This story is several months old, but I think of it all the time.
It was a Sunday. I know this, because we skipped church that morning. We had to, since my daughter had come down with a 104 degree fever. She had been sick for a couple days, and I was grateful for the weekend so Ben could step in and take on some of the burden of taking care of the kids. She’s usually a darling, but this sickness was making her kind of a mess- a hot, crying, whiny, screaming mess. So this weekend, I was especially grateful for backup.
It was still a lot of work. Taking care of a sick toddler and a newborn is hard. I was still nursing my son several times a day, and we were also in the middle of working through my daughter’s TWOS. Full blown 2’s on top of 104 fever = ROUGH TIMES. I think I was getting through a cold, too. So I was pretty ready to zonk out and call it a day.
Except I couldn’t. Because on Sunday morning, I woke to Ben sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, looking at the wall.
“Oh no,” he said.
“What?” I said, groggily.
He slowly turned his body to me, “I tweaked my neck again.”
“What.”
“I can’t even move my head. Ugh. Oh man this is such bad timing.”
“…” (<–Yes, it is. It really is.)
“I can still get her ready this morning…” he started, referring to our sick toddler.
“No. You shouldn’t. You could make your neck or back worse. I’ll get her.” I mean, my intentions were kind, but I couldn’t control my tone of voice. I was NOT pleased with the situation. Ben was going to be out of commission the entire day?!?! NOOOOO!!!
“Ugh, no, you’re so exhausted already,” he began, “I don’t want you to have to-”
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I was huffy. I knew he really did feel bad, but this was seriously not the best time for a tweaked neck! I tried to be sympathetic, but I think selfishness overwhelmed me and I was more sympathetic for myself than for him.
So the hard work continued. I got both of the kids up, dressed, fed, cleaned, and played with them. I took her to the potty and I changed all his diapers. She continued to be sick, I continued to be exhausted, and Ben… lay on the couch. In pain.
But useless.
I could tell he felt bad, and that he wanted to help, but I was too busy wallowing in self pity to tend to him any more than I had to.
Sunday was also the day Ben usually took out the garbage. So after making, feeding, and cleaning up lunch, I started working my way around the house emptying the trash bins. Ben was lying on the couch reading a book with our toddler, and I was just glad she wasn’t being fussy or feverish or whiny. Naptime was approaching, so I ran around the house trying to quickly gather up the trash.
As I ran upstairs to empty the diaper pail, I heard Ben’s voice trailing up the stairs, “Isn’t Mama amazing? She’s taking care of all of us. She made us lunch and fed you two and cleaned everything up!”
My daughter nodded in agreement. My heart swelled, touched that he would appreciate me this way with her.
“We should be sure to say THANK YOU to Mama!” he continued, enthusiastically.
(In case you didn’t know, he’s the best at saying thank you!)
I grabbed the upstairs garbage and headed back down. Before my foot hit the last step, I heard the two of them call out in chorus, “Thanks, Mama, for making us lunch!”
“Aw, you’re welcome. Thanks for saying thanks,” I said, feeling warmed inside. Some of the huffiness lifted off my shoulders.
I left the trash bags in the foyer and started my rounds downstairs. As I reentered their line of site with trash bags in tow, I heard him count, “1, 2, 3, go!”
And they sang out in unison, “Thanks, Mama, for emptying all the trash cans!”
“You’re welcome, you guys! Thanks for appreciating it!” I smiled back. My heart smiled a little. Well, this was nice.
I brought all the bags out to the big trash bin outside and rolled it to the curb. I jogged back in the house only to hear my people calling out, “Thanks, Mama, for taking the trash outtttt!”
“You’re welcome!” I called back. And then I started gathering up the recyclables.
“Thannks, Mama, for taking out the recycling!” they chimed.
“You’re welllcome!” I sang back.
Done with the trash, I loaded the last few dishes into the dishwasher and got it started. And then what? You guessed it: “Thanks, Mama, for starting the dishwasher!!!!”
It went on like that, those two thanking me for all the everyday, mundane things that I was always doing. But it still felt nice to be thanked! I felt super.
I could definitely get used to this.
Except, I haven’t. I haven’t gotten used to it. It has been months since that hard but good Sunday, and you know what? She STILL SAYS THANK YOU to me for the everyday, mundane chores of mom-life. On her own, without Ben at her side, prompting her. She says thank you when I make her food, when I wipe off the table, when I sweep, when I put away the dishes, and when I cut her fruit. She says thank you when I strap her into her car seat, when I tidy up the toys, and when I pack her lunch. SHE THANKS ME FOR DOING MY JOB AS HER MOTHER!!
I mean, I’ve tried to train her to be polite and say thank you, too. If someone gives her something, she says thank you. If I give her a snack at the park, I prompt her to say thank you. Whenever her grandma enters the house bearing fruit or origami treasures for her, she knows to say thank you. It’s relatively easy for a toddler to notice when they’re given a gift and to follow it with a verbal thanks. But I’m not as used to seeing toddlers even notice when somebody does an act of service for them- clearing dishes, doing laundry, hanging up clothes- much less express thanks for it.
I love it and I have NOT gotten used to it. I know this because every time she expresses appreciation like this, I am warmed and touched and so grateful to have a daughter who even notices that I am always serving her. I mean, she probably only thanks me for 1/50 of the things I do for her, but that’s still about 2-3 unprompted thank you’s a day. For stuff like picking up crumbs from the floor. And getting her a napkin.
It doesn’t get old, folks. Feeling appreciated is always in style.
I share this story for two reasons. One: apparently lying on a couch and singing out thank-you’s together for every single little thing a person does is a great way to cultivate gratitude in a toddler. Maybe it’s something about lying there and just being still and watching and noticing all the things someone else is doing to serve you? Maybe it’s having a grown-up model sincere thankfulness? Maybe it’s also fun to have an excuse to yell and sing loudly in the house :). Whatever it is, there was some magic combo happening that afternoon that made for a very impactful and enduring lesson!
The second reason I share this story is redemption. What started off as a bad day ended up paving the way for a beautiful lesson in gratitude and appreciation that continues to brighten our lives today. Looking back, one day of hard work was a very small price to pay for an enduring lesson for my toddler in noticing and appreciating the ways others served her.
I think that kind of redemption happens all the time- we just have to look for it. It’s not just looking for the silver lining, either. It’s more like realizing that all this lush growth was made possible only because of the storm. Maybe a storm-free life is easier, but no rain = no growth. (Or, in California’s case, no green lawns. Boo.)
We’re going through our own rocky season right now, and sometimes I wish we could cut straight to the normal, easy, and happy thing. But then I remember how God always redeems the hard things, and I completely trust that someday I’ll be able to look back and realize that this stormy time was actually holding a beautiful gift, better than anything we could imagine or engineer ourselves.
In the meantime, I’ll remember how fevers + tweaked necks = enduring gratitude lessons, and I’ll look forward to the day I’ll have an even grander story to tell.
Children are curious creatures. What was that? Where are we going? What are you doing? Why is he wearing that? Why?
Why?
Why?
How do you respond to all of these questions? I used to think I was doing my daughter a favor by answering her questions.
Daughter: “What was that sound?”
Me: “An airplane.”
Sometimes my answers were more involved:
Daughter: “What is that sound?”
Me: “It’s the sound that tells people that it’s okay to walk across the street. Most people can see the walking man sign that tells us it’s okay to walk, but some people can’t see it, so this sound tells them when it’s time to cross.”
I’d run with it and take it as a teaching moment to tell her more about people with disabilities and then segue into a lesson about compassion and empathy. She would eat it all up. Boy, I LOVE TEACHING! I just can’t stop myself. I enjoy being the first to unveil the mystery of why people walk outside with umbrellas on sunny days and what all the weird noises are. I love to watch her learn new things, discover how the world works, and make sense of things. But that’s just the thing: If I am always giving her the answers to her questions, maybe she won’t learn very well how to discover answers on her own and make sense of things herself.
If I simply answer all the questions, I rob her of the opportunity to think for herself, to hypothesize, and to develop confidence in her own ability to discover answers. Maybe all my teaching and answer-giving is actually doing her a disservice!
I’ve been reluctant to write about this because screen time gets such a bad rap. And for good reason. There’s a lot of stuff out there I would never let my kids watch on a screen or do on a tablet. I kept my eldest away from screens for a long time and only really started allowing her to watch shows after she turned two. It was out of desperation since I’d just had a newborn and was having trouble juggling the two at first. But that stage of crazy parenthood is over and I’m still allowing about 25 minutes of screen time a day now, and I don’t even feel guilty about it anymore thanks to one show: Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood.
For some reason, I have been totally exhausted the last couple weeks. Maybe it has something to do with a toddler that keeps waking up crying in the middle of the night? Or nursing? Or being a mom? I don’t know. But as soon as those kiddos are down to bed, I’ve been plopping myself on the bed and vegging out on my phone… too lazy to even sit up in a chair in the office.
I’ve also been working on a new project at home! I don’t even know how it started but a few weeks ago I got it in my head that I had to create an art studio/maker space for our family. I dreamed big and stayed up way too late for way too many nights researching and planning and buying. And then I (or maybe Ben?) toned down my dreams and we decided I’d start simple and see if this was just a phase or something I really wanted to commit to. As in, committing an entire room to. As in, swapping out the dining set for a kid’s craft table and lining the walls with strings of art and shelves of paint and buttons and glue.
“No, No! DON’T. TAKE. MY. BOOK!!!!” she cried, running over and yanking the book out of his hands.
He had recently learned to crawl, and his new life goal was to put every object into his mouth.
“THAT’S MINE.”
You’d think it was her favorite treasured book, but really it was just one of many books that she enjoyed reading. That’s just how it is though, isn’t it? When someone else wants it, its specialness suddenly spikes and we feel extra possessive for it. I’m still like this, even as I try to train my daughter to respond otherwise.
How would you respond in this situation? Make her give it back? Encourage her to share with him? Ignore it? Tell her to take turns with him? Let her keep it and distract him with something else to play with?
Here’s what I do: I remind her to be more gentle, and then I have her practice being more gentle right then and there.
“Sweetie, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. Let’s try that again. This time, gently ask him if you can use the book, and if he’s okay with it, take it away- gently. Let’s see it.”
I place the book back in his hands and watch her try again, this time doing everything with more gentleness and respect.
This is the name of a super cute and simple game that my husband made up to play with my daughter when she had just turned two. It’s great for developing her visual skills, imagination, and fluency with colors. She’s able to get a lot of practice making deductions as well as using words to describe things. Most importantly, it’s fun, easy, and lends to lots of sweet cuddle time!
Here are the materials you need: stuffed animals. If you’re like us, you have dozens of them piled up somewhere. Some of them may be out in the living room for a picnic, while others are sleeping in the cardboard house that Papa built, but right now most of them are having a big sleepover in the guest bedroom. Our girl likes to snuggle up in the middle of them and play this game.
Here’s how it works. Ben goes out of the room and finds a stuffed animal somewhere in the house while she waits in the room. He spots the panda sitting on the couch, picks it up, and comes back to the room hiding it behind his back, and says, “I have a friend who…”
Her eyes light up in anticipation.
“…is black and white!”
“The dog!” she guesses.
“He’s black and white and this small!” he says, gesturing as well as he can with one hand.
“…Zebra!” she tries.
“He’s black and white, this small, and eats bamboo!” he says, sneaking in a fun fact he taught her recently.
“PANDA!” she cries.
“Yeahhhh!! Panda’s here!” he cries, tossing the little panda to her. Then he goes out and finds another friend and repeats.
Easy, right? It’s a fun and brain-stimulating activity that helps tidy up the house to boot! You’d be surprised how many rounds of this your child will enjoy. Once they get the hang of it, you can change roles and have them be the one to “find a friend” and give you hints! That’s a whole different set of great skills for your child to practice! Bonus: You can be the one patiently waiting on the couch while they scurry around the house picking up stuffed animals. Sounds like a GREAT plan to me! 😉
I have a problem. A photo problem. A way-too-many-photos-of-my-kids problem.
It’s seriously overwhelming. First world problem, yes. But still something I have to figure out. Because what am I supposed to DO with all these pictures? Family photo book? Yes. I do that already. I usually make one around the end of each year, but this year, I fell way behind. I’ve always been a crammer, but even I wasn’t able to find the hours to sort through the 10,500 photos from 2015 and turn them into a book.
YES 10,500.
CRAZY RIGHT?
I’ve totally considered paying someone else to do this for me, but really, it’s a job only I can do. No one else can look through my pictures and say, “Oh yes, this moment was a special one. I mean, it may look like she’s just sleeping but actually it was her FIRST NIGHT in her new room! TEARS. SUCH A BIG TRANSITION. It definitely deserves a spot in the yearbook!”
I also considered letting Shutterfly take my selected photos and make the book for me, but… the way they spread their pages, I’m pretty sure it would come out to about 1,000 pages and cost at least as much. Plus, it’s filtering through and selecting photos that takes the longest time. It’s trying to figure out which pictures make the cut and which ones will likely be forgotten forever, because let’s be honest: there is no way I’m going to go through every folder and image from every year… ever. Even when I’m old. I’ll be glad if anyone even takes the time to look at the dozens of photo books we’ll have lying around by that time.
But I want the pictures to be looked at and the memories to be remembered, because one thing motherhood has done very effectively is show me just how human I am and how awful my memory can be. When I look back at photos from just one year ago, I already have moments of, “Huh- I totally don’t remember this!” and “OH MY GOSH THIS IS SO CUTE DID IT REALLY HAPPEN??” and “THANK YOU, JoEllen of yore, for not deleting these photos. Because you were right- those 10 pictures (all taken in the same second) ARE each unique and precious and save-worthy! I LOVE IT.”
I know. I have a problem.
But I jussst might have found a solution.
It’s been a full weekend. It started out with roaring laughter late into the night (morning?) with some of my favorite people, and continued with a family brunch and then a baby shower with some old friends. I’m exhausted and my eyes are burning, but baby shower season (is there such a thing??) is upon us and I really wanted to share this simple but fun baby shower activity that I came up with! Make a game of Memory!
Traditionally, baby showers mean games of baby bingo, smelling “poopy” diapers (actually baby food), or decorating onesies. All cute and fun, but sometimes it’s also nice to just sit around and catch up with friends while coloring some flowers in a collaborative ABC book for baby. I love the idea of making something that the family or baby will actually use and enjoy in the years to come, and I recently came up with a new baby shower activity that I think you’ll love!
The guests of the party get to craft and make a matching pair of tiles for the family to play the game of Memory with! You know, the game where you get to flip over two tiles, see if they match, and keep them if they do.
My friend Christina shared this post on Facebook a couple weeks ago about terminally ill patients living out their final wishes. It’s like the Make-a-Wish Foundation, which grants wishes for sick children, but for older patients.
It’s one of those pieces that gently shakes you up and makes all the silly, petty things disappear for a moment and puts the real, important things in perspective. What kind of things do older people wish for after they have lived for decades and can have one final experience?
To visit the zoo.
To sit in the sun and wind and smell the water.
To enjoy a delicious ice cream cone.
These are all things I literally have on the schedule for this week. Not even kidding. And while I’m generally looking forward to them, it makes my heart feel all sorts of melty, squishy, sad and happy to think that any one of these simple pleasures could be The One Moment I wish I could return to in 50 years.
I’ve heard myself talking about this book so much in the last two months that it’s time I talked about it with you. It’s called You and Me Forever: Marriage in Light of Eternity by Francis Chan:
There are plenty of great reviews of the book online, so I’ll let you peruse those here. A major theme in the reviews is that this is not a typical book full of advice to improve your marriage. It’s a book about getting your perspective on life and focus on God straight. A byproduct of that is an improved marriage. For example, if you really lived life with eternity in mind, you probably wouldn’t get as caught up in the petty, selfish details that can run rampant in a marriage.
Really, he says it A LOT better. Because he’s Francis. It’s in the intro. I recommend reading at least that much!
Instead of a general review, I want to talk about one point in particular that stuck with me: humility. As a Christian, I try to be like Jesus. I try to think and do and love like He does. I fail all the time. I mean, Jesus was everything good (and nothing bad). The expectation isn’t that I’ll ever be 100% like Jesus, but that I keep trying. Still, it’s overwhelming. Where do you even start in an effort to love perfectly? In chapter 3, Francis says:
Both Lisa and I believe that more than any other attribute of Jesus, His humility is the key to a healthy marriage. If two people make it their goal to imitate the humility of Christ, everything else will take care of itself. It really is that simple. Arguments escalate when we want to be right more than we want to be Christ. It is easy to get blinded in the heat of disagreements. Soon, all we want is to win, even if victory requires sin. The one who wins the argument is usually the one who acts less like Christ.
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