Boys in High Places

They celebrate the joy of making it to a resting place during a long hike!

Suddenly the legs that could barely hold little bodies

upright on the trails can run stairs and explore the shelter house.

Suddenly the boy has forgotten the sweat, the bugs, the complaints.

He sees the view and feels the breeze.

A little boy with parched lips, begging for water only moments before, 

suddenly finds new strength in his body,

new moisture in his mouth.

He smiles, puckers, gathers, and of course, 

spits.

And I wonder...

Did God ,who created both little boys and high places, have this fun in mind all along?

All for a few groceries

Thursday

We are low on coffee, so I am forced to shop. 
Maybe we will go to Kohl's too so I can spend my gift card from Christmas.

We attempt an early start to town... but then the van won't start. 
(Eldon thinks there's an acorn in it.)

So, I'll take my husband's car. But I can't find my keys.
We waddle up to his office to get his, where I leave my coffee behind. (Precious coffee!)

I load the boys in the car, and realize I cannot drive a stick with this stinkin' boot! 

And no, Eldon, there's not an acorn in daddy's car, too.
Forget it, boys, just forget it.

And so they don't cry, I give them a hose, and I call it a morning.

Hammer time

A few nights ago, my son decided he wanted to build a dog house.

He is seven.

I suggested we start with basic building skills.

So he's practicing hammering.

I presented him with quite a difficult decision before he began:

Which hammer?

The black one, which is his...

or the other one, which is BIGGER, but has flowers on it!

Little brother got the flowers.

This  kept them busy for over an hour. The little ones watched, and the big girls joined in.

I highly recommend this activity.

Why I had to throw a party

It had been a long weekend. Two kids had a mild stomach bug. I'd been in the house too long. Daddy was going to be gone for the evening. The big kids were home for spring break, but nothing fun had happened yet, and they were full of restless energy.

Spring break.
And it was snowing.
It was a recipe for disaster.

I just didn't think we could handle one more "normal" night at home. It would be too much TV (in my opinion), not enough action (for them), too much noise (in my opinion), not enough excitement (for them)... tension and friction until my patience ran out (which some forecasters predicted would be as early as 3pm) and everyone was yelled off to an early bedtime.

But what could be done? We couldn't risk driving to town with two unpredictable boy stomachs.
We were stuck. At home. With our normal.
And normal was driving us all crazy.

Unless....
Unless I could figure out a way to shake up our normal.

I was desperate. Stuck in the house, dreading the evening, and desperate.
Naptime came, and I had a minute to think. I decided to try something different. Instead of just endure another evening, I'd try to shake up our normal.

I'd throw a party.
Just for us.

I gave myself some guidelines for this survival party:

• Keep it simple for your sake.
• A fun evening is worth any messes that will be made.
• And also, keep it simple.

I rummaged around my basement, and here's what I came up with.

Easter egg hunt.
It was freezing, and I had no candy, but I did have chocolate chips. They were willing to brave the cold for chocolate chips. (The big kids did the filling and the hiding for the little ones.

Ice Challenge

A container, ice, and some plastic coins.

Their challenge- how many coins can you get out of the tub with your bare feet in 5 minutes?

Finally, WATER PLAY.

We had water, and they had bathing suits. So what if it was snowing out. It was spring break after all! So we'd pretend it was summer in our basement. 

Also, they'd get those mats nice and clean. (Because clean mats are better Slip N Slides)

 Next, water balloon pinatas.

It was a nice theory, but they didn't pop very easily!

So they played catch...

Then they played bash-the-brother.

He loved it.

And finally,

the sleepout.

We put mattresses in the living room and all six of them slept out there. Of course, we danced first.

(Note the song- Aggie's favorite)

Then finally, TV.

Snuggles, and eventually, sleep.

The rest of the story

Yes, this was an incredibly fun way to spend what would have been a tense evening full of boredom and bickering. But before you comment with some sort of "Oh my goodness you are such a fun mom" spiel, let me tell you what happened the next day.

I collapsed. 

The oldest watched the youngest while I slept in. LATE. They watched LOTS of TV. And then I got up, and a little while later, I needed another nap. 

More babysitting. 

More TV. 

More messes.

More bickering.

But I guess that's life in a family, isn't it? 

It is series of sprints, with an occasional long nap.

When they act like Mini-Men

I never had brothers. I thought I was a tom boy, but now that I have boys of my own, I realize I never did truly approach the world as a boy does.

I love moments of manliness in my mini-men.  Here are a few of my recent favorites.

One of our lessons in manners:

Meat is not a weapon.

-----

Marcus sat between baby Peter and daddy one night.  He put on his tough face, looked straight at the TV, and grunted in a manly grunt, "I'm glad Peter's out."  This is Marcus's sideways version of affection.

-----

One yelled at the other: "I do NOT twirl like a princess! I SPIN like a BOY!"

-----

He says with a very serious face, "Mom, pirates DON'T wear underwear."

-----

"Mommy, will you put my cape on me?"-----

"What was I just going to do? OH yeah,  I was going to go in my room and toot on my pillow." 

-----

"Mommy, I'm sorry but I threw God's Word and it got stuck up in the ceiling."

It was a small Gideon Bible, and he had been playing catch with it in the basement. It got stuck on a heat vent. (No son, the doorposts, not the ceiling!) 

-----

He was helping with the trash, and he accidentally threw a bag on top of the van.  He was very sorry, as he explained with a smile,
“I just don’t know my own muscles!”
-----

From my boys I have learned the difference between a back hoe and a Bobcat. I have learned to thank God for mud and rock piles and wide open spaces.

Cook boys on the rock pile

What have you learned from a Mini-Man lately?

Share today's joy with me in the comments!

When they have no choice over what they wear

I like that the very little ones have to wear what I want them to wear. I pick the colors, I pick the level of ridiculous coordination.

Hey look, they match!



Sometimes, when I'm really lucky, I get out the very same gratuitously cute clothes,  and I put them on another set of bodies.

And little bodies, they do not protest the cuteness.

The big ones-- the same ones that would refuse to be "cute" even for my sake, they delight in the cuteness of the little ones. And I know that, on some level, they understand.  And they will forgive me for the overly-cute pictures.

Perhaps.

I worked harder, not smarter.

Tuesday morning.

After morning coffee-and-cartoon time, my two-year-old came up to me and started singing "It's time to party!" swinging his little arms in the air. (This is the Turbo Jam theme song.)  He was reminding me to exercise.  I respond well to gentle, cute reminders. Thanks, Peter.

Before I exercised, I made a circle of couches and pillows and chairs around the wrestling mat, hoping they would climb cheerfully while I jammed.

I was interrupted once or twice by injuries, complaints, and one bite, but I still had a good workout. (If I count those "mothering moments" as part of the workout rather than interruptions, things go more smoothly.  Putting kids in time-outs burns calories, too, I tell myself.)

After my workout, I had a crazy thought.

spring boys

"I don't reach forward and I don't reach back 

and I weigh the moment down with full attention here."

One Thousand Gifts, by Anne Voskamp

Fresh spring air. 

I am drawn out of the house, camera in hand;

boys at my ankles.

Let's capture some of this life in bloom.

Pretty, aren't they Pete? 

Don't pick them.

Don't eat them.

Just enjoy them.

I like these purple flowers.

I remember looking for signs of spring, like these,

with my mommy.

I lay on the ground to take the above picture.

New life, new flowers, and my fuzzy little boy-chick in the background.

What's mommy doing on the ground? he wonders.

She must want to wrestle.

He climbs on me.

My camera and my heart focus on him.

Do you see fish in there?

Please Marcus, don't push him in!

Yes, the water is wet.

And cold.

Marcus!

Stay away!

Gross!!!

I smile, click, and give thanks.

I am a squirrel, storing moments.

“I wish I could leave you certain images in my mind, 

because they are so beautiful that I hate to think 

they will be extinguished when I am. 

…It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment, 

when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing.  

A moment is such a slight thing, I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve.” 

Gilead, Marilynne Robinson 

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Sick kids: Is there an up side?

 A child wilts, with a fever and a cough. I comfort him, and cope in my own way.

Denial:  This will not go through everyone.

Bargaining: If I feed us all oranges, maybe we all won’t get it.

Compromise: They might all get it, but I won’t.

Acceptance: I might as well plan for it, since we are all going to get it eventually.

Resolve: If it’s going to happen, I might as try to find something funny in it.

Last night I spent the night “sleeping” with two fevering boys plastered to my sides, hacking all night long. By morning, the germs in my bedroom formed an actual cloud over the bed. Nothing funny about that.

Yet, this may turn out for good.

My theory: the cloud of germs I have been breathing in all day has given me superpowers. I can see things that you cannot.   Allow me to open your eyes.

Good out of evil: the up side of having a sick kid

Steadfast Walls

On most days, one of my six children is “THE ONE:” the One that I brace for at the beginning of the day; the One that is testing all the boundaries; the One whose head butts against authority, reason, and the laws of nature all day long.  I am the wall, and there is at least One who bashes into me. I plant my feet, remind myself that I must stay strong for the child's good, and I brace for impact. Again. And again.

Sometimes, when daddy comes home from work, I complain to him. Sometimes I ask his advice, and we brainstorm.  Sometimes I demand that he keep "that one"out of the kitchen while I cook OR ELSE.

On the really bad days, I say nothing at all. I notice that he has come home, and my muscles instantly relax. I can stop being the wall! Another wall is here, and he should have all kinds of strength left in his body! I am relieved, I let my guard down, and I start to feel how exhausted I am from being the wall all day long. I feel the bruises, and I nurse my wounds. He probably doesn’t notice, but he will when the next conflict erupts. 

Soon, screaming commences, feet come running, and, strangely, I do nothing. It’s like I’m not even there. Someone is mad about someone doing something and all I can do is look vaguely towards the little people and think how tired I am.  And then dad intervenes, and I am vaguely guilty and vaguely relieved and so, so tired.


Sometimes walls just go numb, and then they collapse. 


And the children would get out, were it not for backup walls shaped like daddy.

click.

 “He sure is a lively one, isn’t he?”

The little guy flashes his dimples, as if he knows exactly what gained him freedom from the pew.

I set him down in the narthex. He drags his blanket cheerfully as he runs from me.

My four year old is at my side. He was not being naughty in church, but I know better than to trust him in the pew while I am out with the baby. He is also lively.

Baby has discovered the heaters, and opens the control panel.  His dimples dare me to stop him.

Pretty sure his little hands are not strong enough to turn the knobs, I stay seated. I close my eyes, a little, and try to catch a word or two of the sermon.

 My four year old does not. He decides to climb the scaffolding. Baby sees, squeals, and runs with his blanket to join him. He trips, cries. Big kid swings and laughs. They are SO loud.

FINE.

We go outside.

Of course, they don’t want to run outside. It’s dark, and a little “creepy,” says my son.

Actually, the evening is gorgeous. A spring breeze passes over us, and stars twinkle above us. The night is as calm and soothing as I wish my boys were.

The temperature is warm enough to taste like spring, but just cool enough that I would be chilled without somebody in my arms.

I sit with my little somebody, and his blanket, on the cool cement steps.

My climber no longer wishes to climb. He’s cold, and a little scared. He sits on the other side of me, and leans into me. The baby sees his big brother snuggling, and smiles. He reaches with his tiny hand and pats his brother’s head. Brother is flattered and happy, and they both snuggle closer.

Warm, calm, like the night, they snuggle into me.

I breathe them in, grateful.

I exhale.

The moment is gone.

The tiny hand has decided his brother’s head makes a great drum. Brother thinks it is funny, too. Baby grabs brother’s lip, brother softly bites, and they share a slobbery laugh.

I roll my eyes and smile as I gently scoot them off my lap.

You don’t understand, but you gave me the still photo I needed. 


I capture things when I breathe them in, and I have stored that sweet breath of grace in my heart.

You can go play, now, little ones.

--------  


Remember last week when my sister shared her awesome post "Scatter the Darkness?"
I am pleased to announce that she has started her own blog!

She takes my breath away...or is it God's work in her?  Yes, that too.

See what I mean: visit her blog Scatter My Darkness today!

The calm jar

I actually did this thing I found on Pinterest, and it worked out quite well.

Introducing: The Calm Jar

(To learn how to do this, click here.)

Shake the jar and watch the glitter slowly settle.  Not only is it shiney and pretty, but it is a great object lesson.

"Calm yourself down. When the jar is calm and you are calm you may get out of the corner."

that moment when you should be mad but you grab the camera instead...

I'd been The Wall for Little Boys to Bash Their Heads Upon all day long.  

I was sore, and tired, and I had lost the ability to respond to "crisis." 

I was numb, and a little loopy (from all the head-bashing, I'm sure.)

It was not a scream, but a suspicious crinkle that tore me from my therapeutic blogging..

And behold, I saw this:

From where I'm standing, I see:

A Cheerio Disaster

with Saggy Pants

A boy who thinks he's very clever,

but knows he should be in trouble.

He's wondering why mom is giggling like that...

He doesn't care. He poses proudly.

Then, he slips.

From where I'm standing I see

a boy scared and a tiny bit humbled.

(by the fall, not the exposed bottom).

Whole Grain. 

Great for eating and decorating.

Great for skating, and falling.

Why not just make a Cheerio angel while you're down there, sonny?

From where I'm standing I see:

the price of blogging.

13 great reasons to tackle your child

My four young boys have greatly impressed upon me the value of daily wrestling matches.  I am convinced that these children actually have some sort of inner quota that I must meet for them to function at optimum health.  For the sake of their overall well-being, I simply must find time for a hearty tickle-fight.

If you also have small children, you may want to consider incorporating this into your own daily homeschool and/or fitness plan.

Preliminary studies (in this house) have shown several surprising benefits of the daily wrestle for both mother and child.  They are as follows, in no particular order.

Burn off those cinnamon rolls: for both mother and child.  You can burn about 300 calories in a half hour- if you are playing with enthusiasm! (just think- approximately 10 minutes will burn off that snack-size Snickers bar!)

Practice the liturgy of apology: Someone screams in pain. Someone screams "it was an accident!" Mother reminds, "even if it is an accident, the kind thing to do is stop to see if they are OK and say you are sorry that they got hurt. Do that now and then we will get back to wrestling."

Teach them to stuff their emotions: 

Someone screams in pain, again. Mother gets very serious, examines the injury, and says, "Oh no... I guess I will have to cut it off!"  Child stops screaming, giggles, and runs away. Wrestling resumes.

Your kids will be smarter: Teach them things they won’t learn in preschool.  Even young children can learn the fine distinctions between a tickle and a pinch, and the nuances of a zerbit and a bite. (I love that somebody wrote up a definition for zerbit.)

Collect more data: Observe which children understand the art of "talking smack." Some children may get serious and worried. Others will light up and reveal their inner smart-aleck.

Earn some quiet time:

Wrestling done well will yield tired children who will sit in front of the TV for a half hour without fighting. (How do you think I find time to blog?)

Teach them to debate under pressure: Mother voices grave concern over the condition of the child's toes. "Oh no! Your toes are loose! I'm going to have to pull them for you!"  Child then must attempt to reason with mother while laughing and panicking.

Teach them not to crumble:

When the wrestling leads to one screaming, then two, then all of them, do not be fooled. It is a strategy they use to get mom to fix everything like she always does. Mother's counter-attack: throw self on the floor in imitation of the most dramatic child and wail along with them.  Within 15 seconds one will start laughing, and the fun will resume.

Impress their friends:

Wrestle your kids when their friends are over. Experience the enjoyment of pinning your child on the mat while his wide-eyed foreign friend stares at you with a mix of fear and awe.

Reign them in: There is a time and a place for cannon-balling into each other and sitting on large piles of little boys, there is also a time to stop such things.  A good lesson for all involved.

Give affection on the sly:

Some children pretend to be too big or mature for hugs, but playful wrestling can be a well-received form of affection.

Let 'em at you. They'll love it.

And in truth, you don’t have to “feel like it” for it to be fun... for them. Your kids can experience the full enjoyment of kneeing you in the back whether you are healthy or sick.  Your headache does not make the tackling any less hilarious. Little kids are very flexible that way.

Impress other mothers: Nothing says “I’m an awesome mom” like scratches on your face.

from where I'm standing...

I see...

• A boy who does not want to let go of Halloween for Advent.
• A hole in his tights, "from fighting Captain Hook."
• A dagger, purchased by grandma, who also made the costume.
• A boy who thinks the huge Christmas tree painted by his sisters makes a perfect hideout.
• A hole in the wall, leading to the laundry room. They think it they are so clever when they yell through it.
• Pillows from the hand-me-down couches that have been handed down again, from us to our kids. And the dog.
• The  box from our new Christmas tree. That box has been a boat, a baby pen, a car, and a bed so far today.
• Peter Pan, who will morph into Popeye and ask for spinach at lunch.
• A child who will pout when told he cannot nap with his dagger.

Your turn! 

Take a picture,

list what you see, 

and link up with me!  

Gird your loins for battle

Lessons from little boys

Sometimes all of nature conspires to make a fool out of you.

And Nature, as if she were a Big Sister,
refuses to accept blame,
but in her silence simply mocks the fact of accusation.

Thing 2 and Thing 1

“It’s snack time!” mom yelled, so to mommy I ran

Mouth watering, eager for snacks from her hand

I stood with my siblings and was happy to see

Not one treat, but TWO kinds of treats before me!

Two plates, two offerings, two sugary sweets

Mom said, “Take your pick! Which would you like to eat?”

“Only one?” I worried, “So I have to choose?

Pick one, and leave one for others to use?”

Thing 1 looked delicious, thing 2 looked so yummy

How could I choose only one for my tummy?

My sisters and brothers chose quickly and ran

Outside in a hurry, sweet treats in their hands

I stared at the plates, wondering, fretting,

How will I know if the best I am getting?

I reached with two hands, hoping mom I would fool,

But she stopped me and said, "Just one, that's the rule!"

I made up my mind, put thing 2 on my plate,

said "thank you" to mommy, then took a bite- WAIT!

Now I see those chocolate-y chips in thing 1!

My eyes filled with tears, OH, what have I done!

I pleaded with mother, can I put this one back?

Can I switch now and choose thing 1 for my snack?

Surely no one will notice that one little bite

mother please, for the love of all things good and right!

But mom just shook her head, closed her ears to my cry

So I gritted my teeth, and I let my snack fly

It sailed from my hand through the air just like that-

Hit mom on the head, then fell with a SPLAT

Now I sit in the corner-

No snacks, and no fun

Because mom would not give me

Both thing 2 and thing 1

Mama, don’t let your babies grow up to be rescue heroes…

Masculinity is a wonderful, terrifying thing.

My tough little boy asked me, “Mama, are rescue heroes real?”

“Sure, honey, they are real.  Every day people work as soldiers, police officers, fire fighters, and paramedics- those are real live rescue heroes.”

He smiled, and stuck out his chest a little bit. “I want to be a rescue hero.”

I smiled, but felt a twinge of something in my heart.  Words meant to discourage him just a tiny bit almost made it to my lips, but I swallowed them down.

I respect the brave “rescue heroes” of the world, of course.  Where would we be without soldiers and paramedics and police officers and fire fighters?  Their commitment to protect and defend, to rescue and help, even when it jeopardizes their own lives, blesses us all in ways we could never even number.  I lecture myself in my head, but before I have convinced myself he yells,

“I could be a soldier mommy!  Like daddy!”

I stayed silent.

Oh my dear baby, please not that. 

I thank God for the soldiers, I am glad there are so many willing to go fight and protect our country in distant lands.  But please, God, don’t take mine.  “Not my husband,” said my heart back in 2004.  “Not my babies either,” says my heart today.

 

The world needs manly men.  We need those willing to protect, defend, risk, and even fight “naughty guys” when it is necessary. I nurture these strange little boys and attempt to direct their budding masculinity in the ways that it should go.  The future savers-of-the-world make their big plans, and the selfishness of my heart is revealed once again as I attempt to possess that which is not mine.

Heavenly Father,

Bless these little boys that you have given to this selfish mother.  Forgive me for my desire to possess them when they are truly Yours.  Lead me as I lead them Lord.  Give me wisdom to withhold my anxious thoughts when those thoughts will do them harm.  Help me to know when to encourage, when to discipline, and when to simply send them to daddy with the questions.  Thank you Father for your protection, help, love, and rescue of me and those I love, through Jesus Christ. Amen.