Tag Archives: family

Let Them Be Kids {part two} : Our Sweet Puppy

PTS | Our sweet Puppy

 

Everyone knows I love our sweet doggie.  My photos are proof:

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©janetphillips_april20_2016_web-50©janetphillips_april6_2016_web-31©janetphillips_floridatrip2015_web-252But we have another little puppy…her name is Bethany…or Beppy…or Puppy…Skye…or Marshall

{THIS IS IN OUR CAMPER}

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Yep, my daughter thinks she is a dog. She eats out of dog bowls (clean and unused my real canines), she insists on “wet food” (refried beans) in her bowl, she laps water from her bowl on the floor, she wears a puppy costume most days, and she is known to pant, bark, lick, and scratch.

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Naturally, back in March on her birthday, she had all-things-puppy:

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She’s also been known to eat some dog bones (aka Scooby Snacks)

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It’s weird…I know. I have had to ask her not to lick guests. I have had to remind her she must use words when I ask her a question (as opposed to just panting and wagging her little tail bottom.)

 

And course with a puppy in the house, a kitty can’t be far behind:

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But you know what…I love it.

It’s just so her. She’s our sweet Beppy girl and I adore watching her just be who she is.

PTS | Let Them Be Kids3

 

Why do we try so hard to force our children to be what we think they should be?  I’m not talking about being a kid with character. We should do all we can to ensure our children are growing in traits such a kindness, gentleness, and respect.

No, what I mean is the all-too-often push for children to fit into some shape they believe children should be. I’ve written about this before.

Other parents seem to get it as well.

And yet, others have so much trouble just letting kids…be kids. They want them to do this or do that. To look this way or to act that way.

Why not just let kids be kids?

Why not just let them be little? Let them play and swing and jump and get messy and be loud and pretend they are a dog?

Having a 13 year old and having a three year old (and 12, 10, 8, and 5!), I know more than ever how fast this time goes.

They don’t stay little long.

  • Their sweet baby teeth give way to crooked ones that are far too big for their mouths.
  • Those cuddles we were too busy for are much harder to come by as they get older.
  • The funny little things they say will be long forgotten.
  • The way the pronounce ‘sketty will finally work itself into spaghetti.
  • They will stop calling their siblings Enny, Ca-bub, Wi-Wi, and Tatie.
  • They will stop asking you to draw a butterfly and snake at church every.single.week.
  • They will stop calling your family “our people.”
  • They will stop dressing up as knights and princesses…and even dogs.

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Oh, can’t we just let them be little. Let them be dogs. Let them dress up, go barefoot, make a mess in the kitchen as they help you cook. Let them beg you to read the same book over and over. Say yes when they want their fifth bath of the day (and look the other way when they have chosen to use a new towel for every dip in the pool and the subsequent baths…if you are counting, that is no less than TEN towels used by ONE child in ONE day.)

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It’s funny. I blog so rarely these day and I hardly remember what I have written about in the past. Apparently this subject isn’t new to me. I was looking for something else and came across all of these:

A Time to Say Yes
Saying Yes to Our Kids (audio post)
Whatever It Takes

And a number of other posts on my old blog (which I need to resurrect!)

And of course, there are times to say no.

But this is what I have told many mamas:

There will be so many times we as parents have to say no. So why don’t we say yes to absolutely anything we can?

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Because you know what? I love our sweet puppy…actually, I love both the furry one and the one who comes to cuddle with me each morning during my Bible time. (Oh wait, both puppies do that…I see where Beppy gets it from…)

And so—yes. When the little white costume with black spots was so small it was cutting off her circulation, we bought Skye Marshall Rover Fetch Puppy Bethany new puppy costume. And since it is summer in North Carolina and the temps usually hover around 95°, I am glad I talked her out of this one.

So…can’t we just let them be little?

And if you need to release some pent-up emotions, how about this song. I hadn’t heard it before…guess I need to get back to my country-music-loving high school days.

 

 

 

 

The Perfect Mom

Some mom moments are better than others

Some mom moments are better than others

I smelled the nail polish. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, but the scent was strong.

Yes, I had given my seven-year-old permission to paint her nails. Usually I would supervise an activity like that (due to the time it takes to get nail polish off of legs, arms, and other body parts.) But she is seven and she’s spending more time each day as a young lady rather than a little girl. I trusted her to do as I said.

I gave her one instruction: when you are done, put the nail polish away.

I continued making dinner. And then I saw it. The dark floors had camouflaged the evidence, but the leash hanging from the dog (no doubt thanks to the four-year old) made a trail of blue that was hard to miss. Nail polish pooling on the wood floors, the leash painting a series of blue swirls and whirls through the kitchen.

Nail polish. On the floor. With no top on. BLUE.

“KATIE!” I called. Er, um…screamed.

I was sick. I was tired. My throat hurt so much I could barely swallow. My husband was out of town and the rain hadn’t stopped falling in a week and the natives were restless. Of course this is the day the blue nail polish would decorate the house.

She came upstairs and I gave her the look, one she didn’t yet recognize.

I’ve gone to tremendous effort to stop any and all yelling in our home. I fail occasionally, but the truth of it is that God has given me victory over the tone and volume of my voice. I rarely yell.

Many years ago I yelled at one of  my kids for something. It might have been Alaina and she was only four or five. I yelled and I let my eyes sear into her. And what I got in return was a look of sheer terror. From my little girl who made a little girl mistake.

And in that moment, I vowed to learn to take control of my mouth. Yelling is not okay in our home. Not for me. Not for the kids.

And yet there are times, like when the rain won’t stop and my feet are cold and my husband is out of town and sickness has invaded our home and the blue nail polish is everywhere, yes, there are times the volume of my voice matches the frustration in my spirit. And shamefully, I let the words fly unrestrained.

With blue swirls around my feet and covering the dog leash, it felt good to yell. The sinful part of me wanted my little girl to know how upset I was and I was thrilled to let the emotions find a place to land. “I gave you ONE instruction!” my voice bellowed. Then, when the words ran out and the tears on my girl’s face covered her freckles, I couldn’t let enough be enough. We sat in silence as I made her watch me clean up every last bit of that nail polish. I scrubbed harder than I needed, just to make a point.

And in that moment, I realized once again why I need Jesus.

I’m not a perfect mom. Not even close. But that’s not the goal, is it? No one is the perfect mom. None of us get it right all the time. We can (and should!) work harder. We need to learn to love our children (Titus 2). We need to take control of our mouths and our spirits. I hope I am a better mom next year than I am now. I want to be better, but I have no hope of being perfect.

I let my emotions cool down, simmering slowly rather than a full-on boil. I finished dinner, fed the little ones, took some ibuprofen, gargled some salt water, and climbed into bed. A few minutes later, I paused my show and called for Katie. I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her under the covers with me and I stroked her hair while we watched. When our show was over and it was time for her to brush her teeth, I pulled her little body—her weight reminding me she isn’t so little anymore—up onto the counter and I looked into her eyes.

“Katie, you made a mistake. And so did I. But I want you to understand that the goal isn’t to never make mistakes. It’s just not possible. If we never made mistakes we wouldn’t need Jesus. And oh how we need Jesus! He died to pay for these mistakes of ours. We should try to be better, but until we’re in heaven, we won’t be perfect. You WILL make mistakes. You’ll make lots of them. Part of it is because you’re just a kid and the Bible tells us that foolishness is all tangled up in your heart. Part of it is your are just human, like me. You’re going to make mistakes. You’re going to choose to do wrong. And mom will probably get upset. I don’t expect you to be perfect. It just won’t happen. But we have Jesus. He will help us make better choices and fewer mistakes and He has already paid for the mistakes we just can’t avoid. I’m so sorry for yelling. I was upset but I didn’t handle my emotions correctly, did I? I LOVE you. You know that, right? Nothing you do can separate you from my love just as nothing we do can separate us from God’s love. There is not one thing you could do that would make me stop loving you. Nothing. I might not be happy with you and there might have to be consequences, but that is not the same as me not loving you. You’re my girl and you always will be. Will you please forgive me? I was wrong. I made wrong choices. I’m sorry.”

Eyes bright blue and tears streaming down, she hugged my neck tight. And I knew…this is it. This is what this parenting thing is made of. Like marriage, it’s two sinners leaning into Jesus. Because without Him, it’s all just a big mistake. But with Him, we can offer love and forgiveness and say, “I’m sorry.” I will never be the perfect mom. But I have the perfect Jesus and He lives within me, enabling me to act like Him more each day.

My kids see it all. My good side, my bad side, and all the other sides I try so hard to hide. They know I mess up. They know I make mistakes. But they also know their mama will come to them, offer a sincere apology, and promise to love them always.

Maybe that’s what it means to be the perfect mom.

I Almost Forgot

©PreparingtheSoil | Almost Forgot

 

“…stop rushing to get the to do list done because it never leaves. The kids do.”

It was a rough summer. Even after I started feeling myself again, we had some other issues that took up most of our time and energy. The unrelenting North Carolina heat didn’t help matters much. The summer is mostly a blur as I try to figure out what exactly we did.

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We’re normally a happy, do-stuff-together type family. We love to camp, hike, and be outside. We like to let the kids get dirty and have fun. We like days with no schedule, yummy-not-so-good-for-you treats, and finding critters that the kids beg to bring home as pets.

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But this summer?

I almost forgot.

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I almost forgot what it felt like to be me. To be us. To let the kids run free, get wet, and be kids. I almost forgot what it felt to walk a few paces behind my family as my camera captures the little moments I want to remember forever. I almost forgot what it was like to be intentional in just watching. Watching my kids love each other. Help each other. Encourage each other. I almost forgot about all the little ways they show their love and how blessed they are all to have one another. I almost forgot about the way their individual personalities shine through during unstructured play: the adventurous ones being adventurous, the introverted one enjoying the peaceful scenery, the little ones entertaining themselves with the same activity over and over (and over).

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On Saturday, though the to-do list was longer than anything that had any hopes of being accomplished, I knew we needed it. We needed time. Time together. Time outside.

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We chose something close: the local river that runs through the county. An access point is just ten minutes from our home. We walked. We let the kids play. They got wet and dirty and full of sunshine. I watched them and I remembered. I remembered who we were and what fills our souls. I am so glad I remembered, because I almost forgot.

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Oh the bliss! May I never forget the little moments. The watching. The seeing who my family is.

 As another writer so eloquently mentioned:

“…stop rushing to get the to do list done because it never leaves. The kids do.”

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