Forever tries.

Daniel is my bright little ray of sunshine.  He is the first to offer a hug, a positive spin on things or a kind word.  He gets out of bed every day ready to greet the sun and face the world with a smile.  He gets dressed in a favorite shirt- his "Oh Snap" lobster or his hip rhinoceros shirt are always  go-to options, leaves the hanger on his bed from said shirt, heads off to the bathroom to brush his teeth for something approximately close to 2 minutes but way closer to one, and then galumphs off to start his day.  

Then along comes nagging mom- "Daniel, was that really two minutes?  Daniel, is that your hanger laying on your bed AGAIN? Like, every DAY?  Daniel, you need to redo your homework, you got this problem WRONG.  I can't stand it when you don't take your time on your homework. Shouldn't you have taken your time last night?  What did you do with your lunch money from last week?  Did you even MAKE your bed?"  

Who is this lady?  Is she ME?  When did I become such a drag?  I wish that I was making this dialogue up, but these are sadly the typical things that come out of my mouth before he even spills any milk on the table or we find the forgotten lunch money crumpled up in the bottom of his backpack.

Usually my Sunny D apologizes profusely or jokes right back, "But, mom, the hanger is my friend!  I love sleeping with it!," and "Hey, I've never had a cavity!" and I give him a hug and shake my head and we move on.

But one morning, I looked at him at the breakfast table (after we fixed the homework, found the lunch money and wiped up some spilled milk) and he had tears clouding his eyes, and more streaming quietly down his face.  

It hurt me to see him so hurt- and I was the one to blame.

You know, sometimes my kids push it too far, and sometimes I push it too far.  I had pushed it too far, and I started to really not like how I felt or how I was behaving in that moment. It was time for me to pick up the mirror instead of the magnifying glass and look within.

If my voice is going to become their inner voice, how can I make it one of love and encouragement and gentleness?  If these kids are going to be the ones taking care of me when I'm old, how will I want them to treat me when I am forgetful or can no longer do things quite the right way, or do them quickly, or do them by myself?   What would it hurt right now if I let a few more little things go?   Would it mess them up forever to be more gracious with their faults? 

The fact is, they are not intentionally doing anything wrong most of the times that I am annoyed.  I am becoming aware that when I lose my patience, it is usually because their feelings and their needs are getting in the way of my agenda.  Ouch.  Isn't part of my job as their mama to help teach them to be fully human. . .with feelings and needs that can be expressed in healthy ways?  Is my to-do list or my comfort or my convenience the god that I serve? Often when I find myself being the kind of mom that I don't really want to be around, it is more about having my needs served- my need for order, or organization, for peace and quiet, or for well-behaved children, than it is about serving their needs with a kind heart in this season of life.  I've made an idol out of those things at some time or another, and it is time to smash it.

This season, and it is just that, only a season, is in fact loud and messy and full of, shall we say, "growth opportunities"  for them, AND for me. So, after a conversation with my bestie, Kris, a few weeks ago when we sorted through this, I'm asking myself: "What would it look like, for a whole (insert period of time here), to love my people exactly as they are?"  

Not who I want them to be, or who I think they should be, or how they could be if they just did this one little thing right that they are doing wrong right now, but exactly as they are. Right now.  Generously and appreciatively and joyfully, the way God sees them. 

In this, the only moment that we are guaranteed.

I'm starting with some increments of time to focus on seeing my people through the eyes of love and love and only love.  Starting with this moment, right now, and stretching that for even longer periods.  Can I stretch that gentleness out for like, a whole meal?  Or a whole morning?  A whole homework session?  If today was our last day together on earth, would the fact they use their sleeve as a Kleenex be the most important thing I want to talk to them about?  Is spilled milk worth our tears?  Can they forget to carry the one or put "i before e except after c" and still make it to heaven?  

Yes. Yes. Yes. No. No. Yes.

"The world has enough critics," I tell my kids, "be an appreciator." 

I need to heed those words myself.  

"Treat other people the way you want to be treated," I tell my kids.

I need to show them that with my actions.

"Is it more important to be right or to be kind?" I ask my children.

I need to ask myself the same question.

Because I know in my heart the answer- kindness matters most.  Now, there is a time for everything under the sun and there is a time to correct to be sure, but do I need to correct behavior at the expense of hearts?  Probably not.  There's a win-win out there somewhere, and I am praying for the wisdom to seek it and to live it, and praying for the grace to be gentle with myself so I can be gentle with them.  I'll never get it perfectly, but I know I can do it better.

The sun rises each day and shines on us all with new mercy.

Here's to greeting the sun like D.

Forever tries.

Over again.

"Can't we go back to page one and do it all over again?"  - Winnie the Pooh

I don't know why, but for some reason Halloween gives me all the feels!  Maybe it's because every year I realize these kiddos are a little bigger, can go a few more houses, try more adventurous costumes, and have more zeal for candy.  Not to mention the memories of all of the Halloween's past that appear, all the pictures of chubby faces squished into fuzzy costumes on our Facebook feeds.  It seems like a silly day to feel so sentimental about, but it is what it is!

This Halloween day I dragged out the costume box for Noah.  We were getting ready to go visit our friends at the nursing home and I wanted to make sure he had something cute to wear (as if he even needed a costume to score candy, he gets that every week costume-free) but kids in costumes just make people smile.  We dug through the box and I pulled out a treasure I had been looking for- the old Winnie the Pooh costume.  The one Daniel wore for Halloween when Phil was his Christopher Robin, the one Noah wore basically every day for an entire summer despite the heat, when he was just learning to talk and walked around proudly, saying, "NOOK!  I POOP!  I POOP!" sending his brothers into fits of laughter.

I have so many precious memories of Winnie The "Poop" that I was hopeful that he would put it on one more time.  The tag inside said 3T-4T.  Would it fit?

"Noah, will you try this on for Mommy?"

"Mommy, dat was from when I was a baby. I am FOUR and a HALF,"  he declared with a raised eyebrow.  (note: the HALF is very important.)

"Pleeeeaassseeee?"  I looked at him pleadingly, he looked right back at me with almost an exasperated face, as if he could not be bothered with this childish activity.  But after I promised him a piece of candy, he grudgingly approved the costume try-on.

We slipped it on and it zipped up, but, as he pointed out, "Mommy, dat's tight."

Agreed.

Kind of like my jeans, kid.  I get it.  Only I have less excuses.

I laughed at my own ridiculousness.  Of course it was tight!  It was from when he was 2!  The built-in Pooh belly, once so comfortable and squishy, looked more like a bowling ball, and his ankles were hanging out from below the cute little Pooh paws that used to pool around his feet.  

"Can I take it off now, Mommy?"

"Yes, but can I PLEASE take your picture first?  PLEASE?" I begged.

"OK, but don't share it with anyone."   He gave me an I-mean-business look.

"I promise."

And I kept that promise- do you see the picture here?  Nope, but it's on my phone as a reminder for me, that my little man is growing up and has needs and opinions and an interior life of his own that is worthy of respect.  And the pic squeezing into Pooh this Halloween was not nearly as cute as the pictures of him when he was a baby in it anyways.

I unzipped the "Poop" costume and helped take it off a Zink boy for the last time.  Noah saw my wistful face and felt the need to encourage me, "Mommy, I will wear something else, but I will still be cute, OK?" 

And he did, and he was, and it was all good.  He was a brave knight, slaying loneliness like any old dragon, stealing hearts and candy from all the fair damsels.  I watched him interact with everyone and marveled at how he is growing up.

After we left the room of one of our friends, he said, "Mommy, Lillian asked my name so many times!"

"I know, buddy.  That's just her question that she likes to ask.  She knows you, it's OK."

"Yeah, I know.  My feelings weren't hurt." he said, matter-of-factly.

He totally gets it, I thought.  I marveled at his compassion for others, the way he is processing the world and the way he articulates it to me.  I gave him a hug.

"My baby is growing up!" I said, in the standard "Awwwwwww" tone of voice I always use when I tell my kids that.  And then Noah screwed up his little face and said something that made me pause.

"Mommy, do you just like babies?"

He looked at me with concern.  It was a sincere question from his four-year-old mind, worthy of the most sincere of responses. 

"Oh honey," I melted into a puddle and held him close,  "I loved you when you are a baby and I love you now.  I love you all the time.  I love babies but I love big boys, too.  You are so special, and I love the way you are growing."

He looked encouraged and quickly moved on with his life, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.  What message am I sending my "baby" when I am constantly articulating my tug between having a baby and big boy, the same tug that he's struggling with inside?   Obviously a strong enough message to make him wonder if having a cute baby was all I was into.  I need to be careful with my words and through my own give him the words he needs to share his interior life in the ways he sees fit.  So much to hold in my heart, and we were only halfway through Halloween.  See what I mean? ALL THE HALLOWEEN FEELS.

The big bros got off the bus and we had a blast.  An exhausting blast, as there is nothing quite like feeding four kids dinner and getting them costumed up on Halloween.  And JUST as I am finally getting used to the flow if it, the little years are almost over.  Isn't that life?  We went for our last theme this year, our final in a 9-year streak of themes because we thought perhaps next year would be the year the big boys wanted to go out with their friends, which I totally respect.  It was time to do it up right and savor one last trick or treat as a family of six.  I left the bowl of candy on the porch in our skeleton's lap because as much as I love greeting my trick-or-treaters in my witch costume there was no way I was going to miss my own kids out as The Beatles.

Oh, how much fun they had.  They were a hit at every house and Noah's joy spread down the street like beams of sunshine.  Our kids scored so much extra candy for their costumes that I had to quickly shuffle about four bags of it away while they were sleeping that night.  I couldn't tell if my face hurt from smiling or from the cold, but I think it was mostly the smiling.  I soaked it up- their joy, their good humor, their cuteness and the pure fun of making people laugh and smile and clap and sing.  They were so in character and they had ladies squeal over them and even had some people take their picture, which they thought was sooo cool.

After we warmed up from the cold, took off the costumes, sorted the candy, washed out the colored hairspray from Ringo and Paul's hair, got on jammies, brushed teeth and read stories, a tired-but-happy mommy and daddy were finally tucking the tired-but-happy boys into bed.

"Mommy, I'm never going to forget that," said Phil. 

"Me neither, buddy," I said, and I walked over to tuck in Daniel.

"Mommy, I'm sorry.  Today was really fun for us but I think it probably was a lot of work for you."

"Daniel," my heart ached at how sensitive he is and I felt ashamed that I had not pretended to be less tired at this point, "I'm sorry, bud, Mommy should probably do a better job of not looking tired.  Yes, I am tired.  But my heart is full from seeing you have fun. It was so worth it."

He smiled.

And it was. So. Worth. It.

It's easier now to be OK with the tired when I know that the days of being "hands-on" are slipping past, it was even easier after spending time at the nursing home earlier that day, where hands are no longer busy and rooms are quiet except for the sounds of the television and the beeps and purring of machinery.

And as much as I would love to hold one of my babies in my arms again, I can't go back to page one and live all the sweet moments (and only the sweet ones, right?) over again.  But we can try to live today the best we can, knowing that the other side of the coin of being happy is being tired, and vice versa, and that's just the way it is going to be for the season we're in.  As they say, you can have it all, you just can't have it all at the same time!

Paul and I went out for a rare date night last night to grab a drink and we talked about growing older.  We'd only go back and do it over again if we knew what we knew now, we agreed. We wouldn't trade the lessons we've learned (most of them the hard way) for a hundred yesterdays with less gray hair and firmer skin, no matter how sweet those yesterdays were in our 20's and early 30's.

As much as I miss the little Pooh and Christopher Robin of Halloween past, there is so much joy to be grasped today. 

I mean, seriously.  How much do I love them?  

I turned 38 today.  Time marches forward.  Will they still need me when I'm 64? I hope they do. My prayer is that I can make the most of the time I have with my children, whatever time I am given.  Thank you, God, for another year on this earth, another day to try over again to love my people the best that I can. 

"Any day with you is my favorite day, so today is my new favorite day."  - Winnie the Pooh