Summertime and the Living is Easy...I hope

My beautiful husband and I are taking a vacation next week! Woo-stinkin-Hoo! I am beyond excited. We are going to the Eastern Shore; Assateague, Chincoteague, Cape Charles, and who knows where else.  We are taking the kids CAMPING for four nights at Kiptopeke State Park.

You read right, we are taking our 5 year old Noah and our 2 year old Maia tent camping. And I am not scared, not in the least. I am excited about it. Something about camping just does it for me. I love to be outside, I love trees and campfire and wind blowing through my tent and having nature’s symphony lull me to sleep. I love packing for camping, and I love setting up camp. I love making order of the chaos and living simply.

 

Granted, we are car camping at a state park, so we will have electricity and bathrooms and showers very close by, so we are not roughing it in the slightest, but there is still something exhilarating about meeting the challenge of having to cook food on an open fire and wash clothes and dishes in a bathroom sink and having everything we need packed up in the trunk of my car to survive outside for the better part of a week.  When we get there and set up camp, and begin living outdoors, and we meet our first obstacle, and I have packed something which becomes the solution, I seriously get a high from that, it’s disturbing really.

 

 

And so I have been packing since Monday. We leave Sunday after church, today is Friday and we are just over halfway packed. Oh, well, you know, I had to create a Camping! Board on Pinterest, and fill it with awesome ideas about camping and what-to-do-with-your-toddler-while-camping, then I had to implement about 5 out of 300 of those suggestions.  So now the kids are packed, and our swimming/rain bag is packed, and our kitchen/bathroom/Campsite boxes are packed.  We still have to pack ourselves and kids’ toys and pack a cooler with groceries. What’s that you say? Of course I planned the menu already! But we are only planning to cook about 6 meals, since I figure it will rain some and we won’t be able to get a good fire going, so we will have to eat out (tough life).

The best part about camping is that we grow closer each time. We make memories each time. We are forced to talk. Phones, TVs, movies, these are no longer a part of our relational process. We are forced to find things to do with each other or die of boredom.  I am especially excited that Maia is coming this year. It will be her first year camping. Noah has gone each year since he was 18 months old.  He loves the dirt, and loves to find “treasures” when we hike, and generally and sincerely picked up a respect and admiration for nature, I like to think as a result of those trips, although it may just be engrained in him.

Maia, however, is a bit prissier by nature. She doesn’t spend as much time outside and is generally whinier and harder to please than Noah.  I have packed paint and we will gather and paint rocks and make art out of them and take pictures of it. I have printed out a leaf identification guide and we will have contests about who can gather the most different leaf types for a prize.  We will have a scavenger hunt, swim in the Bay, climb the lighthouse, hike trails, and I even planned for some spontaneity.

I hear its going to rain, but that doesn’t scare me much. We have rain gear packed, and we will just prepare to be wet. We are going to make the most of this week. We are going to listen to each other, really listen. And we will make memories. I will relax and play and relax and read and relax. I can’t wait. I'm already salivating over the stories to come...pictures to follow*!

 

*I vow not to be so engrossed in capturing the memories that I don't live in them. I will put down the camera and focus on my family.

3 When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, 4 what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? 5 You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. 6 You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet: 7 all flocks and herds, and the beasts of the field, 8 the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas. 9 O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!   

~Psalm 8:3-9

 

 

Responding Well

I never know if I am doing it right, parenting. I miss the precious ones when I am at work, and (if I’m being real, here) I wish they’d find something constructive to do by themselves when I am home. But one thing I know, if I respond (not react, respond) from my heart rather than with my reflex-emotion, it somehow always seems to be ok.

 Last night’s teachable moment during bath time goes like this:

 

{Maia screams and runs to me, crying. I go find Noah, the assumed perpetrator}

ME:  What happened?
NOAH:  I pulled sissy’s hair.

ME:  Do you think she liked it?

NOAH:  No.

ME:  Then why’d you do it?

(A few minutes go by; I’m mulling it over trying to figure out the best way to deal with this physical offense when Noah gives me the perfect opportunity)

NOAH:  Am I having a good day, mommy? (Obviously looking for some praise or positive reinforcement)

ME:  Well, you were having a very good day, and it made mommy happy. But then, with one bad decision, you changed the way your day was going. But it didn’t just change YOUR day, it changed Maia’s day. She was happy before you pulled her hair, and now her feelings are hurt and she is sad and angry. But that is not all, it also changed mommy’s day…do you think I like to give you consequences? I don’t. But now I have to think of what consequence to give you, which makes my day worse. Do you understand?

NOAH:  (Obviously upset and genuinely remorseful) Yes. I’m sorry mommy. I’m sorry Maia.

For the rest of the night, Noah was happy, sweet, and played well with his sister. They fell asleep laying on each other in her bed. I forgot about the need to assign a consequence.

Sometimes I remind Noah that I know he is a good kid, that from time to time he makes bad choices just like everyone else in the world, and that even his mommy is not perfect. I will even apologize when I determined a reaction is more harmful than helpful. “Mommy makes bad choices, too, and it is not ok for me to yell like that. I am sorry I didn’t talk to you with more patience and understanding.”  I love it when I remember to turn those very teachable moments into gospel-seeds. When I point to our need for the grace and mercy of Jesus, and the gratitude I feel for his forgiveness every day.

 

Now you know my dark secrets- that I scream, and yes, I will even swat a bottom (!!!) if they need it; although admittedly this is less effective for mine, a lazy reaction that assigns a quick and easy consequence with little comprehension involved. But I really try hard to use bad choice or undesired behaviors as a teaching tool. I prefer to take time to explain the negative nature or consequence of the decision/action and the reason for it. When I focus on the behavior, and not the character of my kid, I think it makes him/her feel like they are still ok. Like they are still capable of good, worthy of good, and they are still free to make good choices. Just maybe this is a more empowering and developmentally rewarding method.

 

 

Why does it matter? Because I think kids need hope. They are just little big people, after all. They need to know, just like I do, that they are worthy of love and that they can make a positive impact on this world; that their existence is valuable and helpful. I think it even makes them try harder to make people happy when they are given grace.

Don’t get me wrong, this momma is a proponent of constant, consistent, and real discipline. I will send my kids to their room to throw their tantrum, or take away their movie/book before bed, or institute the “Consequence Bag” (a pillowcase that ‘eats’ favorite toys, games, and electronic devices when kids misbehave…they have to earn it back. Props to a friend for this one, it got us through some tough phases). Daddy and I sit down together to address major behavioral issues we see cropping up, discuss how best to address them, and inform the caregivers.

At 5 and 2, discipline is constant, for goodness sake. They are still learning how to function in various environments, and let’s face it, the rules change with the environment and the audience; it’s really kind of unfair. But I am trying to instill self-confidence in the midst of the cause-and-effect of their choices. I am trying to be sure their hope remains intact. In order for them to be successful, they have to believe that they can be successful.  

This is why responding is better than reacting. This is why I give myself the same reminder of grace when I mess up (which feels like always sometimes), because my Father loves me infinitely more than I love those little precious ones, and that is hard to swallow. He wants me to have hope, to believe in my own worth. I can make a difference, I can change my mind, and I am able to do, and worthy of great things.  Perhaps the greatest of which is fostering a healthy learning environment for these little humans that live with me.

Last Day Blues

Trina and Alyssa,

I am MOURNING our loss of the best daycare providers God could ever have lead me to. People laugh when I tell them that I met you at your yard sale. And I'm all like, "You wish YOU had her." But, I loved you then and I have been nothing but presently surprised since.

I had some trepidation at the idea of giving my precious ones over to a lady I knew nothing about. This is the first time they have been with anyone other than family.  I called to check up on you. I prayed about you, but something in my gut told me, ‘Do it. They won’t die.’  Not only did they not die, but they learned, they played, they crafted (you do the BEST crafts, the kind I love to display and plan to keep), they got so dirty (you’d think I’d remember to bring wipes and another outfit after so many of the dirt-filled blissful backyard days, but no) but most importantly, they were loved.

 

And not just loved in the ‘everyone-is-special’, positive reinforcement kind of careful, politically correct way, but in the ‘Are-you-crazy? Your-momma-would-never-let-you-do-that-and-neither-will-I-now-go-sit-inside-and-have-a-minute’ kind of way.  The first few days when I would pick them up and you would stop our conversation to correct them even though I was standing right there, I knew I had found the real deal. You treat them all like they are yours. And they love you like you are theirs.

 

You see, I come from the ‘it takes a village’ mentality. And yours is the BEST. DARN. VILLAGE. AROUND. I love you, and will miss you dearly, and if and when we come back to Chester, I hope you will SAVE OUR SPOT.

Love,

Dario, Amber, Noah, and Maia Amato

Mommy-Drunk

Yesterday I may or may not have side-swiped a pole. At a gas station. It may or may not have left a horrifyingly gigantic white paint transfer scrape on my silver SUV. I never claimed to be a great driver. This momma is super glad that the DMV doesn't interview my kids, because they would likely revoke my license.  The incident, we'll call it, was just one of many ways in which this week has STUNK. 

 

I borrowed a DVD bible study, and I am funny about borrowed stuff. Always treat borrowed stuff better than your own stuff, because you want to give it back in a condition that is as good as or better than it was when you got it. Example: don't dog-ear books or crease the spine, *this is hard for me*, if it wasn't that way before it reached your hands. This is so that you keep your great borrower cred. Yes, that is a thing, in my head. Regarding the DVD bible study...the friend wants it back, and I cannot find one of the 6 DVDs in the case. I literally had it in my hand 4 days ago. I ripped apart my room looking for it. I cleaned out my kid-wagon, which is a minor miracle and silver lining to this story, to no avail. The feeling I hate, more than any other feeling, is to have lost something. I feel crazy, out of control, and irresponsible.  I am officially into OCD overdrive right now.

 

 

 Where were my kids while this was happening, you ask? Plugged into a movie in mommy's room. It was a familiar movie, they can probably recite most of it, so of course every 5 minutes they wanted to take a break "Mommy, airplane?" or "Play cars with me! You be this one, what's your name?" To which I answered without thinking or even really listening, "Mommy is looking for something right now, and I cannot play with you."  By the time I called it quits, it was past their bedtime.  An entire evening lost.  Then I thought about the night before. What did we do? Well Noah wet the bed, so I had to clean his sheets, and there was that unidentified rotten food smell I had to isolate and sterilize.  No movie that night, rather, educational apps on the iPad. 

 

 

This week I was "let go" of a volunteer capacity that required more time and effort than I am able to give, and it made me sad. It made me evaluate my commitment to serving others for the Lord. In reality, it was a blessing that the organization gave me this break, because it was not fair to me or them that I could not accomplish all that needed to be done, and now I have more free time to mommy.  I also told the director of preschool at my church that I need to take a break from teaching the class I have taught every other Sunday.  I promptly changed my mind, worried that surely this was a selfish decision and that 'If I don't do it, who will?'

 

Mommy guilt is gently washing away my identity. The heavy and unavoidable reality of responsibility for another human being's perspective of the world is a lot to carry alongside normal adult minutia. I have been a SAHM (stay at home mom) with my kids for extended periods of time, and I am fairly certain, looking back, that I made sure to fill up my time with other necessary tasks and obligations such that I had very little time to "play" or teach, or snuggle, or whatever my insatiable conscience determines makes a good mommy.  So I worry, and I over-extend, and I over-obligate to make sure that it is obvious that I am busy. Why is busy so desirable? Are all good mommies busy mommies? Or do I stay so busy in order to remember my identity outside of 'mommy'?

 

 

 

I know I am not alone. I know that EVERY mom struggles with this. Every. Single. One. But it doesn't make balance any easier. The truth is, it is not healthy for my kids to have me entertain them ever moment of the day. I hear Noah talking to himself in various voices, getting the bad guy and blowing random things up. I hear Maia consoling her baby doll and feeding her in the backseat. I really listen when she plays mommy, because I am overtly aware who she is imitating. Not once do I hear her say "Mommy is busy, I cannot feed you, or clean your boo boo, or rock you to sleep."  My favorite is when they play together. They have an imagination. They are creative, and they know how to make something from nothing because when mommy is busy, they have to.

 

I am very conscious that right now is the time of my life I will always look back on as the best time of my life. I have 2 precious, good, happy children, they fill my life with joy. I have a small and cluttered but warm and inviting house, and an amazingly supportive and hilarious and present husband and father. On a  macro level,  I am doing everything right. Noah plays soccer, goes to church, and has play dates, we do meals together as a family  2-3 times a week. Maia is in gymnastics, and can say her ABC's, both kids are healthy. They are enrolled in a new daycare, Noah is enrolled in kindergarten. Supplies are purchased, birthday gifts are bought and wrapped (maybe 20 minutes before the party, but so what, it got done).  These babies want for nothing. My 40 hours a week has done nothing to impede this process.

 

I will remember that I am my worst critic. I will remember the amazing moments that we create. I will drink from this cup of grace, straighten shoulders, chin up, coffee ingested, and carry on.

Teach Me Your Way

Teach me your way, O Lord, that I may know your truth. Give me an undivided heart to revere your name. I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever. For great is your steadfast love toward me, you have delivered my soul from the depths of hell.     

 ~Psalm 86:11-13





I pray that God give me His eyes, His heart for others. Especially strangers, the ones I quickly judge when I see them in a store because of what they wear or how they respond to their children or others. The ones who drive slowly in front of me when I have places to be.  Ones who treat me poorly or who exercise little or no compassion or empathy.  Ones who make choices that I would never make. 

 

Give me Your heart for those who have not, who are hurting and can't seem to better their situation. Ones without families, or worse, with families that are abusive and/or tragically broken and doing more harm than good in the lives of the members caught up in the vicious cycle created and perpetuated by that living situation or less than desirable circumstance.  

 

Sometimes it works, but many times, I fall victim to my selfish first inclination of judgment or prejudice. Or I react with retaliatory anger and pride.  I remind myself that this type of growth is a process, and that God loves my attempts and knows my heart when I behave in a human, worldly manner.  But my Master also provides fodder for my desirous endeavor: he gives me angels to adore, to pray over and watch with wonder. 
 

 

In all the ugliness that may be exposed on the internet and through social media, I postulate that one gets out of it what they put into it.  Specifically Facebook. (Ok, this deep and meaningful blog post just slammed on breaks and changed direction, but hear me out.) I can exercise full control over most of the functions of FB. I can add, block, or hide users, as well as controlling what they see about me (so long as I stay informed about the nearly daily changes the developers like to make).

And so I try to "like" pages that are scripturally fruitful or encouraging, even inspiring. Disclaimer about my choices: In a world where I believe Satan has a multitude of everyday mechanisms to quietly and sneakily seep into my mindset, I combat this phenomenon by only inputting positive stimuli. It means that I might not relate in conversations about the most popular TV shows or songs or artists, which can kind of sting when the ladies are huddled having a good, honest, harmless laugh about some ridiculous thing that happened on The Bachelor last night. To me, however, I know myself. I know how easily manipulated I am, how little self control I have. And this is the best bet that I have come up with, and I am very satisfied with the results. It means that during the hours at night when I've been tempted to sit in front of the TV, I am instead reading to, or playing pretend with, or practicing writing or Italian with my kids. So I'm cool with the tradeoff.  I do not judge (rather I am slightly jealous of) moms who watch awesomely hilarious TV shows or listen to (ok, its often better) secular music. I see the value in a little fun. I do not think my choices are better or that anyone else should follow my lead. I wish I had more self control and was stronger at battling worldly stimuli, but alas I stink at it. Rant over.

Back to FB: I have found some fan pages for some really amazing little people. Some babies and toddlers and young kids who struggle with disease. Their families and/or loved ones set up pages for them for a number of reasons; to raise awareness or fundraise for particular illness/cause, to keep family and friends who live far away abreast of progress or regressions, and perhaps even to vent or as a therapeutic means to unload some of the heaviness that comes with caring for someone with special needs.

Whoa, God has allowed some of these guys to make a lasting impact on my life that I will never forget. I believe that each one has changed me in some way. I have certainly become more informed about diseases like Cardiomyopathy, Krabbe Disease, and Muscular Dystrophy, among others.  But learning about these children and their families has been such a blessing for so many reasons. The parents always demonstrate such grace and often positive perspectives despite their circumstance. They have such grateful hearts, it puts to shame any 'problem' I may face. These brave children's limitations always seem to come with some extraordinary capabilities, some overcompensation of senses, or communication, or maturity.  It is truly amazing and humbling to see how these universally binding relationships metamorphose, adapt, and evolve.  It gives me hope and fills me with wonder and joy at the whole rotten thing. These families who deal with a harsher reality than mine daily, are probably closer to the real meaning of life.

That is to say, every emotion must be felt deeper when it is hinged on or framed in light of a shorter life expectancy. Or every moment of joy must ring brighter and be more exquisitely monumental than could be appreciated by a "normal" healthy family's.  Every time they slip quickly into the despair of "why us" or  think of life "after"...must bring about such harmonizing closeness of spirit with our Maker. The gifts are there. These parents seize them, cling to them, and share them with us. For that I am truly grateful. I feel like I know these children. I look forward to reading about how their day is going. I weep when they have down times, and praise God for the joyous moments.

 

I am connected. I love those with whom I have never even been in contact. And I realize, that this is the answer to my prayer. Teach Me Your Way, O Lord. And thank You for allowing me to experience Your love.