what to do with this child

She's cute.  Oh. so. cute.

My favorites are the snuggly moments.  Moments that make my heart swell so that I wonder if it will erupt.  In those moments, her eyes shine and sparkle, her smile lights up a room, her laughter is contagious.  

She has the ability to stop strangers in their tracks to watch her dance and sing and listen to her story.  Each one feels compelled to say "She's adorable, or sooo cute, or beautiful."  She is all of these things.

Teachers say, "We love having her in our classroom.  She is so creative and bright.  Her stories are amazing and she brings such energy.  The other children just respond to her."

Grandparents pause lovingly at the very sight of her.  Then they shake their heads, smiling all the while.  One usually says, "she is something."  And everyone agrees.

It seems the world stands still on its axis when she arrives.  Every eye drawn to see the beauty, grace, entertainer, and story teller that is Pie.

There is another side of her though that rises abruptly, unforeseen.  This side emerges at home, in public, and in quite unpredictable ways.  The world stops just the same, but this scene is challenging, trying, emotional, and ugly.

Tears that come in anticipation of being told 'no,' screaming that erupts because she understands the day to be something it is not, hitting because she's not getting her way, and lashing out with mean, hurtful statements that make my blood run cold.

In fact, as I write this she has just finished her bath.  A playful scene full of imaginative stories starring her naked dolls swimming next to her in the tub.  Papa has asked her to dry herself off and get dressed.  A blood curdling scream: "I can't."  Startling.  Tears, throwing.  This from the girl who toasted and buttered her own bagels for breakfast.

These moments leave me and Papa feeling helpless, unable to respond, out of control.  These moments are compounded by our own anger and the vulnerable, sensitive reactions of her older siblings.  Dinners spoiled, family time unraveled, the best memories muted.

I know these behaviors to come from her attempt to move from baby to big girl, yet longing to stay baby in some ways.  I know these behaviors to come from not feeling heard.  I know these behaviors to come from intellect beyond her maturity.  

Though, these behaviors scare me.  When she hurts another.  When she destroys a thing.  When I can't help her understand.  When I can't anticipate her expectations.  When I can't calm her down.  When she's pushed both me and Papa to exasperation. 

Are you a mother who has had experience with a spirited child?  How have you met her needs without sacrificing the needs of everyone else? How do you find a balance between setting limits and allowing a child to find their own?  What words of wisdom can you offer?

I'm thankful for the sweet moments for they come more frequently than the challenging ones.  I just want to understand the challenging ones, too.

teaching death

A difficult title, I know.

It's been a tough weekend for my children.  First, the disappointing news that we wouldn't be able to go to a promised opening night of a much anticipated movie.  I know this seems trivial, but for my oldest, this was a BIG deal.  He sobbed, but listened to the alternatives and graciously pulled himself together to make a good, yet difficult decision.  It was a big moment.

Though, the difficult news expanded into his evening as we put him to bed and noticed his pet fish of two years was swimming erratically in the tank.  The end was near.  Again, the emotional tears followed by questions.  We agreed to pray - him for his fish to live, me for his fish to not suffer and pass quickly.  A familiar and opposing prayer for anyone who has lost someone they love.

A few nights ago we talked about my grandfather.  It would have been his birthday, how many years I am not sure.  I shared this with my son and he asked me to tell him more.  My grandfather was a kind and funny man.  He LOVED his grandchildren.  I remember the walks to the ice cream store, the pasta dinners at his home, and football - on television, at the stadium.  He spoiled us well.

My son's remark - I wish I could meet him.  My reply, Someday you will meet him - in heaven.  

He continued, My teacher (at a church program) told me that we wouldn't go to heaven if we don't believe in Jesus.  My heart sank.  

There are lots of folks that believe that, I said, but I don't.  I believe God loves us all and will bring us all home to heaven.  He liked that idea and settled.

Tonight, we buried our fish friend and closed that chapter.  As we walked back to the house we saw a rainbow.  My son exclaimed, maybe the rainbow is good luck, Mom.

Maybe, I replied.

A Challenge

Dear readers,

Lest you should be pining for a post, I wanted to let you know that I will be away for a few days.  I wish I could say this trip was about relaxing and vacationing, but this annual family reunion is not the kind of thing I call relaxing.  Lots and lots of people, crowded into small spaces, no place to retreat and no place to re-energize.  For an introvert like me, this can be a real challenge.

The thing is, I like the people we will see - just not all at once!  For years, I've prepared my mind and heart to exhibit some patience and tolerance and every year I fail miserably - making a fool of myself at least once.  But, I will not give up because this weekend is so important to my husband and to my mother-in-law.  I love them dearly and want, for them, for this weekend to be positively memorable each and every year.

While I'm away, I'd love a prayer or moment of thought or well wishes my way so that I can make their dream weekend come true!  Wish me luck!

Blowing Bubbles

As I write this evening, I hear loud sobbing from the bedroom next door.  My three-year-old decided to throw away her "binky" tonight (we hid it, knowing better than to really throw it in the trash).  In my mind, her binky is a reasonable coping mechanism that allows her some self soothing. When she's ready, she'll really say goodbye.  There are fights worth fighting, but this is not one of them.

This is where my husband and I do not agree.  He's lying next to her in bed hoping that his presence will eventually provide the same comfort and she'll fall asleep.  I'd put my money on her!

In the same room is a terrified six-year-old little girl whose been having nightmares.  Really Scary Nightmares.  And despite her thumb sucking, she has not been able to calm or sooth herself as of late.  She's taken to sitting in a reclining chair in our room, trying with all her might to keep her eyes open so that she won't see the strangers again.  She's been waking with a tremble and shakes as she tries to wake me or my husband for comfort.

We learned a little trick that goes something like this:

"Take a deep breath in.  Imagine or see the strangers or the things that scare you.  Blow them out of your mind, through your mouth, and into a BIG bubble.  Slowly blow that bubble bigger and bigger.  When all the bad and scary thoughts are trapped in your bubble, quickly seal the bubble."

"OK.  Let's get ready to bat that bubble into space - far, far away.  Ready?  1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . ."(pretend to throw it in the air and bat it into space).

"Now, imagine God.  What does he look like to you?"

"Baby Jesus," says the littlest one.

"The stars in the sky," says the biggest one.

"Big hands holding me," offers Mommy.

"Take a big breath in and see your God wrapping you tight and keeping you safe."

May all your fears and all your worry find their way into bubbles and fly far, far away!

Expectations

Yesterday, there was a story here about a tough personnel decision I need to make.  Having written, prayed, meditated, and talked through with others, I've come to a decision.  I felt compelled to remove my post, however, because the person involved would have been clearly identifiable.  In fairness, I didn't want to take that risk.

Thank you to those of you who listened, understood, advised, commented, and supported me.  You are much appreciated!

Worry

Today's Gospel lesson was from Matthew in which he tells us not to worry.  Unfortunately, like many women and most mom's, this is something I do very well - worry that is!  I've come to believe that worry, for me, is rooted in a fear of losing control. 

Sometimes I worry over work things (how will this program reflect my office, am I making a difference in the lives of students). 

Sometimes I worry about my children (that's dangerous, I don't want you to get hurt, don't say that, it's mean). 

Sometimes I worry about my faith (do I know what I believe, how does this all fit together). 

And sometimes, those fears collide (am I working too much or spending enough time with my kids, what will my children believe about God when they grow up)

Oh, and the list goes on and on....  We are good worriers!

I have found, though, that we can comfort ourselves and move away from our worry.  A child psychologist once told me that we can look at worry as a "worry monster" who lives inside our heads or our bellies.  Our worry monster is always trying to trick and bully us.  And we need to take charge of our worry monster. 

In our home, we have weapons that have been proven to slow down that worry monster.  For starters, breathing is one of the most powerful weapons we have.  We take in a deep breath so as to prepare for the largest monster bubble ever!  Then we slowly blow that bubble (careful not to blow too fast so that the bubble doesn't pop) and we throw that monster-in-a-bubble to the moon.  It works like a charm.

Here are some other weapons from our home:







The soft, worn corner of a blanket...



A thumb...



Some of us need more weapons than others...

A gift from my daughter before surgery which turned round and round in my hands until the time to go.