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Because they’re funny, that’s why

April 4, 2011 by Kelli

I heard a comment recently from someone who claimed to love reading “Mommy blogs” but hated when bloggers went on and on about their kids.

Um…I don’t think you like reading “Mommy Blogs” then. (Not a fan of the “Mommy Blog” term…couldja tell?) That’s like me saying I like fish but don’t like when it tastes fishy. Riiight. Let’s just call a spade a spade. I don’t like fish. Unless it’s thickly breaded and double dipped in a vat of oil then served with a side of ketchup.

That’s my kind of fish.

When I first heard this statement I found myself a little self conscious. I mean, I talk about my kids all the blasted time here. What if I’m boring people? Because let’s face it, I can say that I’m only blogging to keep a record of the cute and funny things they do until I’m blue in the face, but we all know I want you to like me.

And I want to remember the cute and funny things they do so I can look back ten years later and smile…and humiliate them. It’s a scrapbook that yields sweet revenge.

I’m only half way kidding.

So here it is: I am a blogger who happens to be a mom. Write what you know, correct? Well right now, I know Mom-ing. (I could have written I know Motherhood but turning “Mom” into a verb sounded like more fun.) So I’m going to write about Mom-ing, and all the other stuff that interests me that doesn’t involve my kids. Which isn’t a lot because I’m kind of in the trenches of this Mom thing.

So today I’m writing about my kids, because dang it my kids are funny. Maybe they’re only funny to me and their grandparents, but I don’t care. This post might seem a little fishy, but I’ll try and deep fry something for you another day, okay? Just indulge me, if you could be so kind. Tomorrow I’ll write about something more riveting…like my house. You’re on the edge of your seat – I just know it!

Lee left yesterday for a two week training in New Jersey. Before the kids and I headed off to church, he buckled everyone in and doled out last minutes hugs and kisses. He and Sloan managed to squeeze in an early round of basketball before we left. I’m sure the neighbors were thrilled.

As Lee leaned in to kiss Sloan, my tender hearted man-child teared up a bit. Lee smiled and touseled his hair and Sloan grinned, shaking his head.

“I’m not crying,” he said, all macho-like. “My eyes are just sweating.”

My eyes are sweating a bit as I type this. Happens to the best of us…

Sloan continued. “Hey Dad, will you get us a present when you go to New York?”

“Sure,” Lee said. I think his eyes were a little sweaty too. “What do you want me to get you?”

“A girlfriend,” Sloan replied without missing a beat. Aaaaand it comes back around. I guess he thought he’d see if his dad would indulge his apparent need for a girlfriend since I told him a couple of weeks ago that No, I would not get him a girlfriend for his eighth birthday. After sharing this I launched into a very sweet, deep and meaningful conversation with him about how God has already picked out and planned a wife for him someday and he doesn’t need to worry about dating right now.

Clearly my words had an impact.

Not to be outdone, Tia piped up from the backseat as we headed down the road to church. “Hey Mom? How old do I have to be to get mawwied?”

“Old enough to be able to say your ‘R’s,” I replied…

No, I didn’t. I actually told her it would be a long time and she didn’t need to start thinking about that now.

“Well, I fink I should be 29 when I get mawwied. Will I be a mom before I get mawwied?”

“Nope,” I said. “You gotta get married first to be a mom.” Yes, I know that’s not necessarily true, but she’s five and we’re keeping it simple. She doesn’t need an explanation on when and how one can or should become a mom.

Tia has actually popped out a couple of funny one-liner’s lately. I forgot how funny five year old’s can be. When we ate lunch one day in Florida, I handed Sloan a ham sandwich.

“Does that have Man Eyes on it?” Tia asked. She meant Mayonaise. And just like that, our family now has a new catch word. We will forever call Mayonaise “Man Eyes.”

And then there’s Landon – the family clown, the kid who’s always good for a laugh, the boy with expressive eyes and a personality that far outweighs his tiny little bird frame. He walks through the house daily singing the songs from High School Musical 3. He sings them completely wrong, but that’s what makes it so fun. My favorite goes like this:

I don’t know where to go, Whatsa right fing. I want my oh dwee so Battleforce Strange.

If you know what song I’m talking about, you know why that’s cute and funny. It also means that you, like me, know way too much about High School Musical 3.

It’s those little conversations that make me laugh out loud that give me reason to blog about my kids. Well, that and the humiliation thing.

I’m kidding…sort of.

Filed Under: Blogging, Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: Blogging, HSM3, Kids, kids say the darndest things, Motherhood

On Earaches and Mary

March 14, 2011 by Kelli

On Friday night Landon asked to go to bed. This was after he asked to take a nap on Friday afternoon and he slept for two hours.

Not normal.

At 11:00 Friday Landon woke up crying. He was at the tail end of a cold so a little medicine, a kiss and a cup of water and everyone settled once again. Until…

One O’clock rolled around and we heard the desperate pleas of our little one. And he never went back to sleep.

“My eeaaaw huwts,” he cried all night, clutching at his left ear. We rocked and sang and he’d slowly drift to sleep only to jolt awake again with a cry. Back and forth we went between his room and our own room, Lee and I alternating trying to sleep and holding our hurting boy. We debated heading to the ER but knew it was an ear infection and decided to wait it out until morning.

At 5:30 we put in High School Musical and I dozed on the couch. By 9:00 we were in the pediatrician’s office where it was declared he had a nasty inner ear infection with a painful looking bulge and by 10:30 we were home with a little boy who looked like this.

Not only did he look exhausted, he also look abused due to an unfortunate run in with the corner of the iPad the night before that left him with a shiner. He was pitiful and in pain most of Saturday but by Sunday morning had perked up considerably thanks to numbing drops, antibiotics and twleve hours of solid sleep. We were on the mend, and we were happy.

When his ear began dripping blood on Sunday morning we began fast and furiously treating what we think may have been a slight perforation in his ear drum with both antibiotic ear drops and oral antibiotics as we are flying a week from tomorrow and we need his ear healed. So far the pediatrician has cleared us to fly and is confident that he will be fine by the time we leave. This is a good thing because if she said he wouldn’t be I was already planning the car trip.

Sunday afternoon I went to a practice for an Easter drama that a few of us are putting on on Easter Sunday. It’s a beautiful piece of work and I found myself very emotional at one point when the character of Christ speaks the word, “Mother?” This happens during the crucifixion scene.

And my heart broke a little as I pictured Mary watching her baby suffer. My heart crumbled just seeing Landon suffer through ear pain, but Mary watched her son beaten, bruised and hung. She watched the blood drain from the very hands that she held as a small child. She saw the flesh torn from the back of the boy she bathed as a boy.

She suffered.

As my children grow I’m realizing more and more that I will always and forever see the infant form of them. Sloan is developing a man-child look about him and yet I still see the expressive toddler who marveled at the moon. Tia’s face matures a little more each day and yet I still see the big-eyed infant who couldn’t wait to conquer the world.

Landon is right where I want him right now. He is today who I will never forget.

Mary felt the same way. I understand that more and more the longer I parent. She saw the man who hung on the cross, but did her mind flash to him toddling into her arms? It most surely did. Did she remember sloppy kisses and delighted laughter? I’m sure of it. As she stared at his arms stretched wide across the beams, did her own arms ache with the memory of the weight of her infant? Did she smell the stench of the stable and see the dark, round eyes of her firstborn nuzzled against her chest?

What kind of memories flooded her mind’s eye?

And as he suffered and died slowly, did she experience pain herself? What was swirling through her heart? It pains me to even think about it, as it pained me to watch my toddler clutch at his ear in pain.

When they hurt, we hurt.

And then, when she heard He was alive – what did she feel? What kind if disbelief and shock and fear and joy coursed through her veins? When she saw His resurrected body, did she still see the little boy she raised or was He different somehow? Did He give her an extra long hug and a kiss on the cheek, a balm to the wound she had suffered three days before?

I wonder about these things.

Mary was a mother.

I am a mother.

And so I ponder.

Filed Under: Easter, faith, Family, Holidays, Kids, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Christ, Crucifixion, Easter, Mary, Resurrection, thoughts

The one with the bags under my eyes

March 9, 2011 by Kelli

The clock read 4:32 am.

“Moooooommmmmyyyyyy,” came the pitiful cry. I quickly got up and went to Tia’s room. She is my sleeper. She is the child who could sleep through any illness, the one who once vomited then went back to sleep in it.

Gross.

So when she cries out in the middle of the night, there’s usually a good reason for it. Usually.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, kneeling by her bed. Her eyes were closed. She was asleep. Like a cruel joke she roused me from my bed then fell back into a deep slumber. I stumbled back to bed.

The clock read 4:36 and I felt the heat of little eyes staring at me from the bedside. “Tia, what’s wrong, honey?” I mumbled.

“I had a bad dream about tornados,” she wimpered. We can all thank her big brother for that phobia. I got up and walked her back to her room and put her back in bed. “Think about happy things,” I told her. “Think of the beach and ice cream and gymnastics.”

I fell back into my bed a minute later.

The clock read 4:40.

“Moooom?” Her call floated down the hallway like bad alarm that won’t go off. I waited. Maybe she would think I was asleep and she’d give up. All rationality had left my weary body at that point. “Moooom?”

I sat up and hissed, “Tia, hush!”

A few minutes later. “Moooom?” With less sympathy and a modicum more frustration, I flung the covers off my body and briskly walked to her room.

“Tia! What?!”

“I sneezed,” she said, her tiny face peeking out from under the mountain of blankets.

I did not respond. I held onto my own advice of When you don’t have something nice to say, Ssshhh! Say nothing.

That was two nights ago. Last night the same situation played itself out only she complained of leg and head pain (I believe she’s growing) and she woke up crying because she had a nightmare that Sloan was scratching her.

So if you run into me today and notice the bags under my eyes, or think you can make out Route 66 in the red lines criss crossing my eyeballs, now you’ll know why. I have slept all night in more than two weeks.

T-Minus 13 days until we leave for Florida. I may not sleep anymore down there, but at least I’ll get a little tan to mask the bags. That’s my happy dream…

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood, things I don't need to hear, Tia Tagged With: kids sleeping through the night, Mom fatigue, Motherhood

Digging Down Deep

March 3, 2011 by Kelli

Today is one of those days when I feel like I’m done. I have nothing left. I gave so much of myself last week and I used every bit of my reserve energy to survive and get through that I have little left this week. Lee is home now, which helps, but unfortunately work is such that I’m still alone a lot, with sick children, a house to pack (we’re hoping to put it on the market in a few weeks) and a long list of other responsibilities staring me in the face.

And I am exhausted. So tired that my eyes actually ache. And given the fact that I have a three year old who refuses to nap, afternoon rest is likely not in my forecast. *sad face*

This is one of those days/weeks that I am going to need to dig down deep. One of those days/weeks when I have nothing left of my own to offer. One of those days/weeks when my time with my Bible is like lapping from the sweet stream waters after an arduous hike.

I’m digging down deep. I am in survival mode. In this fog I honestly don’t see an end in sight, but I know there is one. In three weeks I’ll be in Florida. The Beach is waiting for me. And my mom will be there. Ah! Suddenly there is a small light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s called Spring Break.

What do you all do when you have to dig deep? What gets you through those longs days/weeks/months/years when life is overwhelmingly full?

Filed Under: Family, Life, Motherhood, Travel Tagged With: digging deep, mommy fatigue, Spring Break

Cherish the moment, they say…

February 21, 2011 by Kelli

I’m currently about 60 pages from completing Mary Beth Chapman’s book, Choosing to SEE. Have you read it? You really should. But I will give you a few warnings up front.

Have Kleenex at the ready because when she gets to the experience of losing her daughter Maria, unless you are a robot, you will likely cry and cry hard. I’m not sure I have ever sobbed quite so hard while reading a book before. Except maybe Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper, which I read late at night while pregnant thereby setting myself up for disaster. Which leads me to my next point…
Do not, under any circumstances, read this book after 10:00 when you’re already tired and perhaps a bit emotional.

Consider yourselves warned.

Lee is currently out of town and I don’t know about you all, but when daddy is away in our home, the mice think they can play. That’s a metaphor, of course, the mice being our kids. Not real mice. If real mice were coming out to play, the kids and I would be at a hotel.

It’s tough when Lee’s not around. The kids need him. I need him. Every process becomes that much more difficult and without daddy’s firm voice, sometimes certain little ones forget how to behave. Particularly at bedtime.

I’ve heard so often that bedtime is a sweet time to enjoy your kids. “Lay down and talk with them,” the proverbial “they” say. “Enjoy those snuggle moments at bedtime while they’re young because when they’re grown those moments are gone.” Every time I hear that advice, I want someone to tell me how to enjoy bedtime and yet still get them to go to bed!

I’ll admit it. Bedtime is not my favorite time of the day. It’s hectic and stressful. The kids get wild and rambunctious. If I lay down and talk with one, all three have to pile in with us because “IT’S NOT FAIR” otherwise. I don’t get to lay and snuggle with just one.

On top of that, the older two share a room and to be quite honest, all I want is for them to go to sleep. If they had it their way, they’d have a wild party every night for a couple of hours before slipping into slumber. Which leaves me feeling like the Wicked Witch of the West in order to get them to be quiet and go to bed.

Last night was no exception. It had been the longest of long days and everyone was wiped. I knew they just needed to sleep and yet, once again, as soon as they got into their room the antics began. And I had to put a stop to it.

Then I read this from Mary Beth’s book

“How would I have lived differently if I knew that my time with Maria was going to be this short? Regretfully I would have lived much differently. I would have purposely hugged and kissed more. I would have tried to memorize and lock away in my heart certain smells and smiles. I would have colored more and worked less. I would have laughed more and fussed less.

Bedtime wouldn’t have become a chore to check off the list of things to get done. Instead it would have been more of an opportunity to listen about the day and offer whatever words were needed. The swimming pool wouldn’t have been too cold to swim in. The flowers in the garden would have all been pick, and definately more ice cream would have been consumed.” Mary Beth Chapman, Choosing to SEE.

I read this and I nod. This falls into line with the thought that we should live each day as if it’s going to be our last. And yet…

I can’t really live today like it’s going to be my last. If I knew for sure today would be my last day, I wouldn’t worry about mopping the floor or answering emails. (Okay, I actually just laughed out loud because I’m not worried in the slightest about mopping the floor. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did that.) I wouldn’t be concerned with brushing the kid’s hair or what kind of food they ate. But the fact is, I have to cherish today as if it’s my last while still living like it’s not.

How do you cherish each fleeting moment with your kids knowing that you still have to keep routine? I want my kids to have fun with me and I want life to be full of laughter.

I also want to sleep.

I think it’s a balance. After being the heavy last night and then reading Mary Beth’s words, I felt a weight that I couldn’t shake. And so I went back to their room. They were finally calm and were close to slumber. I slipped my arms around each of them and squeezed tight reminding them that they were loved and cherished by me. With one last kiss, they both slipped into dreamland with the knowledge that their mom, even when she’s exhausted, loves them fiercely.

That’s the best we can do, right? “Cherish the moment,” they say. Well, sometimes the moment is tough to cherish, but the kids? It’s them that I cherish.

Filed Under: Family, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: cherishing our kids, Choosing to SEE, faith, live today as if it's your last, Mary Beth Chapman, Motherhood

The one where we plan a trip

February 10, 2011 by Kelli

I wanted to go visit my parents in London, but logistically it just wasn’t coming together. So when mom emailed me yesterday and said she was coming back in to the States in March during the kids Spring Break and asked if we’d like to join her in Florida at their condo I don’t even think a second passed before I said Yes!

After calling Lee to confirm that worked with him, we booked our tickets and BAM! We’re getting out of here in 6 weeks. This is just the pick me up I needed to get through this final push of winter. We moved to St. Louis when I was 12. We moved from Wisconsin, so I do know that winter can be worse other places.

But hands down, this has been the worst winter I have ever experienced here in St. Louis. It’s just been nuts and I think everyone is feeling the effects. The winter blues have settled in big time. But alas, we now have something to look forward to. Sunshine. The beach. Hours playing at the park. Sunsets at the Sand Pearl.

In six weeks we will be doing this:

And this…

And we’ll probably watch a few of these…

There may not be a cure for the Summertime Blues, but this is definately my cure for the wintertime blues!

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Travel Tagged With: Clearwater Beach, Getting away from winter, Spring Break, Winter blues

Mind the Gap

February 8, 2011 by Kelli

Summer '09 147

Praying for my kids is something I passionately believe in and often forget to do on a consistent basis. I pray for patience with them (six snow days later, that’s almost become a mantra) and I pray for grace to love them well, but I don’t always pray for them.

I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because to do so would require me to slow down and really get still. I’m not good at that. I hate sitting still. Unless I’m on a beach.

Maybe that’s what we need! We need to move to the beach. My kids would be covered in prayer then. And I’d be tan…

Wait. That’s not right. Scratch that.

The point is, I’m not good at sitting down and really pleading on behalf of my children. I have great days followed by a plateau of mediocrity and on and on the cycle goes. But the desire of my heart remains unchanged. I long to see my kids grow in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man. I long to see them grow beyond a head knowledge of who Christ is and to develop a heart knowledge of Him.

I long to not screw them up.

I think my most consistent prayer for my kids is my pleading with the Lord to fill in the gaps where I am lacking as a parent. On the days when I’m impatient, crabby, tired or just not all there like they need me to be, I pray that the Lord steps in and makes whole any damage I may have unintentionally caused.

This is not an excuse for me to be lackadaisical in my parenting.

Lackadaisical…that’s a great word, isn’t it?

I wake up every morning desiring to be the mother my kids need me to be. I wake up every morning with a prayer on my heart to love my kids in a way that honors God and shows them they are blessed, cherished and loved. And, in the moments that I fail, I ask the God fill in the gaps where I am lacking.

And then I rest in the assurance and knowledge that He loves my kids more than I could ever possibly hope to.

How do you pray for your kids? Do you have specific verses that you pour over them? Do you have a specific place or way that you pray for your kids? If you feel comfortable sharing, I would love to hear how you are praying over your children in an attempt to encourage and spur one another on.

Happy Tuesday!

Filed Under: faith, Family, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: faith, Motherhood, praying for your children

Gems

January 25, 2011 by Kelli

“Hey Mom,” he pipes up from the back seat of our (smokin’ hot) minivan.

“Yep?” I reply.

“How old do you think I have to be to be a rock star?”

“Uuuummm…I don’t know. Maybe 25?”

His face falls. “Oh. I was hoping you would say 8.”

“Well, you can be a kid rock star if you want,” I say with a smile.

He thinks about it for a minute then responds, “Nah. I think I’ll just be a Jedi Knight.”

______________________________________________

We were driving up to the Holy Land Target and as I circle to find a parking lot, Sloan adjusts his hat. “I’m sensing that there will be girls in here that will want to look at me. My sensors tell me they’re going to like me.”

Oh good grief…

_____________________________________________________

A car drives by us one day and a teenager sits in the front seat talking on the phone. She sees us and politely waves her hand. As the car drives off Sloan says, “So. Hot.”

Whose kid is this anyway?!

___________________________________________________________

Glossary of terms:

ahmpit=armpit

wight=right

woody=really

yeth=yes

wike=like

fink=think

Landon walks in the room in a full out wail. “Tia punched me,” he cries. “Tia punched me in da ahmpit.”

Tia runs in with a look of defiance on her face. “No I didn’t!” she says with a stomp of her foot.

“Yeth, she did,” Landon wails.

“No! Wandon, I punched you in da chin. Jeez. Get it wight.”

_____________________________________________________

As Tia stomped around the house in a huff, I gently reminded her that 5 year olds don’t throw temper tantrums when they don’t get their way.

“Well…I’n not five yet. I’n still four so I guess dat’s good so I can still frow a temper tantrum.”

_________________________________________________________

“Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“When I drow up, tan I be a boy?”

“Nope. God made you a girl and you will always be a girl.”

“But I don’t wanna be a dirl.” Insert foot stomp here.

“Why?”

“Because. Boys det to do wots of fun stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Wike go potty standing up and eat fish and play baseball and be Jedi Knights.”

“Well, going potty standing up is not all that special and you can eat fish too, you just choose not to because you don’t like it. You also play baseball with daddy and the boys and if you want to be a Jedi Knight, I’m sure you could figure out how to do that. But think of all the special things about being a girl, like wearing dresses and fun tights and curling your hair…”

“Well, I would do dose fings if I was a boy, too…”

“No. You wouldn’t. Trust me on this one.”

______________________________________________________

“Mom? Tan I wear shorts?”

Landon walks out of his room when he is supposed to be sleeping wearing nothing but socks.

“No, babe. It’s 4 degrees out today. You need to wear pants.”

“No!” His chin starts to tremble. “I’n not going outside so pwease, wet me wear shorts.”

“Honey, I’m sorry, it’s just a little too cold.”

“Well…it’s not cold in Fworwida.”

“Okay, well when we live in Florida you can wear shorts in the winter but right now it’s too cold.”

A moment of silence.

“I tan wear shorts?”

I caved, he wore shorts the rest of the day.

__________________________________________________

In the grocery store, we walk down the cereal aisle when all of the sudden Landon breaks out in a rousing rendition of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” When he’s finished, I smile and clap softly.

“That was a good song.”

He sighs and grins. “Yeah. I’n woody dood at songs, wight?”

“Yep. You’re pretty good.”

“Yeah. I’n awesome.”

It appears he’s taking after his older brother.

_______________________________________________________

Last weekend was a particularly rough sleeping weekend for my I-dont-need-sleep-its-for-the-birds third born. Of course. Because daddy was out of town. At 2:30 one night after he had been up and down since 11:00, he walked in my room for the 15th time. I had yet to sleep and I was reaching the point of melt down.

I shot up and broke the silence of the night. “Landon, get your bottom back in your bed.”

He screamed and propelled himself into my bed where he huddled under the blankets for a minute. I felt bad and, strangely, satisfied…

“I’m sorry, buddy,” I whispered. “Mommy is really tired and I need you to go to sleep so I can sleep.”

A brief pause. “Mommy, I wove you and fink your beautiful.”

He finally went to sleep next to me in bed.

Stinker.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood, Random, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: kids say the darndest things

It’s better this way

January 19, 2011 by Kelli

Alternately titled: Why I locked my three year old in his room.

It was 8:00 and I had just returned home from a rehearsal when I went back to my bathroom to brush my teeth and change into my fat pants comfy clothes. It was then I heard the breathing. Like a miniature Darth Vadar was standing at my hip.

“Landon, get back in bed.”

“I’m firsty,” he whined. I gave him a sip of water and sent him to bed. Then I turned on the bath tub to try and warm myself up. When I turned around, he was there again, this time scaring the Bejeebus out of me. I yelped and karate chopped the air because For the love of all things Holy must children sneak up on you like that!

“Landon, go to bed,” I said, this time with more force. And you should know, it’s not easy to use such force with someone as cute as my third born. His tiny face is framed by a mop of Bieber hair and Sweet Mercy I just want to chomp on his cheeks every time I see him. He’s just yummy.

“Can I wear shorts?” he said, batting his little hypnotic eyes at me.

“Fine. Change, then go to bed.”

Off he went and I settled in the tub. Until I saw his eye peeking through the crack in the door.

“Landon, go to bed!”

He turned and shuffled off.

This routine went back and forth for almost an hour. And this was a good night – for Landon anyway. He caught me on an off night when I wasn’t ready for the fight. Generally these nights end up with a slew of tears from him and a few from me. But this night saw me unable to fight his antics.

The child will not stay in his bed.

To be fair, I let him take a longer nap than usual on this fateful day, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he changed outfits no less than six times, and took close to an hour and a half to go to sleep.

I finally did what any self respecting mother would do. I closed the door. The very door that I installed a door knob protector on a few weeks ago so he couldn’t open it back up. In general I don’t like to do this and it is a last resort but here’s the deal: I would rather him be stuck in his room and finally have to give up the fight on his own than have him go to sleep with his last vision of me looking like the spawn of satan. Because let me tell you…after you have spent an hour telling a child to go to bed, your patience is thin and life isn’t looking good for the child…no matter how cute he is.

It can get ugly.

So I lock him in his room. This is a decision Lee and I came to together. We simply weren’t getting through to him any other way. Locking him in is a way to protect him and protect our own emotions. Glory, Hallelujah!

I don’t lock the door at night often because Landon’s afraid of being stuck in a dark room. Yes, I also removed the night light from his room and put it in the hallway because he was waking up at 3:00 in the morning and having parties with his stuffed animals like a teenager whose parents left town – sometimes for hours on end. So generally it only takes a couple of short moments in his dark room to get him to settle down. I am able to remain calm, he gets the idea. Everybody wins.

Nap time is a different story.

When I make him take a nap, that is. Because, you see, my third child is much like his mother. Dang it. (Not like my second born who, like her father, can sleep anytime, anywhere and seems to love the act of napping.) I don’t need a lot of sleep to function and neither does Landon. I gave up naps at an early age and Landon is following suit. I don’t like this, of course, but payback’s a bleep, right? I don’t like it because when he doesn’t nap, I don’t get the things accomplished that I need to get accomplished. But, on the flip side, when he doesn’t nap he goes to bed at 7:00 or 7:30 with little to no fuss and he sleeps all night.

Kind of a nice trade off.

He will still take naps many days, but I’m not forcing it anymore unless it’s obvious he’s really tired. I remember being forced to take a nap as a child and I hated it. I swore I would never make my children sleep if they weren’t tired and my little mini-Bieber just isn’t tired most days.

He’ll probably nap today since he didn’t yesterday. But alas, even though he didn’t sleep the locked door came in handy yet again when I made him stay in his room and play for a bit.

Of course he sat in there and used the bathroom in his pants, which was totally my fault since I locked him in.

*sigh* I can’t win.

Do any of you have sleeping struggles with children? Am I the only one? Please, commiserate with me, will you? Pull up a chair, grab a bottle of wine. Let’s chat. What? It’s only 10:00am?

Is it too early to drink?

I’m kidding! I don’t drink this early in the morning. No…I wait until 2:00 when the kids aren’t napping.

Again with the kidding…

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids and sleeping, kids dropping a nap, parenting, sleep disorders in kids

Stones of Remembrance

January 17, 2011 by Kelli

Intentional

This is a word that is following me around quite a bit lately. I hear it, read it, think it and sleep it. Intentional. What does it mean to be intentional?

I went to Webster’s Dictionary to look for a clear defination of intentional. Here’s what I learned: Webster’s Dictionary isn’t a lot of help. Intentional is defined as “done by intention or design.” Great. Awesome. Way to help.

So I looked up the word intend.

“To direct the mind to.”

Much better. This definition actually gave me something to think about. Because to be intentional really does require thought. It means I must direct my mind toward an action. It requires work and planning and it’s hard…

To live and live well, one must be intentional. I forget that a lot. Actually, it feels like I forget that every single day. How often do I go to bed and run through the day and realize I went through the motions? How often do I reflect on the day and see that I merely survived?

This is not intention.

Lee and I are blessed to have wonderful leaders and friends and supporters around us who are constantly encouraging us to be better. Yesterday we spoke at length with many of these people about placing Stones of Remembrance out for our kids.

Orchestrating moments in the kids lives that they can look back at and point to as a time when God was there.

A time they remember.

A time they felt loved.

A time when they discovered who they were created to be.

Intentional

When the Isrealites crossed the Jordan River into the promised land, Joshua commanded the twelve men whom he had appointed from the sons of Isreal and said to them, “Cross again to the ark of the Lord your God into the middle of the Jordan, and each of you take up a stone on his shoulder…Let this be a sign among you, so that when your children ask later, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ then you sall say to them, ‘Because the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord; when it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.’ So these stones shall become a memorial to the sons of Isreal forever.”

Intentional

I have to be intentional with my children. I have to set out stones of remembrance for them. Sometimes these things are easy – they naturally flow from the every day moments of life – as long as I’m paying attention, of course. Like the day the tornado didn’t come through. We were intentional in pointing Sloan to God’s answer that day.

But if I’m not planning ahead – if I’m not intentionally seeking ways to set up stones of remembrance – I will miss opportunities.

The same goes in every area of our lives. Lee and I are being challenged in many different ways to be intentional in our giving. We must intentionally stretch ourselves to give more. We must be intentional in budgeting so that it is easier to make giving a priority.

We have to be intentional in our marriage. We must be intentional in our careers, intentional in the way we spend our time, our moments.

Intentional

Setting up stones of remembrance – this is my heart as a mother, as a wife, as a daughter and sister. As a child of the Lord Most High. Because someday I will look back and point my children and, hopefully, grandchildren to those stones…those moments. And I will be able to tell them, “Look. Look what the Lord Most High did for you.”

Intentional