I am Not a Maid...

Will and I don't have a ton of great days. We have good days. We have okay days. We have more bad days than I care to admit. As Will gets older, I think I see that we are a little similar. He is bossy. He is independent. He is stubborn. He is determined. All of those things are great for a grown up. I want him to be all of those things. I just don't want all of these things to exist under one roof between a 3 and 30 year old. (Might as well add Maggie to the headcount because she is just like us). Will is strong-willed. I think I wrote a blog all about it once---and how I even read a book to try to remedy it. Let me just say, that the only advice that I garnered from the book that was helpful was to let Will be Will, to love him and mold him and to try to use and appreciate his gifts, no matter how frustrating they can be. I am trying. And I am trying to remember that one day, I really do want him to be a little bossy, a little independent, a little stubborn and very determined. One day.

So like I said, some days are good, some days aren't. But today...today was a GREAT day with Will! First, it was pajama day and for whatever reason, Will loved the idea of going to school in his pajamas. (This is a far cry from Ian, who never trusts days like this. Afraid that he dressed out of character on the wrong day or might some how be embarrassed by my arrangement of a costume, he always makes me pack an extra pair of "normal clothes" with us just in case. AND, we have to watch 5 people exit their vehicle dressed in a similar get-up as he is wearing before he will make his way to class. Seriously, the things you cannot read in a book about parenting.) Will reminded me twice last night that it was pajama day. He picked out the PJ's he wanted to wear. He rounded up his slippers and added his new Lightening McQueen bathrobe for good measure. He slept in his PJ's last night, too, so they would have the "slept-in bed look." There were no fights this morning over wardrobe---an after Christmas miracle.

It was pajama day for Maggie, too, but she only seemed excited because Will was so happy. I was trying to enjoy her giggles over wearing slippers outside because there will come a day in the not- too-distant future when she won't be caught dead outside the house in her pajamas, with pink fuzzy slippers and her hair pulled back in a pony tail. Did I mention that I wish I could keep her with the giggles and not have to face the drama that will come in the future? Her wardrobe meltdowns will probably make Will's look like a day at the beach!

I have my first audition event of the year coming up in three weeks. I changed the format this year so everything will be new and different and working out all of the details is stressing me out. I know in the end it will all come out fine but until it is over, I have asked my family to let me work in my office as much as possible without interruption. After school was out and Maggie was down for nap, Will apparently asked me if he could have a Coke. Huddled under a pile of papers on my desk and a crisis on my desktop, I am certain he asked if he could put on his coat. I mumbled "yes" and went back to my screen. He went to the fridge, popped open a Coke and put it in a Koozie. (the kid in going to have drinks in koozies down to a science by the time he gets to college...)

After slurping it down in what I am sure was less than 5 minutes, he started to get a little busy body. He came back to my office and asked if he could help me. "No" was my response. "Why don't you go get a book and come read it to me while I work." I needed to feel a little like an engaged parent. He went to his room and came back empty-handed. He walked passed my door and went to the kitchen. Then to the living room. Then to the playroom, then back down the hall. I figured he was up to no good, well, because Will is always up to no good. Back in the living room, I heard movement but nothing breaking so I went back to my stack. 2 minutes later, I was startled with a loud sound. No, it wasn't the TV shattering on the floor. It was the vacuum. I jumped up to find Will vacuuming the living room. He had folded all of the blankets, straightened the pillows and returned all of the toys/books to their proper locations. I gave him a thumbs up and headed back to my office thinking it wouldn't last long. But the vacuum kept going. I got up every few minutes to ensure that he hadn't lost interest and left the vacuum running to act as the cover for the no good noise and nonsense that he was really up to. Never put it past Will to create a diversion.

But I was wrong. He vacuumed the living room, kitchen & dining room. He cleaned up all of the toys throughout the house. He cleaned and straightened the playroom. He wiped off the cabinets in the kitchen. He got the dust mop and did a once over. (I vacuumed and mopped all of these rooms yesterday but I didn't care at all). At the completion of his work, he came to get me for my seal of approval. I was so proud---he did an excellent job. It wasn't 3 year old clean up. It was really cleaned up. I gave him some treats, hugged him immensely, praised him for all of his effort, got the phone so he could tell his Dad & get more praise, and did my best to let him know that this is the Will I love best. Because I have so much work to do, I went back to my office, rewarding Will with some TV time. Instead of taking me up on my offer, he went to the playroom. I thought he was going to start working to undo all of his hard work but instead, he started going through the bins to toss toys he didn't play with anymore "for the kids at the shelter that don't have a Mommy as great" as his. Wow.

I was so impressed! He proudly showed off his work when his Dad came home from work. I am sure Josh was happy. Will is much better at house work than me! When Josh left to take Ian to basketball practice, he took Maggie too. Will chose to stay home with me. He brought me the cereal box and asked if he could eat cereal for supper. I told him he could just this one time if he ate some spaghetti later, too. He shook for the deal and then accidentally shook the box too hard, sending some Fruity Pebbles onto his nicely polished floor. I said, "Awe, man, Will. Now the floor will have to be vacuumed again." He looked at me and said, "Well you are going to have to do it yourself. I already vacuumed this house one time today and I AM NOT a maid!"

At least I know he was listening....

Something Special

As a parent, I think the hardest thing to endure is to watch your child hurt; physically, emotionally, spiritually. You want to take on all of their suffering, endure their burdens for them, no matter the cause. Of course, part of life is enduring the many obstacles, mountains, and anguish that life gives and doing so provides life lessons, builds character, and establishes a reality about life. Whether it's a pain that is as small as the prick of a finger or the devastation that comes with real loss, both are as painful (if not more) for the parent as for the child. And even though I haven't been at this parenting thing very long, I don't imagine that watching your child suffer gets any easier--in fact, I am sure that as children grow and life's pain is more tangible, the experience is harder on Mom & Dad. But that pain, those hardships, those mountains have to be climbed by children, no matter how much as a parent, you wish you could stand in their place.

 I have been very fortunate that I have not had to steer my children, yet, through too many painful moments. Of course, there have been scraped knees, hurt feelings, and wonder if God really answers prayers. We have endured a couple of surgeries, some bunk bed calamities, and even some real tears, but we have not bared the burdens that some people have. We've been blessed.

Tonight was one of those times when I prayed with my child to ease his burden and heavy heart. Ian's great grandfather (his biological mother's paternal grandfather) passed away from a heart attack. Ian had not seen him in about a year but there was a time in his life when he saw him once a month and they both shared a love of trains. I wasn't sure what to expect from Ian when Josh and I told him. Kids react to death far differently than adults and Ian hasn't really lost anyone close to him at this age, where he actually understands what is happening.

His reaction was at first a little shock and then came the tears. As my arms swallowed him, I felt my own tears sting my face. Not because I knew this man particularly well but because I know my child holds a place of love in his own heart for him. I whispered words of comfort while simultaneously praying for guidance. Ian was upset that he didn't get to see him one more time. I was kicking myself for not taking him to visit over the last year. I used this as an opportunity to remind him that none of us ever know when our time on Earth is over and that it is important to always treat every day and every encounter with others like it might be a last time. He sobbed harder. And my heart broke harder and the quiet tears falling from my eyes started to dampen his hair.

Then he looked up at me, tears suddenly stopped, and asked, "Mom, was Grandpa Dale baptized?" I felt the panic hit my throat because I honestly didn't know the answer. He continued, "Because if he wasn't, he didn't go to Heaven and I will never get a chance to see him again." My breath left me. On one hand, I was a very proud Momma. For a child to grasp even that much of Eternity is remarkable. But at the same time, I knew I had to tread carefully. I didn't want to upset his tender mind and heart---Ian is a worrier and he would spend the rest of his life pondering his own part in someone else's eternity. That is the heart that God gave him.

I just wrapped him in my arms and whispered that this conversation was one he needed to have with his grandfather, PawPaw Mike, and then I began to pray. Out loud, I thanked God for Ian, for his love of people, his heart of compassion, his precious kindness. I prayed for his comfort and peace, for his burdened heart to be lightened. I also prayed that the Lord would use all of Ian's special gifts, to give him guidance on the man he is supposed to become. I prayed for my own guidance to help him become that man. And I prayed that Ian would always know God's love and grace, that he would never abandon the heart he has now, and that he would always care about the eternity of those around him. We sat quietly for a few minutes and then he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "You are the best gift God has ever given to me, Momma. I really mean that. I hope you know I am always going to remember this moment and you praying over me like that. I felt God holding us right then, loving us together. We are something special, you and me." Yes we are, Ian. So special.

Ian went to bed shortly after and he seemed comforted. I sat on the couch and quietly prayed a prayer of thanks for God allowing me to raise this special child. What a gift. To love him. To share such a touching moment with him. Truly something special.