, where wrongness fights for center stage. 

Dear friends, I love my family. I love how adoption is woven in the tapestry of our lives. However, it is crucial that we acknowledge a very real part of adoption; That every, every, every adoption story is wrought with sorrow and wrongness. The prologue is often painful and fearful. Chapter One begins with grief and deep wounds. For many families, the chapters of mourning drag on and the plot weighs heavily on their shoulders. For others, sunny prose is just around the corner. 

For 147 million children, the story has yet to be written; There is only a dreadful prologue, and no one pressing pen to paper. No one embracing them to witness a mighty story unfurl. Don't skip to the ending of someone else's book. Pick up a blank volume and write over the wrong. 

What will your story be?

Cynthia



*Did somebody mention wine? I'll take a glass of Riesling, thanks.
**Just for the record, neither has the seven year old.

Dear Homeschooling Dropout

There are homeschoolers and then there are homeshoolers. 

Homeschoolers may only do this gig for a season. They dive into this adventure knowing there are scenarios in which their children may, at some point, resurface and tread the halls of public schools. They are cut from the same cloth as the Virtual Academy type, who, for one reason or another, access public school from their living room computer. 
They keep a loose grip on homeschooling.

Homeschoolers are in this for the long haul and would never, I repeat NEVER, place their children in public school. Private or charter schools, maybe. If it became absolutely necessary. 
They are the die-hards.

I'm here to condemn neither one. 

In recent history I've known several homeschooling families who have made the decision to place one or more of their children in public school. The conversations I've had with these friends have been guarded. Cautious. As though they are accustomed to donning a veil of defensiveness. There is weariness in their voice and wariness in their eyes as they explain themselves to yet another well-meaning (albeit nosy) friend. 


Dear Homeschooling Drop-Out,

There is no condemnation here. This is a safe harbor in which to drop anchor. It’s not the first difficult decision you've made for those munchkins, and it is most assuredly not the last. Perhaps you feel the palpable weight of guilt. Perhaps you were blindsided with the newsflash that you were homeschoolers when all along you've considered yourselves homeschoolers. It stinks to eat crow, but we all find ourselves in front of that dinner plate from time to time.* Hear me, you have not failed. You've wisely dropped out somewhere in order to drop in some place better.** The decision to cease homeschooling is of no less importance than the decision to begin thus in the first place. You've arrived at this conclusion after much deliberation. So, release the “I told you so.” and the “What a shame.” crowds and embrace the “Come to the PTA meeting. We have cookies.” crowd. 



Dear Homeschoolers and Homeschoolers,

Let us deal graciously with one another as well as our friends who have chosen for their families, a different educational path than we have. We are not superior. Although we have a strong tendency to appear as such in the presence of dear friends who (coincidentally) love their children no less than we do ours.*** When a friend makes The Announcement we needn't dig out the sackcloth and ashes. No weeping and wailing necessary. Really. In lieu of facing off with our local Public School Convert (or worse yet, shaming them), may we be known to infuse grace into every syllable we utter. For, are we not all in this together?



Sincerely,
This Homeschooling Mom (who needs to practice what she preaches...)



*I have found the best method is to just start chewing and then wash it all down with wine mercy.
**Better for your student. Better for your family. Better for your sanity...
***What a concept.

Whorrific

There is a reason I don't watch much t.v. If I were to stumble across a show like "Toddlers and Tiaras" I would then have to explain to the Professor how exactly the remote "just happened" to slip out of my hand and crack the t.v. screen. Accidentally.


I consider myself a fairly reasonable person. My girls experiment with nail polish and on rare occasions are allowed minimal make-up in public.* When I read this girl's interview, I was equal parts horrified, grieved, and self-righteous; Horrified at who/what this little girl (and her pageant comrades) are and will yet become, grieved for all they can never be and self-righteous that I would never do this to my girls.

Everything in me screams, "In what alternate universe is this acceptable?!?" This girl is growing up in a world where her best is not nearly good enough. Hence the spray tans, hair extensions and fake teeth. Oh have mercy. Did I just write that? Sweetie, your skin isn't porcelain-perfect, let's fix it. Your hair is not thick, shiny, long enough. But that's OK, because we have something superior to add to your noggin. Your precious little baby teeth aren't cuttin' it. Here's some kid-friendly, bubble gum flavored Polident and your brand new chompers. Muuuuuch better. Now eat a carrot and hit the stage in this pint-sized Madonna cone costume.** The ultra-crazies aside, I truly believe these parents just want what's best for their daughters. But this runway could take them from "Toddlers and Tiaras" to "16 and Pregnant".

Innocence is not like a wart; It does not grow back.*** So much has already been lost and these little munchkins haven't even hit the kindergarten playground yet. I want so badly to grip their mothers' hands and tell them how fleeting these years are. Childhood is gone all too soon on it's natural timetable; Let alone when thrust upon a fast track. I grieve for their discarded innocence, so harshly replaced by too few sequins and too many spotlights. They can never be truly carefree. What with the corsets and all. I know some of these moms would argue that my girls are the ones not experiencing a full life. My daughters will most likely never be famous, never have their own perfume line and never have a room full of trophies.**** However, my daughters will also never be itty-bitty sex symbols.

I confess to openly judging these parents. Thus far, I haven't been able not to (another great reason not to watch the boob tube*****). I really would like to understand their rationale. The closest I've come is from the aforementioned interview. Mrs. Barrett said what she wants for her daughter is for her to be a "well-rounded individual". While I'm fairly certain that dropping fifty Gs on pageants isn't conducive to this goal, I also realize how ridiculously short I often fall in reaching my parenting goals. If I were to list my goals on a reality t.v. show, the world over would be certain to find every inconsistency, every flaw. And they are many. While I will never understand the world of pageants, I refuse to be sucked into the parenting wars. It's easy to judge these parents from my couch, when what they really need is love...and perhaps a little balance. The truth is every single parent will scan the horizon of innocence, only to realize that what they see is a mirage of their children; Some sooner than others. Children grow, goals go unmet, and every trophy, badge and reality show will gather dust.


Trying To Humbly Drop My Stones,
Cynthia





*They also have their own make-up and have a hayday painting their faces to look like circus clowns. "Mermaid Shimmer" has a stunning effect when swept across the bridge of the nose. I highly recommend it for your next gala.
**Oh how I wish I were exaggerating.
***Catchy, right? Feel free to quote me.
****If they do, you'll find me writing from the Bahamas.
*****Calling it that just dated me in a major way. *sigh* Might make for some interesting blog search results...

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Savor Nature

Caveat: if you live in the country, this will not apply to you, so just skip it or read it and pity us city folks who have to try so hard to find some dirt in which to play.

Discovering top-secret pine tree hideouts, laying down in knee-high field grass, clambering up rocky river banks, picking flowers under a brilliantly azure sky, skipping smooth stones on a placid lake or letting the pounding waves of the ocean mesmerize your senses.

It sounds so idyllic, doesn't it?

This is more what it looks like with our houseful of girls:
"Aaaahhhhhhhh! A bug!"
(eying crude toilet) "I'll hold it until Tuesday."
"When are we going home?"
(silent screams accompanied by impressively spastic footwork and followed by trying to play it cool) "Uh...Bug...?"

Not to mention all the pre-trip work that goes into an excursion: It takes several hours for us to prepare everything-meals made, baby gear checked, last minute bathroom treks, and the van loaded to capacity.

My blood pressure is rising just thinking about it. A trip through the Lowe's garden center starts looking more appealing.*

Our nature trips always seem to get off to a rocky start. The girls are uptight about bugs, one of them can't stand the feel of having dirty hands, the youngest will choose those moments to cry for no reason. However, the uneasiness fades and before long we spy our girls digging canals, casting their fishing rods like pros, and splashing in dirty river water without a second thought to what is lurking in the shallow waters.

Time spent in nature will always remain unmatched. There is no substitute and no close second. We're not talking about stepping out your front door to catch a breath of fresh air before tackling your bank statement. We're talking about getting away for a length of time (days, hours...doesn't matter) to experience God's canvas. Your modus operandi is of little consequence. Go camping in an RV, backpacking through a national forest, chasing lizards through the desert, or drifting in a canoe. Nature is nature and the benefits remain unchanged.

Our souls were never meant to connect with concrete and fluorescent lighting. Nature unfetters the soul; It breathes renewed vigor into the crevices and corners of the body and mind. Indulging a nature habit is indeed worth the hassle and can foster a lifelong conduit between our children and their Almighty Creator.

Country folks, breathe deeply and take not your surroundings for granted. Fellow city folks, don't breathe too deeply.** Instead, let's be willing to make the effort. Research nearby state parks, hiking/biking trails, farms, lakes, caves, whatever! In most cases we are not that far from natural beauty.

As Spring unfurls her wings in the Northern Hemisphere, now is the perfect time to soak in some nature. Just don't forget the moist towelettes and sunscreen.


Get Out And Get Dirty,
Cynthia



*Six packs of perennials and 50 lb. bags of mulch are nature-ish, right?
**Lest the pollution cause an asthma flare-up.

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Run With You

Can I tell you how much I have been dreading this blog post? A lot. I've been dreading it a lot. Let me confess this: I don't exercise. I consider chasing after kids exercise enough. Horrible, I know. My husband is one of those people. You know. The ones who exercise. He runs. What is that all about? What's worse, he does this running thing in the early morning. What a dreadful way to start the day! I am not, have not, and never will be a morning runner. Mornings were designed for steaming mugs of coffee. And doughnuts. 

And now he's roped the children into this.

The olders go running with him. It's sickening and adorable all at the same time. Sickening because now I have to eat my doughnuts by myself. Adorable because he's spending beautiful time with them and I can envision them doing something fun like the Color Run.*

Aaaaaaand that's when God smacked me upside the head. I tried reminding God that we're "one flesh" (His words, not mine), so technically, technically I'm exercising too. He didn't buy it. So, with great trepidation, I recently broached the subject with my husband. I've been eyeing bicycles lately and trying to "pep talk" myself into riding again. As good husbands go, he assured me that I'm probably not as horrible of a rider as I think I am. We'll see about that.** 

Our kids need the example from both of us. I don't want my girls to feel like exercising is for men and baking is for women. They need to see their mama taking care of her body. Scratch that; I need it. It's not quite as simple to exercise with children, but it's doable (as my husband has proved). So here we go! 

Any mamas identify? Exercising mamas, how do you involve the kiddos? 

Stretching Out,
Cynthia

P.S. There are no accompanying photos for this post because that would require me getting up and taking pictures of my little runners. All before coffee. 



* I considered participating, but I got over it. 
**My shoelaces are always in cahoots with the pedals and I tend to use fences as brakes. 

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Fight

Have you ever witnessed a mama intervene in an argument between her children? Most likely we all have seen it, been there and done that. Have you ever seen a mama intervene in an argument between her grown son and daughter-in-law. Awkward, to say the least. 

We're a fighting family, but not a yelling family. Some people feel that "fighting" is too harsh of a word, so we cloak it in more agreeable terms such as "having a discussion" or "a disagreement". It's all fighting, and that's OK. You use whatever word you want, m'kay?

To instruct children not to fight is to teach rules over relationships. All we're accomplishing is controlled behavior in a controlled environment. Eventually our children will fight, despite our best efforts to the contrary. Let's provide a safe place for our children to learn how to lovingly duke it out, shall we? After all, we don't want to be the referee in their adult "discussions". 

Rules to Fighting:

1. Same with getting angry, you do not need an audience. Take it outside, in the garage or in your room.
2. Kind words, kind voice. This means you cannot smile sweetly to the other party and say, "I hate your face." nor can you holler at the back of their head, "I'M SORRY!!*"
3. Avoid always/never statements. They're lame and untrue. Always.
4. End with prayer. We confess and seek forgiveness from the offended party and from God and ask for His help to love one another.**

Optional Conclusion: Have them sit with their noses touching until they can't help but crack up. ***

Note: If they're going to come to blows, it might be a good idea to step in. Blood is so tricky to clean out of carpet.

On That Note,
Cynthia

P.S. Here are a couple of photo outtakes for your enjoyment:

*Each syllable should be punctuated by angry jabs into the air. Extra points for actual steam coming out of ears.
**Eavesdroppers are encouraged to pray for their siblings in another room. We don't need any more rings in the circus.
***This is not advised during cold season...or if you have a headbutter. 

Parents vs. Parents

Homeschooling is the responsible Christian choice.

Formula is poison and you don't love your baby if you feed them that garbage.

Baby Wise is evil.

If you let your twelve year-old daughter wear lip gloss and mascara, she'll be sneaking out for clandestine meetings by the time she's thirteen.

Co-sleeping with baby is reserved for hippies and couples with intimacy issues.

Letting your high schooler date will lead directly to the condom aisle in the store.

If you value your child's soul, you won't let them watch t.v.

Sixteen year-olds aren't mature enough to drive.

Don't ever let grown kids move back home.

Working outside the home will destroy your kid's childhood, so set aside a therapy piggy bank now.

Too many of us are either condescendingly nodding our heads in agreement or donning boxing gloves (or wondering where the heck I'm running with this). Of course, it's fine to have opinions on parenting methods and beliefs. But it sure seems to me we have forgotten that we're all in the same boat here. We're trying to do right by our kids and we only get one shot at it. Instead of rowing in unison, we're slashing lifeboats and tossing empty life vests overboard willy-nilly. It's ridiculously easy to get caught up in how So-and-So parents, or what that mom did in the grocery store. For every moment I spend criticizing another's parenting, I'm missing out on my own parenting. I've written a blank check to Time, and she is unrelentingly cashing in on every single second I have with my children.

I've had it up to here with the parenting wars.* Parenting should not be a cutthroat business. We need each other. It's not necessary to see eye to eye, nor give each other the stink eye. Instead of silently (or not so silently) judging the frazzled mama in the frozen food aisle, we need to give her the mama nod. I've got your back, dear mom. I'm linking arms with you and we're going to love these rascals if it's the last thing we do. We're in this parenting thing together. I refuse to condemn you over the snippet I've seen. I refuse to let my pride overshadow love. Now. Let's do this! 

Instead of spending my limited time assessing someone else's parenting, I'm going to parent like there's no tomorrow; For it is surely not guaranteed.


Stumbling Through Grace,
Cynthia



*This cliché doesn't translate well over the internet...You'll just have to envision my hand raised above my noggin.

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Blow Bubbles In Their Milk

Through a child's eyes, one of the best uses for a straw is reversing the airflow. For some reason, there is nothing quite as satisfying as the gurgle of milk bubbles, watching the mountain of bubbles grow to overflowing. The goal is pushing the limit. How high can you get the bubble tower without it actually overflowing or beginning to pop?

Through a parent's eyes, one of the best uses for a straw is to use them to draw straws for who cleans up the dog barf. 

In this day and age, parents are overly concerned with efficiency to the detriment of simple childhood pleasures. We wince when we see the puddle of glue growing. We inwardly groan at the thought of a fort, because it means extra sheets to wash and living space commandeered by a maze of blankets and chairs.* The most refreshing drink during the hot summers can be found at the end of a garden hose. Sure, they end up with wet shoes (or more) and could have filled nine glasses in the time they took to manage three slurps. 

So what?

I'm not suggesting we go all "Peter Pan" on life, but refusing (for selfish reasons) the carefree joys of childhood does little more than make for disappointing memories. So, mamas, go buy a pack of straws, enjoy sticky popsicles, make forts, drink deeply, not only from the hose, but of these days. These glorious, fleeting days.

Drinking Deeply,
Cynthia



*Not to mention the excruciating, cuss-worthy pain of stepping on a pocket flashlight.

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Contribute To The Family

Last Saturday we chatted about kids and money. Chores were part of that conversation, so I figured I'd wrap this up into a neat little package for you by attacking those dreaded chores. 

Lie #1: The right system will make chores flow seamlessly in our day.
Lie #2: You can make any chore fun.*
Lie #3: Kids will grumble through chores and it's not worth the fight.
Lie #4: It's easier for me to do it myself.
Lie #5: They're too young/They'll mess up.


OK, so there's a nugget of truth to some of these, but here's the deal: You aren't running a Bed & Breakfast. These are human beings, and they aren't the Queen of England, so they can darn well help with the laundry. I won't bore you with the details of our children's chores. Suffice to say we have printed workable chore charts for the three olders, shoved the chart in a page protector sleeve, stuck it to the fridge and we cross stuff off with a dry erase marker as it is accomplished. We (the parents) are the ones preoccupied with the structure of chores. You'll notice no kids are scouring Pinterest looking for the ideal chore system. That's why I'm not sharing the specifics of our system. You don't need any more ideas; Just give something a whirl and tweak it as needed to fit your family. 

More than cleaning games and children's annoyingly peppy cleaning songs, your attitude will make or break the deal. If we approach cleaning as just another part of life, eventually you'll meet with less resistance. Eventually. I was struck with the truth of this last night as I asked my oldest to unload the dishwasher. She was in the middle of playing...with a friend...who was spending the night. She didn't bat an eye (or roll them either). She just did it, because it's one of her chores this week. Our kids clue in to our attitudes. If I grumble my way through cleaning and gnash my teeth over messes, why would I expect my kids to do otherwise?

It's NOT easier for me to do it myself, and it IS worth the fight. We've heard it before. We've read it in books and other blogs. We all know that it's trying at first, and we just need to persevere, because it's worth it in the end. Right? Right. Here's what I have to add to that: Their future room mates, spouses, children and house guests will benefit. Your family will benefit. One reason gangs are so tight is because each member contributes, is held to a standard and has responsibilities. We could learn a thing or two. If we want our children to have strong bonds within the family, they need to make real contributions (not just letting the dog out or fluffing pillows). They need to be held to a standard.** Real responsibilities leave a person knowing that others depend on them to complete a task. If my kids can say, "Oh well. Mom will do it." Nu-uh. No dice Kemo Sabe. They need to know that everyone in the family is depending on their contribution or else there will be something undone, something lacking in the home. Now I'm not claiming that slapping a broom in your kid's hands will keep them off drugs, but just like the family dinner, it's bound to have a positive effect. And that is easier for me and is worth the fight. 

Some kids truly are too young. Our youngest can barely hold her head upright, let alone a dish (Psh. Slacker). I refuse to give you a system, but I will say this: If they can reach it, they can help with it.*** A toddler can reach the laundry basket. A grade-schooler can reach the stove top.

We all know they will mess it up. There's grace. 
We all know it's hard work. Training our children is worth it. 

And sometimes you will need to secretly go back over a chore. But if you get caught, you'll have a heck of a time explaining yourself. 

Grab A Duster,
Cynthia



*I'm sorry, but cleaning behind the toilet is not fun no matter what song and dance accompanies it. 
**The room shouldn't look like an F3 tornado just leveled it.
***For the vertically challenged I present The Footstool. Use it. Learn to love it.

Top Ten Homeschooling Tips From Yours Truly

In recent weeks, several people have sought my advice on homeschooling. Apparently slogging my way through a few years makes me genius material. Snort. I'm always willing to help, so without further ado...

How Not To Homeschool 101*

1. Read thousands of curriculum reviews until your head spins.**

2. Keep searching for the perfect curriculum.

3. Be a slave to the day planner.

4. Ignore the day planner.

5. Forget that you are still a wife.***

6. Judge other parents for making different schooling decisions than you.

7. Over commit to activities.

8. Fret about whether they're "getting enough".

9. Get lazy.

and

10. Lose sight of why you began this crazy homeschooling journey in the first place: Love.****

I could easily quadruple this list, but I've got to save something for another post, right? Besides it's time for this family to rock the school books. 

Homeschooling Guru Extraordinaire,

Learning Alongside My Kids,

Cynthia

*Don't ask me how I know.

**Head spinning tends to freak out the kids.

***Apparently it's not enough to own a "Sexy Homeschooling Mom" t-shirt. Just whatever.

****It's the same motivator for parents who choose public, private, charter, whathaveyou; We love those rascals around the dinner table.

Five Steps To Bullying A Kid

Every few years a new buzzword appears in the world of parenting. Like when everyone had Autism. Autism was the trend. Well, the new buzzword is Bullying and bully-proofing your child is trendy. Apparently there has been a significant rise in reported bullying (either on the playground or in the cyber world). Parents, teachers, curriculum designers, and senators are all crying "foul" and forming plans to assist kids in handling bullies.

Here's the deal: Bullying (in any form) is just a symptom. All of these anti-bullying campaigns and government programs are falling ridiculously short of the real issue. The real issue is the degeneration of the godly family. Families aren't fearing God. Where there is no fear of God, there is little reason to respect others. When we don't value and respect others, we don't care how our actions affect them. We see it all around us. Drivers trying to edge out other drivers for a prime parking spot, people not holding doors for the person behind them, kids in the cafeteria mocking the effeminate boy, and so on and so forth. Bullying is just one problem stemming from the degeneration of the family. All of society seems hellbent on shredding the family. With social media and texting at the fingertips of everyone in the home, there is no need to attempt to connect with our own family. We can build our own family via friends online. School sports oftentimes require practices and games during the dinner hours. Even churches divide everyone up according to age. We disembark the minivan and go our separate ways. Apart from going all Amish on the problem, how is the modern family supposed to stay tight-knit and how does this make a dent in the bullying problem?*

Be present
Unplug
Love
Listen
YAHWEH

Catchy, right? 

Time to BULLY.

Be Present. Oftentimes we are rushing from one event to another, catching food on the go, telling our kids to hurry it up. This is no way to connect to our child's heart. They need us to slow down and just be with them. Stop worrying about the next thing on the day planner and just embrace them right here and now.

Unplug From Distractions. Technology is great. It really is. But it comes with a very real risk. We are reprogramming our minds to think we need to check in on Facebook, or we have to Tweet about such-and-such. When our family is with us, we need to set down the phone, close the laptop and look our kids and spouse in the eyes.

Learn the Love Languages of Your Family Members. It's kind of fun and will give you a springboard for proclaiming love over your kids in a way that speaks volumes to their tender little hearts.

Listen to the Heart Issues. The spoken word and the underlying truth are not always in agreement. We need to be proficient in looking past the surface and truly listening to our children.

Press Into YAHWEH. It's all for naught if this foundation is not being laid constantly and consistently.

How does this help the bullying problem? Wellllll more kids being embraced means less kids falling through the cracks. Less kids falling through the cracks means more kids being called to task. That's all well and good, Cynthia, except my kids aren't the problem. Here's the rub: Once we're doing this with our own kids, we can begin to tackle the problem outside our front door. So, you suspect (or know for a fact) that there's a kid in the neighborhood whose parents are divorced and he's a latch key kid. You also just happen to know he's a bit rough around the edges. BULLY him. There's a girl in your daughter's class who is snarky and disrespectful. Invite her family over for a cookout. Include their daughter in a round of goofy golf with your family. BULLY her.

It won't solve the world's problems, but you'll make a difference right where you are.


Scouting Out A Kid To BULLY,
Cynthia



*I was going to apologize to any Amish reading this and then I realized...oh right...

Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Mismanage Their Money

You heard me. Let 'em blow it all on dumb stuff. If they want to buy trinkety, break-in-a-week, gimmicky toys, so be it. It doesn't take long for children to begin to appreciate the value of money and the benefits of saving it up for something better than plastic heart-shaped Slinkies. 

Well, that makes for a short blog post. 

I guess I'll let you in on how we train our children in the ways of finances. 

We provide each of our children with an allowance. Allowances begin at age two, because anyone younger just eats the money. Literally. For every year of age, we provide 50 cents. Therefore, our nine year-old receives $4.50/week, our six year-old receives $3.00/week and our three year-old receives $1.50/week. Once we hit the teen years, I have a feeling we'll be adjusting this rubric.*

Okey dokey. This is the tricky part. Our kids do not receive an allowance based on completed chores. However, their allowance is connected to their chores. It looks something like this: Part of being a family means contributing to the running of the household. Part of being your parents means contributing to your savings. You will not get paid to do chores, but if you choose to not contribute to the care of our home, Mama and Daddy will choose to not contribute to the weight of your piggy banks. 

So there's that. Take it or leave it.

Every Monday, we do "Savings". The girls all have money tins: one each for serving, saving and spending. Ten percent a piece goes to the first two tins and the remainder goes to the latter. Serving is their tithe, saving is their bank account (which requires periodical trips to the credit union to make deposits**), and spending is free reign. They can do what they wish with their spending money. When they're younger, it is oftentimes squandered on cheap, chintzy junk.*** By the time they are school-aged, they have financial goals. Naomi is undeterred in saving up for a Kindle. It will take her several more months, but she recognizes the value in forgoing spending now, in order to reap a greater reward later. 

Q: Isn't it hard to set aside that money every week?
A: It's worth the training and it's cheaper than bailing them out of debt later.

Q: Shouldn't we teach them not to waste money?
A: Experience is the best teacher. When they they set their sights on the prize (be it a Suzy Q peeing doll, a Kindle, or a trip to Disneyland), they will learn not to squirrel away their money in the checkout lane.

Q: Isn't it painful to watch them waste your money?
A: It is no longer my money AND that pain is replaced by elation when they "get it" and begin setting long-term financial goals.

Q: You're so intelligent. Will you go out with me?
A: I'm happily married.
Just making sure you're still reading.

I realize this post is more technical than usual, but thanks for hanging in there with me. I hope it helps!

Reporting From My Counting House,
Cynthia


* Someone clue me in: Do teens still ask their parents for money? 
**Of which we often resemble a traveling circus.
***Or sweet-talked into the pocket of an older sister...they learn.