Not My Child

While playing Cranium with friends, a toy suddenly came crashing down from the loft, hitting two people in the head. While the irony on the body part that was hurt in relation to the name of the game was not lost on anyone, our first reaction was to find out where it came from. Immediately, without taking a moment to look around, I yelled, "Who did that?"

Now, we were at someone else's house with at least six little kids running around. I just assumed it was one of mine who made the grave mistake of flinging a toy over the half wall, which explains my "mom voice." However, once I took the moment to look around, I realized my daughter was sitting nicely, playing with play-doh and Caleb was right next to me.

Yes, I am super observant.

I felt awful when I realized it was someone else's child. As if the mom did not feel bad enough-she had to have me yell at her kid first. Thankfully, she was so busy apologizing to the injured that she did not mind my "mom voice" shouting out above the group.

What is kind of sad is that once I realized it was another child, I felt bad for him. He did not mean to hurt anyone and, let's be honest-throwing toys over a loft is just way too tempting for a kid. However, if it was my child, he or she would immediately be in trouble and I would feel no sympathy.

Hmm. Glad my Father is full of more grace than I am.

Prayer Changes Everything

Caleb has really enjoyed praying these days. In the past, he has been content to sit back and just make distracting noises while Abby would lead us in prayer. It did not matter if it was at dinner time or at bedtime-he was very creative with his theatrics.

Now (instead of laughing, making farting noises, playing with loud toys, or just simply making a long, loud sound), he volunteers quickly to be the first one to pray. Who ever invented, "Open, shut them, open, shut them, give a little clap, clap, clap. Open, shut them, open, shut them, fold them in your lap" was a genius.

Tonight, as he sweetly folded his hands in prayer and bowed his head, it brought a smile to my face. One can almost forget the day of fighting, arguing and stubborness when faced with child-like faith. What I found amusing on this particular night was that in the middle of his prayer, Nick thought it was the end and said, "Amen." Caleb immediately broke out of his innocent trance and yelled, "I didn't thank Him for Uncle Billy's birthday, yet!" and then quickly bowed his head and continued on in a whisper.

Well, okay then. Excuse us.

While I tried to explain that it is hard to believe one's sincerity in prayer when he or she yells at another person in the midst of it, it dawned on me that I do that very thing all the time. All the time.

I may sing my worship songs in church and really feel in the moment, but then seconds later start complaining to Nick about how hungry I am and how long the service is taking. I may really pray for my neighbors, but spend a lot of my conversations with them complaining and gossiping. I may stay at home for the benefit of my children, but then spend a lot of my days wishing I was doing something "meaningful." I may play the Good Samaritan and help the woman in the car crash I mentioned earlier, but then go right back to cursing the moronic drivers around me.

And these little blessings watch it all. Should I be surprised when they treat prayer like another thing to do that does not need to change their attitude?

(And P.S. to Uncle Billy-the kids are probably more excited about your 21st birthday than you are!)

Morning Accident

I was slightly annoyed with the truck in front of me. I was driving down Roundbottom Road after taking Abby to school, really wishing I could go faster. It is one of those rare back roads in Cincinnati where you can finally speed a little bit. However, sometimes you get behind one of those rule abiding drivers who stick with a steady 40 mph. This morning I was behind one of those such drivers.

As we approached the intersection where I turn left, I was thrilled to see that he was continuing on going straight. Our light was green, he kept going and I slowed down to make sure no one was coming straight from the other direction.

I am very, very thankful that I slowed down. And I am very, very thankful that I was behind that truck.

As he continued on through the intersection, a car came straight through from my left, thinking her light was green as well. This resulted in a huge crash.

Thankfully they were okay, except for a few bruises and some soreness. Her car was smoking, items had flown out from the trunk onto the opposite side of the road, every piece of it was smashed and his truck was not looking much better. After I called 911, the other witness and myself waited around for the police to show up.

It is situations like this where you really see human character.

While the other witness and I shared what we saw and made sure the drivers were okay, another nice man stopped and helped direct traffic around the crash site. He was doing the best he could, trying to give everyone a turn in order. There we all were-glass everywhere, two shaken up people with only strangers to comfort them and a smiling man trying to help other drivers. And what does this lady in her white SUV do? She rolls down her window, rudely yells, "Excuse me! You just let all those people go and I'm still sitting here!"

Un-freaking-believable.

What is wrong with people? Was that woman so self-involved that she thought waiting for an extra 30 seconds was the worst thing to happen to anyone that day? We all just stood there, completely shocked. The names everyone wanted to call her finally came to mind as she drove on her merry way.

Anyway, the police finally showed up, took our statements, and then Caleb and I continued on home. My heart hurts especially for that woman, since it was most likely her fault. I had helped her pick up the stroller that went flying and noticed the car seats in the back, thankful that her kids were not in the car with her.

It all happens in a second. A split second. And when tragedy hits, it is a blessing to have caring people around. Thankfully, the SUV woman was not a witness to the accident. Something tells me her report would have been all about her and how this crash messed up her morning routine.

I guarantee it already did and that is the story she is telling others right now. What a rough morning for the dear woman. I sincerely hope she gets help.

Little Drummer Boy

I was less than thrilled when one of our local Christian radio stations began playing Christmas music the week before Halloween. Starting a little before Thanksgiving I can understand. But, in October? Come on. I love Christmas music, but it loses its luster when overplayed. How can I hear, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" when I am still wearing flip-flops?

My children are the opposite. Every time we get in the car, they request "the Christmas station." Caleb, in particular, always wants to hear "Little Drummer Boy." And not just any version of that song, but the one that "has the dings." If any other singer or band (nice try Jars of Clay) attempts to sing it different from the original version, Caleb demands we turn it off. My son loves to hear the choir of women singing the song slowly with bells dinging in the background.

At least he has an ear for music.

I suppose I can be forgiving of this particular radio station. After all, they did allow me to win free tickets to the David Crowder Band concert last weekend. Not only that, but while we were there, they also gave us his new album for free. I believe my chances of winning must have been high because so many people turned off their station in refusal to listen to the non-stop Christmas music. (I base this on the boos the DJ received when she asked the crowd how they were enjoying the Christmas music being played early.)

So, thank you Caleb and your "Little Drummer Boy" song request-you kept us listening to the station that gave us our tickets.

My Rant

I am exhausted.

I thought it was difficult when Abby was two years old. She started to test and defy me about little things just to see how much she could get away with. Then she turned three and I realized it should be called the terrible threes, not twos.

Caleb has been my little sweetie all this time. But, again, now that he is three years old, the rebellion is in full force. He actually laughs when he gets in trouble. Now, when Nick is the one dishing out the discipline, it is hard not to giggle at that cute little boy laughing at his Daddy's attempts (for some reason, Daddy does not appreciate our sense of humor). But, when I am in charge, the little grin does not work with me.

At least if it were just one of them I could handle it. However, we made the brilliant decision to be fruitful and multiply and now I am outnumbered all day.

My mind is so tired from hearing Abby's typical girl whining about every little thing. And the arguing is ridiculous. It has been five years-one would think she would figure it out by now-she is not going to win! And now her shadow of a brother is copying the same attitude. The other day, I actually heard the phrase "But cleaning up is boring" uttered from both of them in the same minute.

Oh really? Because I am just beyond thrilled when I go out and clean houses for other families.

And thank you to whoever invented this blessed holiday of Halloween. What a delightful tradition to force on parents-have the kids go house to house, collecting enough candy to last for a year. It is a joy to have them beg every day all day "Can I have a piece of candy, please?!"

Funny how their manners are in full force when they want something.

The fighting between these two has got to stop. Each battle follows the same pattern-Abby is playing with something...she verbally brags about it, loudly, in front of her brother...Caleb immediately grabs the coveted item...Abby screams at the top of her lungs like she is in physical pain...she chases her little brother...they wrestle each other to the ground...she cries out for me, "Mommy-Caleb won't get off of me!"...I reply, "He's three-push him off!"...I eventually give up on whatever task I am attempting to accomplish and break up the fight.

At least this is a short season of life-they will not be this age forever. Oh wait-they will turn into teenagers. Great.

Reading Girl

Caleb and I picked up some library books last week. I found a few that I thought Abbby would enjoy, which she immediately started reading in the car on the way home from school. Normally, by reading I mean looking at the pictures and figuring out what is happening. However, this time, it meant actually reading!

Yes, my just turned five-year old started reading!

I heard her say a few phrases that were not familiar so I grabbed the book and held it while she read it to me (always a safe idea while driving the car). She read "I love my new toy" by Mo Willems (love his books) with only needing help on two words. With my face twisted into a combination of dropped jaw and huge smile, I kept listening while she finished the story that she had never heard before.

When did this happen? How is my baby girl reading a book by herself? And does this mean Nick and I cannot spell things in front of her when we do not want her to know what we are talking about?

Abby, when you read this someday (which clearly will not be long from now), know that I am so proud of you!

Someday

My kids are suddenly looking old to me. Okay, so they are only three and five years old, but still-they are no longer babies and every day they appear more grown-up.

Yesterday, it struck me that my little baby boy is suddenly a "little boy." He woke up, used the potty right away and for the rest of the day, he spoke to me with perfect English. Granted, the kid has always had a nice vocabulary because his sister never stops talking. But, it was in the way he was speaking. Nick noticed it, too. The way he formed his thoughts and sentences showed me the baby part is now long gone.

I also realized that Abby, my little baby girl Abby, will be able to go to Music Camp as a camper in five years (four years if we use our higher up connections). Five years? I remember going there as a first time camper and not feeling young. My third year there I had my first kiss (thanks for paying to send me to a Christian camp, Mom and Dad!). Seriously-wasn't Abby just born?

I have always heard older adults speak of how quickly time goes, but I always wrote it off as one of those things that old people say. I am a young 32 and hear I am saying it-time goes by so fast that I feel like I am missing most of it.

I have not been helping the situation but always thinking about the "somedays." Someday, the kids will both be in school and I will be able to work and make more money. Someday, we will finally be done with diapers in this house. Someday, my kids will be more independent and not rely on me so much. Someday, I can have some freedom and not spend my days breaking up fights over toys.

Someday...

What am I doing? My priority should be the now. I have been blessed with these little crying-fighting-complaining bundles of joy. I need to slow down and start enjoying these precious moments that will suddenly pass me by.