A Beautiful Child's Mind

I see the world in a whole new way when I look at it as Brynna does.  Kids make sense of the things we struggle with.  Children find simple what we complicate.  Oh, the lessons we could learn if we stop talking and just listen to their minds work...

• Make sacrifices for others - Brynna is potty-trained but still wears a pull-up for nap and bedtime. She got home from school the other day and went to use the bathroom.  When she called desperately for me to come help, I found her struggling to get her pants down.  She was still wearing the pull-up from nap time and had panties on UNDER the pull-up.  I asked what she was doing; she knows better than that.  She said, "Mom, I just needed my panties on like this.  Minnie Mouse wanted to be close to me."
• You can never be too cautious - Brynna had her doll with us recently and we had to stop for a potty break.  I explained that Baby Doll wasn't big enough use the toilet but could sit on my lap while she waited.  Brynna looked at me with all seriousness and said, "Mommy, do you even know how to be careful with a baby?"
• Lend a helping hand -   After the above-mentioned trip to the restroom, Brynna picked up her baby and said, "Oh, it's ok.  I know.  I'm here."  (Apparently in those 37 seconds, I had done severe damage for which she needed to compensate.)  Then she turned to me and said, "Ok, Mommy, it's your turn.  Now, let me help you.  It's for big kids, so I'll have to put you on the potty."
• Think outside the box - I picked Brynna up from school the other day and Ms. Pat informed me that she'd been discussing my work with her friend Kate.  Brynna told them that her mommy sells houses.  Kate responded, "That's silly.  You can't sell houses.  They don't make boxes big enough to put them in."  When I asked Kate about it, she said, "I guess I could help you.  If you get me a box big enough, I'll decorate it so you can put the house in."

And from a generation a bit older than my little lady...

• Love your spouse.  Be a parent.  Because it matters. - Ed and Lisa Young, our pastors at Fellowship Church, recently did a "Bed-in" where they promoted their new book, Sexperiment, and reached millions of people by spending 24 hours on the roof of the church doing interviews and talking about the importance of having sex God's way.  At one point in the live broadcast, their 4 kids joined them to share their thoughts.  EJ, Laurie, Landra and LeeBeth talked about what it feels like to have their parents so publicly talk about a somewhat embarrassing topic. Rather than being embarrassed, though, 3 of the 4 kids (all young adults) said that seeing their parents work at their marriage makes them feel secure.  It gives them peace to know that they don't have to worry if they'll have a place to come home to.

Oh, the lessons we could learn if we stop talking and just listen to their minds work...

my prince

There are some decisions in life that you make and regret. There are choices made for you and choices you made so independently that even when you wish you could blame someone else, you're left holding the bag.  There are minor, day-to-day, what-shoes-will-I-wear decisions and major, life-altering, who-will-I-wake-up-to-every-morning decisions.  Your choices determine the direction your life will take.  Your decisions shape you.

Our first date (yes, we were babies...)

When I was young, I made a bad decision.  I chose to please another person to my own detriment.  And I paid a high price.  It left me broken, sad and very, very angry.  Months after meeting David for the first time, he told me that he was terrified of me.  "I was pretty sure you hated men," he said.  I did.  As much as I tried to hate him and put him in the category of person who had so hurt me, I realized something was vastly different about David.  He rarely said what he wanted without first learning my opinion.  Even when it was painful, difficult, costly or inconvenient, my needs always came first.  From what I wanted to eat to the ring he eventually put on my finger...I, and everyone around me, knew that I came first.  That's not to say he is a pushover.  He is strong and confident and unshakingly stable.  But he is patient.  And he's never attempted to rush or push me to get his own way.  After we'd been dating awhile and I tried to force him to leave, he said, "Tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, I'll be right here.  You aren't getting rid of me 'til I'm six feet under and unable to follow you."

He was right.  He didn't leave when I got so sick with headaches I couldn't get out of bed.  He didn't leave when I took out my anger on him although he had never been the cause of my pain.  He didn't leave when the wounds inflicted by others threatened to break our marriage.  He stood still.  He waited.  He rubbed my head and sang silly songs he made up.  He held my hand.  He let me lead; he led.

Shortly after we started dating, David started calling me "princess."  It became such a common name that at times, friends and members of our families have accidentally or jokingly referred to me by my nickname.  It began to sum up everything about us.  I'm not a diva and he's not a wimp.  But he fills my plate before his own, and he drives an old Tahoe so I can drive a brand new car.  He honors me.  He sacrifices for me.  He treats me like a princess not because I've earned it or it will benefit him but because he believes I'm worth it.  And in doing so, he's showing our daughters what it means for a man to love a woman.  He's being an example of the kind of love they deserve.

I didn't know it 32 years ago, but today would change my life.  It was the day God gave the world my prince.  And it's a day I celebrate with gratitude.

What Laryngitis Helps Me Hear

Every time I get sick, it becomes laryngitis.  A sinus infection, the flu or a sprained ankle...somehow, after a matter of days, I have no voice.  Well, I have bits and pieces of a voice - put together they sound something like a cigar lounge singer after a bad night.  It's not pretty.  I have learned after years of dealing with this evil infliction that there is literally only one thing that will speed up the healing process - silence.

Now, while silence may be readily achieved by some - hunters, fishermen, mimes - I'm not one of those people.  Asking me not to talk is like telling me to hold my breath for days on end.  I'm either going to fail miserably or pass out.  But I try because as much as I hate not talking, I hate the sexy smoker voice more, and I'm currently on Day 4 of it.  The one benefit of not being able to talk, though, is that all you can do is listen.  One day when I'm older and grayer, I won't remember (or care about) the words I wanted to say this week, but I pray I remember what I heard...

Water splashing in the bathtub
Uncontrollable laughter because the splashes got Daddy wet
Dumdum Deday (I have no idea what that means, but it's Brynna's new favorite sound and she mixes it into every conversation)
A spoon used as a drumstick on the kitchen table
Princess slippers clopping on the hardwood floor
Giggles from under the covers of my bed because someone's playing in "her tent"
Blocks banging on my bathroom floor - I've been told my tile is the best place to build a tower
The squeal that can only mean one thing - the garage door opened and Daddy's home from work
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in silly voices
Soft breathing from the ball of blonde hair snuggled under my chin

It's ok not to talk when it helps you really listen...

Time Out

While it's not hugely popular in today's society, I have never made apologies for the fact that I believe in spanking.  I absolutely do not believe in any form of abuse, but I most certainly believe in discipline.  The funny thing is that as strong-willed, often defiant and extremely stubborn as she is, we rarely ever spank Brynna.  Because of her personality, she needs to know that she made a choice, so that's what she gets.  She can discontinue her inappropriate behavior (throwing toys, blowing bubbles on my sofa or practicing her spitting in the kitchen) or she can go sit on the step.  It's her choice.  Often she tries not to choose, but she's learned after months of consistent discipline that no decision (and the continuation of said bubbles on my sofa) is the same as deciding to go to Time Out.  She's spent a lot of her two-and-a-half years on the step (my step, Yaya's step, Tania's step, Honey K's step and even once at the entrance of Steve Madden).  On rare occasions that she chooses to continue disobeying even after time on the step, the punishment has to increase so that she learns that every action has a consequence.

Our most recent battles have been waged in the arena of whining.  I'm not sure how every toddler has perfected the exact pitch of voice that sends his/her mother into hysteria, but they are skilled artisans.  How they can say something perfectly normal in a voice that shatters glass in three counties, I'm not sure, but they can.  And they do.  Brynna is no exception.  I'm convinced she sometimes doesn't even know that she's doing it.  It's like she zones out into another dimension where apparently people speak at 140 decibels.  Needless to say, we've spent a lot of time on the step.  After she has a few minutes to calm down, I sit beside her so we can talk about it.  (Side note: As a general rule, if you send a little one to time out, have the decency to GO TO THEM, talk ON THEIR LEVEL about why and LOVINGLY reassure them of your love.  If you send them away and then forget or call them back in to you, you've made no effort to parent and therefore, why would they make an effort to obey?  Sorry.  I just felt someone's toes.  I'll get off the soapbox.)  This weekend, as I sat next to Brynna at the bottom of the staircase in my parents' house, I asked if she knew why she had to go to Time Out.  She said she did.  She said, "Because I was whining and not talking like a big girl."  I asked if she could speak politely and tell me what she wanted.  Her response has stuck with me for days.  She said, "Yes.  Because I want to come be with you."

I had to acknowledge quite some time ago that Brynna did not get her temperament from her father, but instead from her strong-willed, often defiant and extremely stubborn mama.  And like my little bear cub, God lets me make choices and then consistently reminds me that every action has a consequence.  I have recently found myself whining - crying to God in a voice that I'm sure sends Him into parental hysteria at a decibel I'm sure all Heaven would like to tone down.  I have been lamenting my situation, recounting all the things I'm sad about.  Rather than making me feel better, though, all that whining made me feel worse.  The longer I cried, the more lonely I felt.  The louder I yelled, the angrier I became.  And when I had nothing left to say, I sat quietly and realized...God had put me in Time Out.  Of course I felt worse instead of better - He left the room.  Of course I didn't feel comfort - I chose to sit myself on the step, away from the presence of Someone who loves me.  And today my little girl's words are ringing in my ears.  She said she would learn to speak more appropriately because she wanted to be with me.  She realized that her choice was the only thing that separated her from me.  And the same is true for me.

As soon as she chose to obey, I was waiting with all the love her little self could contain.  I'm so grateful my Father waits for me...and you.  What are you whining about?  When you're ready, He's waiting with all the love your little self can contain.

My Sisters' Mother

She's all the things I want to be when I grow up - refined, poised, proper, wise and discerning.
She's the kind of mother I aspire to be - nurturing, unwavering, steady and strong.
She's a friend to those in need.
She's a comfort to those who mourn.
She has a way of drawing out the better person in you without making you feel small.
She won't gossip with you; she won't get all your references about pop culture.
She won't be your buddy because she knows what you need is more than that.
She won't compromise or change who she is.
Her presence is calming even if only felt through a phone call.
Her voice is solace; her faith is contagious.

She is not mine because I was born of her.
She is mine because she was shared.
She is my sisters' mother, and I am forever grateful to Tonya and Janay for sharing her with me.

Signs a toddler lives at your house

• You have abandoned paper towels, napkins, kleenex and other paper products and instead, just use Clorox wipes for everything
• You forget what you were going to say at least 3 times a day
• You mention, discuss or ask a question about bodily excrements at least once a day despite your most valiant efforts to avoid the subject
• You're tired
• You repeat yourself so often you start wondering if people really "didn't hear you"
• You have walked into a room recently and said, "What happened here?"
• You can hear through walls, up stairs and behind doors
• You're tired
• You sometimes wear a dirty article of clothing just so it's one less thing you have to wash
• You sometimes wear a dirty article of clothing because you didn't realize it was dirty until halfway through the day
• You sometimes wear a dirty article of clothing because even though you knew it was dirty, you didn't have the energy to change
• You wake up with the theme song to the Backyardigans stuck in your head
• You have found a sippy cup recently in your purse, car, briefcase and bathroom
• You're tired
• You sing the ABC's while you wash your hands
• You find yourself smiling when everyone else around you is frowning...because even in the worst of times you need only remember the night before to have something funny to laugh about

I asked...He answered

I moved to a new place and found myself feeling alone.  Without the friends who have come to know me better than I know myself, I had no one.  So I asked God…

I asked God to give me friends…and He didn’t.

     So I joined a book club.

I asked God to give me friends…and He didn’t.

     So I spent an entire afternoon with Him.

I asked God to give me friends…and He didn’t

     So I planned social events for my neighbors.

I asked God to give me friends…and He didn’t.

     So I had a conversation with a stranger.

I asked God to give me friends…and He didn’t.

     He gave me a reason to trust Him more.

     He gave me the space to look beyond myself.

     He gave me the motivation to meet new people.

     He gave me the time to listen.

     He gave me a perspective I never would have had otherwise.

I asked God to give me friends…and He didn’t in the way I wanted Him to.  Instead, He gave me more.

What are you asking God for?  What did He give you instead?  Have you even noticed?