I love you more than a kitchen floor without crumbs.
I love you more than clean clothes folded and put away.
I love you more than straight pillows on the couch.
I love you more than a dry floor around the bathtub.
I love you more than dinner on the table at six.
I love you more than an uninterrupted phone conversation (or any conversation for that matter).
I love you more than getting somewhere on time.
I love you more than I can often describe and maybe more often than my actions show.
I pray that when you look back at our days together, you'll look back with grace. I pray that as you remember your childhood and me trying to keep our household running somewhat smoothly, you'll remember the love...not just the sweeping, cleaning, doing laundry, making appointments, rushing to avoid being late, kinds of things. I pray that you'll remember the way you make me laugh and smile and years from now when you think of the way my voice sounded, it won't be accompanied by a sigh of exasperation.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Friday, August 5, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
For now we see only a reflection...
I stood knee-deep in the water with waves crashing rhythmically behind me, my belly swollen with a child that I'll meet within weeks.
My other three stood, still for a moment after outrunning sea foam "lava". They were in a semicircle, looking down at some object in the sand, and as the wave that had chased them moved back out to sea I saw the lovely glimmer of a reflection that met their toes in the sand.
It was brief. So brief that I almost missed the sight completely. Then it was gone.
They came running back toward me, the water that was near my knees retreating closer to my ankles, and instead of a fuzzy reflection on wet sand, I had three elated children--laughing, talking, squealing, smelling of sunscreen and tasting like saltwater kisses. Cool wet hands grabbing for mine and telling me to "get ready! Another one is coming!"
And I thought of the words of the Apostle Paul:
"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 1 Corinthians 13:12
There, on the edge of a continent with toes in the Atlantic, feeling awkward in my maternity swimsuit, I had a holy moment. There is goodness in this life and these experiences, but they don't compare to what has been promised for the future.
My other three stood, still for a moment after outrunning sea foam "lava". They were in a semicircle, looking down at some object in the sand, and as the wave that had chased them moved back out to sea I saw the lovely glimmer of a reflection that met their toes in the sand.
It was brief. So brief that I almost missed the sight completely. Then it was gone.
They came running back toward me, the water that was near my knees retreating closer to my ankles, and instead of a fuzzy reflection on wet sand, I had three elated children--laughing, talking, squealing, smelling of sunscreen and tasting like saltwater kisses. Cool wet hands grabbing for mine and telling me to "get ready! Another one is coming!"
And I thought of the words of the Apostle Paul:
"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 1 Corinthians 13:12
There, on the edge of a continent with toes in the Atlantic, feeling awkward in my maternity swimsuit, I had a holy moment. There is goodness in this life and these experiences, but they don't compare to what has been promised for the future.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Problem or Person?
I was listening to a lecture recently and the speaker asked a simple question, but it is one that has continued to work its way into my thoughts often.
"When your child is not doing what you want or expect him to do, do you see him as a problem or a person?"
If I'm honest, when accomplishing my agenda on my timeline is the goal, I'll most likely view anyone that interferes with or delays my plan as "the problem".
However, when I can loosen the hold on my ideas of how and when things should happen, then I typically get to enjoy the people that are involved in my plans a whole lot more.
I'm praying to change my perspective. I do want to enjoy the little girl that goes to her room after breakfast to get dressed, make her bed, and brush her teeth, but somehow "forgets" to do at least two of the three things that are part of her morning responsibilities every day. I want to treasure the little boy with a stubborn streak (we really have no idea where that came from) who sometimes decides that he doesn't want to do school or go with the rest of the family to an event or put away his clothes. I want my face to "light up" when I see the little girl with one dimple, even when she pulled out her hair bow for the fourteenth time this hour or I'm getting her out of the carseat and her shoes and socks are off...AGAIN.
I can offer my children correction and discipline while seeing them as the image-bearing individuals that they are, not an obstacle in my path or a problem to be solved.
"When your child is not doing what you want or expect him to do, do you see him as a problem or a person?"
If I'm honest, when accomplishing my agenda on my timeline is the goal, I'll most likely view anyone that interferes with or delays my plan as "the problem".
However, when I can loosen the hold on my ideas of how and when things should happen, then I typically get to enjoy the people that are involved in my plans a whole lot more.
I'm praying to change my perspective. I do want to enjoy the little girl that goes to her room after breakfast to get dressed, make her bed, and brush her teeth, but somehow "forgets" to do at least two of the three things that are part of her morning responsibilities every day. I want to treasure the little boy with a stubborn streak (we really have no idea where that came from) who sometimes decides that he doesn't want to do school or go with the rest of the family to an event or put away his clothes. I want my face to "light up" when I see the little girl with one dimple, even when she pulled out her hair bow for the fourteenth time this hour or I'm getting her out of the carseat and her shoes and socks are off...AGAIN.
I can offer my children correction and discipline while seeing them as the image-bearing individuals that they are, not an obstacle in my path or a problem to be solved.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Birth Videos
No we don't have videos that show all the graphic details of each child's birth and even if we did there's no way I'd post them for public consumption. We do, however, have footage of each child just moments after birth and this week I've been watching them.
Why?
Since our three know that another baby is on the way they've become curious about when they were "in mommy's tummy" and "when I first got out of your tummy". There have recently been many requests for the "Baby Annie" story, or the "Baby Mackenzie" story, or the "Baby Oppa" (Korean word for big brother) story. So this week, with the telling of the stories, we've added evening video clips.
Monday night was Nicholas, with his labored breathing and tiny cries after being delivered at 36 weeks via a C-section. There were expressions of concern at the IV taped to the back of his hand and the sensor on his tummy to monitor his heart rate while in the NICU. The girls furrowed brows during diaper changes and his first bath. There were a lot of questions about why he was crying.
Tuesday night it was Mackenzie, delivered by VBAC just days before her due date. A MUCH louder cry and much more responsive arms and legs moving about during diaper changes and bath. There were still furrowed brows and many of the same questions about why she cried so much. With the second video, there was also the fun of trying to understand what 22-month-old Nicholas was trying to say, which left all three kids laughing.
Tonight was Annie's night. I think she was most excited about seeing her own movie, but quickly became most concerned at her own baby cries. She was glad when all the crying was over and Daddy had her cozy on his chest. Then "little Oppa" and "little Unni" (I know that's an oxymoron for any Korean readers out there) came in and lightened the mood, so all was well again.
As I sit with them they watch with attentive eyes, waiting to see what's next. I watch with memories of what those days and hours and moments were like then and amazement at where we all are now.
Why?
Since our three know that another baby is on the way they've become curious about when they were "in mommy's tummy" and "when I first got out of your tummy". There have recently been many requests for the "Baby Annie" story, or the "Baby Mackenzie" story, or the "Baby Oppa" (Korean word for big brother) story. So this week, with the telling of the stories, we've added evening video clips.
Monday night was Nicholas, with his labored breathing and tiny cries after being delivered at 36 weeks via a C-section. There were expressions of concern at the IV taped to the back of his hand and the sensor on his tummy to monitor his heart rate while in the NICU. The girls furrowed brows during diaper changes and his first bath. There were a lot of questions about why he was crying.
Tuesday night it was Mackenzie, delivered by VBAC just days before her due date. A MUCH louder cry and much more responsive arms and legs moving about during diaper changes and bath. There were still furrowed brows and many of the same questions about why she cried so much. With the second video, there was also the fun of trying to understand what 22-month-old Nicholas was trying to say, which left all three kids laughing.
Tonight was Annie's night. I think she was most excited about seeing her own movie, but quickly became most concerned at her own baby cries. She was glad when all the crying was over and Daddy had her cozy on his chest. Then "little Oppa" and "little Unni" (I know that's an oxymoron for any Korean readers out there) came in and lightened the mood, so all was well again.
As I sit with them they watch with attentive eyes, waiting to see what's next. I watch with memories of what those days and hours and moments were like then and amazement at where we all are now.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Meltdown
Last night, all seemed to be going smoothly, until "The MELTDOWN" hit. I really didn't see it coming, and usually I do, but last night, I didn't.
We had finished dinner. We were going to do baths before bedtime. There was a basket of folded laundry right outside the kids' rooms and they were going to help put their things away before we started baths.
Annie, now two-years-old, took her things a piece at a time to her room and put them into the drawers. (We keep all their clothes in drawers, for this reason. If it's on a hanger higher then their heads, guess who has to put it away? ME. If it's at a level they can reach, it becomes their responsibility.)
Mackenzie, soon to be four, was working with "piles" to put hers away. "Mommy, just pile my panties and socks on my arms so I can dump them in the top drawer. I already opened it...Next pile my shirts on my arms 'cause the middle drawer is open now...Pile on my pants 'cause the bottom drawer looks kind of empty since you haven't washed my pants for a long time, right?"
Then there was Nicholas, five-and-a-half, normally very compliant, and quick when it comes to putting things away because almost everything is a race. I placed his stacks of folded clothes in the floor of his room. Three pairs of pajamas, two pairs of pants, two shirts, some underwear and socks. The underwear and socks made it quickly into their rightful place. Then, I'm not sure what happened. The drawer was open for the next set of clothes, but suddenly, the clothes were being tossed into the floor, not even close to the open drawer! WHAT?! I picked up the clothes (pants & shirts) that were now unfolded near the door, walked into the hall, pulled down the attic door, and put the clothes up inside, then closed the door. He saw what happened. I simply said, "If you don't want to put away your clothes, then we'll keep them up in the attic so they won't be in the way. If you would like to keep your pajamas in your room, you should put them away now." This was infuriating to him. So what did he do?
THREW THE PAJAMAS!
I picked them up, and in the same way, walked into the hallway, opened the attic, put the pj's inside, closed the attic door. He screamed. He cried. He sulked.
I got the girls ready for their bath.
"I'm not taking a bath!!!" he shouted.
"Okay. Then get ready for bed. I'll help you brush your teeth."
The drama continued to unfold as he didn't want to put on pajamas, because the ones he wanted to wear were now in the attic. "You can sleep in undies."
Not the answer he was hoping for.
He didn't want to brush teeth.
Not an option when your dad's an orthodontist.
For half an hour he screamed & cried as though I were an expert in various forms of torture and cruelty. He did receive two spankings (literally 1 swat, then a little later another, lest anyone think that I beat my children) one for throwing something at me when he was angry, the other for being intentionally defiant when he was asked to do something reasonable within his ability level. Needless to say, it wasn't fun for either of us.
After the "storm" had passed, we talked about what went wrong. "Buddy, why did you choose to throw your clothes instead of putting them away? Why did you choose to throw something at Mommy when you felt angry? It's okay to be angry with me and tell me what made you feel angry, but you are not allowed to throw things or try to hurt me when you are angry."
"Well, Mommy," he says, with a few tears still dampening his cheeks, "I think what we had for dinner made me do all that."
"How's that? You liked dinner tonight and said it was one of your 'most favorite things Mommy cooks' and you ate a lot of mango & pineapple at the end. How did your dinner do that?"
"Well, maybe it wasn't dinner then. Maybe it was just some bad choices."
If I sound like I have confidence or certainty about how the night turned out, I hope you'll know that I don't. I sat wondering, after the kids were asleep, "What will they take from this? How will Nicholas remember this event? How about the girls, who heard their big brother, but didn't see everything that was going on? And what if a neighbor picks up a distorted signal from one of our baby monitors? They'll certainly think the child was near death. Of course, he was the only one screaming and shouting. My husband and I both managed to keep our voices at a normal level. Did I do what needed to be done for his best or did I do what was best for me?" And with these thoughts we continue to put money into a savings account that will one day help pay for college or counseling, whichever seems appropriate at the time.
We had finished dinner. We were going to do baths before bedtime. There was a basket of folded laundry right outside the kids' rooms and they were going to help put their things away before we started baths.
Annie, now two-years-old, took her things a piece at a time to her room and put them into the drawers. (We keep all their clothes in drawers, for this reason. If it's on a hanger higher then their heads, guess who has to put it away? ME. If it's at a level they can reach, it becomes their responsibility.)
Mackenzie, soon to be four, was working with "piles" to put hers away. "Mommy, just pile my panties and socks on my arms so I can dump them in the top drawer. I already opened it...Next pile my shirts on my arms 'cause the middle drawer is open now...Pile on my pants 'cause the bottom drawer looks kind of empty since you haven't washed my pants for a long time, right?"
Then there was Nicholas, five-and-a-half, normally very compliant, and quick when it comes to putting things away because almost everything is a race. I placed his stacks of folded clothes in the floor of his room. Three pairs of pajamas, two pairs of pants, two shirts, some underwear and socks. The underwear and socks made it quickly into their rightful place. Then, I'm not sure what happened. The drawer was open for the next set of clothes, but suddenly, the clothes were being tossed into the floor, not even close to the open drawer! WHAT?! I picked up the clothes (pants & shirts) that were now unfolded near the door, walked into the hall, pulled down the attic door, and put the clothes up inside, then closed the door. He saw what happened. I simply said, "If you don't want to put away your clothes, then we'll keep them up in the attic so they won't be in the way. If you would like to keep your pajamas in your room, you should put them away now." This was infuriating to him. So what did he do?
THREW THE PAJAMAS!
I picked them up, and in the same way, walked into the hallway, opened the attic, put the pj's inside, closed the attic door. He screamed. He cried. He sulked.
I got the girls ready for their bath.
"I'm not taking a bath!!!" he shouted.
"Okay. Then get ready for bed. I'll help you brush your teeth."
The drama continued to unfold as he didn't want to put on pajamas, because the ones he wanted to wear were now in the attic. "You can sleep in undies."
Not the answer he was hoping for.
He didn't want to brush teeth.
Not an option when your dad's an orthodontist.
For half an hour he screamed & cried as though I were an expert in various forms of torture and cruelty. He did receive two spankings (literally 1 swat, then a little later another, lest anyone think that I beat my children) one for throwing something at me when he was angry, the other for being intentionally defiant when he was asked to do something reasonable within his ability level. Needless to say, it wasn't fun for either of us.
After the "storm" had passed, we talked about what went wrong. "Buddy, why did you choose to throw your clothes instead of putting them away? Why did you choose to throw something at Mommy when you felt angry? It's okay to be angry with me and tell me what made you feel angry, but you are not allowed to throw things or try to hurt me when you are angry."
"Well, Mommy," he says, with a few tears still dampening his cheeks, "I think what we had for dinner made me do all that."
"How's that? You liked dinner tonight and said it was one of your 'most favorite things Mommy cooks' and you ate a lot of mango & pineapple at the end. How did your dinner do that?"
"Well, maybe it wasn't dinner then. Maybe it was just some bad choices."
If I sound like I have confidence or certainty about how the night turned out, I hope you'll know that I don't. I sat wondering, after the kids were asleep, "What will they take from this? How will Nicholas remember this event? How about the girls, who heard their big brother, but didn't see everything that was going on? And what if a neighbor picks up a distorted signal from one of our baby monitors? They'll certainly think the child was near death. Of course, he was the only one screaming and shouting. My husband and I both managed to keep our voices at a normal level. Did I do what needed to be done for his best or did I do what was best for me?" And with these thoughts we continue to put money into a savings account that will one day help pay for college or counseling, whichever seems appropriate at the time.
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