unintentional

I just realized I had two poultry related posts in a row.

That was unintentional. The two are completely unrelated.

Unless there is a genetic tendency to have very little tolerance for farm fowl in our family.


Nah...

The chicken doesn't work...

This whirlwind week is wearing my girls out.

They stayed up really late on Saturday, are going to school a few extra days this week, and are accompanying us to VBS each night until after 9. They've both been so tired at the end of the day that silly things have them completely undone. Monday night, Little Sister got frustrated with a little wooden barn puzzle (the third or fourth toy she had in the car, having thrown the previous few) and somehow busted her lip with it while using her low, growly voice to yell, "THE CHICKEN DOESN'T WORK!"

Big Sister couldn't buckle her booster seat last night and cried like we ran over a unicorn. "It doesn't work!!!" she wailed. Until I asked, matter-of-factly, "what doesn't? The chicken?!" and we all dissolved in laughter for a few minutes, a nice and all-too-rare moment in a draining week.

I'm tired. My husband is tired. My girls are... beyond tired. At 11 o'clock this morning I brought a snack into the playroom where the girls were laying and watching a movie, and I saw Little Sister's eyes fluttering open. If I had been a little slower to cut the darned apples, she might have been asleep, and I could have avoided the naptime drama.

Instead, she stayed awake for another hour, angry at every toy and frustrated with everything Big Sis or I did. When I finally declared it was time to nap, I had to wrestle her into a diaper. She didn't want to be held or rocked, so I left her raging in her bed, until the angry screams turned to cries for Mommy. Then I went back and scooped her up. There is nothing like that little blonde curly head on my shoulder.

Even that was short lived, and she arched herself WAY back to start another tired tantrum. I found myself holding her body with one hand and extending my other arm to support her head, my body still bobbing and swaying to the lullaby music on the cd player. She stopped crying and laid there, silent except for that ragged breathing that comes from a good, hard cry. Her wet eyelashes fluttered, and I thought I might actually get the pleasure of helping my sweet little one fall asleep again- it has been ages since I held or rocked her as she drifted off. It reminded me of soothing her as a tiny baby, finding whatever strange position both supported and comforted her and praying I could keep it up. She's a lot bigger now so I gently pressed my elbows into her chubby toddler legs for extra support.

That's when she sat up and said, "No. Stop squeezing me."

But she was calm, and put her head back on my shoulder. She snuggled in, and I savored the moment knowing she would want down soon- to climb into her bed herself. And put the covers on herself. I can't even tuck in Little Miss Independent anymore.

Before I put her down, she raised up her head one more time. She was looking at her pillow, where earlier she had laid a doll and covered her with a tiny blanket. "There's a baby in my bed!" she said.

As I placed it in the doll crib and watched Little Sister climbing up into her big girl bunk, I thought to myself, "Nope. Not anymore."



Rest well, sweet girl. The week isn't over yet.

This will have to do...

I am LONG overdue on some cute pictures of my even cuter children. I am very aware that many of you who read my blog are family members who come here for the kid stories and photos. Well, our computer decided to go haywire recently and we had to do that whole "recovery mode" thing where it resets to factory settings. We kept all of our data (no precious pictures lost, thank heavens) but have to reinstall ALL of our software.

If you ever start to feel like you're beginning to get the hang of the whole "organization thing" just see what having to tear your house apart to look for ancient cds that accompanied printers, routers, cameras, etc. will do to your self esteem.

Anyway, I can't edit any new pics of the girls. And by edit, I mean I can't even freaking ROTATE them the way I want to so they aren't standing on their head when I upload them to this blog.

So, instead, here is another fun old picture we got from my phone.


It's Baby Big Sister wearing some weird chicken hat we saw in a mall store. I found the hat to be hilarious. She, obviously, found it to be troubling and will probably have a slight fear of poultry, or at least feathered caps, for the rest of her life.

Heads up

I've just noticed that one of my new favorite products, Renpure conditioner, is BOGO this week at CVS. I bought the "I Love My Hair" conditioner in North Carolina when I realized the "conditioning shampoo" we had leftover from some random hotel stay was not doing the trick on our salt-watered hair. It had a full rebate attached to try it for free. Great strategy, because I am in love with this stuff.

I've been considering going 'no poo, but I'm not quite ready to make the leap. I recently read that a common ingredient in many conditioners, silicone, can actually strip away your hairs natural oils, moisture & shine. Basically, you create a vicious cycle because after you use the 'cones (look for dimethicone, for example on your ingredient list) you have to keep using them because you can't get a healthy shine on your own anymore. So in an attempt to allow my hair to recover from that and possibly wean myself onto a more natural routine, I've been using Renpure. No 'cones- only natural and organic ingredients. It smells awesome, and I can even use a tiny bit as a leave in on really crazy frizz days. It's not even the "moisturizing" product line, but it definitely gives me more natural moisture than the dove daily treatment conditioner with which it is currently sharing a shelf in our shower.

It's usually $6.99 a bottle, which is more than I like to pay (the couponer/stockpiler in me really seldom PAYS for shampoo or conditioner these days) but the BOGO sale makes it a little less pricey. AND if you could find one with the rebate form, well, you'd basically getting two bottles free!

Just wanted to let you know. You know, unless you shop at my CVS and leave none for me.

That would be very uncool.

You know what else would be uncool? If I were paid to say this. I'm not. The people at Renpure have never heard of me, except (hopefully) to cut my rebate check. I just really like this conditioner and really like you and think the two of you would get along famously.

Song for Sunday: Everything

A couple of things before you read these awesome lyrics. 1) If liking Steven Curtis Chapman means I'm old, so be it. I'd be hard-pressed to find an SCC song I don't like. Even the old cheesy stuff reminds me of some amazing times. 2) The word "yours" looks weird when you read it over and over and over. Just an observation. Try to get past it, this is a pretty amazing song.

Yours
by Steven Curtis Chapman

I walk the streets of London
And notice in the faces passing by
Somthing that makes me stop and listen
My heart grows heavy with the cry

Where is the hope for London?
You whisper and my heart begins to soar
As I'm reminded
That every street in London in Yours
Oh, yes it is

I walk the dirt roads of Uganda
I see the scars that war has left behind
Hope like the sun is fading
They're waiting for a cure no one can find

And I hear children's voices singing
Of a God who heals and rescues and restores
And I'm reminded
That every child in Africa is Yours

And its all Yours, God, Yours, God
Everything is Yours
From the stars in the sky
To the depths of the ocean floor
And its all Yours, God, Yours, God
Everything is Yours
You're the Maker and Keeper, Father and Ruler of everything
It's all Yours

And I walk the sidewalks of Nashville
Like Singapore, Manila and Shanghai
I rush by the beggar's hand and the wealthy man
And everywhere I look I realize
That just like the streets of London
For every man and woman, boy and girl
All of creation
This is our Father's world

And its all Yours, God, Yours, God
Everything is Yours
From the stars in the sky
To the depths of the ocean floor
And its all Yours, God, Yours, God
Everything is Yours
You're the Maker and Keeper, Father and Ruler of everything

I've walked the valley of death's shadow
So deep and dark that I could barely breathe
I've had to let go of more than I could bear
And questioned everything that I believe
But still even here in this great darkness
A comfort and hope come breaking through
As I can say in life or death
God we belong to you.

It's all Yours, God

The glory is Yours, God
All the honor is Yours, God
The power is Yours, God
The glory is Yours, God
You're the King of Kings
And Lord of Lords

And its all Yours, God, Yours, God
Everything is Yours
From the stars in the sky
To the depths of the ocean floor
And its all Yours, God, Yours, God
Everything is Yours
All the greatness and power, the glory and splendor and majesty
Everything is Yours
Yeah, it's all Yours
We are Yours
The glory and honor is Yours, everything is Yours

It's all Yours, God
My life is Yours, my heart is Yours
My hands and my feet are Yours
Every song that I sing
It's all Yours, all is Yours
All belongs to You
Our gifts are Yours, God
All our dreams are Yours, God
All our plans are Yours, God
The whole earth is Yours, God
Everything is Yours

Book Review: Same Kind of Different As Me

I'm not sure how to begin to describe this book. It was thought-provoking and inspiring, suspenseful, moving, even humorous. It is easily the best book I've read in years. And the best part is that it's a true story. It chronicles the separate lives (both shared in their own unique first-person voice) of a share-cropper turned homeless man and a wealthy art dealer and his wife, and how they come together. They have a profound impact on each other, and ultimately on their entire community. There are many amazing things throughout the story that remind the reader that this was all a part of the redemptive, miraculous work of God and His love for His children- rich or poor, black or white, good or bad.

I don't want to say much more, because I knew very little about this book when I sat down to read it, and I think that added to my delight. I'd only heard someone recommend it, saw it on a shelf and thought about buying it, and then quickly requested it when it was available on Booksneeze. I'm so glad I did!

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Why trying to be a better teacher made me a crummier mother...

I've worked with kids since, well, since I was one myself. I loved children's ministry so much that each year in Vacation Bible School, when my friends in the youth group were being assigned as helpers in all of the classes, I was teaching. In fact, while I was still in the youth group, I worked to revive our children's church program. I'm thankful for a church that allowed me the chance to develop and use my gifts in those ways (even though I was not only young, but a girl! Gasp!)

In college, I worked at The Children's Place and had a small stint as a (very) part-time children's minister. I served and led in many creative ministries- acting, music, puppets; I was even a clown. I served in camp settings and led others in children's ministry, too. I enjoyed being around kids, and I tried to approach the world around me with their same sense of wonder and enthusiasm.

When it came time to figure out "what I wanted to be when I grow up" (which was already upon me, no matter how I tried to put it off) I entertained ideas of child psychology, social work, children's ministry, and more. But in order to have time to make the right decision (and to have insurance) I ended up as a paraprofessional in a Special Education preschool. That year led me to pursue my masters in education and a teaching certificate in a fifth-year program.

There are many, many reasons that I look back on that year at Samford with mixed feelings of fondness and regret. John and I were engaged (and then married) and exploring a new city and a new life (with a new buddy, our now-graying Al-dog). I lived on my own for the first time in my life. I learned a lot. But I also felt the pressure of a whirlwind program, an upcoming wedding (in another state), unsympathetic (some downright hateful) professors, and little social support. And, as I soon learned, there seemed to be TOO much about teaching to learn in that little amount of time.

I enjoyed my student teaching placement and was thrilled when I was hired to teach first grade there after graduation. It was a wonderful school with supportive co-workers and involved parents. I grew a lot while I was there. When (if?) I venture back into the classroom, I'll be a much better teacher than I was when I first walked through those halls.

But I think I'm a worse parent.

I mean, I can only speculate since the only person I "parented" before I taught was a wild and hairy German shepherd (and since I had never had a hyper, overgrown puppy before, I'm sure I made mistakes with him, especially since he could make me SO angry by leaving muddy pawprints on me or sprinting out the door just as I was ready to leave for work. But I digress...)

You see, there is this one super important thing you must establish as a teacher. It's what makes or breaks you (that and standardized test scores, unfortunately) called Classroom Management. To have great Classroom Management (according to all my profs and my principal and this guy named Harry Wong- no, I just wish I made that name up) you must practice all of the routines and procedures in your classroom before you ever teach a single academic concept. And you set clear expectations for behavior in order to make the best, most proficient learning environment. And if you fail, other teachers will judge you. (I might have added this last one myself, but nonetheless...)

Suddenly, I went from someone who knew how to get down on a child's level, lose myself in play and silliness, and talk to a handful of kids in their language- someone with a gift for engaging and guiding in my own way- to someone consumed with trying to get a roomful of the craziest kids to JUST. SHUT.UP.

A part of that was because I seemed to have the strangest behavior problems from each kindergarten class all reunited into mine (and I student taught in the year before in kindergarten, so I'm not just saying this). But a part of it was because I felt this terrible pressure to keep these kids under control, and as any first year teacher knows, you're just faking any confidence in your abilities for most of the year anyway. I was scared, and frustrated, and desperate for control. For classroom management.

So I implemented routines and procedures and expectations and drills and jobs and consequences and rewards. The kids got quieter in the halls. They seemed to be paying better attention. Mass chaos was slowly turning into a classroom. My principal praised my improvements.

But I wasn't enjoying the kids as much, and I don't think they were enjoying me. Sure, we had moments together- bandaging a papercut or sitting together at the playground, but I had so much to teach, and so little time, and so many things to enforce, that I couldn't stop and listen to every story about what they did last night. I couldn't let one kid talk in the hallway, even to me, or the whole system would crash. At least, that's how it felt.

In those days, it was almost automatic for me to answer anyone who left their seat (a no-no) to ask me a question with a "shh." I might still allow or answer the question, but the shushing made it clear that it was not truly acceptable or appreciated.

I knew some teachers who seemed to make it work- they had their expectations and their perfect little lines, but they still had time to really interact with their kids. I hoped that would come as I got used to teaching. Everyone always said, "Start out tough so you can loosen up later."

My later didn't really ever seem to come.

My second year I felt slightly less terrified and unprepared, but I also had a child who refused to follow even the simplest request, threw screaming tantrums, rolled on the floor, and threw. a. chair. So, no real room to "loosen up" there.

I only taught for those two years before we got pregnant and moved. In fact, we moved into our house three weeks before Big Sis was born. I feel like we started out behind and are still trying to catch up. We still have a lot more art/family photos sitting in boxes or on shelves than hanging on walls. We still have a few remnants of hideous wallpaper. We still have work to do.

So I traded in the overwhelmed feeling of teaching for the overwhelmed feeling of motherhood. And instead of principals, parents and co-workers assessing my job performance based on the behavior of a class full of children, I have a church family I imagine is doing pretty much the same based on the behavior of just two. That's a lot of pressure to put on myself and them. Couple that with the crazy schedules, the frequent illness and then surgeries for my girls, and the anxiety and depression I've been battling, and we've had a rough few months.

A friend let me borrow a copy of a book called Grace Based Parenting, which talks about raising kids with a strong sense of support and room to be vulnerable, make mistakes, and be themselves. It all resonates with me because it's stuff I used to believe. It's stuff I've always believed, really. But I've just developed some stupid habits.

So I'm trying to ask the question Dr. Tim Kimmel mentions in his book. "Does it really matter?" I'm trying to distinguish between disrespectful or sinful behavior versus my kids being themselves, quirks and all. Maybe Big Sister will always be spacey and sllllooooowww as molasses, but battling or punishing her for it does more harm than good. Maybe Little Sister will always have crazy curiosity, but who really cares if she tastes the cat food when she's supposed to be feeding Keaton? Is it really going to kill me if I have a few extra clothes in the laundry because Big Sis is obsessed with trying on her clothes? What's the worst that can happen if Little Sister leaves the house wearing her sister's shoes on the wrong feet, or her tutu, or both? And why on earth should my kids be shushed in the house if they are playing a loud game? There is no lesson being taught next door. No one is napping. I just have to lose that "default teacher" radar that senses the slightest violation of volume or order.

Now this doesn't mean my kids are going to get away with everything. For one thing, I'm still trying to embrace this. And for another, I will still not tolerate anything that is harmful or disrespectful to themselves or others, or breaks rules laid out by us or God's word.

So, the other night, I gave Big Sister a chance to change her ways after she dangled her little sister over the trash can at church, but when she stuck her tongue out at me, refused to clean up, and then removed her silly bands one at a time and threw them in my face... well, she got a pop on her bottom.

But when she sang SUPER loudly in the car on the way home, and I looked in the rear view mirror and saw Little Sis smiling and singing a long, I took a deep breath and joined in.

And then we had ice cream for dinner :P