Terms of Parenthood

I went to Panera to write this morning and had to login to access the internet.  As usual, I had to agree to the terms of use before I could browse.  I needed to check my online bank account but before I could sign in, I was required to agree to seeing the update in the terms of my account.  The other day I downloaded Adobe Reader.  Guess what?  Yep.  Had to agree before proceeding.  I'm pretty sure you even have a similar step when first becoming a member of the Facebook community.  So tell me this...why do I have to agree before "friending" 400 people on the internet but any old person can have a child?

For years, (long before actually becoming a parent) I have been an advocate of a parental application process.  I think you should have to apply to have a child.  At minimum, you should have to click a box that you agree to the terms before proceeding.  A requirement of acceptance of the terms might cause many to think before acting, and would, undoubtedly, significantly lower the birth rate and a plethora of other social dilemmas.

Terms of Parenthood
By entering into this intimate relationship with the opposite sex, you are agreeing that you understand childbirth is a possibility and you are willing to accept the new environment of your life when said child is born.  Changes to existing life environment may include but are not limited to:

• Foregoing vanity of any kind during the 10 months your body is inhabited by another and the unspecified number of labor hours when 27 people are present as the child is birthed
• Living in a zombie-like trance for 6-8 weeks due to waking every 2 hours to feed the child
• Spending the equivalent of a designer pair of jeans every month to purchase something your child can poop in and then you throw away
• Cleaning spit up, throw up, vomit, food items and other random bodily fluids from every carpeted or upholstered surface of your home or vehicle
• Running new bath water at least twice after the child has some form of nasty accident in the water which you have the added bonus of touching in order to run said bath water
• After spending the designer jean equivalent above, monthly spending the price of a pair of new shoes in addition so as to pay for food stuffs, doctors visits, clothing and accessories
• Fishing puzzle pieces, tupperware and other random household objects from the toilet after the child finds it and considers it a new play area
• Becoming "that" person at the restaurant who continues to eat yet can't seem to control their child but being unwilling to leave due to the price of said meal
• Showering at extreme hours of the day and night in relation to nap/sleep times
• At times, going days with no shower at all when nap/sleep time doesn't allow
• Showering with small child in the stall because you are unable to ensure the safety of your home and family pet if child is left unattended for the 10 minutes you hurriedly bathe
• Trading your top ranked songs on the Ipod for a Backyardigans video and Dora the Explorer theme song
• Losing your ipod for days only to find it the refrigerator
• Losing weight not by time on the treadmill but due to lack of food because what's on Mommy's plate seems to somehow have more appeal although it's the same thing as on the child's plate
• Losing additional weight by chasing the child down the street as he/she tries to walk the dog
• Gaining back some of lost weight after single-handedly binge eating half a mint chocolate chip ice cream pie

In addition to the above changes in lifestyle, you are agreeing to an overall concession of primary self-thought.  You agree to thinking first about the welfare, safety, happiness and comfort of the child before any thought is given to your own desires, needs or wants.

In return for the acceptance of these terms, you will learn more love and joy than you could imagine while simultaneously functioning at a level of fatigue you thought impossible to sustain human life.

If you agree, click to proceed.  

If you don't, you might want to rethink some things.

Why Somedays Motherhood is War

Hundreds of publications have been written about kids who are strong-willed and high-spirited.  I've read them.  Dr. Dobson and I spend lots of time together - him telling me I'm not alone and me searching the pages of his book for renewed strength for what he accurately calls "war."  For those of you with compliant children, I know that seems harsh.  I'm sure you think me cruel to consider a trip to the grocery store with my child a war, but let me assure you, war was waged today at Central Market.

I'll get to the war, but first, I have to explain this phrase that has come to describe my baby girl.  Some children are, for the most part, even-tempered.  They cry, fuss or cause a ruckus at times, but it in no way defines them.  In my new bedside reading companion, The Strong-Willed Child, Dr. Dobson calls these kids "compliant."  Compliant children wish to please their parents and are generally willing to comply to rules and boundaries so as to keep that good-will relationship between the generations.  Then there are strong-willed kids.  While a compliant child accepts a boundary at face value and stays within it, a strong-willed child challenges every authority, pushes every boundary and attempts to break every rule.  It is innately imbedded in their DNA to respect only that authority which they have challenged and deemed worthy.  As with any descriptive term, there is a bit of a sliding scale involved.  Some kids are more drastically strong-willed, while some push the limits but submit rather quickly.

Brynna has a will and a boldness that would melt most adults. On the sliding scale, we're bumping up against the dot at the far end of the line.  That doesn't mean she's not undeniably fun.  She just has this internal need to see if I really am as strong as I tell her I am.  So many times a day, we battle.  And sometimes, we have to fight a war.

Our day started with a fun adventure.  Brynna woke up happy and smiley and got dressed with Daddy.  Then she and I loaded in the car and met Nay Nay for breakfast.  She sang, clapped and talked to passing traffic the whole way there, but as soon as we entered, she didn't want to play.  She wouldn't talk to Janay at first and tried to climb from her highchair in an attempt to leave.  After she and I had a strong conversation in a heavy whisper, she decided it in her best interest to sit on her bottom.  As breakfast went on, she warmed up a bit and eventually colored and blew kisses to passers-by.

Battle One - Mom: 1, Brynna: 0

After breakfast, we had a few errands to run.  We stopped at Target where we only needed to make a return so had no need for a cart.  This did not please the princess, who threw herself to the ground in front of the rows of red shopping carts, blocking exiting shoppers.  Another strong conversation was had (this time not whispered) and a leg was spanked.  Once again, BG decided it in her best interest to listen and obey, so we made it to Customer Service and completed our transaction.

Battle Two - Mom: 2, Brynna 0

The walk back to the car was fun - we skipped and ran - and then we headed to Central Market.  Immediately upon entering the parking lot, Brynna started calling for a balloon (how she knows one grocery store from another is beyond me).  Green balloon in tow, we breezed through produce, talked to a friend from church near the granola bars and then made our way to dairy.  As I attempted to buy Brie cheese for my husband (I don't eat it so I get completely confused), Brynna informed me she needed to potty.  We hurried to the restroom where she did, in fact, potty like a big girl!  Of course her excellent potty skills deserved a dance break, so we danced and giggled in the bathroom and then talked the man at the gelato counter into giving the big girl a treat (aka: M&M).  (Sidenote - We spared the nice gelato man the details of why we needed the treat.  While I believe in rewarding and praising children, I do not feel the need to discuss bodily functions with strangers.)

Then we got in line to pay.  Or as I like to call it, we entered the arena.

I needed to pay for our groceries, apparently Brynna needed to leave.  With no warning at all, Brynna decided she did not need to ride in the cart anymore and began attempting to jump the 3+ feet to the ground.  She caused such a scene that a woman approached and begged me to be careful as her child had fallen from a shopping cart and ended up in a body cast.  While I sensed how serious she was and appreciated her concern, it was not for lack of care that my child was trying to swan dive to the linoleum.  It was merely the boundary she decided to push this day.  There was nothing Brynna wanted and no reason for her not to sit in the cart.  Simply put, she did not want to do what I wanted her to do.  And she was willing to give it all 20 pounds of her might to fight me about it.  So as the two patrons in front of us rang and paid for their groceries, Brynna and I did head-to-head, no holds barred combat.  In addition to trying to leap from the cart, she was kicking, screaming, hitting and flailing.  There is a vast difference in a hurt child's face and what I was looking at.  She was not sad, she was mad.  She was not crying, she was making a deep-gutteral sound usually reserved for large animals.  I tried holding her but her flailing legs almost took out the poor woman behind us, so back in the cart she went.  At one point, I had her strapped in and was holding her arms in one hand and a foot in the other.  We paid in a similar locked position and walked to the car intertwined.  I then wrestled her (literally) into her carseat where she finally calmed down about 5 minutes from the house.

I know you're thinking what half the store was..."Oh my gosh, what's wrong with that child?"  (Or you were just thinking you're glad your kid is compliant!)  If I'd had a microphone, even though sweaty and frustrated, I would have loved to explain.  Instead, I was at war.  So here is my response to the sweet patrons of Central Market on Lovers Lane in Dallas:


There is absolutely nothing wrong with Brynna.  While she appears angry, she really isn't.  She could care less about a shopping cart.  It's not about a cart at all.  It's about who's in charge.  I say I am.  She wants to see if I really am.  She is simply looking for someone to be strong enough to trust and respect, and until I take my last breath, with everything I have, I am going to prove to her that I am that person.  She needs to know she can trust God.  She needs to know she can respect the authority He places over her.  And it is my job to fight tooth-and-nail to show her just that.  I'm sorry our battle had to be in the grocery line today, and I apologize if it disrupted your day.  I would have much preferred a calm morning as well.  But bigger than my desire for calm is the desire to fight...and win.  I will fight Brynna for Brynna.  And you will thank me...one day she's likely to be your president.


War Tally - Mom wins

5 Things I Learned Last Week

In the world of Brynna, one good car ride does not imply a second good car ride.  Tuesday was awesome.  As we drove to Oklahoma, she snacked and watched the "yardigans" for about an hour, napped for almost 2 hours and then played the last hour and a half.  Granted, it wasn't perfect.  I was pulling out new toys from the passenger seat every 10 minutes like Houdini, but we made it to Tulsa without leaving my sanity on the road somewhere. The drive home on Saturday...not so much.  There was very little napping, we were no longer impressed with the trick of pulling out new toys and everyone just wanted to get out of the car - Miles (the dog) included.

You can still get lost going somewhere you've been a hundred times.  Or, more specifically, Hope can. Hope and I have been friends since we were 11. My parents have lived in the same house for the past 12 years. On her way there, Hope missed her exit and drove to Arkansas.  I'm not exaggerating.  She called me 60 miles southeast of my parents house, about 15 minutes from the Arkansas state line.  It's not a new occurrence for Hope to call me for directions, but this was a new twist. 

Newborns really do wake that many times at night.  I think when it's your child, you reach a point of delirium where you are no longer aware of how tired you are. While I love my goddaughter Hannah like she's my own, I did not birth her and therefore, did not have this luxury.  (If you can call sleep-deprived delerium a luxury.) While staying with them a few days, I was always (2am or middle of the afternoon) acutely aware of how tired I was.  And am.  It's a week later and I'm still sleepy.

Brynna has a few great loves in life and topping the list are Yaya and Papa.  While I do not doubt her love for her me, I'm pretty sure she was not aware that she hadn't seen me in days.  Give a kid 2 dogs, 2 horses, 2 cats, cows and 65 acres to roam, and she's happy as a lark.  When I got there Friday afternoon, she ran over, gave me a hug and then immediately wanted to go sit by Papa again.  (Sidenote: I did not realize until I typed this that my dad is Noah.  He's got all kinds of animals two-by-two!)

Try as we may to disagree, they are our minis - all of them.  Hannah is not even 3 month old and she will put you in your place with a look.  Just like her mama.  MacKenzie, Nia and Nala put on several shows for us (including a beautiful rendition of If You're Happy and You Know It...) because they always want everyone to feel included.  Just like their mama.  And depending on the moment, BG had lots of fun, lots to say and lots of attitude.  Just like...her daddy.

The God I serve...

There are times that we get so caught up in our lives that we forget to thank God for the air we breathe, the life we live and the blessing it is just to "be."  Then there are other times...  Times when you hurt so badly you are innately aware of God's power because you desperately need it.  Times when your heart is so full that everywhere you look, you see evidence of how small you are and how big God is.  

There is a passage in Luke 19 that has been on my heart recently.  Jesus had been healing the sick, blind and possessed, he had been teaching and instructing.  As he entered Jerusalem, "the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen.  They said, 'Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!  Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!'  But some in the crowd said to Jesus, 'Teacher, rebuke your disciples!'  He replied, 'If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.'"

These disciples weren't singing worship songs because they happened to be at church.  They weren't praising God with their friends while unfortunately excluding those who didn't know Him.  They weren't saying what sounded pretty.  They were simply being honest.  They were proclaiming the amazing things they had witnessed and experienced.  It wasn't a show.  It was Real.  They were so amazed it was impossible for them not to talk about it.  The God they served was too big for them to be quiet.

I understand those people.  I AM those people.  The God I serve is big - so big at times that I get overwhelmed and it's impossible not to talk about it.

The God I serve...

• Healed Zoe's cancer - We laid side-by-side in her hospital bed, and I held her when she was sickest.  I kissed her perfectly bald head and clipped her nails when the chemo made them peel.  I was there for her worst days.  And I was there for the best ones.  Just a few months ago, I played with her in the pool and planted strawberries in my backyard.  I watched her run and roll and kick and skip.  You have to acknowledge the worst days to fully appreciate the best days.  She wasn't a little sick.  She didn't have something that can be explained away or could have worked itself out.  As scary as it still is to say, she would have died.  The God I serve healed her little body, renewed the faith of her mom and in turn, ensured that Zoe (and her brother, dad and other family) will get to hear His Good News.
• Formed Hannah's body - My newest god-daughter was born at 26 weeks, 14 weeks early.  She weighed just over 2 lbs on July 20th.  At the time, there was no real explanation as to why Brandy went into labor so early.  Since then we have learned that she had a rare infection.  I don't know if that infection would have hurt Hannah.  I don't know if Brandy could have carried her longer with medication and bed-rest.  What I do know is that while Hannah was tiny and needed to finish developing her lungs, she was otherwise perfectly healthy.  In all her time in the NICU, she never once had complications or illness.  She went home on Friday weighing almost 6 lbs, eating better than some "normal" newborns.  The God I serve formed her perfect little body right before our eyes and taught us new levels of prayer in the meantime.
• Mended my marriage - After church last week, a friend told me what a blessing it was for her to see David and I holding hands as we sang.  She commented on how much in love we are and how sweet it is.  Like everything that's truly worth something, that love was costly.  We held hands on Sunday because we know from experience those words to be true - He is the Only thing that's everlasting, the Only thing you can set your hope in.  A few years ago, we sat in our living room at opposite ends of the sofa and said we'd both rather not do this anymore.  If it were up to us, we would have gone our ways and begun the process of making new lives that weren't so hard and didn't hurt so bad.  But the God I serve is big enough that when we both looked at him and not ourselves or each other, we learned what Real love, grace, forgiveness, courage, honesty and commitment are about.
• Saved Brynna - I laugh a lot about not wanting to be pregnant again.  That joking, however, will never mean that I take for granted the gift of my baby girl.  While I didn't love the pregnancy experience, I am most grateful God allowed me to experience the blessing.  Having Brynna under emergency circumstances, watching them rush her away not breathing fully on her own, and trusting her doctors to make the best decisions for her made me all the more aware of whose she is.  She is a gift that was entrusted to David and I.  The God I serve healed her so that I could learn a little deeper what it means to trust and be blessed by Him.
• Filled my empty places - Some holes are there whether we asked for them or not.  Some holes we inflict upon ourselves.  Some holes have the potential to swallow the rest of you.  While I grew up saying and doing the right things, I found myself at 23 with a lot of emptiness.  As I stood on the edge of one of those gaping holes about to collapse in on myself, a hand pulled me out.  The process of filling those holes was long and arduous.  It was painful, dark at times, and overwhelming.  But the God I serve heaped grace so lavishly on me that He didn't just fill my empty spaces; there are mountains where holes used to be. 

The God I serve is big.  Huge.  He's so large that, at times, I find it hard to comprehend.  That's where I find myself today.  In complete awe and feeling so inadequate to express it.

Let me never be guilty of being quiet so the stones have to praise in my place...

Skype Hype

Had you asked me 2 years ago what I thought of technology, my response would have been vastly different than it is today.  It wasn't until I joined the staff of FC Downtown (also known as the revolving door of the latest handheld device), that I even entered the world of smart phones.  Until then, I was perfectly content with my pink Katana flip phone.  It was cute, it sent texts, and most importantly, it made phone calls.  I make lots of phone calls.

It took me a long couple of years and some very persuasive teenagers to convince me to make a MySpace page.  After that became uncool, I went back to being perfectly content in my uncoolness.  Then those teenagers and their Facebook came along, and I begrudgingly joined them.  Kind of.  It was the running joke (the kind that's funny because it's true) that I averaged about 6 months between visits to said Facebook page.

Then I had Brynna.  Staying home meant less time at the computer, less time to talk without someone adding unwelcomed background noises and no more yelling down the hall to tell Janay something funny.  So one day while Brynna was napping, I put on my big girl panties and overcame my fears and repulsions.  I pulled up Google and searched, "twitter."  Not only did I make a twitter account, but I figured out how to send twitter updates from my phone and link them to my Facebook page.  A few months later, I also figured out how to link all that nonsense to Twitpic.  Yep.  All by my big-girl self.

Fast forward to this week - My little daughter blew kisses with her cousins.  My big daughter showed me the new pictures in her room and told me about school and tennis and boys.  My husband joked with my sister.  My dad showed me a pair of my mom's shoes he doesn't like.  All over Skype.

Years ago, when I first moved to Dallas from Oklahoma, I hit a seriously low point.  Life without my 2 best friends close felt unbearable.  Phone calls helped, but I felt like I missed so much.  I learned to cope but then 2 years ago when I quit working, I again felt so far away from people - and they were in the same city.  These (seemingly) silly social media outlets helped me stay connected to all of them.  Now, as my world keeps expanding with my family in different time zones and continents, I no longer feel disconnected.  It's different.  Of course, I still have really sad days when I wish I could let Taylor lay her head in my lap or watch Brynna play with Zoe and AJ.  But I would have never dreamed 2 years ago that I'd sit in my bedroom in Texas and talk to my sister in Malaysia.

So, I have to give it to you, Technology.  Skype, you really are worth all the hype.

Brynna-tude

Brynna-tude: | bri-na-tood | a show of individuality manifested in boisterous actions and behaviors; typically loud and attention-grabbing, often unbecoming, usually embarrassing (for her or me...or both); most always funny (after the fact)

Exhibit A: Gymnastics

Brynna has more energy than her little body (and certainly mine) can handle.  She often refuses to nap during the day because she's just that wound up and can't lay down for fear of missing something.  (I've tried to explain all she'll miss is me trying not to fall asleep while doing chores, but she is convinced I spend her sleeping time throwing parties with fabulous people).  This summer, we decided that a good way for her to expend some of her energy would be in a gymnastics class once a week.  Her daddy was a gymnast, she's built just like him, she's not afraid to sacrifice her body...it made sense.  We had to wait for her to be 18-months-old, so when that time came around, we headed to ASI for her free trial and to sign up for monthly classes.  I purposely chose a Wednesday morning because there were no other classes happening and given her tendency for short attention spans, I felt it best to minimize distractions.  So last Wednesday morning, we loaded up and off we went...

10:00 - pulled up to ASI, Brynna finished her (imaginary but apparently hilarious) conversation with Papa and we walked in as she laughed like a goofball

10:05 - Checked in and met another little girl named Riley

10:10 - First up, trampoline - Brynna didn't love it, but I jumped with her and she started smiling.  Until I stepped off (since I wasn't actually allowed to be on anyway).  At this point, she threw herself to the tramp and began rolling, kicking and screaming.  Meanwhile, Riley is standing 4 feet away, staring at the crazy girl but continuing to jump with hands on her head, belly, etc. as the teacher instructed.

10:15 - Twin boys arrive, happily run to their spots on the trampoline and join Riley in the fun - the fun being following the teacher while watching Brynna who is by now army crawling off the trampoline toward the "fun zone" where she wanted to slide.  (I know she wanted to slide because she was crying, "SLIDE! I wanna SLIDE!" at the top of her lungs.)

10:20 - Next up, circle time - After trying to jump but having difficulty thinking over the sound of Brynna's fit, everyone moved to the circle area for music and movement.  They walked.  I carried my child, still kicking and screaming for the slide.  For about 17 seconds, Brynna's crying abruptly stopped, while she determined if this was fun enough for her discerning taste.  It wasn't.  As though brought about with the flip of a switch, the red face, tears and screaming started back up in full swing.

10:25 - Mommy needs a time out because she got smacked in the face...twice.  Brynna refused to calm down whether I was holding her or not, so we went to sit on the bench and watch from afar.  As we walked away, one of the moms looked at me and said, "It's ok.  Patrick didn't like it at first, either.  It's just new and scary for her."  My filter was non-existent at this point, so I smiled back but said, "This girl isn't scared of anything.  She just wants to do what she wants to do.  But sadly for her, I win."

10:30 - Brynna and I put shoes back on, spoke briefly to the lady at the desk about maybe trying again in a month or so and promptly went home.  Her (still imaginary) conversation continued as soon as we got in the car as if the previous 30 minutes didn't happen, and she was saying, "Sorry for that interruption.  I'm back."

If i were a drinking woman, it would have been a start-before-noon kind of day.  I'm not.  So instead, I put Brynna in her bed with some books and her Minnie Mouse doll for some "me time" and went on the back patio for some "me time" of my own.

Exhibit B: Shoes

I take full credit and responsibility for Brynna's love of shoes.  (I share with Honey K, NayNay and Auntie Kel, but I'm her mom, so I'll fall on the sword.)  Although the "SH" sound is not all that easy to say, "shoes" was one of her first words.  She insists on picking out her own shoes each day and has for months.  I lay out 2 or 3 options, she puts back the ones she doesn't want and starts the attempt at putting on her chosen pair.  Yesterday was chilly, so I gave her options, but all were tennis shoes so she could wear socks.  Brynna did not want to wear tennis shoes.  She wanted to wear her butterfly flip flops.  In her defense, they matched her shirt well, but they weren't an option.  I explained that we do not, under any circumstance, wear socks with sandals and began putting on her Pumas.  A Fit then ensued while I put shoes on a moving target.

If you need a play-by-play of what a Fit (capital F) looks like, see Exhibit C: The Video.

As usual, it took a minute, but I won.  We loaded up and headed to school.  I handed her over to Mrs. Kelly, who put her down to play with the other kids.  But did my chid begin to play?  No.  Brynna Grace Johnston sat in the middle of the room, looked straight at me and started removing her shoes.  I told her no and explained our morning.  Thankfully, Mrs. Kelly knows Brynna very well, and she ensured those shoes stayed on all day.

Now, don't think I'm a shoe Nazi.  I love them, but I normally don't care if the shoes stay on or off.  But ages 13-18 are going to be exciting enough without her learning now that if she doesn't like Mom's rules, she can change once she gets to school.  Lord, give me strength! 

Exhibit D: ........................

Another day...I'm exhausted just writing about it!

Please note before watching:

1.  I am not responsible for the repercussions if you watch at work with the volume too high and get in trouble.  Consider yourself warned.

2. This video was a few months ago, but it still pretty much looks the same.

3.  Yes, Miles has become so accustomed he just walks by without acknowledgement.

4.  Yes, you are correct.  I chose to record it before addressing it.  This was not the first or the last.  I needed documented proof.  I am not crazy.  If I keep saying it, it will be true, right?  I am not crazy.

(Not so) Ordinary Days

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't write if I don't have something witty or deep to share.  I'm not sure who determined what I "should" and "shouldn't" write, but in my head, I have honored the wishes of these people who don't actually exist.  But last night, as I prayed with Brynna before bed, I recognized that I've praised God the same way for several days in a row...

"Thank you, God, for ordinary days.  Thank you for blessing us with the resources so I get to be here to witness it all.  Even when we have tantrums and arguments and meltdowns, especially when we have smiles and kisses and hugs.  Thank you for a healthy little girl so full of life it leaks out on the people around her.  Thank you for letting me be here for all the 'normal' stuff and everything else, too."

I have said before, it was a struggle for me to quit my job.  God called me (as He has before and since) to sacrifice me and follow Him.  I have done that - albeit, some days better than others - and I have never taken for granted the blessing it is.  But I still think like me.  I still think that our routine of wake up, breakfast, play, run around town, lunch, nap, run around town some more, play, meet daddy at the door, dinner, bath, bedtime is nothing special.  I still assume there's no need to write about such an "ordinary" day.

But last night, my perspective changed.  These are not-so-ordinary days.  There's something spectacular about the blessing of getting to watch a child of God grow.  Even at her worst, when she's tired or cranky or just has that infamous Brynna-tude, we are blessed to be doing it all together.  So I'm going to do better about documenting even the days that feel average and ordinary.  Because these are the days I'll cherish forever.  These are the days I'll think back on as I tell Brynna how blessed I was to follow God's call to first and foremost, be her mom.  These are the not-so-ordinary days...

first day of school with a new backpack!

CHEESE!!

"weeng!  i want to weeng!"

"what? who? me?"