Hairy Homonyms & some R-E-S-P-E-C-T

So this lesson starts with my dear friend Lisa offering us a bag of toys and books she no longer wants.

I’m a minimalist. Like…when it comes to other people’s stuff. I enjoy having a nice palette of clothes and accessories to work with myself, but I only keep as many toys as fit in our cube organizers.

My 4 year old is a sentimentalist. Like…every other week he cries about something we no longer have because we gave it away when we left Texas. He remembers exactly where he got every trinket he’s obtained in the last 2 years. Even these creepy little rubber creatures he got for playing a carnival game at some random city festival.

I knew this bag of goodies was going to require some strategic planning. I glanced through it, saw one or two things I thought the boys could use to practice their numbers and shapes, and also saw a few things I knew we didn’t need. We had a donation box set up at church and I told my friend I would just drop anything we didn’t want there.  

As we walked home I set up my strategy…pull out the two things I wanted to keep, get the boys playing with them to distract them from the fact that we had a full bag, and hide the rest of the bag.  And it worked!!!  At least for a few hours. 

We have a discussion about sharing with all the other children that don’t have any toys, Adam seems okay, and I eventually get rid of the rest of the bag.

Fast forward a couple weeks. My sweet, thoughtful friend comes by with some magnets she found in her couch that belong to one of the books from THE bag. One of the books that I gave away. Whoops! Adam remembers I gave it away and the crocodile tears begin to flow.

First because he’s sad I gave it away. Then because he’s sad I can’t make the book whole for the poor, unfortunate soul who is missing some of the magnets to his/her book. Then because he’s sad again that I didn’t let him keep it.

Then we have a discussion. Keep in mind that my 4 year old is a very old soul. Our discussion is about where the book went and why it was put to good use. We gave it to a SHELTER that protects women and children from “bad daddies” whom they have to hide from. I explained it in less scary terms than that, but you get the gist. He begrudgingly accepts that he would like to share toys with children that don’t have any.

Fast forward a few hours and we are praying over our dinner. Steven says the prayer and thanks God for our SHELTER and food.

 Adam FLIPS!

“Not a SHELTER! We don’t have a SHELTER!”

Steven has no idea what’s going on.

I am laughing hysterically throughout the rest of the prayer.

And we discuss the several meanings of the word shelter.

I learned again the importance of being thoughtful of the understandings and thought processes of my children. It’s always more helpful when I try to get in their mind and anticipate the questions and concerns they might have to avoid such misconceptions. I'm trying to work harder on being ultra respectful to my children--to explain things that might be confusing or scary to them, to speak to them rather than about them, to explain interruptions in our normal routine before they happen when I can, etc.--because little people are people too.  

Comment below with some of the words your kids have missed the double meaning on and/or ways you have found to be respectful and thoughtful toward the workings of the little ones' minds. I’d love to hear your stories!

Love, Robin

Real Magic

I’m kind of crazy. Planning and decorating for things like church Christmas parties and weddings makes me a little giddy. It also stresses me out. But… it’s a good kind of stress that I thrive on and tend to create for myself.  And it’s rubbing off on my 4 year old.

We just got done helping with the set up and take down of our Christmas party at church and Adam LOVED helping. When the day came to set up the party and decorations he was counting the seconds to set up time.

Then I made the mistake of telling him a whole DAY before the party that Santa would be there.

I know, I know…rookie mistake!

Needless to say, we didn’t sleep much the night before the party. He rustled around in his sleep and came in to our room every time he thought it was morning.  I carried him back to his bed, he went back to sleep, and started sleep talking. Something about the Christmas party. It was all too magical to sleep.

What happens to that magic?

When do we transition from a sleepless, suspenseful Christmas Eve to the apathetic realism that it's just another day?

I remember as a little girl lying in bed on Christmas Eve just willing myself to sleep so Santa could visit--to no avail. My eyelids and consciousness were fruitlessly pulled open by the magic. Even as I began drifting to sleep, some part of my awareness was anxiously awaiting the magic, ready to fly into full sensibility should a jingle bell ring, or a heavy boot stomp out of the fireplace. Even when my mind finally crossed over in awareness, the slightest sound or light would wake me, protecting me against the chance that I should sleep through Christmas morning. Then 5:30 hit and that was good enough. I knew my parents wouldn’t reasonably consider anything earlier than 6:30 as the start of the day, but at least this way I could wake my siblings and we could spend the next hour anticipating the magic together. I LOVED the magic. I treasured the magic. So much so that I kept pretending I believed in Santa until 6^th grade!

I knew I didn’t believe anymore, but I wanted to.

The following few years I still felt the magic because I had younger siblings. It was so fun to anticipate the magic in their eyes each Christmas morning.

And I envied them.

I wished I didn’t know.

Now that I have my own children I understand. CHILDREN keep the magic of the Christmas spirit alive. After all, isn’t that what affected the greatest transformation in Scrooge? A child’s sweet innocence, their freely-giving nature, their trusting confidence, their unconditional love. The qualities children innately have are what Christmas is all about.

I started telling Adam that there are only 2 forms of magic that are real—the Magic of the Christmas Spirit and the Magic of Love. And I believe that’s true.

The magic of Christmas is just as real for me now as it was for that young, restlessly excited girl, though it’s different now. The magic I feel now comes as I listen to a Christmas hymn that transports me to that star-lit, magical night 2014 years ago that changed the world. It comes now as I sit around the twinkling, glowing Christmas tree reading Christmas stories to my children. The magic now is the sense of brotherhood I feel with complete strangers as our humanity is linked just a little more tenderly during the Christmas season. The magic now is remembering the magic of childhood Christmases past and trying to re-create that for my children.

I have noticed that the more I experience life and the older I get, the easier it is to become cynical and apathetic. But that’s why love and the Christmas spirit are real magic. They have the power to change us. When we keep that magic alive, we have charity, hope, optimism… and a lot more fun!

Adam’s sweet reminder to keep the magic made me think about the ways I can more fully do that.

What traditions do you have/things do you do to keep the magic alive in your house for Christmas?

Share your comments/ideas below! I’d love to hear them!

Love, Robin

The Birth of a Mom

Life is like a circle. There's a circle to life. Somebody should write a song about that...

It just occurred to me that in the circle of life a mom and a baby are both born at the exact same time. 

A baby gives birth to its mother at the same time the mother gives birth to her child. Weird! 

Well...when my son birthed me made me a mom I started learning all kinds of new things. I learned that poop could actually become projectile, along with vomit. I learned that the reason those flimsy white undershirts they sell for newborns are so cheap is because they will all be stained yellow within the first hour of being worn. I learned why my mom didn't wear dresses or jewelry for like the first 20 years of her marriage. AND I learned that motherhood is HANDS-DOWN the best job I've ever had and will ever have. I learned that the smell of a newborn is the best smell on Earth (past 6 months and we're gettin' sketchy) and that kids love you no matter how much you still have left to learn. 

My boys are 2 and 4 now and they LOVE to help me learn. I am frequently informed that there is a "right way" to respond to jokes that make no sense at all, that there is a very specific art to back-scratching, that I told Daddy's story wrong, etc. 

Kids say the darnedest things. Trite and true--whoops, wrong phrase--

But seriously. When I take the time to learn from my kids, I can learn more than any ivy-league college could ever teach me. My kids have taught me how to love more fully and more unconditionally than I knew possible. They've taught me how to hang on to the simple joys of life the way kids do naturally. They teach me to remember our prayers. They teach me how to keep a song in my heart. They teach me how to forgive without a second thought. So many reasons Christ told us to be like the little children. So. Many. 

This will be my attempt at documenting the teachings of my children and using their gift to better myself (and hopefully a community of other intentional parents) each day. 

Today's challenge: See what you can learn from your child today. How to make a mess out of all the toys in 2 mins or less? How to watch someone make a mess out of all the toys in 2 mins or less and not freak out? Take time to enjoy your child and let yourself be taught.

Happy learning!