Because Daddy's Can't Have All the Fun!

My super cute acomplice in our secret mission to get ice cream!

In a normal week, my life is fairly routine. Partially, because as previously established, I like being a hamster on a wheel. Partially because being a mom of three kids requires some structure to make sure they all have clean underware, lunches for school and rides to and from all activities. And also, it seems like the role of mom is keeping the household running smoothly. Mostly evverything we do in the Russell family has some kind of plan: dinners? Meal plan. Dirty house? Chore plan. Sassy pants kids? Discipline plan.

So in general, mom takes the role of planner. And in our house, dad takes the role of "big softy". Sure the kids have a bedtime, but, wee'll let them stay up tonight because we're having so much fun. Sure, you planned for us to eat leftovers, but, we're going to get Taco Bell instead. (This is not to say dad takes the role of softy about sassy pants kids, however. In fact, in our house, dad takes the role of drill seargant if disrespect/defiance are involved) So over the years of day in day out mom and dad living in their respective roles, the kids come to know what to expect. Which dear friends, is where a wonderful ooportunity lies. Every so often, you need to startle your kids with something silly/spontaneous/unexpected. I have come to call these secret missions. My favorite secret missions involve creating a mess, which historically I never sanction, or getting junk food late at night, which is equally unusual as I am the Health Patrol. If you combine the two, all kinds of hilarity ensues! When my kids were much younger, the unexpected twists were geared toward their ages and me not losing my mind the next morning. Playing in the rain, eating popcorn for dinner while building the world's largest lincoln log village on the dining room table, going out after bathtime in our jammies to get an ice cream cone: fun but not anything that would create the world's crankiest kids in the morning. As the kids have aged, my favorite secret missions still remain breaking the rules on food and messes. And let me tell you, nine year old girls, LOVE a good secret mission. So last night, when Emma told me she was craving some ice cream, I seized the moment. She and I were going to play a little Chutes and Ladders downstairs by ourselves. All the boys were otherwise occupied. So I looked at her and said, "Come on sister! This is the perfect time for a run to Dairy Queen for a Peanut Buster Parfait!" It was 9:30 and she was in her jammies, so we bundled her in one of my zip ups and snuck out of the house. Ice cream tastes better when there is a level of covertness involved, I assure you.

Teenage Boys

There are currently three teenage boys in my kitchen making Gobi Aloo (indian Caulifower) and Chicken Tika Masala. I've died and gone to heaven. First of all they are making dinner. Secondly, Indian food is the-bom-diggity.

Teenage boys are one of my favorite breed of people. So far they have been annoyed, amused, antagonistic and confused with each other. In about 5 minutes. They don't give a whole lot of weight to their own emotions, let alone anyone else's which makes them easier to parent in some respects. Obviously, in other ways that's very challenging. The other day Em came in the door, clearly upset from her car ride home. Dad just looked at me like, "I don't know how to help her or you with this one" and big brother just looked at me and rolled his eyes,  beacon of sensitivity, that child. So I pulled the tearful girl into my bedroom to chat and discovered the source of her hurt: big brother knew he had pushed her, knew it had hurt her ankle and he just didn't care. "Mom, it's like sometimes I feel like he doesn't even care how I feel" to which I took a deep breath, looked her square in the face and let her in on a little secret. "He doesn't." After recovering from her initial shock, she giggled and so did I. But we went on to discuss how boys and girls are just so very different and while he brother may not care about her feelings all the time, he does love her very much. She decided it was okay to think teenage boys are weird, and I agreed that was sometimes true.

I hear mama's of teenage sons bemoan the changes in their offspring that begin sometime around 11 and I empathize. But let me offer some encouragement: as you stare into the x-boxing, headphone wearing, illegible handwriting, testosterone producing son who has taken your "little buddy's" place, don't miss out on the good. You have the unique privilege of guiding that boy into becoming the man God created him to be. As he flexes muscles in the kitchen you get to affirm that he will be such a great strong protector of his family one day. As he leaves a trail of really stinky socks around the house, you get to teach him about "living considerately" so as one day to be a kind husband.And on and on. It's such a joy as some of what you teach them begins to take root. And, the bigger joy, I promise, is when stuff you weren't smart enough to think up, begins to sprout and you know the Holy Spirit is leading them.

the "only has one year left at home" child

the "still so very cute when he wakes up sleepy" and "I won't pose for a picture" child

Forgive me for wanting to take down a nine year old, Lord

So, on Superbowl Sunday we had approximately 453 college kids roaming our house. Okay, maybe it was 40, but it felt like 453. It was fun and the food was gone before I got it all out on the table. So in all this madness, my Emma decided to hang out in her bedroom, because as she put it, "There are a lot of them and they are too big to be around." Funny girl. At one point in the evening I had that feeling- go check on Emma. No sounds, no reason- just the impression that I needed to go check in on her. (side note to mama's- always, always follow that impression.) So I open the door to her room and she is sitting on her bed with one million stuffed animals, looks up at me and her eyes immediately fill with tears. Words come gushing out, "Oh mama, there has been something I've been wanting to tell you about but I didn't have the guts to do it."

Gut check. heart in stomach. gulp. don't react. stay calm. counselor fears in overdrive.

"Okay honey, tell me about it. What's going on?"

She proceeds to tell me of a boy at school. He has been scaring her with stories. Retelling scary scenes from horror movies. But the worst thing he told her was that he looked up her name on google and found her picture linked to a website that said "Do you want to kidnap a child?" ARE YOU KIDDING ME??! (I realize he is nine. However, he terrified my nine year old and so my mama bear was ready to roar. And by "roar" I mean tackle him to the ground and inflict fear myself.) Partially I was relieved that there was not a more traumatic story behind her tears. Partially I was confused as to why she hadn't talked to me sooner. And partially I was still considering how to take down this kid.

We talked through all the normal parenting things- always come tell me things that make you uncomfortable; no, there is not a website with your picture on it (we googled it); God is your protection; your brother has a machete- you know, reassuring stuff. As we discussed it, I uncovered a belief I have experienced many times in my life that was keeping her quiet and terrified: if I don't talk about it, maybe it won't be true and I won't have to face my fears head on. I understand that thought, but I also know it to be a lie now. There were years in my life where my fears stayed quiet on the outside, but roared through my heart and head filling me with anxiety. And the same wonderful reality that I experienced when I began to speak honestly about my fears to my Father, was true for Emma too. Relief. Her tears flowed again as she told me, "I feel so much better now."

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 4:6-7

Lord, forgive me for wanting to inflict bodily harm on a nine year old boy. I commit to not doing so next week at the class party. At this point however, I will need you to transform my heart, so that I am not tempted to accidently spill something on his head. -Amen.

Say Cheese!

While everyone sang Happy Birthday.....

He has just never liked having his picture made. In spite of my best efforts to show how delighted I was in him smiling for the camera for his two year "Barney" themed birthday, he remained stoic.

I love this picture because it reminds me of how often as a mom you are trying to get your beloved offspring to enjoy something they clearly do not; to satisfy a picture in your mind of what that child will do or be. Or simply because you want to share something you love with them, so you want them to love it too. A huge part of becoming a healthy and truly loving mom, is letting go of the picture of who you want your child to be, and accepting them for who they really are.

Having been at this mothering business for 17+ years now I have had to do my share of letting go of my preconceived ideas. I have found great reward in discovering who God created each of my kids to  be- both the smilers and the non-smilers alike.

couldn't you just pinch both their cheeks for the cuteness??!

Hidden Dangers

Tonight's blog is brought to you by Bears. Mama Bears, to be exact. All around the world tonight there are literal and figurative mama bears flexing their muscle to keep danger away from their cubs.

The teenage years are tough. For one thing, there are hidden dangers lurking in social media everywhere which means this mama bear spends a good deal of time reading my kids facebook pages, twitter accounts and texts. (Side note, if you are not doing this, you need to. Your kids are prone to sin just like you. And without accountability, they will derail completely. With accountability they will still fail, so don't be shocked.)

Another danger comes from lies being told to our kids about what success and self worth means. My cubs are growing up in a performance based, incredibly fickle world. Without constant truth being spoken (and even with it) they are highly susceptible to believing lies about themselves such as- you don't measure up, nobody really likes you, you're so awkward, girls will never like you, your parents don't care about you, your best isn't enough, and on and on.

And this is to say nothing of the dangers in driving, drugs and alcohol, being recruited by gangs (yes, this did happen to my 9th grader this year!?), unfair teachers and coaches, bullies and impulsive decisions to jump off a roof.

But, the danger I am becoming more aware and vigilant about lately is quite sneaky. It's so subtle you almost can't recognize it. My cubs have experienced it their whole lives, as have I. And without intending to, I often collaborate with this danger. It's comfort. Being comfortable to be precise. I always felt so thankful to raise my children in a country surrounded by peace and prosperity, and I still am. But I am coming to see, the more I read the gospel and the more I see the world, that these blessings can be a trap if we begin to desire them above God.

My pastor was preaching last week from a passage in Psalm 3. He said something in his sermon that I wrote down and have being mulling over all week:

"Often we would rather have comfort without God, than trouble with Him."

This desire for a comfortable life can lead us to compromise our integrity, shy away from risks, selfishly hoard our possessions, avoid necessary conflict and betray our commitments. It can also cause us to insulate ourselves in a "bubble" away from messy broken people, live relatively good lives and become dependent on ourselves instead of reliant on God. However, over and over again in scripture God tells us this life is going to hurt. It won't always feel good. We will be stretched and bumped and bruised and emptied if we are to follow Christ. In fact, in Phillipians 3:10, Paul tells us that if we want to know Christ's power we also have to know his suffering.

If I truly want to protect my children from harm, I have to accept they will need to feel pain. They need to know sacrifice and how it hurts to give to others when there won't be any left for you. They need to know rejection so they can appreciate that Christ was rejected on their behalf so they could be accepted by God. They need to know disappointment so they can remember that this life isn't all about them getting their way. They need to know physical pain so they can develop compassion for the suffering of others. And they need their mama bear to fight against the comfortable life so it won't keeping them from knowing Him who is the source of life.

Sisterhood at Christmas

Today I had a fabulous day that started out with me in tears. There are just days where I miss my sisters and mom. The day after Thanksgiving is one of them. I'm not sure why exactly. We didn't grow up with any definite traditions- no Black Friday madness or anything like that. But I just remember the feeling of that day always involved Christmas Spirit. It was like we opened the page of a book declaring the Christmas Season upon us and the festive nature enveloped us. Sometimes we cleaned the house and put out decorations. Sometimes we watched Christmas movies like Miracle on 34th Street or White Christmas. (Which incidentally has a whole silly song about sisters that I love to sing.) Sometimes we went out for a little bit of wandering in the mall and having Barnie's coffee- Santa's White Christmas- the official flavor of Christmas as declared by me. (Also the only downside to living in TN at Christmastime is the lack of Santa's White Christmas Barnie's coffee- FL friends feel free to mail me some!

So after  a brief tearful meltdown, and then instructions to my husband about not looking at me like I'm a weirdo when I'm crying about things that make no sense to him (he claims to have been marveling at the difference between men and women- I told him marvel on his own time- when your wife is crying you must look upon her with empathy and pat her hand and say "there, there") I decided I needed some girl time with my best girl. So I picked out some festive clothes for Em and we set off into the Black Friday world with no real pressure to accomplish one specific thing, but hoping to get a little shopping done while shaking off the blues.

Without even trying to we created a new tradition. I'm sure we'll be doing this for years to come. It was the first year Emma was old enough to be trusted with seeing the other family members gifts. (I think. I hope.) We giggled a lot about how silly the boys are and how much fun we were having without them. I told her the story of my tearful meltdown and how daddy shook his head at me in disbelief, and she said- "Oh mom, I know exactly what you're talking about. I've seen you with Aunt Anne- I know why you need your sister." Then later I found this really, ridiculously good deal on a case with 45 eye shadows. For $5. And I loved it. I was about to put it in the cart-

 "Mom, who are you getting that for?" 

"Um, well, I guess I was getting it for me." (she nods knowingly)

"That's what I thought. Guess you better put it back, huh?"

(gulp)"Yep, guess so. Thanks for keeping me honest."

Turns out the sisterhood I needed was available in my daughter. Amazing. 

How Mocha Punch is the tie that binds....

We were standing in church after service visiting tonight when a friend asked in earshot of Emma if we had any traditions for Thanksgiving as a family. Emma piped right up and said "In my family, we have this thing we do. We get up and have mocha punch in the morning."

I have been drinking mocha punch since I was a teenager and my mom discovered the recipe from a friend and made it for our family. This was pre-Starbucks, people and a delicious, creamy coffee punch was absolute heaven. Mom started making it for holidays. When I left home and began a family I craved that delicious treat so I began making it too. Of course, when the boys were little they didn't even like it. I'd make this whole punch bowl full and drink most of it myself. (this, in large part, explains why I always gained weight during the holidays) As they got bigger, my holiday menu's varied year to year, but mocha punch was always part of the feast. Recently one of the boys was asking why I don't make it more often as it is his "reason for even liking the holidays" (this is my dramatic child) and I told him we have to have things to look forward to and count on to create memories. (I believe he rolled his eyes)

But it's true. As a family of teenagers and a big kid, I see so clearly how those little family traditions bring us all together. The kids can giddily anticipate the twice a year arrival of Mocha Punch. They can complain together when it runs out. They love to talk about it to friends as the thing "we love" that mom fixes. I really didn't know when I started making it, it would become a ritual we couldn't live without. That's the thing about creating traditions- you have to be open to discovering which traditions fit your family. Pinterest is full of wonderful and clever ideas- but you just have no way of knowing which ones your family will end up insisting upon year after year.

So, in honor of my sweet family, I am posting my Mocha Punch recipe for you. Happy Thanksgiving Week!

Mocha Punch

2 cups boiling water, mixed with 1 1/4 cups sugar
2 oz. instant coffee

1 gallon 2 % milk

1/2 gallon vanilla bean ice cream

4 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Combine sugar water and instant coffee. Place in a container with lid overnight in the fridge.

In the morning, in a big punch bowl, pour coffee syrup, milk and vanilla. Scoop ice cream into bowl and allow to dissolve slightly before serving.

Makes 1 punch bowl, serves 20. (Or in my case- a family of 5.)

Titus Two 4 U - Develop a Job Description

Nobody ever interview's you from HR before you take on the biggest job of your life. There is no explanation of benefits, call back's for second interviews or checking your references. Basically God decides you are qualified and nine months after beginning the process you are hired as "Mom".

So from then on there is a 24 hour a day, 7 day a week job you are responsible to complete.

That seems almost impossible. And certainly it requires utter dependence on God to give you grace and strength daily. But, I have also come to see that the mom's I have known who are the most joyful and least stressed have given themselves a more defined job description than "All related tasks to Little Johnny are the sole responsibility of this woman 24/7." It might look something like this-

Mother shall be responsible for the feeding and care of Little Johnny daily from 6am until 8pm. During alternate hours she will share on-call duties with Father. She will maintain a safe environment for him, provide emotional and spiritual development and see that his basic needs are met. This mother does not participate in school projects, costume making or exposure to loud noises- such as parades or monster truck races. Those needs will be met by father, or hired out. All hair cuts and shoe shopping shall also fall under father's responsibilities. In the event that the child becomes sick, mother will cease any other normal functions and see completely to the care of the child, and shall be expected to accomplish normal daily tasks on an "as able" basis, such as cooking dinner, doing laundry, taking a shower, etc. As the child ages, morning hours shall change to reflect the mother's need to sleep and the child's ability to help himself to a bowl of cheerios and turn on cartoons for an hour. Mother will create and maintain traditions for the child, such as Sunday morning pancakes, but all traditions are subject to revision as seen fit by the mother. Mother always shares with father: doctor visits, parent-teacher conferences, Christmas Eve construction jobs, interviewing potential team members (ie, babysitters and coaches). Mother receives one night a month and two weekends a year "off duty" paid leave. Mother always chooses a restaurant to be taken to on Mother's Day for lunch. Mother gets first pick of photo opp's upon completion of raising child at high school graduation. And in the year following release of child into adulthood, Mother shall be given the option to take a trip to Europe.

Now, I'm not saying this reflects my particular job description, but I will say I don't do parades. The bottom line is every mom is unique and has parts of the job she does really well and other parts she can't tolerate. Recognizing which parts you need to hand off to dad/grandparents or hire out frees you up to enjoy and excel in the areas you love. And deciding ahead of time it's okay to have some basic "hours" gives you the mental break needed to endure. 

Chef Hat- French Onion Chicken

This is a great weeknight dish for me because I can prep it before I leave for work and then someone can throw it in the oven and cook the rice and ta-da! Dinner is waiting on me when I get home at 8ish.

1-2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breast cubed
2 cans reduced fat cream of mushroom soup
2 cans french style green beans, drained or 1 bag frozen green beans
1 envelope onion soup mix
1 can french fried onions (optional)

Layer cubed chicken, green beans in glass baking dish. Combine onion soup mix with soups and spread on top. Cover with foil and bake at 350 for 45 minutes. Uncover (and top with french fried onions of using) and bake 5-10 minutes more until bubbly. Serve over rice.

This serves 6 and makes very yummy leftovers- in fact, it's what I just ate for lunch before heading into work!

Chef Hat - I tried a new recipe....

Okay people, I just tried a new recipe and it was a winner! I don't really share recipe's a lot, as there's no reason with Pinterest supplying all we could ever want or need in ideas for dinner. However, this was yummy, yummy and fairly good for you, and filled up my family, plus we had leftovers. So for your dinnertime pleasure:

Firehouse Chicken

5 boneless skinless chicken breasts (either pounded flat, or butterflied open at the thickest part)
5 slices mozzarella cheese
5 pieces lunch meat or thinly sliced ham
seasoned bread crumbs
shredded mozzarella
1 can fat free cream of chicken soup
1/4 cup white wine (I used cooking wine tonight)
2 tbsp. reduced fat mayo

Wash the chicken, then pound or butterfly thin, coat in seasoned bread crumbs. Lay 1 slice each ham and mozzarella on the chicken, then roll up and secure with toothpicks. Lay toothpick side down in a glass baking dish. Mix soup, wine and mayo then pour over chicken bundles. Top with additional shredded mozzarella. Cover and bake 45 minutes at 375. Serve with brown (or white) rice.

This was good enough for company, but I put it together in about 15 minutes. 

Titus Two 4 U - Make the Most of Time

There is an old, famous poem (and I'm sure most people know who wrote it, but alas I do not) that says "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may...." I don't even know the rest of it- just that line. The significance of it hit me tonight. We came home from church and the boys went off with a friend to hang out instead of having dinner with us. "Doing their own thing" is a theme in my house right now. So it was just Emma, the husband and I around the table- and it hit me. I am at a crossroads in motherhood.

Two nights ago after a particularly tough conversation with my 15 year old I was feeling down. And to be honest, somewhat sorry for myself. It's hard work loving a teenage boy who is not in the mood to love you back, but rather to let you know just how much he thinks you should be different. Less or more of anything than who and what you are. Ouch. Then today my oldest walked in to announce how delicious his friend's mother's birthday cakes are. "Not that yours are bad, but hers are just so much better" (I'm paraphrasing but that was the jist) This is the same child who I overheard telling a friend that his birthday party is kind of a disappointment this year. Sigh.

They are pulling away. It's time and it's normal. And it hurts. I want them to grow up and become men. And I want them to always be close to me. But I have to let go of the one to allow the other. So as I'm feeling all this emotion I look up after dinner to see my nine year old twirling around the living room with her daddy, dancing and laughing. In a split second, my boys were nine and seven and we were around the table listening to music and cracking jokes at dinner every night. They were imitating daddy and vying to get our attention with jokes. I blink and they are annoyed, distant teenagers, struggling with all their might for independence and freedom. I realize with a sudden feeling of panic and a lump in my throat that hurts when I swallow that very, very soon my nine year old will be in the same place. Oh I know it's a few years off- but considering that 17 years has felt like a slow blink, that hardly comforts.

when my children were all littles....

So this is me on a sad day. Not all days with teenagers are like this. Mainly I have loved my sons journey's into these years. But today I feel the loss. How I want so badly to slow time down and let me make sure I poured enough love and faith into them. What if I didn't? What if I missed something terribly important? How I worry that our relationship will never quite be as close as those early years when they could climb up in my lap for hugs. How I wish I could know what goes on in their heads and hearts, but understand the need for them to keep some feelings and thoughts private. And the need to share some with anyone but mom.

So, I have many rosebuds I can no longer gather. And I have some left to pick. I intend to make the most of the few short years I have left with my sons at home, and continue to treasure every second I'm given with my whole family under one roof. And pray like crazy for the grace to hold them with an open palm.

My Crafty Daughter and Her Non-Crafty Mother

There is simply nothing that delights Emma more than a new bag of pom-pom's or some paints or a tube of glitter glue. I mean, literally nothing. She just has crafting fever and it's almost contagious. We had fun today because I decided to make a "Mumkin" from pinterest. (yes, I remember posting about how I don't use pinterest, but lately I have discovered it's kind of genius.....) Anyway, Em and I made the Mumkin together but seeing as how it really just involves scooping out pumkin guts and dropping a mum in it- she was unfulfilled. So we decided to go to the Dollar Tree near our house where she could buy a few Halloween type supplies to craft something a little more up to her skill level.

When we got home she was so enthused planning out her craft I joined her in scheming something I could make from items already around the house. And we worked together for one hour while dinner baked. My finished product made Emma smile. Hers provoked a smile from me also. Can I tell you how utterly thankful I am that God gave me, not just a daughter, but this one?

Our Mumkin before adding a bow!

Emma's three dimensional multi-media art

Done with sharpie!

Under the Radar

He likes to go unnoticed which is nearly impossible because he's totally cute and has a gigantic mop of hair on his head that commands attention. He is completely convicted about the truth of Jesus Christ, but doesn't like all that "worship and church stuff". He worries about how he looks, but thinks he looks pretty good after all his P90X workouts. His Ipod playlist has both rock, rap, and the song off the soundtrack of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Bless Your Beautiful Hide. He is a 14 year old boy and they are full of contradictions.

I sometimes wonder what it feels like to be in his head. I've only been a 14 year old girl, so I'm curious and ignorant. I imagine it's really hard to be in the 8th grade in our world as a christian teenage boy. I pray for my son all the time. I ask God to protect him. I ask God to convict him of sin (especially the ones I'll never know about) I pray he will have courage to be true to who God created him to be. I pray mainly that his love for Christ will grow to the point that it pushes fear and hate and selfishness out.

I was looking through photos from the past year and realized I have very few of my Klynters. It makes me sad because he will soon pass through these years and be gone from my home. Pictures are my way of holding on to moments that have slipped past. But he hates having his picture made, so I try to respect that and only take a few. I ask God to etch the memories into my heart so I won't forget. I don't talk about him much because he is a private guy and I try to respect that as well. But, there is not a day that goes by that I don't tell him I love him, only to hear "love you too" in return. I hope he never decides he doesn't like saying it. He lets me hug him, but not as much as last year. Instead we use humor to convey our feelings, and that's okay for me. I realize to parent a teenage boy you have to be willing to change the way you connect so that you still can connect.

The other skill I have learned and am still perfecting is my "not reacting" face and voice. It takes a lot of practice but I'm pretty sure now if Klynt or Kyler came to me and said "I'm dropping out of high school to join the circus" I would look at them and calmly say, "what makes you say that?" The less you react, the more they will talk, and Klynters especially.

So there you have it. I'm the mother of three amazing children, but the one you don't hear much about is just living his dream of "living off the grid where the government can't find me." Crazy teenager.

Bunny Update

Ok, so we started with this dent in the giant bunny:

Then we moved on to here:

Then we decided the bunny smelled like mold, so hasta la vista rabbit de chocolate! 

Emma turns Nine (sniff, sniff)

She turns nine tomorrow. Her last year in single digits. I can't believe it has been nine years since I gave birth to the sweetest little Sweet Pea you've ever laid eyes on. Emma Joy has been a delight in so many ways to our family. Her spirit is creative, loving, sweet. She is crafty, sparkly, girly. She is thoughtful both about other people's needs and about ideas and concepts. In contrast, she is also highly forgetful of details and instructions. She enjoys digging in dirt to find worms, competing with her family in Apples to Apples and helping me cook. She does not eat spicy food, make fast decisions or want to get in trouble. She dislikes cleaning, spiders, and getting hurt or being uncomfortable in any way. (in some circles, Emma is known as dramatic.) Remember Pigpen, in the old Charlie Brown cartoons? He walked around with a cloud of dust swirling everywhere he went. Well, Emma is the fluffy, glittery version of that. I swear she leaves a trail of sequins, glitter and small scraps of paper behind her as she walks through the house. She is messy on a very extreme level. She owns hundreds of Webkinz and has a story for each of them. She never sleeps with less than 5 tucked in her bed with her, along with her special pink blanket. She is snugly. She has never met a shoe box she didn't want to save for some kind of craft project. (in some circles, Emma is known as a pack rat.) She delights in time with her best friend/cousin Hannah, any holiday festivities and singing.

She is precious to her daddy, brothers and I. And especially to her Lord who created this amazing girl, who I get the privilege of mothering.

Yesterday, right on cue for a birthday week, she conquered a task that has been a daunting challenge to the girl who doesn't like getting even a scratch. She is now riding her bike- cute glittery cat helmet and all!

Foghorn Leghorn

Smurfs were probably my favorite. Ooh and ShirtTails (does anyone remember ShirtTails besides me?) I liked Strawberry Shortcake, Care Bears, Jem and the Holograms and the Flintstones. Who I did not really enjoy was Looney Tunes. The Coyote/Road Runner drove me mad. Bugs Bunny was not very nice as far as I was concerned. Tweety was kind of cute, but not enough to keep me interested. There was one character that I kind of liked of the bunch, but my husband recently told me was his all-time favorite, which I have to admit, made me rethink our marriage a little bit: Foghorn Leghorn. Really?! Ok, for starters, his name alone. What does it even mean? Secondly, I barely remember his plot lines- something about this little chick with big glasses following him around and there was a bull dog and a chicken coop.... I don't know- how could he be my husband's "favorite"? But, he challenged me to write a blog about him. (I think he was mainly joking, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed like a challenge.) So I've been mulling it around all week, partially because I've been so tired I haven't had any great ideas of my own. So what has emerged is a completely eclectic, but possibly clever, Parenting Lessons from Foghorn Leghorn:


1. Use every opportunity you can to teach your kids. Ol' FGLG was always teaching that little chick something. Life is full of teachable moments if you slow down enough to make a lesson from them.

2. Your life should not be a lesson in what not to do. FGLG was constantly picking the wrong thing, and little chick was always saving him. (If I remember, it involved saving him from getting eaten by the bulldog but as I said, plot lines are vague) One of the rules of dysfunctional families is: do as I say, not as I do. When instruction and behavior are consistent, kids grow up healthy. When you tell them one thing, but do another, kids grow up confused and insecure. Being a good parent involves making the right choice for yourself.

3. Let your kids learn in the way that is comfortable to them. FGLG's only memorable quote was "I say, I say look at me son, when I'm talking to you." I think our instinct as parents is to demand respect. And respect is good, of course. But did you know boys can actually receive instruction/correction better if they are allowed to not keep eye contact? (Great book called Love and Respect explains this.) Teenage boys in particular, can have a much more open conversation if you let them be busy with some task while you are talking. My middle guy and I had a "feelings" conversation last week, which he detests, but it went pretty well because he rode his scooter in a million circles around the ping pong table in the garage while we talked. A little distracting to me, but it helped he tremendously to relax and open up.

4. Protect your kids from danger, but let them make mistakes. Again, if my memory is accurate, a big part of the plot with FGLG involved getting around the bulldog who was typically sleeping but ready to pounce upon awakening. There are a lot of real dangers in this world, both physical and spiritual. Be a wise parent. Much of what comes against our kids comes through technology. Stalk your kid's facebook page, look at their cell phones, don't let them keep you out of their business. In our house, the rules are annoying to my kids, but non-negotiable with us: cell phones go on chargers in the kitchen every night; we have passwords to everything or you can't have it (facebook, email, lap top); we can look at history on anything at any time (and we do randomly) and we meet/talk to parents where my kids want to spend the night. We are not, however, the sin police. I know none of these rules can keep my kids from messing up. But they will keep them from getting trapped in something before they know it.

5. Spend time with your kids. Involve them in your projects and plans. Help them be part of your life. If you start this when they are young, it will always seem normal. If you've never really built a relationship with your child, they will be resistant to this at times. But do it anyway. They need you to actively pursue them! Show them how important they are. Ask their opinion. Listen to the answer. Share your struggles and successes. And just hang out a lot around them.

All right, I know some of it was a stretch, but it is after all parenting lessons via a looney tunes cartoon character I barely remember. (Insert music here.) And that's all folks!

Mom-isms

For a little fun I was thinking today of some my commonly used quotes. You know, the sayings my kids will sit around one day and reminisce about. We all have them (mom or not) although I think becoming a mom has given me more reason to create new ones. So here we go:

Never make a happy baby happier. (Best non-spiritual parenting advice ever. Actually come to think of it, it has a spiritual application too...)

You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit. (this is all purpose and works great for flocks of children)

Fair is a place where you win blue ribbons. (a mother of 6 taught me this one- thanks Missy!)

Don't mess with me pork chop! (line out of Groundhog Day. I use it a surprisingly large amount)

Everybody gets to pick. (This is good counseling lingo. And true.)

Chop, chop Pork Chop! (similar to above, but this one is used to hurry people along)

Brush, brush, brush your teeth,brush them every day. If you brush your teeth a lot, they will not decay. (A song I made up to the tune of Row Your Boat that I have always sung to the kids while I brushed their teeth.)


Now we're cooking with grease. (which means something along the lines of, now we're doing this right)

Okay, that's what I can think of for now! What are yours? 

A Blog I read today and loved....

I read this today and thought it said so well what I feel about the role of motherhood as a christian woman. So, I'm sharing it with you as well. If you are a mama, be encouraged. God sees you!

Motherhood as a Mission Field

Giant Bunnies and God's Love

I wonder sincerely if anyone ever finishes a bunny this big? As you can see, she's made a dent in the ears.

Emma was delighted by her Papa Doc's Easter gift. As he often does, he brought over something "giant" just to see how she loves it. When I watch Emma and Papa Doc I often think about God's extravagant love. Papa Doc will go to any length to make a memory, spoil his grand kids and be near to them. He really is quite "over board" in lots of ways as the giant stuffed animals all over her room attest, and I think Emma will grow up being able to understand God's love from a unique angle because of it. (That or delve further into pack-rat-ism.)

So often, with God, I forget how much He desires to show me His love. I forget just how outrageous the Cross really was. How over board God's love was to come to me when I ran from Him. How high and wide and deep his love reaches to include us all. To include me. I lose my childlike delight because I focus my attention on the gifts, not the love of the giver. Lately I have had a refocusing in my heart back to Him. And I am thankful for it.

Hope you all had a blessed Easter weekend. Enjoy your chocolate and jelly beans! If you don't have any left, come on over- Emma will be eating it till Halloween!

Top 10 Easter Delights

10. big, yummy Easter lunch at my house this year with both sets of grandparents
9. dying Easter eggs with the fam (we go old school Paas, but we also use crayons to color designs before we dye them)
8. deviled eggs, carrot cake, ham
7. all the cute chick and bunny stuff everywhere, including Emma's bunny ears
6. Easter candy- Reese's eggs are my favorite followed by jelly beans
5. tulips, daffodils and orchids blooming all over town
4. Easter Sunday service- this is our first year celebrating with our new church family and I'm excited
3. Being the Easter Bunny for my kids who at 16, 14 and almost 9, still love their baskets
2. My parents being here with us for all the festivities this weekend
1. The Death, Burial and Resurrection of Jesus and how that changed everything, including my life.