Tag: Raising Kids

Intentional . . .

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Intentional Parenting 400pxThis isn’t my normal posting day, but I have news and I’m too excited to not share with you all. I’m starting a new venture blogging and editing for the brand new Dove Parenting Blog. It’s for The Dove Foundation, which is an amazing non-profit that works to help parents make intelligent decisions about the media kids consume. They’re kind of the originators of the concept and have Hollywood’s ear.

While the Dove Parenting Blog is a lot more “mommy blog” than what I do here, there’s a lot of cross-over. The blog is all about being an intentional parent and helping other parents on that path too. Being intentional about our lives in general is what makes it possible for us to uncover beauty–pretty or not. See, it’s connected.

So for any parents out there, feel free to pop over and check out Dove’s blog, spread the word, and let me know what you think.

There’s Something About Thursday: A Mother’s Hands

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It’s time for one of the two Thursdays of every month where I give a nod to the things that make us stop and say, “There’s something about . . .”

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It was 4 am and my son had a stomachache. We’d already been up together for hours trying to find something, anything to help relieve the pain. At 1 and then again at 3:30 we tried warm bath, which temporarily helped, but we couldn’t sleep there. Ice pack only made it worse, a warm rice bag prevented tears, until it cooled . . . and still no sleep. Even vomiting an hour earlier didn’t relieve his tear-filled, curled-in pain.

I sat wedged in a corner, exhausted, cradling my boy’s head, thumb tracing down his face—forehead to nose, forehead to nose. My boy’s eyelids drooped as he whimpered and grabbed my hand. His small hands still dimpled at the knuckles, mine starting to show the ridges of age.

I was struck by the familiar sight. This fusion of old and young is one I’d seen before. Continue reading “There’s Something About Thursday: A Mother’s Hands” →

Trust, Sweat, and Tears

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Trust, Sweat, TearsI sat on the edge of my son’s bed, hands shaking, stomach roiling at the thought of what I had to do. String thread through my fingers, a loop hung in the middle.

His eyes were wide, tears brimming. It had to be done and there was no one else to do it.

The only reason my son sat still as I reached into his mouth, was because he trusted that I loved him . . . and it was, after all, only a tooth that needed to be pulled. Continue reading “Trust, Sweat, and Tears” →

There’s Something About Thursday: Ode to Snowmageddon

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SnowmageddonBecause there’s just something about snow…

In honor of the snowmageddon* that has descended upon Michigan and graced us with a much-needed snow day, I give you:

The Snowman**

Rigid arms and legs
Six-sided spokes on a delicate wheel
Turning, twisting, charging to the ground
Embracing the waiting sisters
White and smooth in anticipation of being
Collected, rolled, and piled
Sculpted circles stacked
Decorated with stones, carrots, sticks and topped
With a lopsided hat***

*This is what we call 10 inches or more of snow received in 2 days time . . . particularly when it is wedged between balmy 50 degree days.
Please note: If you live in a warm climate, please refrain from commenting so here. We know you enjoy your warmth. We don’t need to be reminded that we are slightly crazy. And because we are slightly unhinged by the wild swing in weather, we might just contract an alligator to attack your front door (if you don’t recognize the reference, please check your Facebook memes. It is, apparently why we live in a place where the air makes our faces hurt.)
**If we’re honest, this is what we all hope our children will be building during their snow day so as not to be attempting to kill one another . . . or the dog, he’s just an innocent bystander. I will, in all honesty, be out building said snowman with them. Because I’m crazy like that. But only I can call myself crazy. I do have that alligator on speed dial. See above if you are confused.
***This most likely belongs to one of the neighbor kids, but I found it in the garage three weeks ago. Since my kids have left theirs somewhere (only the good Lord knows where), it will have to do. Hopefully it isn’t full of critters now making their home in my kids’ hair.

There’s Something about Thursday: Two Ways to a Better Home Life

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There’s Something about Thursday: Two Ways to a Better Home Life

Changing the way you look at your daily life, because there’s something about the way you think.

It’s Thursday, the day we stop and wonder, giving a nod to the things that make us stop and say, “There’s something about . . . “

 

2 Ways to a Better LifeA quick trip through the medical research in cyberspace will have you convinced that your brain is an amazing creation. Extremely powerful.

In addition to keeping your body functioning, there is research that proves a correlation between positive thinking and lower stress, healthier bodies, etc. All done with your brain. Who knew?

But positive thinking is a little easier said than done when you try and bring it home. Continue reading “There’s Something about Thursday: Two Ways to a Better Home Life” →

There’s Something About Bravery

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BraveryAwhile back, I spent the weekend with a good friend who had moved away and some other women who I didn’t know well, but I still consider friends.

We spent a lot of time telling the stories of our lives. I didn’t think about it at the time, but, as I look back, I’m struck with how brave each of these women were and are.

Several traveled with friends when they were young. One moved out when she was seventeen. One scuba dived with sharks.

If I had asked them to tell me about the bravest thing they’d ever done, they would have told those stories.

But what captured me wasn’t the exciting actions of their youth, but how they dealt with the junk life inevitably deals out: Continue reading “There’s Something About Bravery” →

When Fine Isn’t Fine

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IMG_4106I sat in church the other day and listened to folks talk to the brand new mom behind me.

“How is it going?” “Fine.” “She looks like such a good baby.” No response, but a small smile from the mom.

And when they left she breathed to her husband, “What else am I supposed to say?”

Tears filled my eyes. I hate the word fine.
Fine says nothing.
It’s neither here . . .
Nor there.

Fine makes it easy to hide.

How are you doing? Fine. When life is slipping through your fingers. Fine. When you’re barely keeping panic from exploding your chest. Fine. I look fine. Feel fine. The day is fine, thank you very much.
Continue reading “When Fine Isn’t Fine” →

Kids, Books, and Censorship, Oh My!

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Kids, Books, & CensorshipI went to the public library with my kids the other day. It’s one of my favorite places—the smell, the hushed reverence, and oh the books. Glorious books!

But I have an increasing frustration, not with the library, but with finding age-appropriate books that would also fill the school’s requirements for difficulty-level, inclusion in computer-generated tests, etc.

I feel like I am lacking a specialized degree in book selection.

I’m amazed at what levels my first-grade son is required to achieve, even when compared to what his big sister did just a few years ago.

It’s incredible. But along with the chapter-book-reading first graders comes an increasingly bigger issue—how do we find age appropriate, challenging, engaging books for our kids? If they’re reading what used to be a second grade book in early first grade, what happens when they’re in fifth grade?

I’m fully aware that I’m rather protective when it comes to my child’s mind, but I think we can all agree that a ten-year-old shouldn’t be reading what is meant for a sixteen-year-old.

Despite what we may have been told, what our kids read matters.

Continue reading “Kids, Books, and Censorship, Oh My!” →

Beautifully Diverse

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trail-of-tearsMy daughter is studying the Native Americans in social studies. This week her class started studying the Eastern Woodland Indians, specifically the Cherokee. This amazing people group assimilated into the European colonies and, in many ways, looked exactly like their neighbors.

But they weren’t. They were different.

And that difference allowed people’s greed for gold to forcibly remove the Cherokee and other Native Americans from their land, enduring disease, exposure, and starvation. The Trail of Tears.

When I told my girl the story of the Cherokee, she stared at me, confusion pulling her eyebrows together.

“Why?”

In her wide-eyed innocence, “Why?”

Why, indeed?

You see, my girl is an artist and she understands that in art, in beauty, contrast and difference is celebrated and encouraged. That which makes something different, is core to making it beautiful. Continue reading “Beautifully Diverse” →