How big?

     Some days I look at my big boy and wonder how he got so big, and capable of doing so much. He helps me out so much around the house and with his little sister. It seems like I look over at him suddenly he is bigger, taller, and doing new things before I can blink.

     He likes to help me cook but only as long as he gets to do part of it all by himself. He can be so focused on the task at hand but occasionally he gets overly excited and things get a bit messy. It is usually totally worth it. He listens to the recipe and asks me questions about the ingredients. Someday he will be a great cook, if he can get over this "I only eat fruit and bread, maybe pasta" stage.

     It won't be long before he can really help himself to somethings in the kitchen. He already can get his own snacks but he is really good about checking with me first which a really appreciate.

     Not only can he help cook but lately he has been helping clean up too. He often needs an incentive but once he gets going he really seems to enjoy it and he does a great job. I am so proud every time, it is nice to have same help and it really does speed up the job which, I must confess, really surprised me. I thought that supervising him would take as much work as his help relieved but instead the job goes so quickly and smooth I wonder how I ever did it without him. He does such a good job, I guess he has spent a few years watching me do it, or it could be those Barcroft cleaning genes that seemed to skip my husband but got to all his siblings.


     And finally there are the cognitive and creative leaps and bounds that he is taking. Every time I see a picture that he has drawn I am amazed at the detail and technique that he is picking up more of every day. And he is so close to reading! I can't wait until he can read, I know that he will love it! We work on writing our letters and knowing all their sounds. He does amazing work in the little workbooks that I have gotten him. And he seems to really enjoy the math and reading skills that they emphasize.

     But at night when I sneak into his room to pray for him, and I pull the covers up to his chin to tuck him in, I look at that face and remember the sweet baby I held in my arms, who loved to pat me on the cheek as he nursed, whose favorite pass time was balancing on the huge cookie tin I had, and whose first word, light, seemed to happen just yesterday.


   
     So I ask him, "How big are you?" and he stands up, stretches his arms out wide, and announces, "THIS BIG!!!!", but I know, he will always be my baby boy.

Because I Love You

My sweet boy issued his challenge loud and clear today and for the first time I feel like I looked at him and saw it for what it really was.

I have been reading lately, The Strong Willed Child, Setting Limits With Your Strong Willed Child, The Five Love Languages of Children, Grace Based Parenting, and How to Make Your Children Mind With Out Losing Yours, seeking a magic answer, and method I had missed, a technique I hadn't tried. I wanted an answer for my sons behavior. They are all great books with lots of ideas and insights and they all pointed me to one clear message about myself, not about my son. There is little about the practice of discipline that I don't already know, the idea is simple, the practice is hard. But when it comes to the heart of the whole matter I have been way off base.

I have been pulling out my hair trying to figure out why does he do this? Did I do something wrong? Am I ruining my son's childhood and guaranteeing long hard days ahead? Why can't he make this easier on all of us? What is the benefit to him? Does he actually like all this trouble? Why does he do this TO ME?

And there I have it. To me? This is not about me, and when I make it about me its no wonder he drives me crazy, it is about him wanting to know that I love him, about wanting to know that I love him enough to show him here are my limits and to be firm about it. Firm, not aggressive, not angry, not detached, just firm, and loving. This is not a personal vendetta against the woman who took away his toy car. This is not about any of the things that I was making in about in my head. So many of my fears and frustrations are in my head and there is no room for that when working with such an intelligent, persistent, strong will like my son. It would hurt my feelings that he would try the same thing over and over, and then I would get frustrated, and then I would not act like the mother I should be, the mother I want to be, the mother he needs me to be.

So today he sounded the challenge, I was tired, the baby had been sick yesterday, I was hurting, I was frustrated with how the day was going and we were all a bit stir crazy. It was the perfect storm for me to lose it. But I looked at him, and I saw something new. I felt sad, tired, frustrated, and there were moments that were not my best, but when I look over the day, as a whole, I am proud of myself. I was able to enjoy the happy moments and not brood over the last episode, able to accept the moments in between without feeling like I was walking on eggshells afraid that he would break out in a tantrum at any moment. Was I the peppy mom that I can be, not really, it was a really hard day. But in the end, when it was time for bed, I sang him his song, listened to his prayers, and hugged and kissed him as I tucked him in, and then he went to sleep knowing he was loved.
I saw a boy who wanted to know where is the line and how far will she go with it today, and I said all the way, my son, because I love you. And I pray that tomorrow, when, if, he states the same question, that my answer will be the same...

     ... all the way, my son, because I love you.

Those "Quiet Moments"

"I got you Momma!"

     Those quiet moments, so beautiful, so fleeting, when no one is screaming or grabbing at me or each other. No one is yelling from the bathroom or singing songs/nonsense at the top of their lungs. No one needs a drink of water, someone to play with, or a toy from the top shelf. No one is begging to be picked up so that they can climb down you in mere moments, and cry when they reach the floor. The kids are out of sight, and a potentially deadly, but alluring, silence fills the home. These are the moments where I, often with my cup of coffee, huddle in a corner of the couch, half in awe, half in fear, as the precious seconds tick by, wondering which type of "Quiet Moment" I am experiencing and how it will end.

Here is a small sample of my Moments:

     Sometimes these moments occur because the kids are having fun together, the "Happy Family" moment, as I like to call it, and any second there will be much wailing and gnashing of teeth over some wrong, real or imagined. Baby Girl cries, and I have to spend several minutes interrogating Brother to find out what really happened, or Brother comes running in because the baby is in the process of eating his favorite drawing, and my moment will end with a bang but it was so sweet while it lasted.

We can go from this...

... to this in a matter of seconds

   

Dirt and a stick, what
more could you ask for?

     Sometimes, they are just occupied in their own pursuits, playing with sidewalk chalk, digging through the toy basket, or, my favorite, looking at books. The "Everyone is Busy" moment.  Usually the kids wander in and out, one by one, never making eye contact, just doing their own thing. As gradually as the moment was achieved it is lost, usually by someone realizing that you are not occupied and are available for accousting.

  This one is rare and I never realize it's happened until it's over. If you make the mistake of checking on them during one of these moments, and they see you, it will be instantly over.

They are so cute when they are
asleep.

  The best, and most secure, moment is the "Everyone is Asleep" moment. Since my sweet boy has out grown a constant nap time, this one is becoming even more unlikely than the "Everyone is Busy" moment.

"Mom! I put gel in my hair!
All by my self!"

     And then there is the "We Are Up To No Good" moments. These are the ones that make me jumpy during all the other, more benign, moments. These are the moments when they come in covered in permanent marker, or Vaseline, or something less identifiable and far more sinister, or you find your favorite thing dismembered in some corner somewhere hours later, or you realize they have been eating chalk when they throw up something very oddly colored on a friend later that night, or... the list of personal anecdotes goes on much longer than it should.
     The quote, "Silence is golden, unless you have a toddler, then it is just suspicious." is quite appropriate for these moments.

     So you have to decide, carefully weighing your options, how much do I need this moment, and what is it worth losing? Some days, days when I expect company, I am constantly checking up on them, making sure that there are no impending disasters. Other days I am cautiously optimistic but try to keep my finger on the pulse of the moment by listening for warning signs and sneaking around to see what is going on without being spotted. And then there are those days where you lock yourself in the bathroom just to have a moment, any moment, or as I call it, an "As Long As They Don't Burn Down the House" moment.

     Sometimes silence is just golden, no matter how suspicious.