This is one of those moments that probably only Moe and I will think is funny, but I'm posting it here anyway.
Adam has recently gotten into labeling people, like Mike is a big boy, Noel is a big girl, Jack is a baby, Daddy is a big kid, etc. I love that Adam recognizes that Daddy is a kid. He even labeled my Visiting Teachers the other day. When they stood up to leave he said, "What are those kids doing?"
Today when he woke up, everyone was still in their rooms. That is a new experience for him, because he usually sleeps later than everyone else. He asked me, "Where is Mike?" I told him that Mike was in his room, so Adam went and knocked on Mike's door.
Knock knock.
"Who is it?"
"It's A-num (rhymes with Adam). Da kid!"
Like there would be any other. Kid, you're one-in-a-million.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Still, Not So Nice
Noel just finished the second grade. There was a girl in her class that is a bit of a queen bee. Okay, that's an understatement. That little girl is a witch. She is eight going on forty -three. A really bitter, mean forty-three. She is, in my humble opinion, spoiled rotten by her parents. She is always very well dressed, her hair is perfectly groomed and she knows everything there is to know about anything that a second grade girl would think was cool. She also believes herself to be the queen of the second grade.
Noel really, really wants this girl to like her. And she does, sometimes. She is fickle and moody and bossy. I do not like this child. I encourage Noel to be nice to her but I try to help Noel understand that not all people are nice. There are people who think that what you wear or the toys you have are what matters.
You know what I say? You have a lisp, mean girl. Go ahead and be nice one minute and then mock the second some poor girl's back is turned. I love to hear you say "Sthe is tho thtupid!" It makes my day.
Noel may not wear designer clothes. Her hair is not always impeccably coiffed. Sometimes it isn't even brushed. But she can say her esses.
Thuck on that.
Noel really, really wants this girl to like her. And she does, sometimes. She is fickle and moody and bossy. I do not like this child. I encourage Noel to be nice to her but I try to help Noel understand that not all people are nice. There are people who think that what you wear or the toys you have are what matters.
You know what I say? You have a lisp, mean girl. Go ahead and be nice one minute and then mock the second some poor girl's back is turned. I love to hear you say "Sthe is tho thtupid!" It makes my day.
Noel may not wear designer clothes. Her hair is not always impeccably coiffed. Sometimes it isn't even brushed. But she can say her esses.
Thuck on that.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sometimes I'm Not Very Nice
Get out your judging hats and prepare to look down on me, because I laughed at something inappropriate today and I'm going to tell you about it.
Mike had Pack Meeting tonight. For those of you unfamiliar with Scouts, that's the meeting once a month where the whole troop (?)--I'm not familiar with it, either--gets together. There is an activity, those who have earned badges receive said badges and then there are always refreshments of some kind.
Part of the activities for the evening was a "Getting To Know You" questionnaire that moms and scouts filled out together and then the leader read it in front of everyone and had the boys try to guess who it was. One of the questions was "What was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you?" Tonight there was a new boy. Well, he was new to me and Mike but we miss Scouts 90% of the time so maybe he's been there a while. Anyway, this new boy said that he didn't have an embarrassing moment. (Kinda makes you jealous, huh?) Further down the page was the question "Which movie could you watch over and over?" and this boy answered "Carebears".
Let's take a time out for a moment, shall we? I know that there are people who think that Carebears are gender neutral toys. We are not those people. Carebears are girl toys. Additionally, Michael is old enough now to recognize gender separation and to notice when things seem a bit out of whack in that area.
The leader kindly commented that she liked Carebears, too, to which the boy said that he had one at home. She asked him which one and he said, "Well, I actually have three."
At which point my older and therefore more superior (feeling) son leaned over and muttered, "That should have been his most embarrassing moment."
To my credit, I didn't laugh out loud. I'm pretty sure that I snorted, though. I wasn't laughing at the little boy, but at my son and his shrewd perspective. Sometimes I forget how mature he is and so when things like that pop out of his mouth I'm surprised.
Go ahead and judge. I'm just as sensitive as the next mom, but that was funny.
Mike had Pack Meeting tonight. For those of you unfamiliar with Scouts, that's the meeting once a month where the whole troop (?)--I'm not familiar with it, either--gets together. There is an activity, those who have earned badges receive said badges and then there are always refreshments of some kind.
Part of the activities for the evening was a "Getting To Know You" questionnaire that moms and scouts filled out together and then the leader read it in front of everyone and had the boys try to guess who it was. One of the questions was "What was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you?" Tonight there was a new boy. Well, he was new to me and Mike but we miss Scouts 90% of the time so maybe he's been there a while. Anyway, this new boy said that he didn't have an embarrassing moment. (Kinda makes you jealous, huh?) Further down the page was the question "Which movie could you watch over and over?" and this boy answered "Carebears".
Let's take a time out for a moment, shall we? I know that there are people who think that Carebears are gender neutral toys. We are not those people. Carebears are girl toys. Additionally, Michael is old enough now to recognize gender separation and to notice when things seem a bit out of whack in that area.
The leader kindly commented that she liked Carebears, too, to which the boy said that he had one at home. She asked him which one and he said, "Well, I actually have three."
At which point my older and therefore more superior (feeling) son leaned over and muttered, "That should have been his most embarrassing moment."
To my credit, I didn't laugh out loud. I'm pretty sure that I snorted, though. I wasn't laughing at the little boy, but at my son and his shrewd perspective. Sometimes I forget how mature he is and so when things like that pop out of his mouth I'm surprised.
Go ahead and judge. I'm just as sensitive as the next mom, but that was funny.
Friday, May 14, 2010
An Open Letter to All Husbands
Dear husbands,
We, the women of the world, would like to express our love, appreciation and adoration to you. You provide for us. You love us, even though you have seen us in the morning right after we wake up, you have listened to our not-so-lady-like breathing or (gasp!) snoring as we sleep and you have probably even seen us throw up. You deserve mad props. Who else was there in the delivery room being supportive and wiping sweat from our brows even though most of our hostility was directed toward you? No one. That's right. You are there for us, and we adore you.
However.
Girls' night is special. It is about going out with friends and forgetting that anyone who resides in the same home as us actually exists for a few hours. Our entire lives revolve around answering to the needs of others. Therefore, we do not find it unreasonable that once a month we are allowed to put number one, well, number one for a few hours. Multiple text messages or phone calls are not appreciated. Here are text messages that are acceptable to send while your wife is out with friends:
These helpful tips are not only important for your wife, but for the friends who accompany her. Our whole lives are full of interruptions. We cannot do a single thing in our daily lives without interruptions. Try to understand for a moment what this must feel like: you finally have a captive audience and you are about to speak the first full sentence that has passed your lips in over two weeks. You have just gotten the first three words out of your mouth when the cell phone of your listener chimes. The listener has to answer because, after all, family trumps friends.
Can you imagine it? Can you imagine how it would feel to finally have an evening away from laundry, bum wiping, fourth grade homework and interruptions only to find that all of that crap has followed you? I'll tell you what that's like. It's like a great steaming pile of disappointment.
In closing, we love you with all of our hearts. But come girls' night, leave us the hell alone. Your wife and her friends will thank you for it. And a happy, well rested, soul-fed wife is much more likely to come home interested in bed sports than a wife who has left her house only to find that her job has followed her.
Respectfully yours,
Every Damn Wife in the World
We, the women of the world, would like to express our love, appreciation and adoration to you. You provide for us. You love us, even though you have seen us in the morning right after we wake up, you have listened to our not-so-lady-like breathing or (gasp!) snoring as we sleep and you have probably even seen us throw up. You deserve mad props. Who else was there in the delivery room being supportive and wiping sweat from our brows even though most of our hostility was directed toward you? No one. That's right. You are there for us, and we adore you.
However.
Girls' night is special. It is about going out with friends and forgetting that anyone who resides in the same home as us actually exists for a few hours. Our entire lives revolve around answering to the needs of others. Therefore, we do not find it unreasonable that once a month we are allowed to put number one, well, number one for a few hours. Multiple text messages or phone calls are not appreciated. Here are text messages that are acceptable to send while your wife is out with friends:
- The house is on fire. Would you like me to save your shoes or your craft supplies first?
- Everything is just fine here at home. Take your time with your friends, enjoy yourself. I love you. This is the only message you'll hear from me.
These helpful tips are not only important for your wife, but for the friends who accompany her. Our whole lives are full of interruptions. We cannot do a single thing in our daily lives without interruptions. Try to understand for a moment what this must feel like: you finally have a captive audience and you are about to speak the first full sentence that has passed your lips in over two weeks. You have just gotten the first three words out of your mouth when the cell phone of your listener chimes. The listener has to answer because, after all, family trumps friends.
Can you imagine it? Can you imagine how it would feel to finally have an evening away from laundry, bum wiping, fourth grade homework and interruptions only to find that all of that crap has followed you? I'll tell you what that's like. It's like a great steaming pile of disappointment.
In closing, we love you with all of our hearts. But come girls' night, leave us the hell alone. Your wife and her friends will thank you for it. And a happy, well rested, soul-fed wife is much more likely to come home interested in bed sports than a wife who has left her house only to find that her job has followed her.
Respectfully yours,
Every Damn Wife in the World
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Somedays I'm Kinda Smart. Other Days, Not So Much
Seven years ago, I was a young mother and fledgling seamstress dying to make clothing for my young children. I decided upon a simple two-piece pajama set and picked out some fun fabrics.
I remember those pajamas with fondness. They were roomy enough that Mike was able to wear them for a couple of years. They were short sleeved with pants and made of a light cotton so they were suitable for both summer and winter. I accidentally made them too long so as he grew I let the pants down. I'm not sure who loved those pajamas more, me or Mike. By the time he was far too big to wear them any longer and they had to be retired, they were so worn that you could see the outline of his body through the fabric.
It was those pajamas that came to mind last week as I did the periodic clothes rotation that the seasons and growing children demand. Adam had outgrown most of his pajamas so I decided that I would make him a few pairs for his upcoming birthday. I even bought some fabric several months ago with the vague idea that I might one day turn it into jammies.
This morning found me in my sewing room, fondly reminiscing as I perused the box of every pattern I've ever purchased. There was the baby bunting I made for Noel. And there were the dragon and dragon-slayer Halloween costumes from when they were one and three.
I finally found the pajama pattern and pulled it out of the envelope to sort out the pieces that I would need.
I smiled to myself as I noticed the changes that several years of sewing have wrought. I used to carefully cut out every piece in the pattern, regardless of whether or not I actually planned on using it. Now I only cut out what I need, saving myself a lot of time that I used to waste cutting out patterns to projects I would never make.
I sorted through every piece, double checked, and then sorted again. There was every damn piece of that pattern except the ones I needed. Which leads me to assume that I threw them away!
I'm a minimalist kinda gal. If you're looking for knick knacks, keep looking because you won't find them at my house. My prom dress was simple enough that I wore it to church for years after I graduated from high school. I put my mother through endless stress because I wanted to rent instead of buy my wedding dress and I refused to get silk wedding flowers so that I could follow the tradition of keeping my wedding bouquet in a beautiful glass display case. (I left my fresh wedding flowers at the church, intending for them to be thrown away and my sneaky mother kept them, dried them and put them in a jar and gave them to me a few weeks later. It took several years before the guilt allowed me to fianlly throw them away.) My rule is this: "If it's not seasonal and you haven't used it in more than a month, you don't need it." Makes for some interesting, ah, conversations between me and my "saver" husband. But I digress.
Somewhere in that frugal little 24 year old brain of mine, I thought that it would make sense to throw away the only pieces of the pattern that I used and keep the rest. They were the key pieces so I can't even use the others, like the neck facing.
Turns out I was a big dummy even then. It's nice to know that some things never change.
I remember those pajamas with fondness. They were roomy enough that Mike was able to wear them for a couple of years. They were short sleeved with pants and made of a light cotton so they were suitable for both summer and winter. I accidentally made them too long so as he grew I let the pants down. I'm not sure who loved those pajamas more, me or Mike. By the time he was far too big to wear them any longer and they had to be retired, they were so worn that you could see the outline of his body through the fabric.
It was those pajamas that came to mind last week as I did the periodic clothes rotation that the seasons and growing children demand. Adam had outgrown most of his pajamas so I decided that I would make him a few pairs for his upcoming birthday. I even bought some fabric several months ago with the vague idea that I might one day turn it into jammies.
This morning found me in my sewing room, fondly reminiscing as I perused the box of every pattern I've ever purchased. There was the baby bunting I made for Noel. And there were the dragon and dragon-slayer Halloween costumes from when they were one and three.
I finally found the pajama pattern and pulled it out of the envelope to sort out the pieces that I would need.
I smiled to myself as I noticed the changes that several years of sewing have wrought. I used to carefully cut out every piece in the pattern, regardless of whether or not I actually planned on using it. Now I only cut out what I need, saving myself a lot of time that I used to waste cutting out patterns to projects I would never make.
I sorted through every piece, double checked, and then sorted again. There was every damn piece of that pattern except the ones I needed. Which leads me to assume that I threw them away!
I'm a minimalist kinda gal. If you're looking for knick knacks, keep looking because you won't find them at my house. My prom dress was simple enough that I wore it to church for years after I graduated from high school. I put my mother through endless stress because I wanted to rent instead of buy my wedding dress and I refused to get silk wedding flowers so that I could follow the tradition of keeping my wedding bouquet in a beautiful glass display case. (I left my fresh wedding flowers at the church, intending for them to be thrown away and my sneaky mother kept them, dried them and put them in a jar and gave them to me a few weeks later. It took several years before the guilt allowed me to fianlly throw them away.) My rule is this: "If it's not seasonal and you haven't used it in more than a month, you don't need it." Makes for some interesting, ah, conversations between me and my "saver" husband. But I digress.
Somewhere in that frugal little 24 year old brain of mine, I thought that it would make sense to throw away the only pieces of the pattern that I used and keep the rest. They were the key pieces so I can't even use the others, like the neck facing.
Turns out I was a big dummy even then. It's nice to know that some things never change.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
In Which I Ruminate On Newfound Ideas
The past year has been full of changes for me. I've experienced things that have forced me to challenge the way I live and think. I've had a lot of my ingrained beliefs about things turned upside down. It has been an interesting journey, to say the least. Things are still changing for me almost daily. I've become a different person in a lot of ways. I hope that the changes in me are for the better.
I've found how much I value humility. It's interesting to take a group of thoughts, pet peeves maybe, and shuffle them around, examine them, really get to the root of them and discover just why you have such strong feelings about them.
I have found that cockiness ruffles my feathers. A lot. Even if the person really is all that they claim to be, constantly reminding everyone of their ultimate superiority makes my opinion of them plummet. Listening to someone brag on and on about themselves is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me.
There is a profound difference between quiet pride in a job well done and peacockish arrogance. That difference is humility. There is nothing wrong with self confidence. For me, the line is crossed when it is repeatedly rubbed in my face how great a person is.
Conversely, it is refreshing to spend time with a person who, while aware of their strong points, is also conscious of their faults as well. No "I'm the best, blah, blah, blah", just humble confidence and realness.
On the other side of the coin, negative people are difficult for me to tolerate as well. I have a relative who one of my sisters refers to as Old Lady Gloom and Doom. It doesn't matter what sort of silver lining she has discovered, she will find a cloud to go with it. It may be prudent to be aware and prepared for life's unpleasant surprises, but there is much good to be found if one is willing to look.
I know that I do my fair share of complaining. Sometimes it's hard not to. I think that there is a difference between venting frustration or confiding fears and constantly complaining about how horrible life is. I have a facebook friend whose status updates are almost always complaints. Her teenaged son is making poor choices, the government has let her down, she threw out her back, the rain has made her depressed. I think that at least nine out of ten of her updates are negative. I commented about it to my husband and he asked "Why is she your friend?"
Good question.
Maybe it's time for a little pruning of the acquaintance tree. I don't think that there is much to be done there, as I already only associate with people that I enjoy being around. Maybe it's time for me to learn more tolerance and compassion. I have been guilty of arrogance and negativity. I know that these are the stronger traits that show instead of what is really behind them: fear, uncertainty and sadness.
People who don't know me well think that I'm very quiet. I think that a good number of people who do know me well think the same. I disagree, but that is most likely because I can hear my constant stream of thoughts so, to myself, I seem very obstreperous. I bring this up because I want to touch on the subject of opinions. I have them. You have them. Everyone thinks that their opinion is correct. That's kind of the point of them, you know? I don't mind hearing the opinions of others. Sometimes I ask to hear them. It's interesting to hear what other people think. I like to have my mind opened to other ways of thinking. Everyone is entitled.
However.
I do not appreciate having my opinion run down. Disagreed with? Okay. Like I said, you're entitled. But just because my opinion differs from yours does not make me stupid, deficient, uninformed or inferior to you in any way. I will listen to your opinion and then I will probably keep my mouth shut. Arguing my point will just use time and energy that I'm not willing to spend just to make myself feel worse.
My husband has told me that I need to stand up for myself more, and he's probably right. The problem is I don't usually realize that I should have defended myself until well after the incident has occurred. That usually happens later on as I'm reflecting the situation and how it made me feel. Then I think "I should have said something!"
I have become more vigilant. I am making sure that if someone says something out of line and I feel that correcting them or expressing myself is appropriate, I'll do it. Some of the people that I associate with say or do the same sort of thing over and over again so I even have things prepared to say for the next time they run me down.
If you're still with me, thanks for reading this little glimpse into the inner workings of my psyche. I find it fascinating how much I continue to learn and grow every day.
I'll step off of my soapbox now and maybe soon we'll get back to the sort of goofy poppycock that you have come to expect from me here.
Any fellow synesthetes out there?
I've found how much I value humility. It's interesting to take a group of thoughts, pet peeves maybe, and shuffle them around, examine them, really get to the root of them and discover just why you have such strong feelings about them.
I have found that cockiness ruffles my feathers. A lot. Even if the person really is all that they claim to be, constantly reminding everyone of their ultimate superiority makes my opinion of them plummet. Listening to someone brag on and on about themselves is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me.
There is a profound difference between quiet pride in a job well done and peacockish arrogance. That difference is humility. There is nothing wrong with self confidence. For me, the line is crossed when it is repeatedly rubbed in my face how great a person is.
Conversely, it is refreshing to spend time with a person who, while aware of their strong points, is also conscious of their faults as well. No "I'm the best, blah, blah, blah", just humble confidence and realness.
On the other side of the coin, negative people are difficult for me to tolerate as well. I have a relative who one of my sisters refers to as Old Lady Gloom and Doom. It doesn't matter what sort of silver lining she has discovered, she will find a cloud to go with it. It may be prudent to be aware and prepared for life's unpleasant surprises, but there is much good to be found if one is willing to look.
I know that I do my fair share of complaining. Sometimes it's hard not to. I think that there is a difference between venting frustration or confiding fears and constantly complaining about how horrible life is. I have a facebook friend whose status updates are almost always complaints. Her teenaged son is making poor choices, the government has let her down, she threw out her back, the rain has made her depressed. I think that at least nine out of ten of her updates are negative. I commented about it to my husband and he asked "Why is she your friend?"
Good question.
Maybe it's time for a little pruning of the acquaintance tree. I don't think that there is much to be done there, as I already only associate with people that I enjoy being around. Maybe it's time for me to learn more tolerance and compassion. I have been guilty of arrogance and negativity. I know that these are the stronger traits that show instead of what is really behind them: fear, uncertainty and sadness.
People who don't know me well think that I'm very quiet. I think that a good number of people who do know me well think the same. I disagree, but that is most likely because I can hear my constant stream of thoughts so, to myself, I seem very obstreperous. I bring this up because I want to touch on the subject of opinions. I have them. You have them. Everyone thinks that their opinion is correct. That's kind of the point of them, you know? I don't mind hearing the opinions of others. Sometimes I ask to hear them. It's interesting to hear what other people think. I like to have my mind opened to other ways of thinking. Everyone is entitled.
However.
I do not appreciate having my opinion run down. Disagreed with? Okay. Like I said, you're entitled. But just because my opinion differs from yours does not make me stupid, deficient, uninformed or inferior to you in any way. I will listen to your opinion and then I will probably keep my mouth shut. Arguing my point will just use time and energy that I'm not willing to spend just to make myself feel worse.
My husband has told me that I need to stand up for myself more, and he's probably right. The problem is I don't usually realize that I should have defended myself until well after the incident has occurred. That usually happens later on as I'm reflecting the situation and how it made me feel. Then I think "I should have said something!"
I have become more vigilant. I am making sure that if someone says something out of line and I feel that correcting them or expressing myself is appropriate, I'll do it. Some of the people that I associate with say or do the same sort of thing over and over again so I even have things prepared to say for the next time they run me down.
If you're still with me, thanks for reading this little glimpse into the inner workings of my psyche. I find it fascinating how much I continue to learn and grow every day.
I'll step off of my soapbox now and maybe soon we'll get back to the sort of goofy poppycock that you have come to expect from me here.
Any fellow synesthetes out there?
Friday, April 2, 2010
A Profound Lesson in an Unexpected Place
A couple of days ago, Morgan took the two older kids with him to run some errands. Mike had Scouts and Noel went along because, well, let's just say that Mommy needed her to go be with her daddy. Adam caught on that they were leaving just as they were walking out the door and decided that he wanted to go with them. By that time, it was too late to wait for him to get ready to go with them and as the door closed he began to cry.
I picked him up to try to calm him but he would have none of it. I tried my full bag of tricks. "Let's go read a story." "Where is your train? Do you want to play with your train?" "Ooh, look! SpongeBob is on!" "Do you want a cookie?" All I succeeded in doing was making him cry and scream even louder.
So I threw up my hands and walked away. I do that sometimes. I figure if nothing that I'm doing is helping, it's better for there to be distance between me and the tantrum or else pretty soon I'll be on the floor kicking and screaming, too.
I went about my business, tidying the house, folding laundry and keeping Jack out of trouble. Adam screamed and cried for thirty straight minutes, I am not even kidding. Finally, on one of my trips through the living room, I glanced over to where he was laying on the couch. He had reached that point in crying when his breath was coming in big gulping hiccups between each wail. The look on his face was one of such anguish that it literally stopped me where I stood. My kind Heavenly Father chose that moment to offer some gentle teaching. I was reminded of the times that I had found myself in the depths of despair - lonely, hopeless, and wishing for any sort of comfort. I remembered the times that I had literally begged through prayer for Him to send someone to me. "Please let someone call me or knock on my door. I need some comfort right now!"
I was humbled. I offered a quick prayer of repentant thankfulness and then gathered up my sweet little boy in my arms. We sat together on the couch, snuggled under his favorite blanket. I "sshhhed" and whispered calming things into his baby soft hair. He squirmed around until he finally found a comfortable spot on my lap and soon his cries had quieted into an occasional hiccup. After cuddling for about fifteen minutes, he climbed off of my lap and went into his room to play with his little brother.
I stayed on the couch and pondered what had happened. How many times have I pleaded for help and then had that plea answered? How many times have those within my sphere of influence, my children especially, pleaded for help, only to have me place my needs and desires ahead of others?
Sometimes as a mother you really do need to walk away. Sometimes it really is best to get some space between you and the child who is misbehaving. But I had passed the crisis point and was just ignoring him because he was irritating. There was nothing keeping me from offering him the comfort that he needed and which I was capable of giving except my own selfishness.
I marvel sometimes at the times and places in which my Heavenly Father chooses to teach me. It was a lesson I'll not soon forget.
I picked him up to try to calm him but he would have none of it. I tried my full bag of tricks. "Let's go read a story." "Where is your train? Do you want to play with your train?" "Ooh, look! SpongeBob is on!" "Do you want a cookie?" All I succeeded in doing was making him cry and scream even louder.
So I threw up my hands and walked away. I do that sometimes. I figure if nothing that I'm doing is helping, it's better for there to be distance between me and the tantrum or else pretty soon I'll be on the floor kicking and screaming, too.
I went about my business, tidying the house, folding laundry and keeping Jack out of trouble. Adam screamed and cried for thirty straight minutes, I am not even kidding. Finally, on one of my trips through the living room, I glanced over to where he was laying on the couch. He had reached that point in crying when his breath was coming in big gulping hiccups between each wail. The look on his face was one of such anguish that it literally stopped me where I stood. My kind Heavenly Father chose that moment to offer some gentle teaching. I was reminded of the times that I had found myself in the depths of despair - lonely, hopeless, and wishing for any sort of comfort. I remembered the times that I had literally begged through prayer for Him to send someone to me. "Please let someone call me or knock on my door. I need some comfort right now!"
I was humbled. I offered a quick prayer of repentant thankfulness and then gathered up my sweet little boy in my arms. We sat together on the couch, snuggled under his favorite blanket. I "sshhhed" and whispered calming things into his baby soft hair. He squirmed around until he finally found a comfortable spot on my lap and soon his cries had quieted into an occasional hiccup. After cuddling for about fifteen minutes, he climbed off of my lap and went into his room to play with his little brother.
I stayed on the couch and pondered what had happened. How many times have I pleaded for help and then had that plea answered? How many times have those within my sphere of influence, my children especially, pleaded for help, only to have me place my needs and desires ahead of others?
Sometimes as a mother you really do need to walk away. Sometimes it really is best to get some space between you and the child who is misbehaving. But I had passed the crisis point and was just ignoring him because he was irritating. There was nothing keeping me from offering him the comfort that he needed and which I was capable of giving except my own selfishness.
I marvel sometimes at the times and places in which my Heavenly Father chooses to teach me. It was a lesson I'll not soon forget.
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