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“Laptop Homicide” – A Post on Discipline

February 10, 2012 by

There’s a new viral video in town, perhaps you’ve seen it?

In this video, a frustrated and angry father uses tough love to address his daughter’s immature rant against her parents on Facebook. Throughout the reading of her note you can hear his voice quaver and shake, a likely mixture of extreme anger, throbbing hurt and deep disappointment.

His daughter had done this before and had suffered consequences for it, but apparently they didn’t stick. So for all 452 of her friends to see, she essentially called her parents jailors, slave drivers and harsh, unloving lords over what she deemed was an unfair lack of freedom.

At the end of the video, the father stands up and points to his daughter’s laptop sitting in the grass, which, as he had earlier explained, he had just the day before spent $130 cleaning up and loading with new software. He then pulls out a pistol and proceeds to put 9 bullets through her laptop, a definitive sign that when he said the consequences the second time around would be worse, he actually meant it.

Parenting at its best? Or at its worst?

For those who immediately jump to conclusions that this man is obviously disturbed and he has forever and irreparably damaged his relationship with his daughter, just hold onto your judgement for a second and read this from Tommy Jordan, the father in question (this was taken from his Facebook page and is his response to questions from a reporter named Anita Li of the Toronto Star):

Q: Why did you decide to reprimand your daughter over a public medium like YouTube?

A: Well, I actually just had to load the video file itself on YouTube because it’s a better upload process than Facebook, but the intended audience was her Facebook friends and the parents of those friends who saw her post and would naturally assume we let our children get away with something like that. So, to answer “Why did you reprimand her over a public medium like Facebook” my answer is this: Because that’s how I was raised. If I did something embarrassing to my parents in public (such as a grocery store) I got my tail tore up right there in front of God and everyone, right there in the store. I put the reprisal in exactly the same medium she did, in the exact same manner. Her post went out to about 452 people. Mine went out to about 550 people… originally. I had no idea it would become what it did.

Q: How did your daughter respond to the video and to what happened to her laptop?

A: She responded to the video with “I can’t believe you shot my computer!” That was the first thing she said when she found out about it. Then we sat and we talked for quite a long while on the back patio about the things she did, the things I did in response, etc.

Later after she’d had time to process it and I’d had time to process her thoughts on the matters we discussed, we were back to a semi-truce… you know that uncomfortable moment when you’re in the kitchen with your child after an argument and you’re both waiting to see which one’s going to cave in and resume normal conversation first? Yeah, that moment. I told her about the video response and about it going viral and about the consequences it could have on our family for the next couple of days and asked if she wanted to see some of the comments people had made. After the first few hundred comments, she was astounded with the responses.

We agreed we learned two collective lessons from this so far:

First: As her father, I’ll definitely do what I say I will, both positive and negative and she can depend on that. She no longer has any doubt about that.

Second: We have always told her what you put online can affect you forever. Years later a single Facebook/MySpace/Twitter comment can affect her eligibility for a good job and can even get her fired from a job she already has. She’s seen first-hand through this video the worst possible scenario that can happen. One post, made by her Dad, will probably follow him the rest of his life; just like those mean things she said on Facebook will stick with the people her words hurt for a long time to come. Once you put it out there, you can’t take it back, so think carefully before you use the internet to broadcast your thoughts and feelings.

This is only a small piece of his response. The rest is up for you to read if you want and for now I’m going to finish the post with a question.

Update: Tommy Jordan has posted a new note to his Facebook page and I have to say, I like a whole lot of what he says. While this man’s reaction to his daughter’s public temper tantrum is not something I agree with, I have deep respect with the way he is handling the fall out. It says more about him as a father than the short video he posted did. I hope we all won’t be so quick to judge without knowing the full story.

What are your thoughts on this situation?

I will be back next week with my own, but I’d love to hear feedback first.

Filed Under: Discipline, Family, Kids, Kids do the darndest things Tagged With: , , ,

In which I ramble a bit

February 9, 2012 by

You know that thing where you can’t seem to get to bed before midnight or after because you are relishing the quiet and alone time that comes with three kids nestling snug into their beds?

Yeah.

I wish I could say I was being ultra-productive with my late night down time, but that’s not necessarily the case. Last night I spent an hour reading up on diagramming sentences…for fun.

I fear the salty Florida air has gone to my head.

I’m thinking about teaching Sloan the very basics of how to diagram a sentence. My poor kids. They just don’t stand a chance in this house, do they? But I can’t help myself. I feel like learning how to diagram a sentence is a lost art and is one of the best ways to grasp grammar. I didn’t learn it until I was in college and I hated every minute of it, but it was also the first time that grammar started to make sense to me.

So today the kids are going to get a lesson on Subject and Verb, and will learn how to break up the two in a simple sentence. We are starting easy.

What are your thoughts on teaching kids to diagram sentences? Is it something you think is important?

In that same vein, are you teaching your kids how to write in cursive despite the fact that it isn’t a totally necessary skill this day in age? In general, most public schools have stopped teaching handwriting simply because kids don’t need it, but I kind of think it’s necessary, which is why I torture Sloan every Tuesday and Thursday with cursive writing practice lessons.

Changing topics slightly, I think I may have found a local Russian tutor for the kids. We are going to meet on Tuesday so she can get to know the kids and hopefully we’ll move forward from there. I can’t wait to have them practice with a native speaker again. I so desperately miss their Russian school in St. Louis.

Lee and I are taking the two older kids on our first family mission trip this summer. I am so excited about it. We are going with IsleGo Missions to Jamaica where we will likely be helping with construction of some sort (last year they built homes) and leading a VBS. My kids are going to be amazing at this – especially Sloan. God has outfitted that child with a missionary’s heart and I can’t wait to see him in his element.

I can’t think about leaving Landon behind, though, or I get incredibly sad and anxious. He will be with my parents, so I know he’ll be fine but he is such a Mama’s boy and he and Tia are pretty much joined at the hip so being away from all of us for a week is going to be hard on him.

*sad face*

Lee and I are in the midst of praying fervently about what to do school-wise for the kids next year. We have several options and all are good, but we are seeking which is best for the kids, for me and for our family dynamics as a whole.

I am headed to Blissdom in a couple of weeks, which I’m really looking forward to, but FIRST my friend Bethany is coming to visit and I’m so excited I can barely see straight. Every time I think about it, I girl squeal and clap my hands, which can be awkward in the middle of the grocery store but whatever.

MY FRIEND BETHANY IS COMING TO VISIT!

Read this blog post. It’s amazing and inspiring isn’t it?

I should go. The kids are getting restless and I need to prepare today’s lessons. Sentence diagramming here we come! This is the part where my children would likely request prayer for sanity…

Image credit

Filed Under: Family, Homeschool, Kids, Russian Tagged With: , , , ,

Do you have Just a Minute?

February 7, 2012 by

We have all been impacted by someone. As a teenager, I was deeply impacted by one of the leaders of my first trip to the former Soviet Union. We were standing in a pizza parlor in the middle of Red Square when he said something that I’ve never ever forgotten. It was a moment that would eventually come to define the person I am today.

I wrote about that moment here and much to my delight and surprise, Wess Stafford, President of Compassion International has used that very story, along with many others (including one from Shaun Groves who also wrote up a wonderful post about the book), in his newest book, Just a Minute. Compiling stories that reveal the power of just a quick moment to impact a life, Wess Stafford’s new book is inspiring, encouraging and filled with sweet moments that reveal the impact we can have on a child’s life if we’re willing to take the time to speak wisdom and encouragement and love.

And it only takes Just a Minute.

Tonight as I sent the kids to bed after what can only be described as a long and arduous day, Sloan asked me to sit down and read with him. I didn’t want to. The arduosity (that should totally be a word) of the day was mostly due to him and his eight-year-old boyness and quite frankly all I wanted was for the house to be quiet so I could curl up in the corner.

But then I thought about this quote from Just a Minute: “The time is now, while their spirits are soft and impressions are easily made. Tomorrow’s leaders, in whose hands the future rests, will still climb into your lap today, run to your embrace, laugh at your jokes, listen to your wisdom, and comfort you with tiny arms and big hugs. But not for long. In a few short years, the clay will harden, and they will inherit the corridors of power and start making the decisions that will shape your world.”

The selfish and tired part of me wanted to just shoo him off to bed with empty promises of “another night” but I couldn’t shake the thought that this moment was precious and fleeting. So we climbed into his bed together and laughed heartily at Calvin and Hobbes, while he sat nestled in the crook of my arm, still more boy than man but every day changing and growing with lightening speed.

And let’s face it, my first born truly does have the potential to wield great power over my world one day.

Will he put me in the scary nursing home where I’m left alone in a dark corner or the happy one that looks like a spa and serves me ice cold Jello and Nutella three times a day while I lay snug in my cozy feather bed?

Here’s to hoping he remembers the little moments when I’m old and frail, right?

Right Sloan? I know you’re going to read this…

If you haven’t considered sponsoring a child through Compassion International, I would really encourage you to do so today. We received another letter and picture from our sponsored child yesterday and I marveled at how much he had grown. He is the same age as my Sloan and in the two years since we’ve be writing to him he has lost his little boy look and is developing the more mature look of a young man.

How I pray for this developing leader, as I pray for my own children. We talk about him as if he were a part of our family and it’s because he is. And signing up to sponsor him? Well, it only took just a minute.

This isn’t meant to be a pitch or to make anyone feel guilty. I truly believe in the power of Compassion International to change a child’s life and give him hope for the future. I believe in this because I’ve spent time reading about the work they do, and seeing the hearts of those who lead.

If I can encourage you to do anything today it would be to purchase the book Just a Minute, to hug and encourage a young one near you and to consider how you can impact not only the children closest to you, but also those around the world who need someone in their corner.

For more information on the book, visit this site.

 

Filed Under: Compassion International, faith, Kids, Ministry, Product Reviews Tagged With: , , ,

Six

February 2, 2012 by

Beautiful

Sweet

Silly

Sassy

Athletic

Fearless

Mine

Her daddy thinks we ought to ship her off to a convent in northern Iceland. I would tend to agree.

We might be in trouble with this one.

On her third birthday I told her everything I wanted her to know as she grew.

For her fifth birthday I made a video celebrating her.

Oh how she deserves to be celebrated.

The lone female, sandwiched between all that male.

And today she is six.

Happy Birthday, Katya Rose.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Tia Tagged With: , ,

Mom, Interrupted

January 26, 2012 by

When I gave birth to my first child, more than one person commented how calm and natural I was with him. I wasn’t stressed or worried about people holding him or coming to visit. I didn’t ask people to wash their hands before picking up the baby and I didn’t fuss over his every sound and movement.

Part of that stems from the fact that I am an anti-germaphobe. Seriously, I kind of have to make myself worry about germs because honestly, that stuff just doesn’t bother me. (But I draw the line at my child licking ketchup off of a McDonald’s PlayWorld floor – which has happened. I’ll give you one guess as to which child it was.)

Part of it, though, came from the fact that motherhood did come naturally. I wasn’t fussy and worried about every little thing with my first child. From the moment he was born I felt completely at ease with being his Mom.

At least that’s what I thought, anyway.

Now that I look back on those early parenting years, I have to shake my head and chuckle at my obvious insanity.Was it obvious to every one else?

Don’t answer that.

I was Nazi Mom when it came to eating and sleeping. I had that child on such a rigid schedule that nothing was permitted to penetrate the iron walls of my control. I planned our entire day around Sloan’s eating and sleeping schedule and I refused to let anything interrupt that.

And today I have a first born who thrives on predictability. Coincidence? Doubt it.

Poor kid.

The problem with my tight little ship (yes, I know – there’s more than one problem with it) was that I was totally closed to spontaneity. I was completely uninterruptible.

If someone called and asked if I could watch their child while they ran an errand or went to the doctor, many times I hesitated. Having someone over would mess up the routine. Sweet Jesus, NOT THE ROUTINE!

As Sloan got older, and more babies came along, I loosened up a little, but I still did not love having our routine interrupted. I was also terrible about inviting other children into my home. I didn’t like it. Having to parent my child with others around made me crazy, so I avoided it.

I was so terribly selfish about my routine and schedule back then. While I often claimed to have a welcoming home, I did little to live that.

Until I met my friend Suzanne.

Suzanne was always willing to have my kids over – all three of them. Despite the fact that Tia and Landon were very young and required more time and attention, Suzanne would constantly offer to have them in her home. She picked them up for me. She fed them and played with them and loved on them. And I watched in awe at the way she allowed her day and her time to be interrupted without complaint.

My friend Bethany was equally amazing. If I had anywhere to be, she was always the first to offer to keep my kids. Even if they were sick, despite the fact that she had little ones herself, she’d wave her hand and say, “Who cares?” and urge me to bring them anyway.

Tia met her best friend, Noelle, on her first day of preschool two years ago. And I had yet another amazing example of someone willing to have their day and schedule interrupted. Noelle’s mom, Jennifer, had such a desire to foster good, healthy relationships between her children and their friends and she was rarely alone with her children. She constantly had someone else’s child with her, and Tia was one of the kids privileged to experience Jennifer’s love and grace.

Those three women weren’t the only ones who modeled to me what it meant to be interruptible. I had many, many friends show me how to be a true servant in this role called Motherhood and with each example, I found myself slowly but surely loosening the grip on my rigid schedule.

I’m still learning to be interruptible. I want my kids to know that they can invite people into our home and that I will welcome others with a warm greeting and not a frustrated sigh. I want to be willing to drop what I want to do so that I can foster and build healthy relationships for my children. I want to be Mom, Interrupted and to fill that role with a smile on my face and, every once in awhile, a plate of cookies in my hand.

I want to bless other parents and other children the way those women blessed me.

What about you? Are you interruptible?

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: , , , ,

The one where we go on a date.

January 24, 2012 by

I gave him a goal to start the year. A goal for my first born with a natural bent for learning, but not a love for the process. “If you finish two books before the month is over, I will take you some place extra special – just you and me.”

That’s all he needed. Motivated by encouragement and a promise, he zipped through two books in less than two weeks. Perhaps the goal was too easy, but I wanted it to be attainable. I wanted him to succeed because I wanted to reward him. And today, the reward comes to be.

Sloan and I are headed to Busch Gardens today, just the two of us. Wendy wrote a whole series of posts on dating our sons (and daughters) and every post was precious, but I was particularly fond of this one. One of our Christmas gifts from my parents was season passes to Busch Gardens and I am so excited to break in those passes with Sloan.

Of my three children, fostering a relationship with Sloan has been the most difficult journey, mainly because he and I are so very much alike in a lot of ways and so very different in other ways. Add to that the fact that he is simply getting older and he needs to be fusing more to his Dad at this time in his life, and you have a recipe for hard moments in our sometimes long days.

Sloan and I need to have some uninterrupted, do what we want, no-one-pulling-my-attention-away fun and tomorrow will be that day. The weather is going to be beautiful (seriously, I totally get why people come to Florida for the winter – it’s freaky awesome), and we are going to ride rides, play games and simply enjoy one another with no set schedule.

It’s been way too long since I dated my son.

So that’s where I am today. I’m building an altar with my cherished first born; an altar of remembrance to look back on with grace and fondness and, hopefully, a few secretive giggles. A lifetime’s worth of memories awaits us.

*happy dance*

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Filed Under: Family, Florida, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , ,

Sports World

January 23, 2012 by

BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT!

My husband is a freakishly good athlete. It’s actually annoying, really, how good he is a sports. He can play pretty much any sport well and when I say well, I mean better than the average population.

In college, one of my favorite past times was rollerblading. Oftentimes, I went out with a bunch of guy friends and I prided myself in being able to at least keep up with them as we buzzed around the Baylor campus, leaping down flights of stairs and doing various tricks without helmets…

So when Lee and I were dating and he told me he had never been on roller blades, I jumped at the chance to take him because I figured finally something I could do better.

Within fifteen minutes on his roller blades he was jumping, turning circles, skating backwards and doing tricks I would never even dare to try.

Punk.

It is with a small ridiculously large amount of glee that I tell you, however, that my husband can’t water ski to save his life. Image Gumby trying to get up on skis and that is about what Lee looks like. It is like a balm to my wounded pride to watch him water ski because I can do that better!

Anyway, the point is, my husband is an amazing athlete. He was a full ride scholarship collegiate basketball player. He was asked to play basketball professionally in Germany just before we got married. And we declined. It is our greatest regret to this day.

So it’s no surprise that I have three kids who are all good little athletes, with the youngest being so much like his Dad it’s a little eery. Landon is a natural with a ball. He always has been. Remember this video?

If you can get past my husband’s glaring hotness you’ll see a then 18 month old Landon dribbling the ball beautifully. Today, he can dribble with both hands while walking. Lee has him dribbling to the beat of music and many days, when he’s decided he’s had enough of the school thing, I can hear the basketball rhythmically bouncing outside…or inside.

And this Saturday, Landon’s four year old dreams came true when he got to start basketball. It was just a YMCA league so we could start slow, but Landon didn’t care. As we headed out Saturday morning, he confidently told us he was headed to the NBA finals.

Tell me, is there anything cuter than a four year old playing basketball?

Defense!

He scored four out of the five baskets his team made.

Landon isn’t the only Stuart child to get their father’s athleticism, though. Sloan is also a pretty amazing little athlete. While he enjoys basketball, the agression of that sport doesn’t match his personality, but baseball and golf are right up his alley.

In fact, we had a pro golf player pull us aside last week and tell us to start getting Sloan lessons and enrolling him in tournaments because he’s a natural with the golf club. “He could be great,” the instructor told us and I believe it. I’ve always known Sloan was gifted in golf, but it was so nice to hear it affirmed by someone else.

I don’t know much about golf, but apparently this is a great swing. I have pictures of him doing this when he was three. The first time we took Sloan to the driving range, he had just turned three. Lee set down a golf and we watched as he hit ball after ball anywhere from 25 to 50 yards.

College ticket?

And of course, Tia loves gymnastics and while she isn’t quite as coordinated with a ball, I could see her being a great soccer player. Mainly because I think she’ll bowl over anyone who tries to take the ball from her. She may have inherited the full brunt of her Daddy’s competitiveness.

Honestly, all three of my kids could grow up to be just average athletes. It doesn’t matter to me whether they’re great at sports or not. I want them to play what they love and love what they play. Sports are secondary. More than anything, though, I love the relationship that is growing between us and the kids as we bond over athletics. It’s fun. We love to go out in the yard as a family and just play.

And this picture is worth far more than any word I’ve typed today. It communicates wholly and fully the love and admiration that my kids have for their Dad and there’s a reason for that.

As good as Lee is as an athlete, he far more excels at being a father.

My children are blessed. (I might be, too).

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Sports Tagged With: , ,

All I know about gymnastics I learned at WOGA

January 17, 2012 by

update: We attended a different gym yesterday where Tia was evaluated by a new coach. It was a wonderful experience for me and for her. This coach was extremely encouraging and kind. He actually smiled and praised Tia. Thank you for your encouragement and prayers. Now I have to have the unpleasant conversation with her current gym about why we will be leaving.

Good times…

“You want a job?” he asked in his thick accent and I blinked in surprise. I had only stopped by to meet some local Russians so I could have contacts that would help me practice my language skills. I hadn’t even been thinking of asking for a job, but as I looked around the building I could see something special there so without missing a beat, I answered.

“Da.”

It was August of 2000 and I had been married all of one month. Neither Lee nor I had jobs when we got married. It was very exciting then. Or stressful.

Depends on who you ask.

We moved to Dallas after marriage because we thought Lee had a job lined up there, but it fell through on our honeymoon. I had just graduated from Baylor with a degree in English Professional Writing so it only seemed natural that I should work as a gymnastics coach.

The plan was for me to work at the World Olympic Gymnastics Academy for a little while until I found a full time job, but unexpectedly, coaching at WOGA wound up being the best job I’ve ever had. I loved it so much, in fact, that I continued to work there for two years. While I interviewed for some real, big girl office jobs, I just couldn’t leave the gym.

The environment was so electric that many days I went into work early just to watch the girls train. I watched Carly Patterson learn her famous Arabian dismount and and marveled at a teeny tiny Nastia Liukin flipping up and over the vault.

You never knew who else would be at WOGA, either. Some days you might walk in to see the cast of the Cirque Du Soleil warming up and practicing. Other times I came face to face with five time Olympian Oksana Chusivitania. It was always a surprise coming to work and I loved it.

One of the saddest things about moving away from Dallas was having to leave WOGA. It wasn’t just my work place. The coaches all became dear friends. Because I spoke Russian, Lee and I spent a lot of time with Evgeny Marchenko, Valeryi Liukin and the many, many other wonderful Russian coaches. For me, working there was like a dream. I was paid well and I got to speak Russian every single day.

Having grown up around gymnastics and working in that environment, I have a pretty good understanding of what good coaching is. I watched two All Round Gold Medalists train in their early years and I was mentored and guided as a coach myself. I know what good coaching looks like.

Unfortunately, for the last few months I have had my daughter in a bad coaching environment.

Tia is very good at gymnastics, but I’m a realist. Her daddy is six foot two and I’m five six so math tells me that she is probably going to outgrow gymnastics pretty quickly. I’m not looking to create a champion, but I do want to give her the chance to succeed in a sport she loves for as long as she loves it.

Sadly, the coaches at the gym we’ve had her at have almost killed her love of gymnastics.

Never in my life have I witnessed coaching like this, particularly from a head coach in charge of running the team program. I should have pulled Tia out of this program months ago, but I kept talking to other parents who would assure me this woman wasn’t that bad and she really was good with the kids and everyone who gives her a chance ends up loving her.

I gave her a chance for three months. It’s not working. Every time we need to leave for gymnastics, Tia develops a stomach ache and gets very weepy. She is terrified of this coach – and this woman doesn’t even coach Tia’s team. But she’s in close proximity screaming and shouting at other girls. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it and I worried it was just me.

Maybe I’m too judgemental? Maybe my experience at WOGA turned me into a coaching snob. Nobody else seemed as offended by this coach’s cruelty, so what is my problem?

Saturday I volunteered at a meet at the girl’s gym where I watched the little ones, levels two and three, compete. They didn’t do great, but it was their first meet and good grief they were cute in their little leotards and sparkly hair. As this coach walked by, I remarked, “The girls are doing great.” She cut her eyes at me and shrugged. “Your job is to be encouraging and tell them they’re great,” she said. “My job is to tell them they are never good enough. Unless they make it to State. Then I can tell them they’re good.”

And then I scraped my jaw off the floor, picked up my things and began researching new programs.

Yesterday I called another gym to talk to them about their team program. I wanted to be sensitive to the situation. While I find the coach’s methods at our current gym just short of abusive, I am not going to bad mouth her around town. So I delicately asked, “Do you all make gymnastics fun? Because my daughter is five and I just want her to enjoy it, not spend an hour and a half doing sit ups and pull ups and being barked at to suck in her stomach.”

“Aaahhh…” said the coach on the other end of the phone, “You must be coming from —. We have 2-3 new gymnasts enrolling in our gym every week who are coming from that gym and I can promise you, we do things differently here.”

So it turns out I’m NOT the only one appalled by bad coaching.

If you feel so led, please say a prayer for my sweet daughter’s heart as we try out this new gym. At this point, I think she may be slightly traumatized and we’ve already decided that if we need to pull her out of gymnastics for awhile (or forever) we will. While good coaching can take little girls to the gold medal platform, bad coaching has the power to kill their dreams altogether.

I’m kicking myself for waiting this long.

Filed Under: Kids, Motherhood, Sports, Tia Tagged With: , ,

Good, Kind, Important

January 10, 2012 by

I read The Help this summer as we made our long and exhausting move from St. Louis to Florida. I was emotionally vulnerable and the book was the perfect escape during that first week we were here. I got lost in the story, the rich development of the characters taking me out of my momentary troubles and giving me someone to root for.

I was most struck by the relationship between Aibileen and Mae Mobly, the little girl she watched and loved. Aibileen took it upon herself to make sure that little girl knew and understood her value and her worth.

“You is good. You is kind. You is important,” Aibileen crooned to Mae Mobley over and over in an attempt to undo the emotional harm and pressure the child received from her young, inexperienced and judgemental mother. This relationship was precious and I bawled, both in the book and in the movie, as Aibileen walked away from Mae Mobly after giving her one last reminder.

“You is good. You is kind. You is important.

I’ve thought about this a lot as I’ve parented my children these last few months – particularly as I have schooled them at home. I will be the first to admit my weaknesses as a mother. While I am constantly challenging my children to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry I myself am not always following that.

I am slow to listen, quick to speak harshly and even quicker to become angry. And in so doing, I tear my children down. I. Hate. That.

Sloan takes the brunt of my quick to become angryness. Mostly because he is equally quick, and perhaps even quicker, to become angry and I react. It’s not that I don’t try to stay calm and patient. I try and I try and I try. And he pushes and he pushes and he pushes.

Round and round we go until one of us snaps. On the precious few days when I manage to not be the one to snap I collapse into bed exhausted and depleted of all sense of myself. Most days, however, I crawl into bed heavy hearted at once again losing control of my own emotions. And I wonder…

Does he know that he is good and kind and important? If I think back on the days events have I given him any reason to believe that I see him as good…and kind…and important?

The thought that perhaps my child is going to sleep unsure of these things can be paralyzing. He knows I love him. He knows this because I tell him all the time. A hundred times a day he hears me say I love him and I sincerely mean it when I say it. I love that child fiercely.

But does he know how good I think he is? Does he know that I think him to be one of the kindest young boys I’ve ever known? Does he know how important he is not only to me, but to so many others? Does he know?

Today found Sloan and me locked in yet another battle of the wills. Each day is new and yet each day is the same. It’s a battle and a war and some days I feel like I am losing. I’m at battle with all three children, of course. You’re at battle with your kids, too, if you think about it. We’re all fighting the war against their sinful natures and desires. We all wake up each morning and walk into the battle zone and it’s a war we must win when they are young and their hearts are pliable and easily molded.

As I felt the frustration bubble up inside of me, I looked into his challenging eyes and saw so much anger. So much confusion. You see, Sloan isn’t the only child needing correction in our home, but he receives it more than the others. This is partly his fault and partly mine. He tries to parent the other two kids and gets in my way and so I have to deal with him before I can deal with them. But many times I deal only with him and forget to correct the other two for pestering and nagging him in the first place. And Sloan feels worn down – I can see it.

So after a particularly grueling hour of back and forth, I stopped and grabbed his hand. I was angry and he could tell, but I was fighting against the anger with every fiber. Looking deep into his baby blues, I spoke softly.

“Do you know that you’re good?” I asked. He blinked, surprised by my reaction.

“Do you know that I think you’re amazing? I think you are kind and gentle and humble. Do you know how good you are?”

Slowly, he nodded his head yes.

“Do you know that I think you’re important? You’re important to me and you’re important to God. Do you know that?”

Again he nodded, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Good,” I said, the anger melting away. “I want you to know that.”

I’d like to say his behavior changed and that he was immediately kinder and gentler with me and his brother and sister. It didn’t exactly work that way, but as the day went on, when he lost control I would look him in the eye and raise my eyebrows and he would stop and nod.

He knows.

He does know. And my prayer tonight is that he would embrace those things and bury them deep. Tomorrow is another day of battle and I feel more prepared now that I’ve added another weapon to my arsenal. We’re going to win this war, he and I. He’s too good and too kind and too important for me to give up on.

Losing is not an option.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , , , , ,

I could have danced all night

January 4, 2012 by

As the smells of dinner waft through the house and the sounds of love eminate from my iPad, I have to smile. Because Michael Buble singing “Fever” makes me smile. And melt a little. And sigh a lot.

And day dream.

Seriously sexy voice…

…

I’m sorry – where were we?

I walk to the sink with the intention of cleaning the dishes when he grabs me and spins me around into his arms. “Dance with me,” he whispers and so I do. You don’t say no to six foot two of pure brawn. Am I right?

Sorry.  I just had to take a moment to stop laughing at the pure brawn remark. Sometimes I really crack myself up. It’s terrible…

Seriously, though. I love it when he dances with me after dinner. And secretly, I think the three pairs of little eyes that watch us glide across the tile floor love it, too. I mean, I know they gag and roll their eyes and giggle uncontrollably, but mostly I know that they love to see him sweep me off my feet.

(I am refering to my husband when I say ‘he.’ You know that right? That was clear? Just wanted to make sure.)

“Dip her and kiss her,” the oldest and wisest usually yells and we are always willing to comply as they clap their hands over their eyes and squeal in mock horror.

“Dat’s soooooo gwoss!” the four year likes to yell just before he leaps off his chair and tries to steal me away from the man of my dreams by latching himself to my leg and grovelling for a dance. And what can I say…I agree. I’m a sucker for his freckles.

So I dance with Landon, and he gives me a twirl, then a dip and, if I’m lucky, a kiss.  I catch the eye of my first partner and an unspoken message crosses between us. This is kind of awesome.

Lee then grabs his one and only daughter and sets her on his toes and together they twirl – Cinderella and her Prince. I, being always in high demand (ahem), have a dance request from yet another partner, the dashing eight year old with eyes as blue as the ocean. We spin and dance to the soft music of Harry Connick Jr. crooning through the media, dinner cooling on the plates but joy warming our hearts.

And in a flash, Sloan spins me back in his arms. The arms of the one who swept me off my feet twelve years ago. The one I’ve been dancing with for more than a decade. The one who shares these small people with me. Together we dance as they watch.

They who are our love song.

And I look in his eyes and know that we have a lot of dancing left to do. May it be that we are still dancing fifty years from now, together and with them. And maybe there will be more young eyes watching?

I can’t think of anyone else with whom I’d rather dance through life.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Life, Marriage Tagged With: , , ,
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