When your kids quote scripture...

A few weeks ago someone posted a link on Facebook regarding a blog entry that related to teaching children to be kind to one another.  My kids get along mostly.  But I've noticed increasingly that they are speaking to each other in disrespectful and unkind ways.  When I read the post, which was based on a verse, it really hit home.  So I ran with it.

First, we went over the verse:

The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. ~Proverbs 12:18

We went over some examples and I actually read the blog entry to them.  (I wish I still had the link...but alas I do not!)  And Peter has really grabbed hold of this.  In fact, when he feels his sister isn't speaking kindly to him he will exclaim "REBEKAH IS USING SWORD WORDS!!!"  It kind of cracks me up.  And I really really love it.

This past weekend I was working on getting everyone fed.  William was mowing.  Ruth spilled her drink.  I was making someone a sandwich - I can't remember who's.  Rebekah told me Ruth spilled the milk and that Ruth used Rebekah's napkin to clean it up. She came into the kitchen, grabbed a new napkin and went back.  When I turned to give the sandwich to the owner, I see milk all over the table.

I lost it.  I didn't yell...but I did speak harshly.

"REBEKAH!  Why didn't you mention that there was still a mess on the table?  Why didn't you tell me it needed cleaned up?  Look!  It is getting spread everywhere!"

I cleaned up the milk and as I was doing so Peter says "Mom, those were sword words."

I replied "Yes.  That verse doesn't mean you won't ever get in trouble!  Rebekah could have let me know that this needed cleaning before the mess got worse. Or better yet, she could have cleaned it up herself!"

I sat down to the table with my own food and pondered Peter's observation.  Those were sword words.  What am I teaching them?  I thought about how I could have spoken more gently.  How the entire reason for "not yelling" was to open up lines of communication.  Speaking harshly - even though my voice wasn't raised - is really just as bad.  I glanced over at Rebekah and saw her eyes downcast as she picked at her food.

And more than anything - the Bible applies to us all.

I sighed and said..."Peter you are right.  I shouldn't have spoken so harshely.  Perhaps I should have just punished her or something to help her remember to tell me next time."

What the what?  YES!  I am an imperfect parent.  I never pretend to be otherwise.  I'm striving to be the best mom I know how.  Understanding when to let things go and when NOT too is something I frequently struggle with. 

Rebekah's eyes grew wide and then she quickly looked back at her food.

I sighed again.  I knew I had gotten it wrong.  Again.  "Peter.  You are right.  Those were sword words.  I need to try to use healing words next time.  Rebekah, I'm sorry I didn't speak more kindly.  Peter, thanks for bringing it up."  Peter beamed and Rebekah smiled. 


So I received a very important lesson from a 5 yo.  Healing is healing.  Sword words are sword words.  He still has a few things to learn too.  For example, shouting "YOU DIDN'T SAY PLEASE!  THOSE ARE SWORDS WORDS!  YOU NEED TO USE HEALING WORDS! MOOOOOOOMMMM!  REBEKAH IS USING SWORDS WORDS ON ME!!!!" at his sister is probably not appropriate.  But one step at a time for us all.

The great chitter chatter

I don't write much about Rebekah because...well...there isn't all that much to say.  But yesterday I had the opportunity to spend the morning with her (and Paul).  I wanted to make sure to share these because they truly display Rebekah's personality.

One of the things we tend to do is go to Panera for breakfast together.  She loves it.  I love it.  We've been doing it since she was a baby.  Interestingly - I don't have this tradition with any of the other kids.  (But...outside of birthdays I'm not sure I have spent as much one-on-one time with them...like I did with Rebekah.)

Anyway she ordered a pumpkin muffin (vs. a muffie) and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese.  I got a sandwhich...and ordered a Strawberries and Cream scone for later in the day.  As I was looking over the menu to get my order straight, she chatted with the guy behind the counter who very politely listened to her.

"I'm going to the doctor this morning.  His name is Dr. C.  He is in a new office and this will be the first time I get to go to this office.  We are having breakfast for dinner sometime this week.  It will be yummy when we do.  I don't know when we will be having it, but it will be 'anything can happen' that day."

Now let me clarify...we very occasionally have breakfast for dinner.  I have a tendency to think breakfast should be at breakfast.  There is an episode of Big Bang Theory where Sheldon Cooper tries to let loose...and schedules one day a week where he will allow anything to happen.  (Of course...he wants to plan out what will happen! :-) )  Right after we watched that episode (awhile ago), William was trying to convince me to have breakfast for dinner.  I identify heavily with Mr. Cooper.  And so he blurted out "Have your own anything-can-happen-day!"  And so we joke that it is "anything-can-happen-Wednesday"!  We are having breakfast for dinner!

So the fact she picked up on that really cracked me up.  I also couldn't help but laugh at the guy - who clearly was trying to listen so politely...but wasn't really sure what to say to her besides "Oh really???"

This highlights one of Rebekah's key features.  She is NOT afraid to talk off a complete stranger's ear.  I listen to her and grimace half the time because it frequently means that *I* have to talk to strangers.  I barely like talking to people I know...let alone people I  *don't* know.  And William is social enough - but not nearly as talkative/outgoing as Rebekah is.  I'm thankful she is though, because her chattiness has opened up so many good doors for us over the years.  But I do occasionally wish I wouldn't get drug into it all.

Next when we went to the dr office we had a little trouble finding it.  It is new so it wasn't well labeled.  (Our ped who we have had since Rebekah was born moved his practice.)  There was a guy in the hallway and Rebekah tells him ALL about how we are going to the doctor.  We finally found it (the gentleman actually pointed us in the right direction - thanks to Rebekah telling him we were lost).  Rebekah was again talking the receptionists ear off.

All of these people thought she was adorable.  And I'm so glad.  We do run into people who are annoyed by it.  (Frankly...if it were me pre-kids I probably would have been! :-P )  And I can't help but frown on those people.  Really.  (I think I would have deserved that too pre-kid!)

The receptionist answered questions of Rebekah's and asked questions of me to work through some of the 'new patient' stuff.  She then tells me that she will need an I.D.  My heart sank.

Approximately 3 months ago I lost it.  Ruth was getting into my purse (she has learned the power of stools...there were very few places I could put it  where it was safe!) and kept stringing things out.  One time she completely emptied not only my purse, but my wallet too.  Contents were EVERYWHERE.  And I hadn't been able to find my driver's license since.  I had looked all over the house, all over my purse and wallet...it was no where.  I searched multiple times.  It was simply gone.  I thought I'd go get a new one before I went back to work, but I didn't make it.  And I hadn't really had time since. 

So I stood there, jiggling baby Paul, absent mindedly starring into my wallet, thinking of what to do or what I might have that would work.  Rebekah prattled on, the receptionist continued to be amused.  "Well..." I broke in...about to deliver the news that we were out of luck.  At that very moment I spotted a card in the side of my wallet.  I pulled it out and it was my driver's license.  "Well..." I stammered.  "This is a miracle.  Here's my driver's license."  The lady just looked at me and laughed nervously...not really sure what to think of my declaration.  "No really.  It has been lost for a long time and I just now found it.  This is a miracle."

"God must have put it there!  Or Jesus!  One of the two!" Rebekah declared with confidence.

Why yes.  She was absolutely right.

Rebekah has taught me so many things through her just being her.  I try so hard to teach her and I hope that I'm able to reciprocate.  She is giving, compassionate (she told William 'it didn't feel good' to get a little girl out at a baseball game a few weeks ago...because it made the other girl sad!), and vibrant.  Rebekah sees good everywhere.  She is creative and pretty darn smart.  Quite frankly, she is an excellent big sister - definitely a better big sister than I ever was. :)

And don't let me fool you.  Rebekah and I don't always get along. She will frequently 'not talk' to me.  As in, I'm trying to have a simple conversation with her and she simply won't respond.  She will be looking at me as if she is paying attention...but she doesn't behave like it.  I'll ask her to do something, she'll start off to do it...and I will find it either not done or half done later.  (Ex:  I'll ask her to go put something away.  I'll find it in the next room in the middle of the floor instead of put away.)  But if she were perfect, then I supposed I would have named her Jesus. ;-)

After the doctor appointment we headed to the car.  She asked me if she could eat her bagel and drink her milk.  "Yeah, no problem." It hadn't been too hot and we hadn't been at the appointment all that long.  "Can I eat my muffin?"  I replied "Absolutely.  That food is yours, eat whatever you want."We headed off to the daycare to find her class. 

I ended up dropping her off at the park with the rest of her class.  As we get out of the car she says "Thanks for letting me eat your pastry Mom!"  I didn't think too much about it. 

Later that day, after everyone was dropped off and I was headed into the house to work (from home) - I made sure to get out all the food.  I looked in the bag and sure enough...my scone was demolished.  As was her muffin.

Rolly polly

This morning Paul was fussy.  I had nursed him.  I had dressed him.  I had other things to attend too.  I tried letting him hang out next to me.  I tried putting him in his swing.  He simply wasn't happy anywhere.  So I decided to try his floor toy.

I put him there, pushing him down so he can bang on the piano with his feet (he loves that) and look in the mirror (again - he adores looking at himself in the mirror).  No sooner had I pulled back my hands when FLIP!  He rolled over.

He was kinda mad that he was hung up on the side so I put him back.  I called the other kids over to watch.  They all gathered around and there Paul went again.  FLIP!

They all whooped and hollered cheery on little Paul.  How great is it that so young he already has a supportive family? 

Then Rebekah looked at me and said "I bet baby L taught him how to roll when they visited."

You see, we had visitors last week.  My dear friend C came with her two daughters.  Her eldest is 4 this month.  The younger is 5.5 months.  We had put baby L on the toy and she was flipping like crazy.  I think Rebekah might be on to something. :-)

Roots and community

I moved 3 times before I ever started school.  I attended 5 different elementary schools, 1 jr high and 1 high school.  And the jr high and high school were across the country from one another.  To say "we moved a lot" is an understatement.  And my parents were not in the military, so I didn't have the benefit of being with other kids who moved a lot.

All this moving I believe has heavily shaped who I am today.  I understand friends come and go.  I never have a lot of friends - but when I feel short on them I know how to go get some.  (I do have to remind myself of this fact.)  I understand that a powerful friendship is worth sometimes more than family.  This isn't to say I don't value family.  This is to say that God will fill in gaps in my personal community.  He created us to be communal beings.

I've been thinking a lot about community.  Like a leaf blowing across a busy freeway, an inkling of moving crossed our paths.  The move would have been across the state and so I found myself contemplating this little leaf.  I realized that although I still have never lived in a house for more than 5 years, I have lived in this community...my community...since I got married oh so long ago.  My community has changed drastically since the day I said "I do".  There are very few people that have remained in our life over the years that we do not have common blood with.  But community is similar to those ocean waves.  Each wave is different and brings fresh changes if you look closely - yet the waves are all the same when looked upon from a distance.  My life isn't really all that different.  There are people.  There is a job. A house.  Hobbies.  Life.  Family.  But many faces have changed on all fronts.  Our friends are different.  We have kids - so our family focus has drastically changed.  Our church is different.  My hobbies even look different.

So one thing staying in one place has really taught me is that the churn of change doesn't really require moving.  Moving out of an area will guarantee a change in the faces, the house and even possibly the job.  But obviously since very few people in my life are the same from 14 years ago, staying in one area doesn't guarantee a stable community either.

We have been attending the same church for 8 years now.  This, by the way, is another record for me.  I have never lasted so long at a church - through no fault of my own. Changes have come for all different reasons.  I value church so heavily that I have never given up on it.  (I also don't accept excuses for people who do.  Church really is just that important.) 

Even though I have moved frequently, it still doesn't make it any easier to set down roots or to get to know people.  There is no instant way to weasel your way in to a tight knit group who all knows one another already.  I think that is true even for my current church - who I adore.  So many of them have been together for so long - that I still frequently feel like the 'new kid'.  But I believe that is somewhat why God has placed me where I am at.

A year ago last Easter I sat in a foot washing.  At the time I had another perspective on the whole thing - but lately I've been thinking about what someone else said to me.  She thanked me for being so welcoming.  In fact, she made a beeline straight for me to tell me this during this ritual.  I didn't necessarily feel it, so it was a bit of a wake up call to me.  I am an introvert.  I'm socially awkward.  I'm always terrified of saying the wrong thing.  I do frequently say the wrong things.  (I did just this last Thur.  I've been trying to not relive it.)  Could it be that this is a gift God has given me?  Gifts are those things that you do without trying and without meaning too.  They just happen.  Lord knows I don't try in this area.  I really am not good at talking to strangers and I can be so unwelcoming I have to remind myself to smile...because my face looks perpetually like I'm scowling if I don't.  (No really.  There is a constant conversation in my head..."Miriam!  You aren't smiling!  That person is going to think you are angry with them!  SMILE ALREADY!")

Perhaps I've been carrying around this new feeling for so long that it is just perhaps part of who I am?  "Hi I'm Miriam!  I'm new...I've been here about 8 years how about you?"  I'm certainly only just feeling established.  I'm only just figuring out my role in my church.  (I feel I've just scratched the surface...at this point about all I do is gather people...women specifically.)  Why am I so slow?  It took the Israelites 40 years to figure things out in the desert.  I'm not 40 yet...and I'm certain I'm no better than they are.


I'm thankful for finally having this feeling of roots and community.  I don't believe it will last.  That will always be a perpetual feeling for me.  But I'm thankful for it nonetheless.  Roots have allowed me to grow stronger, to blossom and to grow thick branches.  When the next swirling storm of change comes through, I will be ready and stronger than ever to handle it.

Paul at...however old he is!

The thing about returning to work is that during maternity leave, I knew exactly how old Paul was.  "He is 9 weeks and 3 days" I told someone one time.  That person cocked their head and noted how precise I was.  yep. 

Since I'm not really tracking a return to work, it gets a little trickier.  I told someone one time that I usually switch from 'weeks' to 'months' after I return to work.  That is true this time as well.  "Oh, he's about 3 and a half months."

Funny how that works.

Paul is cooing - a lot.  He loves being talked too and he loves 'talking' back.  He has this big huge smile that takes up his entire face - and he reserves it only for those times he is being talked too.  Otherwise, he is one serious baby.  And when he is concentrating hard he has what I like to call a 'duck face'.  He focuses intently and pooches his lips out...just enough for a classic duck face.

Paul's current hobbies include intensely examining his feet, talking to people, crying (particularly when he isn't being held), clearing the room with his gas and of course pooping.

In fact, we have renamed the 'bumbo seat' to the 'poop seat'.  He tends to poop while he is in it.  I recall Ruth doing the same thing.  What is it with the "bumble bee" (as Ruth calls it) and pooping?  It tends to blow out too.

Paul is already in size 2 diapers.  However, I think the next diapers we buy will be 3's.  I still have a few 1's laying around...and he really is too big for those.  I'm just trying to use 'em up.  I have some 2's...and judging by how they fit and the fact we buy diapers in bulk...3's might just make the most sense.

I can still squeeze him into 3-6 mo outfits.  He is super long and so it takes some tugs to get the snaps done.  However, I've got 12 mo outfits mixed in his drawer.  Those aren't overly large either.  He's a big boy and is routinely confused for a 6 mo old.

Rebekah loves carrying Paul around.  I let her around the house...but am nervous to let her outside of the house (re: hard cement for example).  She is kinda clumsy and I'd hate for something to happen while she was holding Paul.

Peter showers Paul in squishes and smooshes.  I don't think he knows how to express love differently?  He did the same thing with Ruth.  The kid LOVES babies though.  I try really hard to not yell at him too much or push him away too much.  But sometimes it just overloads MY senses...I can only imagine how Paul feels?  Peter also likes to declare his love for Paul.  "I love Paul more than the carpet!"  Um...ok.  So one time I asked him..."How much do you like [the current thing he was comparing his love for Paul too]?"  He replied "Not very much."  Alrighty then!  Glad we straightened that out. 

Ruth is gentle and sweet with Paul...most of the time.  She will talk to him and sometimes is perplexed that he doesn't answer.  She prefers if I answer for him.  Sometimes I will pretend that Paul is praising her for doing something (for example...getting her PJs on herself).  She will giggle and say "Paul do it again!"  She gives him the sweetest kisses that I hope to never forget...bending over him and ever so gently pooching her lips out and slobbering on his cheek.  She loves sitting in my lap when I'm holding Paul - so I do my best to make sure to never say "I can't hold you, I'm holding Paul."  This is tough.  She isn't usually happy with just sitting NEXT to me like Peter was.  But it is good.  I have even figured out how to nurse holding both of them.  I'll take my cuddles while I can.  When Ruth isn't sweet with Paul...it is absurd really.  Randomly (and with regularity...but I haven't figured out a pattern) she will just walk up and slap Paul.  She hasn't hurt him too badly yet.  But still.  I don't understand it.  It is usually very sudden (as in she is standing there fine one second...even perhaps watching TV or something then turns around and whaps him).

Max is well enough with Paul.  When Paul is crying I will frequently catch Max 'kissing' him...sigh.  Great way to build his immune system right?  I'm all "Max!  Paul is not inviting you!" but Max is Max. 

I'm curious what kind of kid Paul will grow up to be.  I wonder if he will be as verbal as Ruth has been?  Or as ornery as Peter was or Ruth is?  Will he be sweet and crafty like Rebekah? Or do I have a whole new bundle of surprises waiting for me?