Catching up

Life has been too busy for posting so this is an attempt to catch up...

J has found his voice--let the pterodactyl screeching begin! He is sleeping a little better, though a good afternoon nap requires several binkie interventions. He is a little fussier than usual. I'm wondering if it is teething related. He is very drooly and chews/sucks on his hand throughout the day. We'll see.

The pediatrician told us that kids either go through terrible twos or terrible threes. Twos with Bug weren't terrible and I wouldn't describe her third year that way either, but she is definitely testing her boundaries and rebelling against our authority more than ever before. I feel sorry for her being our first because she's something of a guinea pig as I learn how to be a mom.

I see and hear about so many kids who don't respect the authority figures God has placed over them that one of my greatest desires for my children is for them to have appropriately submissive hearts. First and foremost I pray that for them (and that God will break their will without breaking their spirit), second I try to model that in my own life, and third I am trying to find the line between grace/mercy and discipline in an attempt to help them learn by experience that submission is God's best for them. In my spiritual journey I am working my way through two things that have undoubtedly been stirred up by this stage in parenting. One is the righteousness (or unrighteousness) of the American Revolution. I am still in the research phase. The other is what it means to be and how we are Spirit filled. Lacking a "How to Raise Bug" manual from God with specifics for all the challenges that arise on any given day, I am more aware than ever before of my need for guidance and wisdom from the Holy Spirit (or God via the Holy Spirit or however that works).

On a lighter note...I am working on modeling and instructing Hannah in table manners at breakfast and dinner, but some lunches I move her chair with her booster over to the living room and we watch an appropriate show (usually something from the Food Network I've DVR'd so we can zip through potentially objectionable commercials--do the people who make commercials have children?!?) while I feed J and eat. Anyway, he made a dirty diaper the other day so I went down the hall to change it and Bug (who was restrained in her booster by the tray) yelled "Mama! Jack is eating your pizza!" Sure enough, I'd set my plate on the ottoman with a small piece of pizza remaining. Nothing was left by the time I got back down the hall. Zoey is more fearful than Jack or perhaps she is just sneakier. She won't take food that could be missed, but she loves ice water so if I leave my cup on the ottoman I will sometimes find her drinking out of it. The joys of life with poorly trained dogs...

Bug wants desperately to be included in and help with whatever I'm doing (with the possible exception of things I really want her to do). She is my shadow taking out the trash, getting the mail, loading up the truck, sorting laundry, cooking, etc. She loves to play with my shoes, move clothes around in our closet, play with our things (flashlights, calculators, etc.) I love that she is curious and try to view even the most mundane interactions as teaching moments, but I am having to overcome my control issues. I can do most things better and more quickly than she can and I almost always have to finish or redo whatever she "helps" with so when I am tired or pressed for time I am inclined to shut her down or be less patient with her than I'd like to be. This past week I made a large batch of tuna salad. I opened the first can of tuna to drain it and she came running "I can help! I can help!" I put a large bowl on the kitchen table and gave her the open can with explicit instructions on how to get the tuna out of the can and into the bowl without making a mess. She was as careful as a 3 year old can be and I talked myself through my initial negativity about the small amount of tuna that ended up on the table. The recipe required 6 cans so I let her help with them all and by the end there was a minor mess on the table but it was very manageable. Then I turned my back to get the eggs. I heard "I stirring it Mommy!" and turned to see tuna fly all over the table. Stirring is still a challenge for her. I didn't handle it well. I told her to leave the fork in the bowl and go in the other room so I could clean up the mess. I know I destroyed the pride she had in the help she had given me (or perceived she had given me). Just reliving this I feel like crying. Why is there such a gap between the mom I want to be and the mom I actually am when the chips are down? I have failed so many times in like fashion that I believe it will take an act of God to change me so that is my prayer.