I don't want to raise a good child...

My sister sent me this article today.  She said, "Totally reminds me of Maddy!"  She must have known I needed to read this today as I put Maddy in her seventh time out for the day, yeah, you read that right I said SEVENTH.  So maybe I don't want to raise a good child either....could sure use an extra hour of sleep for the weariness I feel raising my strong-willed kid.  Enjoy! 

-Katie


Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6 (NIV 1984)

My daughter, Hope, is a senior this year. And she decided her senior year should be adventurous and a little out of the “normal” box. A lot out of the box actually.

She withdrew from traditional school. Applied with the state to homeschool. Enrolled in online college courses that would allow her to get both high school and college credit simultaneously. And planned to spend the month of January serving in Nicaragua doing missions.

This didn’t surprise me really. Hope has always liked charting her own course. This thrills me now. But it didn’t thrill me so much in the early years of raising this strong-spirited child.
When she was really little I was scared to death I was the world’s worst mom, because Hope was never one to be contained. And I honestly thought all her extra tenacity was a sign of my poor mothering.

One day I took her to the mall to meet several of my friends with toddlers to grab lunch. All of their kids sat quietly eating cheerios in their strollers. They shined their halos and quoted Bible verses and used tissues to wipe their notes.

Not Hope.

She was infuriated by my insistence she stay in her stroller. So, when I turned away for a split second to place our lunch order, she wiggled free. She stripped off all her clothes. She ran across the food court. And jumped in the fountain in the center of the mall.

Really, nothing makes the mother of a toddler feel more incapable than seeing her naked child splashing in the mall fountain. Except maybe that toddler refusing to get out and said mother having to also get into the fountain.

I cried all the way home.

Not because of what she’d done that day. But rather because of how she was everyday. So determined. So independent. So insistent.

I would beg God to show me how to raise a good child. One that stayed in her stroller. One that other people would comment about how wonderfully behaved she was. One that made me look good.

But God seemed so slow to answer those prayers. So, over the years, I changed my prayer. “God help me to raise Hope to be who You want her to be.” Emphasis on, “God HELP ME!”

I think I changed my prayers for her because God started to change my heart. I sensed He had a different plan in mind for my mothering of Hope.

Maybe God’s goal wasn’t for me to raise a good rule-following child. God’s goal was for me to raise a God-following adult. An adult just determined and independent and insistent enough to fulfill a purpose He had in mind all along.

Today’s key verse reminds us we are training children so that when they are old they will not turn away from Biblical principles, but rather implement them in their life-long pursuit of God. Remember, the things that might aggravate you about your child today, might be the very things when matured that make them great for God’s kingdom tomorrow.

I’ve certainly seen this in raising Hope.

I don’t know what mama needs to hear this today. But let me encourage you from the bottom of my heart with three simple mothering perspectives you must hang on to:

1. Don’t take too much credit for their good.
2. Don’t take too much credit for their bad.
3. Don’t try to raise a good child. Raise a God-following adult.
And all the mamas of fountain dancing children said, “Amen!”

Dear Lord, I know You desire for me to raise a God-following adult. Please give me Your wisdom as I seek to become the parent You called to this high honor. Redirect my perspectives and equip me for this task today. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.

Miracle Maddy Turns 5...

As I sit here thinking back on the last five years it's hard to remember my life prior to you coming onto the scene March 13, 2007 at 11:28 p.m. (if you had arrived only thirty two minutes later we would have gotten to stay at the hospital a whole extra day, instead they kicked us out before I was ready to leave)  Ornery from the start because you fought to be here.  I want to show these pictures to the doctors who knew I would miscarry after life-saving surgery.  I want to take a video of you sounding letters out to the doctor who told us you were blind.  I want to shout for joy from the rooftops about how wonderful you have been.  Wonderfully hard, wonderfully gorgeous, wonderfully sweet, wonderfully spunky. 


We celebrated big with a blue party you HAD to have.  "Are you sure you don't want Pinkalicious, Dora, Princess Party, Anything else?"  You cocked your head to one side, splayed your hands on your hips, spoke in a sassy voice, "Helllloooo Mama, I want everyone to wear blue, I want blue decorations, I want a blue cake and blue cookies.  That is what I want!"  As if to say, "What is so hard about comprehending this?"  So that is what we did.  Short of painting the walls blue our house was transformed into exactly what you wanted.  It was weirdly blue and wonderful.  But that is you.  Strong-willed.  Determined.  Smart.  Funny.  Destined to be here.  And you, my Maddy, have, are, and always will be our Miracle. 

Happy 5th Birthday Sweet Girl, may God continue to bless the path you are on and maybe the next five years you can ease up, ever so slightly with the orneriness....fat chance! 

I love you the bestest and the sweetest and to the moon and back. 

Love,

Mama

My Crusade for a Minivan...

My crusade to buy a minivan….




Convincing Hot Husband that we need a minivan is damn near close to impossible, but I think with this list I am a little closer to winning him over….


1. No more sibling fighting in the car….at least not physically. If we stick Luke in the back and Maddy in the front then they can only yell at each other rather than actually kick/punch one another.


2. We can pick up friends from school, dance, ball practice with the extra room.


3. We can go on vacation without having to put a box with weights in between the kids to keep them from hurting each other…(see #1)


4. Come on…real men drive minivans


5. We can hire a babysitter, take the minivan, aka the love shack, lay down in the floor and hump. Makes DOIN' IT in the car waaaaay easier!


6. We can push a button and the doors slide open BY THEMSELVES. Hello if that ain’t reason enough then I don’t know what is. Picture this: You are holding two back packs, two small hands, you are walking through the school parking lot to the car, worried about someone darting, a car going wayward, rather than juggle children and book bags to get the car door open, simply press the magic button and VIOLA.



7. To Fit in….DUH! You can’t live in Suburbia and not join up with the Joneses!


8. No more Truck Drivers trying in vain to get me to flash them. I mean, come on, no one looks hot in a minivan no matter how big your sunglasses are, how blonde your hair is, or how hot your body looks. Those truck drivers will know there are children in the back and they will resist the urge to honk and flash me a twenty….(or a Five!) Whatever.


9. If ever stuck in a snow storm a minivan will be a lot more comfortable than a four door car to wait it out.


10. Last, but not least, JUST REREAD NUMBER 5




Anyone have any other reasons we must have a minivan? Speak now or forever hold your tongue. And Don’t try and talk me out of it!


My crusade for a minivan continues!





A few weeks ago I called my mom and snot cried into the phone because I was having a pity party for myself that I hadn't been on a date with my cute, but cheap-ass hubby since November. 

He doesn't like to hire a babysitter THEN go out on the town and spend more money.  Have I ever mentioned he is an accountant...he is SO an accountant!  We don't have family that lives close and we do have tons of friends who would keep them, but we have tons of friends who have small children.  I just can't ask them to put more on their plate so my hubby and I can play footsie at the local sushi joint. 

The guilt trip worked and we scheduled a weekend for them to come up so I could escape with the husband.  Not only did we go out, but we got a hotel for the weekend...HOLLA!  It was so wild and crazy that I was asleep by nine p.m....Yep!  I'm lame.  There was some commotion in the hall of the hotel that woke me up at 9:35 p.m. and I was all, "What are these crazy people doing up at the late hour of 9:35 in the p.m.  I'm calling security!" 

We slept until 9 a.m. without anyone running into our room and sitting on our head demanding food.  I'm so glad my parents are able to help us out in this way and I hope to one day be the kind of grandparent to do the same for my own kids....they better live in the same town as I do.  I really want us to all live on a big piece of land with Maddy and her family and Luke and his 'son-stealing' ho of a wife to build houses on this land and my grandchildren can ride their bikes back and forth between our houses...PIPE DREAM.  Whatever, a mom can hope!   


The weekend was a good time and now I must log off and dream about minivans, building houses for my grown children, and Reece's Pieces, always Reece's Pieces...ahhhh how times have changed! 

Here we are about to head out on our romantic evening!

This girl looks angelic, but is eatin' our lunch.  Rule Breaker.  Strong-willed children make really great adults, I hope I live to see it because I firmly believe I won't make it through tomorrow at her current rate of orneriness. 

What is this boy DNA thing?  It's like hard-wired or something  Crime fighting, super-hero, can we please watch Superhero squad every day, all out boy.  However, He is pretty stinkin' handsome if I do say so myself! 

Until Next Time, if you see my husband out and about you WILL tell him how cool it is to drive a minivan...

PEACE,

Katie

Livin’ on Lombardi Time…

　

I have a confession to make. However, it ain’t much of a confession because most of you who know me well know about this habit I keep in my life. I am EARLY for everything. I can’t help it. I like to be early. Being perpetually early is almost as annoying as being perpetually late. It has become such a habit in my life that I have been able to maintain it with not just one child, but two.


My mom friends roll their eyes at me when I show up ten minutes early to every playdate, every birthday party, every event. “Katie,” they say, “I still needed to vacuum or clean up a bit. We are going to start telling you to get here half an hour later.” I just laugh. It has been going on for as long as I can remember.


I blame my dad, really! When I played competitive soccer our coaches wanted us there an hour early to prepare and warm up. Naturally my dad had me at the ball field two hours early and I was comfortable with that. Anything less would have been unacceptable.


Just this past weekend I was razzing my dad about how even as an adult I have to be early. Hot Husband is unimpressed as are my children as we sit outside of church every Sunday thirty minutes early contemplating when to make our entrance. My dad looked at me and smiled. “You live on Lombardi Time as do all people of integrity!”


The great Hall of Fame football coach of the Green Bay Packers, Vince Lombardi, invented a strategy that he recommended to his coaches and players. It came to be known as “Lombardi Time,” and it embodied a valuable habit to show up for every important meeting, game, or event fifteen minutes ahead of the scheduled time. According to Vince Lombardi if he scheduled a meeting for 1:00, if you weren’t there by 12:45, then you were late!


So as I sit outside Luke’s preschool classroom at drop off time and hear the exasperation in the voices of the teachers, shuffling around the room preparing for the day, “Luke’s mom will be here any minute…hurry!” I will no longer feel shame, but pride in the fact that Vince Lombardi and I had something in common!


Friends, you can do it too!


Be Kind, Be on Time!


Respect the Clock! 

Eff Playdough...

I cringe at the very thought of getting out the effing play dough. My children beg and plead to let them play with this nasty gooey goodness. My go to answer is always no. “How about block building?” “How about Barbie playing?” “Here is the knife drawer!” Anything other than that damn squishy dough.

We had a sick day yesterday. We painted. We watched a show….or ten. We dragged out every toy we owned and piled them up in the living room floor. And lying in a tired heap of toddler toys my children looked at me through sick, puppy dog eyes, and in between coughs, begged me to spring their play dough from it’s art supply prison. “Fine!“ I cringed at the thought of the blue can mixing with the pink one. I thought of the crevices it would perpetually get smashed into and the bite sized pieces I would find on the floor for weeks to come.

I made the walk of doom to the art supply cabinet and searched through the piles of construction paper, markers, and broken crayons until I found what my children were happily clapping about in the dinning room, I found the effing play dough. I thought briefly about throwing it away and lying that I couldn’t find it, but they would know for sure I was liar and I didn’t want to set them up for years of talking with their shrink about their play dough hating, crazy loon of a mother who stamped out their passion for building a dough worm with one brief flip of the wrist.

I laid it out on the table and they went to work. Maddy pulling off tiny pieces making “bird food,” Luke building what he said was a super hero get away car, but what really looked like the blue mixing with the yellow. I had to look away. I scooted to the back to fold laundry, another necessary evil in my life as a mom and perpetual cleaning lady for my family. I fantasized about someone hiring me to go around to all the stores flinging the play dough from the shelves into a large trash bin and disposing of it in the sea. What?! It is supposedly safe to eat, so why can’t it go in the ocean? I fantasized a little about being rich enough to hire someone else to do my laundry, when Maddy burst through the door and my fantasy bubble with blue play dough under every finger nail and balled up in her hair. “MAMA,” she yelled, “HELP, I tried to dye my hair blue, you know, like you dye yours yellow, but it didn’t work.” I wasn’t even shocked I was resigned to this play dough hell I had put myself in. I very carefully pulled the play dough from my daughters gorgeous curls in hopes I wouldn’t have to cut it.

Play dough had erupted in the kitchen. It was on the floor and in every crevice of my beautiful mahogany table, and there was even some on the wall. I sighed. “Go wash your hands and I’m going to clean up.” I pressed the now brown looking play dough back into each can. I did my best to clean up the table and floor. I shook my head in wild agreement when they asked to watch the movie Tangled for the second time that day.

I began my dinner preparations and got down my big mama sized wine glass and filled it to the brim when my husband came sauntering in, looking dashing in his business attire. “Hey Baby,” he smiled, “how was your day….wait?” He scrunched his eyes up and stared at my booty. Damn, I thought to myself my butt busting workout I did yesterday really paid off. Then he said, “Babe, I think you sat in gum!”

“Oh my goodness,” I exclaimed as I put my hand on my left cheek, “Nope,” I said glumly, “that is just some play dough!”

EFF PLAYDOUGH

Seven Day Cleanse...

Okay so every holiday season I have some fun and when I say fun, I mean, EATING.  Eating everything I can put my hands on.  It's almost as if I can't help it.  The Reese's flow freely into my mouth without me ever even knowing.  Mashed potatoes.....Ummmm, YES, bring it on.  Second helpings....ummmm, OKAY! 

Then before I know it I've gained about 5 to 10 pounds....OOPS!  January 1 rolls around and I'm on board with everyone else to kick these pounds to the curb.  And I will be real honest this has been going on since before I got married.  By March I've done made it hurt so bad that I'm back to being my normal, 'somewhat chunky' self instead of complete holiday fatness. 

But this year has been different.  January came and went and NOT. A. SINGLE. POUND.  I dropped down to the 1200 calories of old and it just didn't come off like normal.  So I fretted, paced, talked my hot husband's ear off.  "It's because I'm 30 now!"  "Everything will sag and droop forever now that I'm 30."  "I can't give up without a fight!" 

(Of course Hot Husband likes a good love handle to hold onto so he was all, "Just shut your cute face and eat this brownie!") 

I continued my fretting until a new cute friend of mine got me hooked up on Pinterest.  I am addicted.  I surfed and browsed and looked at all the things I will never be able to afford, never will be crafty enough to do, and never be skilled in the kitchen enough to make.  But that doesn't keep me from LOVING ME SOME PINTEREST! 

So I found this cleanse.     

Helloooooooo it totally worked.  I crapped a buttload...pun intended!  I pee peed like a drunk race horse and lost me a good five pounds!  The drink itself tastes like dirt mixed with fecal matter, mixed with lemon juice and I think I read somewhere that distilled water will take no less than five years off your life, but who cares when you are skinny right?

A friend once told me, "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels!"  But I actually think that is a load of poop, obviously who ever coined that phrase never ate a Goldie's Cheeseburger....can I get an AMEN SISTA!   

So my battle with the bulge continues, but if Marilyn Monroe can rock this body and look sexy, then I think I will be doing the same! 

THUNDER THIGHS FOR LIFE!     

(I found this picture on Pinterest too....go ahead, sign up, and let the obsession begin!) 

-Katie

**** Stay at Home Moms Say...

This is hilarious....


I'm not her....

But I do know her....