Sweet Hearts

Sometimes I worry about the future.

I realize that that statement does nothing to set me apart as unique...and everything to show that I'm just like almost every other person on this beautiful spinning ball we call Earth.  But even though worrying is a common condition for us humans, I believe it's not only wrong, but also completely useless!  It doesn't change anything.

When I think about the days to come, I never worry about money, rarely worry about health, but often feel concern about how my kids will turn out.  Not only do I hope they'll be kind and honest and friendly and helpful, I also, to borrow Sally's words from a comment on my last post, "want my children there in that spiritual family SO BADLY."  I know exactly how she feels.

At times, I wonder how the teen years will go for us.  In the same way that I don't buy into the mindset that the toddler years have to be atrocious, I also don't believe that the teen years have to be horrible.  But I do realize that there is a natural, God-ordained, breaking-away process that occurs during those years, and I wonder whether I--and my sons--will be able to handle that with grace and dignity.

When thoughts of the future crowd into my mind and threaten to tarnish the present, this thought comes back to me over and over and brings comfort to replace my anxiety:  I still have their hearts.

I don't know what the future holds.  I don't know how they'll act in 10 years.  I don't know what kind of heartbreak may come to me as I watch them make choices to which I'm totally opposed.

But here and now, on this day in January 2011, I still have their hearts.  They are still tender towards me.  They are not, however, little robots who obediently do whatever I ask them without ever complaining or arguing.  They're human--I'm human--and unfortunately, sin abounds too often in our household.  But even in the midst of that, even when they act selfishly towards their brothers, even when they're slow to obey, even when they have an attitude about doing a chore they dislike...even then, their hearts are still soft.

I wish I could adequately capture the times when I see this softness demonstrated so beautifully.  I try to write down their words; but it's more than words that expresses what I'm trying to communicate--it's their tone of voice, their facial expression, the tilt of their shoulders, the excitement barely contained in their little bodies.  I feel my attempts fall pitifully short, but what else do I have to help me remember these times?

Here are some recent examples of their sweet, sweet hearts:

David, who is social to the nth degree, was over at a friend's house when a pretty major argument broke out between two sons in that family.  Their mother apologized to me later and expressed her regret that my boys had had to see that, but I certainly wasn't casting blame because we have our fair share of rivalry around here for sure!  When I was talking about it later with David, he said in a quivering voice, "Maybe for the first time ever, I just wanted to come home."  This is the boy who wistfully exclaims whenever we're leaving a place to come home, "I wish I could live here!"  He has said that about numerous friends' homes, as well as the park, a play area in the Charlottesville mall, the cousins' house, the playground at the homeschool co-op we used to be a part of, etc.  He LOVES being with people, so for him to be so disturbed by the fight he witnessed showed me the soft side of his heart.

Another example involving David:  a while back, he had a dream about heaven, and this is what he told me about the dream.  In it, God said he could come back to earth for three days, but David wanted four so he could go to Disney World on one day, Disneyland on another day, and Aunt Lori's for two days.  Then he said he wanted one more so he could spend it with me!  In the dream, God wasn't wearing the blue "sash" that Jesus is often pictured with, just a white robe; and his voice was booming.  David got teary-eyed because he wants us to all go to heaven together, and I was thinking, "Oh, how sweet," then he said that the way that he got killed was by a Jedi!  Not so sweet after all.  :)

Heaven is very real to David.  In fact, after we almost got into a head-on collision on Switchboard Road back in November, he said, "I almost wish I would have died so that I could have gone to heaven and seen God already."  It reminded me of this conversation we had back in November of 2009.

Today David told me that, when he grows up, he wants to live in the little gray house my parents just moved out of.  That would be wonderful for him to live there, but I couldn't help but think of another little child who once told her parents she would never leave but would build a house on the top of their hill and stay with them always.  That girl, amazingly enough, grew up and decided that she could indeed leave them, drawn by her heart to such far-away places as California and Israel!  :)  When David strikes out on his own, I won't hold him to the desire he expressed today.  :)

Another way my boys demonstrate their sweet hearts is by public displays of affection...and when it involves my sons and me, I'm a big fan of PDA!  :)  At concerts, they want to sit close, even sitting on my lap.  During one of our potlucks, Josiah paused as he walked by me during the Bible study portion and kissed my cheek.  When we're going into his violin lessons, he sometimes reaches for my hand as we cross the street.  As long as they want to express their love to me in that way, I'll gladly receive it!

Josiah sometimes asks questions about the future--his future--and I can tell he's trying to plan out how he's going to live his life.  For example, in the middle of a conversation, he might blurt out, "How long can people be engaged?"  And he'll have this certain look in his eyes and a tiny smile at the corner of his lips, and I'll know that he's asking because he's thinking about her ("her" being a wonderful girl that has captured Josiah's eight-year-old heart but who shall remain nameless on this blog).  :)

One day, Josiah and David were talking about their weddings, and the conversation turned to maybe having their brothers be best men/groomsmen in their weddings.  They were concerned because they didn't know what girls to choose for bridesmaids! I reassured them that their bride could choose all the girls.  :)  Josiah was relieved because the girl he wants to marry has sisters that she could ask to be in the wedding!

On another day, Josiah and David got into some tiff; of course, I don't remember what it was about because such tiffs are rarely about anything truly important!  But for some reason, when it was time to apologize and forgive and hug and move on, Josiah was unexpectedly stubborn and would not humble out to open his arms and hug David.  I was so surprised and saddened by this hardness of heart that I literally started crying.  I know that women can use tears in a manipulative manner, and I do not want to do that with my sons any more than with my husband!  So I wasn't trying to put on a show to make Josiah sorry for what he had done; I was just genuinely shocked by his behavior, and my tears fell.  That unlocked the door to his heart, and his whole demeanor changed as his stubbornness melted away and he dissolved into my arms--and soon into his brother's arms for a conciliatory hug.  Needless to say, I was relieved that the hardness was so quickly replaced by softness again!

Last example:  our family has been dealing with some sickness recently, and we're such a sharing bunch that we just seem to pass it around to everyone in our household!  Fortunately, it's not a throwing-up sickness, for which I'm tremendously grateful; but the fevers, aches, coughing, and runny noses we've had aren't a barrel of laughs either.  This morning, David was feeling poorly, so before he even ate breakfast, he wanted me to snuggle with him.  I gladly would; but at the time, I had to give Shav his breakfast and do a few other things that I can't think of at the moment.  It gladdened my heart to hear Josiah say to David, "I'll snuggle with you!"  They did, and then Tobin joined them...

...and then they clamored for me to put Shav with them.  I obliged.  :)

In a day that held its customary share of tumultuous  moments, this was an oasis of peace; and just like Mary, I "treasured up all these things and pondered them in [my] heart."

These boys are so precious to me; and tonight, what I'm most grateful for is their softness.  Sure, I hope they'll grow up to be mighty men, ready to go out and conquer the world; but I also hope that I--and much more importantly, God--will always have their hearts.  

They'll always be my sweethearts, but beyond that, I hope they'll always keep their sweet hearts.  But for today, all I can do is reject worry and instead take care to notice and appreciate that I still have their hearts.  What a gift!  What a responsibility.

The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing BUTT the Truth

Conversation of the day:

Me (to one of my sons, who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent guilty):  Did you sit on your brother's head?

My son, emphatically:  No!  

My son, a little more quietly:  But I did touch him.

Me, suspiciously:  With what part of your body did you touch him?

My son, even more quietly:  My butt.

Aha!  That, my dear boy, would constitute "sitting."  And so, for your creative reinterpretation of the truth (a.k.a. LIE), you are hereby sentenced to two days without computer privileges.  

It looks like we need to learn a lesson from the court of law so we can all pledge to tell "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  So help me, God!"

That last part is especially important:  so help us, God!

Court adjourned.

Oh, the Questions They Ask

Before I write another word, let me first say a big THANK YOU to those of you who commented on the previous post, shared your experiences with me, and assured me that you understood my pain and were praying for Shav's sleep issues to resolve.  That means the world to me.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart, dear blog readers friends!

To answer the questions left in the comments...

~ Misty, what eventually settles him back to sleep?  Well, time, I guess.  But it's been up to an hour and a half of crying during a spell.  I keep checking on him every so often, just to see if he's aware enough of me to be calmed by my presence and is able to "snap out of it."  But yeah, two (or was it three?) nights ago, the whole episode was about an hour and a half and was absolutely draining for me.

~ Valerie, I don't think there's a problem with Shav's ears because he hasn't been sick recently, he doesn't pull on them, and he's not particularly fussy at any other times.  Even when I lay him flat when I'm changing his diaper or putting him to bed for a nap or at the beginning of the night, he doesn't cry then.  As far as what he is like after a screaming episode, he basically seems fine!  After the naptime crying session, he was a little tired (can't imagine why, after all that screaming!) and sat on my lap quietly for a little while before getting down to play.  But when it happens at night, he definitely seems normal by morning and doesn't seem mad at me then.  :)

~ Stacey, I'll try to pay more attention to his eyes next time.  I have a feeling that even when they're open, he's not really aware of who I am; but it's hard for me to imagine because, hello, I'm your mom, Shav...remember me?  :)  But I think you're absolutely right about a child being able to walk, talk, cry, or whatever, and not realize what's going on.  Jeff told me that he sleepwalked as a child, so maybe there's some connection to Shav's experiences.  I'm not sure about foods or events that might be triggering it for Shav, but he might be a little extra tired.  I'll be more intentional this week about what's going on with him during daytime hours so that hopefully that can be a clue if these episodes continue.  About the anointing with oil--absolutely!  That is totally biblical.  We've prayed about it, that's for sure.  :)  But we haven't done the anointing; thanks for suggesting that.  And one more thing for you:  I'm SO sorry that you have had similar experiences.  I know what it's like to awake from a bad dream and still feel caught in the emotions of that, so I can only imagine how terrifying it is to deal with your experiences.

~ Ceci, that's really interesting about putting Sydney with Meredith.  I hadn't heard of that before.  The funny thing to me is that, even though Shav's crying seems so loud to me, the other boys are somehow able to sleep right through it!!  Their bedrooms are across the hall; but, believe me, Shav's cries are loud enough to reach that far--and then some.  :)  I'll keep your suggestion in mind, if these spells continue.  Thanks!

~ Michelle, I really appreciate you sharing your experiences.  The reminder that this is a real occurrence with a scientific cause and explanation, and probably not just a temper tantrum issue, is VERY helpful.  And yes, it is so bewildering to see Shav looking like he's awake but having him respond so strangely to me.

Last night was a good night; he slept straight through with no problems at all.  And so far tonight, I haven't heard a peep from him.  However, he usually starts with one of these crying fits around 12:30 or 1:00 AM, so I'm still holding my breath to see if this is a good night or a bad one.  Even in the depths of the agony of listening to him cry, I keep reminding myself that "this too shall pass"; and I also remember that God comforts us so that we can comfort others, and maybe someday down the road, I'll be able to share about my current trials with another sad, frustrated mom.

* I spoke too soon.  Shav awoke crying around 11:45.  Jeff got him, and Shav woke up enough to realize that I was sitting here in my rocking chair.  He reached out for me and calmed down when I held him.  We had a little cozy snuggling time; then when I was starting to carry him to bed, he reached out for Jeff and had a little cuddle time with him.  Now he's back in bed and occasionally whimpering, but clearly that wasn't a typical episode for him.  Who knows how the rest of the night will go?

Moving right along...

The big boys have been amusing me recently with the questions they ask.  For example, as we rode in the Big White Van over Afton Mountain to a church service this morning, David asked, "Are there more people or trees in the world?"  Hmmm...I'm not sure...maybe trees?  Then he asked, "Are there a googol trees in the world?"  Uh...probably not.  "Is there a googol of anything in the world?"  Well...maybe grains of sand?

During the church service, Josiah, who read nine chapters of Revelation during the sermon, leaned over to whisper in my ear, "So, are there only going to be 144,000 people saved?"  Well, sweetheart, let's talk about it later.  The standard I-have-no-idea-what-to-say-right-now answer of parents everywhere!  :)

On the way home, Josiah asked, "Are there more white people or black people in the world?"  Probably more Chinese, was my reply.  :)

Goodness!  These boys!  They're good at reminding me how little I know.

Earlier this week, David asked me one that I could answer definitively.  "Do real policemen brush their teeth?" he queried.  "Yes!" I said with certainty.  Then he asked, "How many times do they brush their teeth?"  

All I could think to say was, "The next time you see a real policemen in Daddy's shop {because Jeff cuts the hair of a lot of policemen in our town}, you can ask him!"  :)

~ my little architects, hard at work  :)

Something's Wrong...

...and I don't know what to do about it.

It concerns Shav.  *Sigh.*

Our youngest son is exquisite.  Treasured beyond my ability to describe, he is a perfect puzzle piece for our family.  I love him more and more and cannot bear to think of life without him.

With all that said, I'll also admit that Shav has never been the greatest sleeper--a fact which, if you've read this blog for a while, you're very familiar with.  To tell you the truth, he's the worst sleeper we've had; and after three boys who consistently slept through the night from a very young age, I've had to really adjust to Shav's challenging sleep habits.

However, he had been doing much better in recent months; and I was hopeful that his sleep issues were a thing of the past.  I was hopeful, that is, until he started waking up in the night, screaming at the top of his lungs.  *Sigh.*  Here we go again.

My first course of action, when awakened by his cries, is to go to him, pick him up, let him bury his head in my shoulder for a little cuddle, give him a drink of water, do the familiar-to-every-mother sniff test to discern whether his diaper is dirty, then lay him back down and tuck his blankets around him.  When these latest sleep disturbances started happening, he was comforted by me doing that.

But after a few times of that, he apparently decided that that was not enough; and the comforting progressed to me holding him for a few minutes in the rocking chair before laying him back down.  As you can guess, that worked for a while; but then came a night or two when that didn't do the trick and Jeff ended up holding him in bed or taking him downstairs.  But then...  *Sigh.*

Shav started waking up and crying hard, very hard.  When I would go to him to comfort him, he would cry harder and arch his back as if in pain.  When I would reach out for him to pick him up, he would roll away from me and sometimes even grab the crib railings and cling to them.  When I would gently say his name, he would wail louder.  When I would lift him in my arms, he would push himself away with all his might and make me feel like he was going to do a back-flip and propel himself out of my arms.  He made it crystal-clear that HE DID NOT WANT ME TO HOLD HIM.

That happened a few times in the night; but today, it happened during his nap, and the episode lasted about 40 minutes.  I don't like this progression, this sequence of events that makes me feel so dreadfully helpless.

It's absolutely bewildering to me.  Why does he do that?  Why doesn't he let me comfort him?  The possible explanations we've pondered are:
1. pain,
2. constipation (a form of pain),
3. character issue/temper tantrum,
or
4. night terrors.

Pain was definitely my first assumption, based on how he was arching his back and writhing.  But the fact that he didn't even want me to hold him left me puzzled, and besides, if he was in some kind of pain, wouldn't it hit him while he was awake and out of bed, too?

Same with constipation--wouldn't he have spells with that at other times, too, and not just when he was in bed sound asleep?

Jeff and I thought that maybe Shav was reacting to the fact that he knows that when he cries in the night, I'll pick him up and comfort him briefly, but then put him back in bed.  Maybe he wasn't getting what he wanted, and so he was taking it out on us in a way that an almost 17-month-old can do:  by throwing a fit.  But if it's just a temper tantrum about having to be in bed, why then did he do that this afternoon during his nap when I did come to him, take him out of bed, carry him downstairs, offer milk, get him ready to play, etc.?

That leaves us with option #4.

I was vaguely familiar with the term "night terrors," but I only really knew enough about them to be confident that none of our other boys had dealt with them.  A quick Internet search, however, uncovered a huge amount of information about them (here is just one among many articles about them...and here is another).  Is it possible that Shav has started having these?

Some of the symptoms sound like what he's been going through--for example, the way he fiercely resists being touched or spoken to--but his crying spells last much longer than the few minutes these articles mention.  Not ever having had experience with night terrors, I'm at a loss to know if that's what is going on.

Is it something else entirely?  Something we haven't even thought of?

I just don't know how to help him.  I feel so helpless.  *Sigh.*


*BIG sigh.*

Let Consequences Do the Talking

As part of our Sonlight curriculum that we're using in our homeschool this year, we're reading a wonderful book of Aesop's fables:  The Aesop for Children, with pictures by Milo Winter.  The boys love it; and even though Josiah has read the whole book himself (several times, I believe), he still eagerly listens each day; and when I finish the page I'm reading, he begs me to read another one.  "But I like this one," he says as he glances at the following page.  "That's what you say every day," I tell him.  "Well, I like them all!" is his response.  True, that.

The only thing that I don't like is that the book uses an old-fashioned word for donkey, a word that has three letters and starts with "a," a word which I won't type here because I don't want this post to attract strange Internet searches.  I don't mind the boys hearing that word in the proper context so I read the fables as written when we're reading them together, but I'd be glad for my sons to remain ignorant of the slang meaning for quite some time.  How long can we preserve their innocence?

One of the fables that we read some weeks ago comes back to my mind repeatedly as a lesson in wise parenting.  Here it is, with my only editorial change being the use of the word "donkey" instead of...well, you know.

The Donkey and the Load of Salt

A Merchant, driving his Donkey homeward from the seashore with a heavy load of salt, came to a river crossed by a shallow ford.  They had crossed this river many times before without accident, but this time the Donkey slipped and fell when halfway over.  And when the Merchant at last got him to his feet, much of the salt had melted away.  Delighted to find how much lighter his burden had become, the Donkey finished the journey very gayly.


Next day the Merchant went for another load of salt.  On the way home the Donkey, remembering what had happened at the ford, purposely let himself fall into the water, and again got rid of most of his burden.


The angry Merchant immediately turned about and drove the Donkey back to the seashore, where he loaded him with two great baskets of sponges.  At the ford the Donkey again tumbled over, but when he had scrambled to his feet, it was a very disconsolate Donkey that dragged himself homeward under a load ten times heavier than before.


The same measures will not suit all circumstances.

What wisdom!  I'm especially impressed by how the merchant dealt with the situation, finding a way for the donkey to learn his lesson without long speeches from the merchant or harsh beatings.  He let consequences do the talking:  a very effective method of teaching.

I long to do better in this area.

I remember when I was in college, I had a certain professor, and the word spoken among students was that his young children were unruly because he tried to reason with them, and everybody knows you can't reason with a two-year-old.  But how many times do I find myself using an overabundance of words with Tobin when, in reality, the wisest approach would be to get my tongue out of the way and let consequences teach him important lessons.  I don't want to suggest that two-year-olds (or older children, or younger, for that matter) are incapable of receiving verbal instruction and so should not be taught in words.  Of course not!  But I do long for clear thinking so that I will be able to quickly discover ways to teach my sons the lessons that will prepare them for success in the future.

And just like the "Donkey" in this fable found out, many times, natural consequences are hands-down the best teacher.  May I have the wisdom to let them speak!

Modern Morality, a Miserable Mess

Through the years, my dad has gotten a lot of free magazines sent to him to place in his waiting room for his patients to peruse while waiting.  Now that he's retired, he obviously doesn't need all of them, so one day last week, my mother brought a few up to our house for us to enjoy--magazines that were applicable to our life situation of having young children.  I picked up one to leaf through while I finished lunch recently, and I could not believe some of the things I read in it.

It was a run-of-the-mill parenting magazine, the kind that tells you that your child should be walking by 13 or 14 months of age (ours never do), what the hottest toys are for Christmas this year (I don't think I'll be buying them, thanks anyway), and how to deal with siblings who don't get along.  It's not a Christian magazine, but not a radical left-leaning magazine with an agenda to promote either.  Just a "normal" American parenting magazine.

However, if what I read in it is normal, where in the world is our culture headed?!  And how far have we fallen from the societal norms in place when our country began?!

Let me give you some examples of what stood out to me (other than the overt emphasis on consumerism which is bothersome enough all by itself)...

~ the inclusion of profanity:  on the off chance that one of my children would actually pick up this magazine and look inside, enticed by the colorful advertising of toys every child *needs*, I don't want their innocent eyes to chance upon the four-letter word that starts with "D" that I discovered on one of the pages -- at this stage of life, my kids say "oh, bother!" when they're frustrated (inspired by Winnie-the-Pooh, of course) -- I'm not eager for their understanding to be broadened in this way, and the thought that profanity is used casually in a magazine like this is shocking to me

~ the statement that this coming year is "the year to put yourself first" -- this was immediately qualified by the statement that no, we're actually supposed to put ourselves in second place:  right after the kids -- ya know, I might be strange, but in my ordering of priorities, I've got two other things that come in before me:  God and my husband -- now I understand that not everyone has a relationship with God so not everyone would put Him in first place -- but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that part of the reason so many modern American marriages disintegrate is because Mom makes the kids the center of her universe and neglects Dad -- so, no thanks, modern American parenting magazine, I don't think I'll be putting either myself or my kids in first place this coming year -- I believe that as I pour out myself for others (God, husband, children, friends), I am filled -- that order of priorities works for me!

~ the disrespect to men -- jibes about how, for example, men are the wimpy ones who complain about pain do nothing to enhance male/female relationships

~ acceptance of ella (the new morning-after-after-after-after-after pill) -- yep, five days after an "encounter," you can pop this pill and quietly eliminate anything anyone that might have come into being from that encounter -- when I think of the miracle of life and the wonder of pregnancy and the many women whose wombs yearn to be filled, I grieve at the thought of women being encouraged to go the ella route -- I understand that there are times in a woman's life when, for various reasons, it is not in her best interests to mother a child -- there are answers for how to deal with that and how to help a woman through that extremely difficult situation -- but abortion is never the answer, and I will never change my mind on that -- and, modern American parenting magazine, no matter how jovially you discuss ella and no matter how neatly it's packaged, anything labeled as "emergency contraceptive" will always be absolutely repulsive to me

~ the advice given about how to deal with dissatisfaction in intimacy -- for reasons of common decency, I won't write what that advice was or say any more about this

~ the attitude that children are a bother, not a blessing, and that you should carefully control how many you have so that you don't end up with too many "bothers"

~ the idea that beauty comes from the latest lash booster, and that every woman is sitting around yearning for longer eyelashes

Although all of the above stood out to me glaringly, I do realize that, for better worse or for worse, they are a part of our modern American culture.  I do tend to live in a bubble; but the walls of my bubble are clear, so even though I'm insulated from the full impact of the cultural drift we're experiencing, I realize it's happening.  I shouldn't be shocked.  I really shouldn't.

But then I saw two more things in the magazine, and yes, these did shock me.

The first was an ad for a well-known diaper company.  The ad pictured a typical child's room: cozy teddy bear, shelves of books, a rattle lying abandoned on the floor.  But in the center of the room, in LARGE white letters, were the words
OH
C---!
In front of the bottom word, and partially blocking the middle two letters, was a box of wipes by this respected company:  the wipes being the item that was actually being advertised.  But even though the entirety of the letters was not visible, I could easily picture Josiah or David flipping through the magazine (or even glancing at it as I was reading it), having their attention drawn by the picture, and then asking innocently, "What's that word?"

"Well...um...it's...uh...it's not a word that Daddy and I have chosen to say and it's not one that you're allowed to say either, so let's just turn the page, shall we?"  Fortunately, that scenario didn't happen, because I didn't let them see the magazine.

,But seriously, are advertisers allowed to use what I would consider to be profanity in such a way?

And then the last thing--and this was when I decided that I'd had enough and wasn't going to read anymore... In answer to a question about giving, the magazine's response was this:
When it comes to charity, you want to give so it feels good, not until it hurts.

Oh, yeah?  So that's what motivates us:  feeling good?  That's our standard for how much to give?  Because clearly it's all about me, right?

And giving til it hurts would be far too RADICAL or CRAZY for us.  Because of course, no wise teacher or leader would ever expect us to give up everything...

...or would He?

Despite the fact that I just referred to Jesus, and despite the fact that anyone who reads my blog for...oh...about 2.8 seconds knows how important my relationship with Him is to me, I'm actually not just thinking of Christian ethics as I write this.  What I am considering is whether the universal moral standards that transcend a particular religion allow for this kind of thinking and behavior!

It reminds me of the incident that occurred a few months ago in Tennessee when firefighters stood by and let a man's house burn to the ground because he hadn't paid a $75 fee.  I, along with many others, was appalled by that; and I freely admit that if I had been a firefighter there that day, I would have had to disobey my orders and assist the man however I could.  Why?  Because there's a higher standard!

I'm sure I think about Charles and Caroline Ingalls and their children way too much when considering how to live my life.  :)  After all, they weren't perfect; and the Little House books only present part of the picture when it comes to their lives.  But really, can you imagine Pa standing by and letting someone's house burn down because of an unpaid fee?  No?  Neither can I.

Do you think that the pioneer spirit that built our country could tolerate such selfishness:  the selfishness that lets a house burn without attempting to put it out or the selfishness that says, "I'll give so it feels good, not until it hurts"?  What rubbish!

Sometimes I feel old.  I just feel old.  Too many times to count, I see or hear something and think, "What is this world coming to?  I can't believe how dark things are getting!"  Yep, it's true, I must be getting old, because hasn't every generation felt this way as they look at the generations coming up behind them?  But still, sometimes all I can do is shake my head and grieve.

It doesn't feel like that's enough.  Sure, I mourn the lack of {what I thought was} basic morality.  But I want to do more than cry about it.  I want to DO something.  I want to change the world!  I want to wipe out the darkness and bring the light and reform the bad guys and restore the relationships and erase the pain and...and...and...

But...sometimes all I do is grieve.

On Sunday, Jeff was talking about Lot, tracing his story through the Biblical text from first mention to last.  It was puzzling to me that, despite Lot's obvious weak morals and his legacy of compromise and taking the easy road (which turned out to be the hard one after all!), he is still called "righteous."  At first glance, that's about the last adjective I would use to describe him.  But in 2 Peter 2, we find these words:
...Lot, a righteous man, who was distressed by the depraved conduct of the lawless (for that righteous man, living among them day after day, was tormented in his righteous soul by the lawless deeds he saw and heard)...
He's not called righteous once, but three times!   And why?  Because he was distressed by the wickedness around him.

Maybe mourning is the necessary starting point.

Maybe grieving is more valuable than I thought. 

Watching, Pondering, Grieving, Celebrating

Today, one of my 30-something friends watched her 70-something dad get married, 18 years after his first wife died.  Today, one of my 70-something friends buried her daughter, a victim of cancer's vicious teeth and long, reaching arms.  Today, I ponder the mysteries of the inexorable circle of life.

Today, I observe my boys, watching them closely, noticing their accomplishments, seeing what brings them delight, what causes them frustration, what makes them sad, what causes laughter to well up in their souls.  I see Shav...

...so proud of himself because he can line up small metal trains and connect them magnetically to each other.

I've no pictures of this, but I remember how last evening, while I was down on the floor with him, I saw him for the first time ever, get up on his hands and knees and actually crawl.  He only moved a centimeter or two, but still, what an accomplishment for our Scooter!  And then came a milestone I'm a little embarrassed to write about:  from that hands-and-knees position, Shav maneuvered his feet and legs around in such a way that he could sit down.  That's the first time I've ever seen him get himself into a sitting position from lying down.  And all the childrearing books say he should have hit that milestone months (and months and MONTHS) ago!  But Shav has his own timetable; and for him, it's just right.

Today, I remember how Tobin fell asleep last night at the supper table.

Some days, he resists his afternoon naps so fiercely!  He stays in his room and plays {mostly} quietly, which is good preparation for when he graduates to Josiah and David's status of having quiet time in the afternoons.  But on the days that he doesn't sleep in the afternoon, he gets so very tired by evening.

In the fairy tales, the princess is always the one asleep; but I think in my real-life fairy tale, he's my little sleeping prince.

Today I celebrate David's accomplishment of finishing all 100 lessons in his reading book!  Yesterday morning as we did some school work, he did Lesson 96...but he didn't stop there.  He asked if we could continue, so I said "Sure!" :)  and we spent the first part of his quiet time, sitting on the little couch together by the woodstove with a Christmas bear blanket wrapped around us (he had just gone out to feed the animals before this, so he was a little chilly--but I enjoyed the blanket, too!) and his reading book spread on our laps.  

Lesson 97...Lesson 98...Lesson 99...and then finally...

...Lesson 100!  His good reading skills and excitement about reading have been one of the great surprises of my homeschooling career!  :)

Today I anticipate Josiah's debut...

...with the Shenandoah Valley Children's Choir!!!  (pictures from Monday's rehearsal...that's why all the seats are empty!)  :)

At long last, the day is here.  He will walk on stage in that well-known uniform, take his place in the front row, second from the right, and sing his little heart out.  I can't wait.  

If you see me tonight standing in the back with a tear in my eye, you can smile and nod sympathetically.  You'll know what I'm thinking:

That's my boy up there, y'all.  That's my boy!  And I'm so exceedingly proud of him.

Of all of them, really.  The dressed-up singer.  The eager reader.  The adorable sleeper.  The excited train-assembler.  As the circle of life spins around, I couldn't be happier that God put those boys here, at this time, in this space, in my family.  No matter how long or short our spin is, I will treasure them...

...today.

His Timing Is Impeccable

At bedtime tonight, Josiah asked to be allowed to stay up to read a chapter of the book he's currently devouring.  I said yes, he read it, and then the request came for "just one more chapter?"  I said yes again; after all, he's reading God's Smuggler by Brother Andrew, so how could I say no to his request?  After he finished that chapter, he popped out of bed again; and I looked up from my seat at the desk in the living room to see his quickly-growing frame loping down the steps.  His question this time:  could I come up and cuddle with him?

Now normally that request would receive a quick ix-nay on the uddle-cay.  After all, I have things to do!  And it's not Sunday night, so we can't cuddle.  Because Sunday is our cuddle night.  And this is Wednesday.  So no cuddling.  But I love you, and goodnight.

Tonight, however, I had just finished reading this article by Rick Boyer.  Josiah had no idea about that, but he could not possibly have timed his request better.  With Rick's last sentence, "Turn off the vacuum cleaner for a minute and go hug your kids," still ringing in my ears, how could I say no to Josiah?  We walked up to his room with our arms around each other, discovered that David was still awake, then all crawled into David's bed for some Quality Snuggle Time.  And you know what?  It was the best cuddle time!  Josiah asked me what I want for Christmas, David told me (in response to my question to him, "What do I need to change to be a better mommy?") that I hurt his feelings a few days ago by speaking harshly, they both agreed that we need to have more children (with Josiah suggesting that we have two more, and David stating that we needed ten more, then modifying his answer to say we need 100 more!), we laughed at the thought of so many children and talked about how we could get more bunkbeds and let eight boys sleep in their room...but where would we put everybody's clothes?  We decided that each person could only have two pairs of pants, two pairs of underwear, two pairs of pajamas, etc.  :)  I brought up George Mueller and how he helped care for so many children through his orphanages, and told David that maybe when he grows up, he'll start an orphanage, too.  David thought that might be too much responsibility (his exact word, although he mispronounced it) for him; but Josiah, ever the leader and organizer, thought that he might like that job.  We listened to John Elliott's reading of Ezekiel 1 and marveled at the majesty and power of Ezekiel's vision of the Lord.  I loved my time with them.

I would have missed it, if it hadn't been for Rick Boyer's article (and the HEAV weekly newsletter which brought it to my attention).  If you have two minutes to spare, go read that article.  It will make you smile, and it might even put a lump in your throat.  What's more, it will help you make the {right} decision to turn off the vacuum cleaner and go hug your kids!

It is not my intention to drag out my response to Mary's question about my relationship with my mother-in-law, and I feel badly that I haven't finished that yet.  I was fully intending to do so tonight, but the impromptu snuggle session consumed my time--and rightly so.  Maybe tomorrow?  But you know, since my writing motto seems to be "To Make a Short Story Long," it's hard to tell how much time it will take me to finish the tale!  ;-)

So There's This Boy...

...and his name is...well, maybe I won't say his name.  But I will tell you that he is in Josiah's group violin lesson, and his behavior is horrible.  H-O-R-R-I-B-L-E.  When the teacher asks everyone to stand up to play a piece, he sits down.  When the teacher leads them in a G scale, he plays the whole thing a note off, just to mess it all up.  When the teacher tries to give instructions, he doesn't listen but instead plays a shrill trill on the E string.  Everything he can do to communicate his disrespect is done, it seems, with not a shred of self-control present in his little body.  And not only does he not control himself, apparently no one else can either.

I feel sorry for his private teacher; I don't know how she takes it.  I feel sorry for his group teacher; her strategy seems to be to placate him and let him have his way, with only occasional verbal requests for him to behave properly (and it goes without saying that those requests are generally ignored by him).  I feel sorry for his dad who has to deal with his behavior (I've never seen his mom, so I don't know the story there).  And you know what else?  I feel sorry for him.

He wouldn't act that way unless he had been allowed to get away with his rebellion and disobedience during the formative years of his early childhood.  It seems to me that this is clearly a situation where his parents need to take responsibility for the troublemaker they have created.

But here's my reason for venting in this post about my vexation with him.  My heart aches for him...and for his family...and for those whose paths cross his; and I long to reach out to him and his family and help them see that it doesn't have to be this way.  But how do I do that?  How would Jesus treat him, if Jesus Himself were sitting in that rehearsal hall?  What kind of conversation would Jesus have with his dad?  How can I (and Josiah) be Jesus with skin on to this lost, hurting boy...and his bewildered, hurting dad?

I have no interest in becoming a self-righteous Pharisee, looking down the end of my nose at the sinner before me; and even more, I have no interest in raising one.  I want to help Josiah to be humble, to truly grasp the idea of "there, but for the grace of God, go I."  At the same time, my blood boils and my mama bear instincts come out when I see that boy messing with my son.  I want to go up to him and growl menacingly, "Don't you dare, kid.  I know you think you can get away with anything, but don't even think about laying a hand on my son."  Today, when he literally reached out and started physically bugging Josiah, I was proud of my son when he turned to the boy and said, "Quit it!"  And in fact, after we left the lesson, I said, "If that happens again, you can say that loudly to him, so that the teacher can hear you and know what is going on!"  :)  But I also tried to emphasize that we're commanded to not sin, even when we're angry, so Josiah has a responsibility to be careful of how he speaks and acts to that boy, even when Josiah is provoked.

I know that because we homeschool, we rarely encounter situations like these.  We're insulated from the disobedience, disrespect, rebellion, and bullying that appears to be so common in the world today.  We act deliberately and work hard to build and maintain a culture of respect in our home.  Maybe that's why behavior like this boy exhibits is so shocking to us.

More than shocked though, the emotion I mostly feel is sadness.  That poor boy.  He's going to have such a rough path through life unless he learns to bow his head in submission to authority.

How can we help him?  What can we do?  I'm stymied.

Thoughts???

Stop, Drop, and...Play!

I woke up this morning and thought, "I don't feel very well; I wonder if I'm getting sick," which was a logical query because Shav, the poor dear, has been suffering from a little cold, and to a lesser extent, so have Josiah and Tobin.  But then I remembered that I've felt this way FOR WEEKS.  Ah, allergies, thou art a dreadful beast!  You make me feel a little bit sick every day, but never sick enough for me to cancel everything and stay in bed with the hope of a quick recovery.  You're not a severe affliction, but you are a lingering one, and at times I chafe under the burden of you!

This morning got off to a mediocre start--not terrible--but the cheerfulness in the household was only hanging on by a tenuous thread.  It was time for drastic measures.  Instead of sticking to the schedule and doing our regular school stuff and squeezing in household chores in spare minutes, it was time to throw all that out the window and play!  (I've written before about using play to reverse the spiral of disintegrating attitudes, and included a quote to that effect from Laurie Sargent.  Play is powerful!)  My mind wasn't up for the task of going over Josiah's list of prepositions or doing lesson 80-something in David's reading book.  I declared it a day of art, and we went to Plan B.

Since Jeff's mom is coming in just two days for a much-anticipated four-week-long visit, Josiah has been asking me if we had some big paper he could use to make a welcome banner for her.  I, not being the crafty mom who keeps rolls of large paper on hand, told him that I didn't really have anything big, but that we could still make a banner for her, using one sheet of paper for each letter and printing the outline of the letter on the computer so we could fill it in by hand with colored pencils or stickers or whatever.  He was quite content with the plan, and we got to work.

First, we all sat around the kitchen table (except Shav, who was in his crib for his morning nap).  Josiah and David started working on their pages, and I helped Tobin with his, especially because it was a little tricky for him to do the stickers all by himself.  So there I was, sitting at the table, glued to one spot because of Tobin's need for me, blank paper in front of me, colored pencils beside me.  At first, I thought I should read some of our schoolbooks to the boys while they were decorating the paper; then I thought that I should, at least, read some just-for-fun books to them; then I thought, "Dash it all!" - like Gopher says in the Winnie-the-Pooh movie; can you hear his voice in your head when you read, "Dash it all"?  :) - "I'm going to color, too!"

I'm not sure when the last time was that I had colored, but I'm pretty sure it had been too long.  I need to take advantage of the fact that I have little people in my life to just sit down with them and color.  I suppose I could do it even if I didn't have little people around me, but I'd feel even sillier doing it without them.  :)

Later in the day, as the afternoon sunshine streamed into Josiah's room, he spent part of his quiet time coloring more pages.

Even later in the day, we started hanging the pages from the bookshelves in the room in which Jeff's mom will stay, so that she can look at them often.  She, who was married to a truly great artist, may not see much artistic value in these taped-onto-shelves papers...

...but I'm sure she'll see love:  in this A that Josiah decorated...

...in this D that David did...

 ...in this O that the big boys collaborated on...

...and even in this A that I scribbled on.

No artistic value, to be sure, but lots and lots of love...and a poignant reminder to me to stop, drop, and play!

WWYD?

I was planning to do the long-awaited (awaited by me and my dad, at least) Retirement Reception Post tonight; but even though I paid my $5.00 and got more storage space from Google today, they're still not letting me upload any photos.  They did say it could take up to 24 hours, but I was hoping for less.   No matter...

This gives me time to ask What Would You Do?

Here's the situation:  your 5 year-old son (who happens to be utterly adorable) is playing on a soccer team (which looks like a swarm of bees in their yellow jerseys as they follow the ball and completely ignore the coach's instructions to spread out...you know how soccer games go in the 4 to 6 year-old league!).  After each game, the players are given a snack, which the parents take turns providing.  So far, every snack has consisted entirely of purchased items:  fruit roll-ups, granola bars, little packages of cheese crackers, etc., items that are easy to buy and hand out.  Your idea of an after-game snack, however, is different:  homemade cookies and fresh fruit sounds about right (along with some Gatorade, because these players are athletes after all, albeit miniature ones).  When it's your turn to provide the snack for the game, what do you do?  Go along with the trend, and get some pre-packaged, full-of-unpronounceable-ingredients snack items at Costco?  Or swim against the tide, and go the homemade route?

The pan of Congo Squares (a kind of bar cookie from my favorite Mennonite cookbook) cooling downstairs in my kitchen and the green grapes resting in my refrigerator tell you what I'll do, since tomorrow is game day for David and my turn to bring the snack.

As I beat the cookie batter tonight and dumped in the chocolate chips, I kept thinking, "Why?  Why don't the other parents bring something homemade?  Are they too worried about contamination to let their child eat something that's not pre-packaged? (If nobody on David's team trusts my cooking, I guess that means I'll get to bring home more cookies for my own family!)  Or is it simply a matter of convenience:  run into Martin's, grab some snacks, and rush on your way?  Have our lifestyles gotten so lazy?  Or so busy, that we no longer have time to make cookies at home for our children?  Or is something else going on here?"

I really don't know what it is, but I hope - oh, how I hope! - that I will never get to the point of distrusting my child's soccer teammates' parents' cooking...or to the point of being too busy to make a homemade snack for my cherished 5 year-old and his soccer team.

You Might Be a Mom If...

...you really look forward to your lunch of left-overs from the previous night's dinner...but you have to reheat it in the microwave three or four times because as soon as you heat it and think you'll have time to sit down and eat it, someone needs you and you're called away and the food gets cold again.

...you've learned the Mom Trick of drumming up enthusiastic responses in your children by using the term "special."  "David, I have a special job for you!  Will you be Grandma's special helper and carry this pitcher down to her house?" said in a slightly excited, mysterious voice achieves much better results than "David, take this pitcher to Grandma's."  In the same way, asking Tobin in a high, cheerful voice, "Do you want to wear these special wood gloves?" comes across much better than the "You can't go help Daddy with the wood unless you put these on" statement that is likely to elicit a tinge of stubbornness from the two-year-old at your feet.

...you've ever opened your refrigerator and discovered that your toddler has put a Winnie the Pooh bib on the third shelf, right next to the eggs and butter.

...when in a public place, you find yourself repeatedly doing a head count - 1,2,3,4 - just to make sure all your children are still with you and safe.  When you pay attention, you realize that you actually do this approximately every 27.3 seconds.

...your idea of arm exercises is carrying your baby...and a really good workout occurs when you lift your baby in one arm and your toddler in the other...your legs get exercised, not just by the constant running after children that you do, but also by the underdogs you give your children on the swings.

...you can't rest easy until you've tiptoed around to all your sleeping children and checked on them one more time before you--finally--lay your weary body down in your bed.

...your heart aches from the beauty of it all.

Modern Luxuries

As I traveled up to northern Virginia two days ago, I had lots of time in the car to think.  For the most part, Josiah and David were quietly occupied in the backseat with books; and both Tobin and Shav slept for part of the drive, going and coming.  That gave me time to contemplate all kinds of topics.  Like...

Isn't it amazing that some of the biggest dilemmas we face are all a result of the abundance and freedom and luxury in which we live?  If we had lived one or two hundred years ago, or if we lived now but in a different country, we would probably not ever have to deal with the challenges that seem so pressing in our modern life.  For example...

How much time and energy have I exerted, trying to figure out what to do with all our stuff??  I consider my family to be fairly frugal and not overly concerned about material possessions; but regardless, our closets and dressers are filled to overflowing with clothes, our bookshelves sag beneath the weight of our beloved books, the boys do crafts and write on papers that pile up, their toys seem to reproduce at a staggering rate.  I do not know what to do with all our stuff.  And this is not a unique dilemma:  no, in this day and age in this country, the accumulation of stuff is an epidemic, necessitating the building of more storage units and the writing of numerous books and articles on home management.  Not only are there tragic (shocking!) stories of people who actually filled their homes with so much clutter that they perished in the debris, but there is also a terrible amount of stress that we deal with daily, just because of all our stuff.  This is a direct result of luxury.

Or here's another example:  the abundance of food that we have in this country, resulting in a huge (no pun intended) problem with obesity.  The pioneers didn't have to worry about dieting; in fact, at times, they were just grateful to have anything to eat.  Countless people around the world right now never have to give a second thought to whether to follow the South Beach diet or Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig or the Cookie diet (what??).  They don't have to think about the strategy of using a smaller plate so you'll eat less...or leaving a few bites of food on your plate to keep from consuming those calories...or chewing slowly so your body will think you're full sooner.  They don't have to try to figure out how to fit a gym membership into the budget...or time for exercising into the schedule.  How much anxiety is expended in our country because of food choices and weight battles?  Another direct result of luxury.

On a different note, we even live in unprecedented luxury when it comes to the Bible.  Never before have so many Bibles been so readily available to so many people.  If I counted the number of Bibles here in our house right now, I'm sure I could easily get to 50; and that's not even taking into account the incredible resources online that I can access with the click of a mouse.  When I think about the history of the Bible and the people who literally gave their lives for it and the people who right now are living in parts of the world where religious freedom is nonexistent and who would dearly love to have a Bible of their very own, I am stunned by my own lack of gratitude.  I realize, too, that many of the arguments that we spiritually-minded Americans engage in are only possible because of the luxury we have.  Take the KJV-only debate:  does a Christian who lives in China and has never had a Bible care which version is placed in his hands?  Or consider the whole which-church-should-I-go-to quandary:  when Charles and Caroline Ingalls (and so many other pioneers) lived close enough to a town to actually participate in worship services, did they say, "Oh, they're Calvinists.  We can't worship with them."  Of course not!  Apparently, we think our luxury gives us a license to argue and bicker and debate the most minute points of theology.

All of these dilemmas (what to do with stuff, how to lose weight, and which church to be a part of) are a very real part of my life these days.  I'm humbled when I realize that the fact that I even have these dilemmas shows just how luxurious my life really is.

Meanwhile, as I ponder these perplexities, I also stop to appreciate other little luxuries I'm blessed by:

~ a spontaneous picnic lunch in the backyard on a beautiful fall(ish) day

~ putting flannel sheets on the bed for the first time in the fall (well, it's almost fall)...I can hardly wait to go to bed tonight!  :)

~ being able to go to the store and buy cilantro so I can make this recipe, even when the cilantro that we planted in the garden shriveled up and died  :)

I am so blessed, and as I think about that tonight, I feel the weight of it.  What I tell my boys is true:  with privilege comes responsibility.

I've Discovered...

...that acts of service, without words of affirmation, can feel like condemnation.

...that Zane Alexander's advice (that I first read in the days immediately following Shav's birth) is really hard to follow.  In his book Good Lovers Make Great Parents, he writes:

 Start your survival program by refusing to "should" yourself to death.  Refuse to tell yourself that you ought to do such and such.  For one week refuse to say or think the word should....Next, refuse to set up any goal for yourself as a parent other than survival...Your only goal is to survive one day at a time.

...that it's far easier to extend grace to others than to give it to myself.  (Your laundry has piled up terribly, but instead of working on it this morning, you cuddled on the couch and read stories to your boys?  Oh, well, that's fine!  Your children grow up so fast, and the laundry will always be with you.  It's good that you focused on time with them this morning. - easy to say this to someone else, hard to accept it myself.)

...that even a "little" thing like excema on my hands can be incredibly discouraging.

...that even when I feel like I've got "failure" stamped all over me, His compassion never fails and His mercies never stop.  But I do have one question:  if I've already gone through today's allotment, can I tap into what's waiting for me tomorrow morning?  I still have over seven hours left in this day, and I'll be in a heap of trouble if I can't find some extra dose of grace by which to be renewed!

He Told Me a Story

"They're ALL full-time jobs!" I moaned to Jeff one night after the boys were tucked in bed. "Caring for the boys is a full-time job, caring for the house is a full-time job, and everything else is a full-time job." (And by "everything else," I meant keeping up with friends, blogging, reading other people's blogs, trying--in vain--to stay on top of email, sorting through and organizing the picture files that litter our computer, canning several bushels of peaches, serving through various opportunities beyond the four walls of our house...not to mention the things that never happen but I wish did, like weeding my flowerbeds or playing my piano.) "When I focus on just one of those jobs, I do OK with it. Like this evening, when you were gone, things weren't going well, so I just said to the boys, 'All right, we're going outside to play.' And we did, and it was fun, and everyone got along, and it was great--because I was giving my full attention to caring for the boys. But the dishes didn't get done, and neither did anything else. When I try to handle more than one of those full-time roles, things fall apart!"

He listened attentively, thoughtfully gave me words of affirmation, then told me this story:

When I was growing up in Big Bear, one of my first jobs was working at a ski resort. My task was to take the ski boots that people dropped off, wash them off with hot water to get all the mud and snow and ice off them, spray them with disinfectant, then hang them on their rack that had blow dryers that blew into each boot to dry them. My other task was to keep the counter clean on which the skiers set their boots to return them. A group would come in and set their wet, dirty boots down; I would take the boots and do what I needed to do to them and wipe the counter off. More people would come in, set their boots down, and the counter would be dirty again. I constantly had to be cleaning it because when the next customer walked in, they didn't want to see a messy counter. But it was impossible to keep it clean.

Your life is like that. You're constantly cleaning a dirty counter, and people are constantly bringing their dirty boots to put on it. It never ends.

"You get it!" I thought. "You really get it! You know how wearying this job of being a stay-at-home-mom is. Thank you for getting it!"

The next day, the counter of my life got as dirty as ever, and just as many yucky boots got put on it as soon as I had cleaned it up, but at least I was comforted by the fact that...

...Jeff gets it.

When Does a Poor Sleeper...

...turn into a good one?

I have been so blessed by the fact that my first three sons were all champs when it came to sleeping. I read Babywise, followed a lot of its principles, and they responded well: sleeping through the night when just a few months old, fully able to put themselves to sleep and self-soothe to get back to sleep if awakened during the night, happy when they went to bed and happy when they woke up. It was fabulous, and I appreciated it.

"I don't do well with sleep deprivation," I would often say.

"I don't know how you do it, but I take my hat off to you!" I would exclaim to mothers who somehow dealt with children who consistently awoke during the night and needed mama's care to get back to sleep.

I didn't expect to ever find myself in that boat. After all, if I could train our first three boys to sleep well, surely I could do it a fourth time!

But I can't. Or I haven't. One of those.

Shav started out as a typical newborn: crazy sleep cycles, just trying to make sense of the world, needing me often to nourish and soothe him. But beautifully, at two months of age, he started sleeping through the night. I rejoiced.

And then, a few months later (I can't remember when exactly, but I know if was before Christmas), he started waking in the night. At first I thought it was a little glitch in his overall sleep training; but I see now that if it's only a glitch, it's a huge one--lasting about nine months or so. It's not as if he hasn't slept through the night at all since December; but for sure, the vast majority of nights have included at least one waking (and by waking, I mean one in which he doesn't get himself back to sleep without me nursing him).

There have been a few times when I thought we were making good progress, only to suffer a setback. One gigantic setback came when he had his fall. Before that, he was a thumb-sucker and was good at self-soothing; since then, I've only seen him with his thumb in his mouth a time or two. He doesn't suck his thumb to self-soothe, he doesn't suck his fingers, he doesn't suck a pacifier. Nothing. I'm extremely grateful that he finally started to nurse again after that fall; I remember well my sadness when I thought that those days were over for us. But, God, would it have been too much for him to be able to suck his thumb again, too?

Before we left on vacation, as we were approaching Shav's first birthday, we gained some ground in the sleep-through-the-night battle; and I owe that success to Jeff who would check on Shav when he was crying and would offer him a drink of water from a sippy cup. It seemed that, because Shav didn't associate Jeff with nursing (obviously!), he was more willing to go back to sleep; and he had gotten to the point of having some good nights of sleep in which he didn't awaken at all.

Vacation changed all of that, as I knew it would; and while we were traveling, I nursed him as needed. Back to square one, is how I felt.

Since we've been back, he's had the sickness that has been floating around here (fever, cold symptoms, that kind of junk) so of course, I understand that during such times, he needs a little extra comforting. Since our trip, his body rhythms got a little out of whack, and he would poop during the night and need his diaper changed (too much information, probably...sorry about that). I know he's also popped out some more teeth, and that contributes to his wakefulness, I'm sure.

I try to drum up compassion. I try to tell myself to appreciate these times with him because one day, they'll be gone forever and I'll miss them.

But honestly...

I am so ready to be done with these night wakings. My whole body tenses the instant I hear a cry from his room. Will he stop crying? Will he continue? Will I need to get up and nurse him?

When I tuck him in bed for the night, I pray that Shav will (among other things) have good, sweet, peaceful sleep that night and that he will sleep through the night. A selfish prayer, I suppose...but that's where I'm at. I think about Psalm 127:2 which says, "He grants sleep to those he loves." I pray that as a blessing for Shav.

And (nearly) every night, Shav awakens, and so must I, to nurse him and soothe him.

I don't know where I went wrong. What have I done badly that I've been unable to impart this most basic skill to this child whom I love so dearly? When I put him in bed (for naps or at night), he's wide awake and gets himself to sleep fine. So why doesn't he do it during the night without needing me?

I know a part of my impatience stems from weaning. I nursed my other boys until they were a year, and then they each peacefully transitioned to cow's milk from a sippy cup. No big fuss about it. I'd kind of, sorta, really like to wean Shav at some point in the near future. The only times I nurse him now are at bedtime and when he wakes during the night; for all other meals he drinks regular milk. But I feel like I can't totally wean him until we get this nighttime puzzle figured out.

How do I teach him to sleep through the night? How do I soothe him without nursing? What do I do? And how long is this going to last??? If I knew in a week, we'd be over this hurdle...or even in a month...I wouldn't be so bothered by it. But at this point in time, I feel like this dilemma will stretch forth indefinitely. I tell myself, "Surely by the time he's five, he'll be a good sleeper and sleep through the night without any trouble." But that's not very comforting!

I've never dealt with this before. I don't know when poor sleepers develop the skill of sleeping through the night. If a child doesn't get it at a few months old, when DO they?

He's such a happy, sweet little guy. For the most part, daytimes are an absolute breeze with him--no trouble at all. These days, he loves to be put on the floor and given the freedom to scoot. He's so cheerful!

But at night... sigh...

I just don't know what to do. And I'm so, so tired--not just from the physical fatigue of "I should have gone to bed two hours ago," but moreso from the mental fatigue of "how do I conquer this challenge when I feel so utterly discouraged by my previous inability to establish good sleeping habits in him?"

As I look back on the past year, I am reminded again of how grateful I am that we aren't shown the future. Back when I wrote this post about the mountain looming before me, if I had known then that I would be dealing with sleep deprivation for over a year...well...I don't know what I would have done. Been really, really sad, I guess. It's better to take just one day at a time, so said Jesus, and I understand this in a very real way.

But sometimes I wish that I could have a glimpse of the future...

...so that I could see when this particular problem will be solved and this burden will be lifted.

Manly, Independent Boys

I know my boys are only 8 and 5 and 2 (and a half!) and (just a few days from) 1; but I often reflect on the fact that they are men. Little men, true. But men nonetheless. At least, they will be, in a few years that will speed by like greased lightning. What they do now has a direct and strong impact on who they will be then.

All of that to say this: it was high time to revise the boys' job charts. For several years, Josiah and David have had chores for which they are responsible; but I've talked with them a number of times about how, as they grow older, their responsibilities will change and increase (and so will their privileges!). As this past school year ended and the summer began, I knew I needed to help them make the leap to the next level and add a few more obligations to their daily activities; but I had put it off and put it off. Finally, I did it; and the funny, surprising thing is that they loved it! I had forgotten this, but apparently they get a lot of security from knowing what is expected of them and seeing it written down in black and white so they can see what they've accomplished and what they still need to do--a much better system than me always telling them what to do. I'm sure they got tired of hearing me speak up in that "I have a job for you to do" tone of voice. Much nicer to have their lists of routines, that hang on the side of the refrigerator, do the work for me. :)

Here is what David is responsible for at this stage of life...

Morning Routine:

1. Get dressed

2. Make bed

3. Open blinds in bedroom

4. Brush teeth

5. Eat breakfast

6. Swish toilet upstairs

7. Empty dishwasher (silverware and plastics)

Afternoon Routine:

1. Set table

Before Bed Routine:

1. Room Rescue in bedroom

2. Change into pajamas

3. Brush teeth

And for Josiah...

Morning Routine:

1. Get dressed

2. Make bed

3. Brush teeth

4. Read devotional

5. Eat breakfast

6. Swish toilet downstairs

Afternoon Routine:

1. Take out recycling

2. Practice piano (and this will also say "violin" when lessons start up in the fall)

3. Set table

Before Bed Routine:

1. Room Rescue in bedroom

2. Change into pajamas

3. Brush teeth

Josiah also has special jobs to do each day (it's part of that grow-up-and-have-to-do-more-work thing)... :)

Weekly Routine:

Monday - Sweep front walk

Tuesday - Sweep porch

Wednesday - Sweep patio

Thursday - Take trash out

Friday - Dust bedroom

Saturday - Clean mirror in hall

In addition, although I didn't write it on his chart, Josiah feeds our animals daily, a special job for which we pay him $1 a week. (And that, is a dollar well spent, let me tell ya! I appreciate what he does so much that I'd pay him twice or even three times that amount...but don't tell him that.) :)

If you're familiar with FlyLady, you'll see that much of this is inspired by her. "Room Rescue," "swishing a toilet," "Before Bed Routine," - yep, this is straight from her. I'm so glad that my boys get to learn some wonderful habits while they're still so young. When I gave them their new job charts, I had a little talk with them about all of this; and one thing I said was that their future wives, college roommates, or whoever are going to be so happy that they know how to do these things and have made them part of the routine of their lives. It's fun to talk with the boys about their future; they usually get funny little looks of happiness and excitement on their faces when we discuss such things. :)

Another thing that's funny is that "everybody" thinks, "Eeeew, yuck. I don't want to clean a toilet." But Josiah and David think that swishing the toilet is one of the most fun jobs they have! And when you do it every day, the FlyLady way, it really is, because there's never any build-up of yuckiness. :)

I'll start accepting applications from potential wives for my sons very soon. :)

I started this post thinking about going in one direction with it, but then ended up going in another. Back to my original thoughts...

I ran across an interesting passage from a book published in 1889. It's How to Study, A Guide for Pupils' Self Improvement in School and Home by W. A. Welch; and the quote is included in Lorraine Curry's book Easy Homeschooling Companion.

That which makes noble, independent men is of the same stuff that makes manly independent boys: To work and struggle through hardships and privations, knowing in one's secret heart that these are angels in disguise; to bravely, nobly, joyfully fight life's battles as they come; to inhale, like bracing air, the inspiration of a purpose enthroned in the soul; and finally, in the fullness of manhood, to gradually emerge from creek and shoal, free and independent, out upon the high seas of life, with your craft, small but seaworthy, your iron will for a rudder to which it readily responds; your mature judgement for a compass; your horizon of possibility broad as the curves of the earth; your freedom only limited by the shores of the ocean; what inspiration in the thought! what effort it is not worth! Truly, it is a great thing to be a man!

And I'll add, "Truly, it is a great thing to have sons!" :)