Say It Enough, You'll Start to Believe It
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The pictures above are older as evidence by the cast on Landon’s arm and the fact that Lee and I are standing stop the Duomo in Sienna, Italy. But they depict the people for whom I am most thankful during this season.
I’m a blessed woman.
Oh…and everyone slept all night last night. Well, that’s not entirely true. Landon got up at 2:00 but he went straight back to sleep and so did I. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for your perspective!
I hereby officially love Tuesday.
– My children are systematically trying to ensure that I never sleep a full night again. This is the part of the mom blog where I’m supposed to say that it’s Thanksgiving and I’m thankful for the sound of their little feet pitter pattering through the house no matter how early it is…
I’m not gonna say that. I want to sleep. I want to sleep all night long without someone coming into my room for this, that and the other. I’m tired today. And a little crabby.
– In Landon’s defense, he has been dealing with winter illnesses for a couple of weeks now. He’s had a cold, that’s morphed into upper respiratory issues on top of which he’s developed pink eye and has so far this morning puked twice. Good times. In the midst of that, we’ve moved him out of the crib into a big bed allowing him the freedom to traipse into our room at all hours of the night. Because we’re brilliant like that.
– Yesterday we attended our church’s annual Family Christmas Workshop. I love this event. There are almost 100 rooms set up with different homemade crafts for the kids to make. There are Christmas carols and cookies (so many cookies!) and it’s a great way to kick off the holiday season. It also gives us several handmade gifts to give to teachers and grandparents. Score!
– Speaking of our church, we are putting on a Broadway style musical in a couple of weeks and, if I do say so myself, it’s going to be amazing. Wanna come? Purchase tickets here. Most of the front tables have already been sold, but there really isn’t a bad seat in the house. And in addition to a great show, you’ll also get dessert! All for ten dollars. Please come!
– I have a fantastic giveaway up on STL Family Life today. Seriously – you don’t want to miss it. The bracelet I’m giving away is gorgeous. I so wish I could keep it for myself.
– Landon is watching Toy Story 3 Monster’s Inc. right now. I am letting him watch all the TV he wants today. It keeps him still and near the puke bowl in case he needs it. And it keeps me from having to follow him around the house hoping to catch his upchuck because, as we all know, toddlers give no warning before spewing.
– I’m grateful to my husband. He’s been amazing this weekend. He helped me out so much in a variety of different ways and this morning before leaving he told me he knew today was going to be sucky and he was sorry. I so needed to hear that. I didn’t need a pep talk about how I could do this and how I would survive this day and how I just needed to power through. I just needed to hear some acknowledgment that today, indeed, will be a sucky day. What a guy…
– I’m going to sit down and take a nap on the couch fold laundry while Landon watches his movie. Here’s to hoping he doesn’t yak on me while I sleep work.
– Go Monday – FTW!
If ever you ask my seven year old to pray before a meal, I suggest you make sure you’re not starving. Because Sloan? He brings it when he prays. All I need is a tent and a white hanky and Glory, Hallelujah we’ve got a revival.
Landon and Tia, try as they might, have a very difficult time making it through one of Sloan’s prayers without sneaking a bite or four. Sloan has been known to pray up to five minutes or more. He thanks God for everything from his toys to the military. He prays for poor people and for everyone he can think of by name. He prays for his own attitude and, on any given day, could likely be heard praying that his sister’s attitude would change too.
Last night’s dinnertime prayer went something like this:
Dear Lord. You are the Creator. You created. Everything. God. You are our Lord. Thanks for being our Lord. And for being our Savior. Thank you for, um, the veterens (which he pronounces vechrins). Thank you that they protect us and keep us safe. Thank you for Mr. Nevil that he fought to protect our country. We are very glad for them. Thank you for the Army vechrins and the Navy and…um…the Air Force. And all of the people that serve. It’s just awesome that they do that for us. Give them glory, Lord.
We thank you for Jonri (our Compassion child), God. He is poor. But he’s not poor anymore because we can help him to not be poor. And thank you that he will get Christmas presents. We pray for all the poor people, God. We pray that they will have food. And toys.
Lord you are very great. God. Thank you for our family (lists everyone from grandparents to aunts and uncles and cousins). Thank you for all my friends (lists as many as he can think of by name). And, God. I pray that I would have a good attitude. Thank you that I had a good day today and was nice and happy. And thank you that Tia was nice to me today and we could have a little fun.
*It’s at this point that Lee and I are trying not to crack up as Landon, with his head down and his eyes squinted open begins grabbing food and putting it in his mouth, then clasping his hands together again while he prays and chews. My grandmother would have told him he was going to choke for sneaking food during prayer.
We just thank you for everything you give us, Lord. And it is in your Holy, Powerful Name we pray…In Jesus Name.
Amen
It’s not hard to understand why Jesus commanded us to let the little children come to him. There is no holding back in the sincere prayers of a child. I am always blessed by Sloan’s prayers, no matter how lengthy they may be.
As soon as Sloan finished his prayer, we all echoed the Amen and picked up our forks to eat. But wait! Tia wanted to pray. So we bowed again. Her prayers are generally short, sweet and to the point.
Dear Wowrd. Fank you dat we have a gweat famiwy. And fank you dat you dive us dis food. And…well…amen.
Amen!
Ah the reverence. I was momentarily tempted to pat myself on the back for raising such wonderful, thoughtful children.
Then I was humbled.
After the beautiful prayers, the meal took a slight downhill turn. We picked up our forks again and Lee thanked the kids for being willing to pray. Half of Landon’s plate was, of course, clean. Everything was gone except his meat…naturally. I made beef stew. It was delicious but I will admit…it didn’t look appealing. Tia put it a…different way.
She looked down at the pile of meat on her plate and wrinkled her nose.
“Is dis poop?!”
And thus, the reverence of the moment was totally gone. Sloan cracked up and Landon looked with great disdain at his plate. It took several minutes to convince him that I did not, indeed, prepare poop for dinner.
We started off grand, though, didn’t we?
My happy go lucky third born rarely walks.
He doesn’t often run, either.
He jumps. Everywhere he goes…he jumps.
This makes it really hard to catch a decent picture of him.
Unless, of course, his gymnastics instructor manages to get him to sit still for 2.3 minutes. She might even convince him to kiss his knee. If he’s sitting still long enough to listen, that is.
Mostly, though. This kid is a hopper. A bouncer. He bounces all day long. Bounces and smiles.
I like to call him Tigger.
Sometimes it exhausts me, all that bouncing. But then he grins and waves. And seriously…
How can you not love that face?
So yummy.
No, I’m not going to bust out in a radical version of Don’t Stop Believin’. Although if I still had make up on, it wasn’t 11:10 at night and my FlipCam was close by, I might have considered it.
Nope…I’m talking about a different kind of journey. On Friday I shared with you the struggles and insecurities I’m feeling as my career climbs ever so slightly and the inner battles that wage within. I received great, wonderful, supportive comments from many of you. I also received a couple of phone calls and a few emails filled with encouragement.
All of this encouragement began squeezing at my heart, which then overflowed in prayer. How am I to feel about all of this? How do I respond to the obvious passions and desires of my heart when opportunity presents itself? And how do I balance those with the obligations and love I have for my family?
A conversation I had on Sunday solidified in my heart my need for serious reflection on this matter. I found myself encouraging a new friend to pursue her own passions. I heard myself tell her that God doesn’t want us to live in fear. He has given this girl obvious talents and passions and she yearns to pursue them, but there is that nagging little thing called practicality. It is telling her that pursuing her passions, even to the glory of God, means giving up a tiny bit of security and safety. Not that I think I know what’s best for her life, by any means, but I do know that when I see someone who longs and desires to pursue a passion I’m going to do everything in my power to encourage her to do it without shame and or fear.
I need to have a talk with the girl who stares back at me from the mirror…
Practicality is a good thing. Practicality keeps food on the table and money in the bank. Practicality makes sure that should your two year old topple off his stool in the middle of dinner, you can walk into an ER and get his broken arm plastered up without fear of losing your home to medical bills.
Not that we know anything about that, of course…
As we drove home from church Sunday afternoon, I relayed the discussion to Lee and I could almost hear his brain explode inside his skull. Because he’s been telling me this for years.
I am trapped in practicality. But the problem with my practicality is that it isn’t the good kind. It’s not the kind that is really truly doing my family any good. It’s really just my excuse to not try too hard. If I don’t try too hard to succeed, I sure as heck don’t have to worry about failing.
Nice, huh?
Except it’s not.
The thing that baffles me about all this is the fact that I didn’t use to be this way. This fear based practicality was birthed the second I became a mother. Suddenly I found myself afraid to dream anymore for fear I might shove them all toward costly psychiatrist bills when they’re older. Because we all know that it’s always the mom’s fault, right?
Here’s the thing: this is not the place we were designed to live. This is not where I was designed to live. None of us were meant to hide behind practicality – to use it as a shield to hide us from the world. Sometimes practicality is entirely impractical. It’s not always wise to be practical. God didn’t design us to live in fear, insecurity and guilt. He designed us to walk freely, unashamed and with passion. And passion is rarely ever practical. Think of the greatest leaders and innovators in history – very few of them operated in passive practicality. Most of them threw caution to the wind and surrendered to their dreams.
Think of Christopher Columbus. Sailing around the world was not practical, especially when the prevailing thought was that the world was flat. But he tossed practicality over the side of his ship and sailed forth, driven by passion and a good deal of gumption. Or what about a group of five men who, in 1956, risked everything to minister to a group of people known as the Woadani deep in the Amazon only to end up being brutally murdered by the people they so desperately wanted to help? Was it practical to transplant their families to that region? It could even be argued that that was unwise…unless you know the end of the story when Jim Elliot’s son returned and forever altered the future of the people who slayed his father.
Of course, wisdom must play a role. But wisdom and practicality are different aren’t they? Practicality is a dross around the neck of passion. Wisdom is the wings which give passion flight. Wisdom allows us to pursue passions with the knowledge that even if we don’t succeed (as the world sees success), we certainly can’t call ourselves failures. Because how can we fail? Hasn’t the battle already been won on our behalf?
Sometimes, of course, wisdom and practicality must go hand in hand. It would be both unwise and impractical for me to pursue a career as a professional surfer. There are a number of reasons for this, one of the more prevalent ones being I live in Missouri…not a lot of ocean to be found. I also have to be sure that the things I pursue are supported by Lee. It is not wise or practical to chase a dream without my husband’s full support. I will never succeed that way.
If, however, I do have the full support of my husband and I step out in faith, wisely seeking direction along the way, then haven’t I already experienced success, even if I don’t accomplish that which I set out to accomplish? What about the journey I took? What about the things I learned on the path? If the journey leads to deeper faith, new experiences and greater wisdom, then tell me where exactly the failure lies?
The truth that has taken root inside my heart these last few days is so simple, yet also a bit complex: If I am willing to embrace my dreams, without guilt or fear, perhaps that alone is the success I am to find. And what a journey that would be…
Don’t stop. Believin’. Hold on to that feeeeeeelin’.
Huh…look at that – the song fits after all.
Righteous.
I shared this story the other night with a friend and I decided it was too funny not to blog. So here you go…just another random blog about my life.
You. Are. Welcome.
I was 24 years old and pregnant with Sloan. It should be stated that Sloan was a mammoth of a child. He was 9.3 when he was born in July of 2003 so by June of that year I looked like I was going to explode. I carried him one hundred percent out front and quite low so yes, I waddled and I got asked more than once if I was expecting twins.
FYI – Pregnant women don’t like to be asked if they’re having twins because the chances are greater that they’re not carrying twins. If you are unsure, it’s best to simply not ask.
It was early on a June day and Lee needed to take my car into the shop due to a rather unpleasant sound it was making that was certain to cost us a large portion of our unborn child’s college fund so instead of being stuck at home for the day, I decided to run the few errans I had in The Pup.
The Pup was a little Isuzu truck we bought while we were rehabbing our house so that we could haul lumber and other large items to and from our temporary home – Lowes. I believe we paid $500 for The Pup. She was rusted inside and out and she shook rather furiously when you started her up. She sputtered when she moved and she was drafty due to a rather significant hole in the floor board. But she served her purpose well and we tried not to drive her long distances for fear that she might literally fall apart in the road and we’d be left manually pushing a Flinstones car up the driveway.
So on this fine morning, I loaded up The Pup and prepared to spend the morning out.
Did I mention I was great with child? Great with child. And for some reason, on this particular day, I decided to wear my hair in two long braids. I was 24 so I could still pull off braids without looking totally and completely ridiculous.
Actually, I’m guessing that’s not true. I probably looked ridiculous.
I also wore no make up and because my fingers were rather swollen I had on no ring. But the creme de la creme of my little ensemble came in the form of my maternity shirt. Because my protuding abdomen was so prominent, food and liquids attached themselves to it with great frequency. As in, every time I ate I spilled something on my stomach. So by the end of my pregnancy, I didn’t own a single unstained shirt. And the shirt I chose on that particular day was white and had a long stain right. down. the middle.
I am nothing if not classy.
So out I walked. In braids, with a stained shirt, to The Pup. I had give myself a bit of a running start in order to get my gut up off the ground and into the slightly elevated seat. It was quite the ordeal, in fact to get in and get the seat adjusted so that I could reach the steering wheel without it cutting off the circulation to the lower half of my body.
In short…I looked ridiculous.
I made my first stop at Borders Bookstore. I waddled in and got my book and smiled slightly at the people who started at me with eyebrows raised. I waddled back out, took my hop, step and leap into The Pup’s front seat and shimmied around until I was just right and continued on to the gas station.
Here I ran into an older man and woman filling up their boat on wheels. The woman didn’t even try to hide her horrified stares. It was at this moment that I began to feel a bit like a Zoo animal. I also began to wonder what it was that people were staring at.
After I got gas, I headed to Mecca Target. It was here that the stares intensified and I finally got the question.
“Honey, when are you due?”
“In three weeks.”
“Ah,” the woman nodded knowingly. “And you feel okay to be out walking around?”
“Um…yes?”
She looked down at me with a bit of pity in her eyes, causing even more confusion on my part. “Well, good luck to you,” she said, patting me on the shoulder as she turned to walk away. This woman truly seemed sorry for me.
I decided to make my purchase and get out of the Twilight Zone as quickly as possible at that point. When I made my pitiful leap into The Pup, I looked up in the rear view mirror to make sure I didn’t have FREAK written across my forehead and when I looked I laughed out loud.
Braids and no make up with bangs hanging neatly across my forehead…
I looked seventeen years old.
No wonder people stared. I looked like a poor little knocked up teenager who’s boyfriend had left her with nothing but a stained shirt and beat up old truck. This explained the old woman’s horror at the gas station.
I also explains why I have never worn braids again.
The End.
In recent months work has taken off for me quite a bit. I’m at the tail end of editing a third book this year with a fourth lined up to start next week. All four of these books fell in my lap and I have had more fun than I’d like to publicly admit fixing them up. In addition to the books, I’ve started writing for a couple of other websites, am speaking next week at a social media event and am ramping up plans to send STL Family Life to the next level.
So many blessings. I can’t tell you how much it thrills me to have these opportunities, but…
I’ve struggled lately. Am I doing the right thing? Is this what I should be doing? Am I being all that I need to be for my kids, my husband and my community? What if this path is the wrong path? Am I being selfish?
I’ve been wading through some insecurity lately. When I began this blog almost three years ago I had no clue what blogging was all about. I wanted to keep a record of life with three kids amidst the insanity of a new baby. And now, while I still want to keep a record for my kids, I must admit I’m also doing this for me. I’m doing it because I love to create. I love that this blogging/social media business has helped me burst out of my bubble a bit and meet people I never would have met before.
Some of you may have a hard time believeing this, but by nature I’m a bit of an introvert. Meeting new people scares the crap out of me. Meeting people who are successful and funny and accomplished makes me feel like curling up in bed with a copy of Jane Eyre, a bottle of wine and a year’s supply of PEOPLE magazine.
Sad, I know.
But in the last year I’ve found a new sense of confidence bubble beneathe the interior of my insecurity. Part of it stems from my husband who never ceases to make me feel like I can conquer the world…and who tells me I’m hot on a daily basis. Seriously can’t get enough of that…
Some comes from the fact that my family all support my online writing with a great deal of glee. I can always count on my parents to make me feel like I hung the moon.
But a large part of this confidence has come from dear friends and absolute strangers. People here in town who have embraced me and encouraged me, taught me and challenged me. People who are beautiful and successful and…nice. Women who are great moms and great writers. Women who stay at home, women who work at home, women who work outsdie the home, women of all stages of life…Women who tell me it’s okay to pursue my dreams.
So a new confidence is brewing inside. But there is still guilt and insecurity. You see, while I now feel confident in my ability to accomplish my goals and dreams, I question my motivation to do so. I like that I can earn a little income and help support our family to a degree (or at least help take my husband on a rockin’ European vaction, anyway), and I like the creative outlet writing and editing give me which make me a better mom altogether.
But is it right?
I read this post today by Megan at Velveteen Mind and it struck a chord in my soul. My career is filled with lofty ideals and noble goals. My family is my mission. I can fail in my freelance career – I cannot fail as a mother.
The thing that’s most frustrating about my current insecurities is that most of them have no base. I’m not being unwise in my career. I’m not sacrificing my family. I’m not taking on more than I can handle (not now anyway) but I am struggling against this feeling of uncontentment. I’m not content with my career because I want to take it to the next level, but I don’t want to take it to the next level because I fear I’ll sacrifice my family. I’ve had enough work lately that I’ve tossed around the idea of hiring a babysitter for a couple of hours a week so I can get things done. Oh the guilt I’ve felt for even thinking that! Insane amounts…And here’s why – I love what I do! Writing and editing are not work for me. So hiring a sitter once a week so I can hole up in Starbucks and have fun feels like an indulgence. I’m still not sure if I’ll do it or not…
And so I flounder a bit.
I don’t share this to have the problem solved. I think all moms deal with this to a degree. We all have to balance who we are inside the home with who we are outside the home. We all have passions and goals outside of motherhood and yet we all long to do nothing more than be great moms. I share this just to share. To get it out of my head and off my chest. To verbally confess – I’m struggling with life balance. No one in my family is suffering, everyone’s healthy (emotionally that is – Tia has a nasty cold) and we are enjoying one another daily. But I still battle within.
I don’t think I’m alone in this…
November 11.
Veterans Day.
I never really understood the significance of this day growing up. I didn’t get the impact that veterans had on our country. Of course I heard about their sacrifice, but I didn’t really get it until I grew much, much older. It was so easy as a youth to get caught up in the tales of war and not see them as a depiction of reality. They just seemed so…commercial. War wasn’t real to me.
Then I turned 23 and watched a few months later with the world as the Twin Towers collapsed in New York. I sat on my apartment floor and sobbed. My heart broke in two for my countrymen who I knew perished. But it also shook with fear for at that very moment, my brother was stationed on a supply ship in the Persian Gulf. Everything was uncertain and I have never felt such fear.
And that’s when war became real to me. It’s also when I realized that our military men deserve every ounce of respect we can muster. Earlier this year as I stood in line at the airport to fly to New Orleans, a soldier on crutches stood behind me. It only felt right to let him take my place in line. After all, he was placing himself in harms way so I could have the freedom to stand in that line. I found myself increasingly frustrated, however, when the two families in front of me did not let him move to the front. They saw him standing there. He was in full uniform. And he was on crutches. I wanted to apologize to him for them.
I am so deeply proud of this country and the men and women who stand in harms way for us. To any of them who may be reading today, including my brother, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Thank you for protecting me and my family. Thank you for your sacrifice. And I thank your families as well because they sacrifice just as much. I honestly can’t find the words to express just how much gratitude I feel…and that’s saying something because me? I’m rarely speechless.
To read about Veteran’s Day from the perspective of a veteran, visit this blog written by our dear friend, Jeremy.
Happy Veteran’s Day.
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My grandmother with her youngest child, Tammy, on the island of South Caicos circa 1964-ish.
This day holds another significance for me. Today is my grandmother’s birthday. Mimi would have been 80 today. Instead of celebrating with us, however, she’s dancing at the foot of the King and has been since March of 2003. All I can say is I can’t wait to get to heaven to see Mimi dance because for as long as I was growing up that was not an activity she condoned. I want to see her shake her groove thang on the streets of gold.
I so wish that Mimi were here with us. I wish she could have met Tia and Landon. I wish she could have come with my mom and I to her beloved Turks and Caicos islands last year. I would have loved to hear her talk about her years there as a young mom and missionary. It would have been nice to hear more of her stories. I appreciate her so much more now that I am a mom myself. And I miss her.
Thankfully, I have some of the journals she kept during her years as a pioneer missionary in the Carribbean. They are a window into who she was as a young woman and I love to hold such a precious key to my past.
I am so proud of the heritage that has been passed down to me through my grandparents and parents. I am proud of all of my family. They are living out the Great Commission every single day literally all over the world. I couldn’t be more honored to share DNA with such a fine group of people.
Today’s post is dedicated to Mimi, a woman whom I admire, respect, miss and love. May I pass the torch of faithfulness to my own children, just as it has been passed to me.
My sister-in-law (who is all kinds of awesome) is doing a month long series in which she details that which she is thankful for. Imagine that! Giving thanks in the month of Novemeber…who ever heard of such a thing?
I, personally, love the idea of focusing on that for which I am thankful. It’s so easy to get bogged down in the negative, in the business and craziness and OMGI’MNOTGONNASURVIVETHIS moments of life that sometimes I have to stop myself and remember the happy.
In general I’m not much of an Eyeore type person. I’m thankful for that because with some of the heartaches that I have faced in the past, it would be very easy to be an Eyeore. But then again, it’s that way for all of us, isn’t it? We’ve all faced pain, heartache, trial, hurt. We all have the choice to dwell in the pain, live in the past and simmer in the hurt.
Or…
We can move on, step forward and let the past fade in the distance. For some, that’s easy to do. For others, it’s much harder due to deeper wounds, harsher trials or simply because they are hardwired from conception to stew, analyze and think.
So today I’m focusing on the thankful. I have been so bogged down lately that I really haven’t had time to stop and think and…thank.
Outside of the obvious (my husband and kids…what kind of wife and mom would I be if I didn’t mention them, right?) I’m thankful for where we are in our lives right now. We’ve walked a bit of a tightrope in the last few months and it had every potential end in a stomach dropping plunge. But, instead, the tightrope has slwoly widened and we are once again feeling a bit more secure. Not comfortable, of course, as we are ever on our guard, but we have definately seen blessing in the last month.
I’m thankful for that.
I’m thankful for the memories I made travelling Europe with my husband where he snapped the above picture on our last day in Italy as I lounged in a park in Bellagio. I was looking at the mountains across Lake Como and marvelling at God’s majesty, totally in awe of creation. I’m thankful for that day, for that moment and for the many pictures that are seared into my brain from across the seas.
I’m thankful for the career I’m slowly but surely beginning to develop in writing, editing and social media. I wasn’t looking for this and it kind of fell in my lap and I just have to say – I’m having the time of my life. I’m still navigating the waters of what is feasible for me to pursue and what needs to be sacrificed as I also tend to my young brood. But I’m thankful for opportunity, whatever it might be, that comes my way and I’m totally enjoying the ride.
I’m thankful for Nutella. It’s just so very, very good. On everything. Including pizza crust, on which we slathered an entire can a couple of weeks ago and presented it to the kids as dinner. Which leads me to the next thing:
I’m thankful that I can still please my kids with a Boboli Pizza crust and a can of Nutella. I’m thankful that my seven year old still thinks it’s cool when I accompany him on field trips. I’m thankful that my four year old still wants to hold my hand and sit in my lap. I’m thankful that my two year old tells me I’m beautiful almost every day and then squints his eyes in a mischevious grin because he knows it melts my heart.
I’m thankful for my soft bed and thick pillows even though I don’t get to enjoy those as much as I would like to.
I’m thankful.
I’m also now craving Nutella.
I’m thankful that Target is only a couple of minutes away and they faithfully stock Nutella on their shelves.
What are you thankful for?
Post edit: This post is not meant to condemn anyone who has given their child a Nintendo DS or DSi. I do not oppose gaming devices in general, however, at this point in time they are not right for our family. My intent in posting this is not to make anyone feel bad but to get feedback on what the heck to buy my children for Christmas!!!
Carry on…
Hey guys. So Christmas is around the corner. I’m not sure if you were aware of that fact. I mean, you know, if you’ve been hiding under a rock you might not have realized, but for the rest of us who are already being bombarded with decorations and music it’s pretty dang hard to ignore.
Christmas is coming and somewhere someone’s goose is getting fat. Poor Thanksgiving…it is the forgotten holiday.
So here’s my yuletide dilemma. My seven year old is at the age where gift buying is becoming a bit difficult. He still likes toys (praise God), but he’s not as easy to please as he once was. I believe we have one more year before buying gifts to satisfy his maturing tastes will become harder…and more expensive.
This year, he has his sweet little heart set on a Nintendo Dsi. He talks about it incessantly. He wants to check them out every time we enter The Holy Land Target and he tells everyone he sees that he’s getting one for Christmas. Here’s the thing, though.
He’s not.
Lee and I have decided that right now we are not ready to introduce hand held gaming devices into our children’s lives. There are a couple of reasons for this:
1.) I just don’t think it’s necessary at seven to have a Nintendo Dsi. I’m not opposed to them, but I find it to be an awfully expensive gift for such a young child.
2.) I think there are better things to do with one’s time than play video games. We have a Wii and it gets played some, but repeated and extended periods of play are off limits.
3.) I am not ready for the battles that will inevitably come with a NDsi (don’t want to type it all out again). Sloan is actually very responsible when it comes to TV and video games. He does not have much of an addictive personality and he is not one to sit for hours with his eyes glued to the tube. He gets bored and loses interest quickly and can go months without playing the Wii at all. Landon, however, is already showing addictive tendencies in that he wants to watch TV or play the Wii all the flippin’ time. It’s already a daily battle with him resulting in many tears shed. A NDsi would inevitably become a battle zone between Sloan and his siblings and, quite honestly, I can’t handle one more battle.
Are we being unfair? I don’t feel like it, but it really does break my heart not to give Sloan what he wants because he’s such a good kid. I tried to break it to him gently the other day that this year would likely not be the year he received an NDsi. His reponse?
“That’s okay. I’ll ask Santa to bring it to me!”
Crap! Am I going to crush his dreams and destroy Santa all in one year? Hey…welcome to the Stuart home where we take your dreams and roll them inthumb tacks then light them on fire.
Thanks for stopping by!
When I told Lee of Sloan’s reponse he came up with the brilliant solution of telling Sloan that Santa doesn’t bring such expensive gifts – he lets the parents buy those presents. I have tasked Lee with preparing Sloan to not find a NDsi under the tree this Christmas while still preserving the magic of Santa for one more year. I’m counting on my man to come through on this one!
My question is, though, what should we get the poor boy for Christmas? Yes, he will receive clothes, a few books and probably some new art supplies. But what do we get him for that one special toy that’s going to light up his face when he walks around the corner Christmas morning?!
I need your advice! What are you getting your kids for Christmas? I have a few ideas, but nothing seems to take the place of his beloved NDsi, which he will likely receive at some point, but just not now.
I do hereby open the comments up for suggestions. This is my sad attempt to see if I can break the ten comment barrier I seem to have on my posts. Come on, folks, don’t let me down. I am officially begging for your comments! My motherly angst has reduced me to this…a comment whore mooch.
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Okay, I can’t let the last word of a post be whore mooch so I’m going to share a picture that has nothing to do with this post but I just want to share it. It’s Tia, in her Little Miss Matched tights, which I told you about here and her glasses which make her look way too old.
Merry Christmas.
No! Happy Thanksgiving.
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