Life on the kitchen floor

I found myself sitting on the floor at night in the little refrigerator room off my kitchen this weekend (#smallkitchenproblems) helping two of my small children with big life problems.

15 min after telling them to get ready for bed, I found my six year old hiding on the floor behind the door with her head in her lap crying. I sat down with her and wrapped my arms and legs around her. She proceeded to tell me how she was tired. She was tired of being the best in her class. That her friends always want her to be the leader. That she needs to be the best. They come to her for answers. She feels as if she is the center of the energy that everyone depends on. Between sobs, she confesses,

"Mama I don't want to be the best. I don't want the attention. I don't want the boys to like me or my friend to want to be like me. I don't want to be the leader, I just want to be me. Why isn't just plain me enough? I am tired."

Whew.

I think it is important as parents that as our children bring their hurt to our laps, that we don't immediately question it. This is real pain to my little one. I need to FIRST make sure she knows she is heard. That she is held. That she has a safe place to fall apart and won't be punished or shamed or dismissed. And PLEASE DON"T RUSH THIS. Sit in the uncomfortable and hurt and pain. Hold and be there with them. After a few moments I said,

"Baby, did you want to just tell mama because it was bothering you, or would you also like help finding a solution? What do you need from me?"

"I just wanted to tell you. It was bothering me."

"That is absolutely OK. Would you mind if I thought on it a bit so in case you change your mind and you want to find a solution, I might have some ideas later?"

"Yes mama. Telling you and being with you already makes it better."

A kiss. A squeeze. And she was off to get ready for bed.

Outside the door was my sweet 11 year old who feels big things. He then entered my temporary "office" and we sat on the floor, (Seriously I should wash this floor more often if I'm gonna keep having therapy sessions on it!)

I have tried reading between the lines lately with him and seeing signals and warnings of things he might be struggling with. Drinking seems to be a trigger for him lately and he had made an off handed comment that night about alcohol and being out of control. I had him sit with me so I could find out where it was coming from. If an incident had occurred and he didn't tell me.

As we sat and started talking, he couldn't really point to an event that happened. He doesn't like things being out of control. He has had some dreams and some kids at school tell stories, but all of a sudden he started to get physically upset. As his eyes started to become wet, and tears struggled to fall, his confession came.

"Mama, I am scared living here. I'm sorry. I feel sad saying it, but I get scared a lot and I don't know what to do about it. You and dad grew up in nice areas and your family was all around. It feels safe and fun and easy. I want that. I don't want to make you feel bad, but I'm scared here."

And my heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces falling from my eyes to join my son's on our hands that were clasped together, now wet from his fear and my guilt.

We sat there in our pain.

Just sat.

Hurting.

Holding each other.

Not rushing.

"I hear you." I whispered.

"I see you and I hear your fear. It is real and you have nothing to feel bad about it. It is so incredibly hard to be a child who has to live with the decisions your parents make. When your dad and I moved here, we couldn't afford anything else. We only had enough money for here. And sweetheart, we don't know if we could go somewhere else now, but God has kind of put a passion and love for this place in our hearts. I don't know how to hold our purpose being here and your pain together without hurting someone. We don't want to hurt you, or ignore you, or dismiss you and your very real fear at the expense of everyone else.

I don't want you hurt. I don't want you to grow so comfortable with fear that you don't know joy and peace and safety. I want you to be able to trust and be generous with yourself. I don't want our choice to hurt you. Oh baby, but I hear you."

"Thank you. I think I just needed to tell you."

I don't know much. I struggle with living in the paradox of purpose in community and purpose in family. The conflict of self and others. The tension of how to hold all things dear close to my heart where sacrifice is often required. No one ever told me how to parent, especially in racial, cultural, societal, global, religious, low income ridden, abusive, violent tension.

Thing is, living in the neighborhood that has a stereotype of being "the worst place to live" in the Twin Cities due to high violence, crime, and limited access and support to programing brings a unique set of challenges and strain. It is the neighborhood you turn your eyes from. The people that you can easily dismiss. The poverty you can ignore.

North Minneapolis is literally on the "wrong side" of the highway, the river and the railroad tracks. Historically, traditionally, and currently, North's narrative is one of minority oppression and neglect. It is a place to house all the folks and the problems that make life messy, because you know, they look different.  Our white story here is not the same as the story of being black in the inner city, but we live on the same block on the wrong side of right apparently. The tension and injustice is real and we have found deep and profound insight, wisdom, and knowledge of what their journey means and how to walk alongside in the fight for justice and equality.  

So we are simply just trying to live in this place and raise our children with a heart for mercy and justice, but that includes exposure to all the hard, complicated struggles of poverty. And that stress is real.

So I held him and prayed my words out over him. Begging for peace and God's stronghold on his heart to be stronger than anything else. To allow God's truth of mercy and compassion and love to be stronger than anger and fear and resentment. I prayed for boldness in speaking out, for confessing all things in safe places. I prayed that God would keep us as ally's for one another. That my son would know that God is for him and his dad and I will never abandon him. I prayed for a spirit of strength in wisdom and kindness. I prayed and wept all the words I knew over him.

I wish I could tell you that the tears disappeared and immediate peace fell over us. When my young son looked up at me, his eyes still wet, I'm not sure it was peace I saw, but maybe acceptance. A mutual understanding that I can't fix this problem, but I am in it with him. I can't make it go away, but we can sit on our gross floor together. We can eat cookies together. We can pray and cry together. We can play together. We can be in it together and hopefully over time, as we never cease in praying for deep soul inner peace, that one day when we wake up, we might feel that.

Until then, you can find me on my kitchen floor.

Please note: Before you all judge me for parenting technique, or the choices we make for our family, know that one never really walks in someone else's shoes. We only ever see each another's journey from the outside. I choose to believe that most of us are simply just trying to do our best. I ask that you credit me with the same respect.

And our lives are always changing, we as humans are always changing, and as a family, and as parents, Paul and I will continue to be faithful to each other, to our family and to our faith in how we make our choices. With new information, new fears, new circumstances, all these things are taken into consideration. We will always try hard and do our best for these children and our marriage that we have been gifted with. We do not take that responsibility lightly. 

Thank you for being on this journey with us, and thank you for being kind in your response. (That was my passive aggressive way of saying, please don't be a jerk in your comments.) *wink

A little life update from the Tietjen's

So... I never send Christmas cards. Even though I love getting them, but we haven't ever actually sent one out. And now that its WAY past time, and I couldn't even write a Christmas blog, I just decided to give a little family update here. And NOT call it a Christmas card. or an epiphany card, or whatever else. Just a simple, "Hey, here's what the Tietjen's are up to!" kind of card. I mean post. 

I am also including the photos we had taken of our children FOUR months ago and only now just got around to getting together. I mean, these beautiful faces have been locked in the computer for months. They aren't online, or printed or nothing. Nope, this girl right here actually convinces her housemate to take his nice camera, do a quick photo opp with the kids and then sits on it for months. Because yeah, I am apparently that lazy? busy? unmotivated? tired? feel like the pictures are for me so who really cares anyway? Who knows, it's probably a combo of all the above. But here they are, and who knows, now that I gotten this far, I MAY just be motivated enough to get them printed. 

Did you know we don't have any pictures printed and framed in our house of our family? Seriously, I am the worst. 

And these kids should live in a frame. They are the pieces of my heart that live out loud in the best way. They are uncontainable in their passion, fierceness, ideas, creativity, demands, energy, and kindness and frustrations (mostly at each other). You never have to ask them what they are thinking or feeling, they share it all with essays of words. (You can't have two parents who communicate as much as Paul and I and not grow three kids who are just as passionate at communicating.)

Paul and I continue to grow as parents (and spouses) in our knowledge, understanding, learning from mistakes, insight and time with these kiddos. They keep us challenged and humbled. Noah is the protector of the bunch, Caleb the inventor, and Lu our helper. Their hearts are big, their minds are always wondering and their bodies always wanting to explore. For us, we find it critical to learn how to teach them good practices that will help them stay that way. How do you care for yourself and others in a way that respects all life and gives glory to God? This is a guiding theme for us. 

Oh Noah. He is known among his friends as the "Hype Man". His passion serves him in uplifting his teammates, classmate and friends. He is a fierce lover of reading, football, baseball, basketball, legos, spoken word, hip hop, and his family. I can't believe he is 11 and in the 5th grade at Yinghua Academy, which he LOVES. Noah thrives with the Chinese language. Noah's football team also won the championship this year and it was well celebrated. He continues to grow and yet still remains this sweet, innocent young boy who loves to be silly, snuggle and cook with me in the kitchen. 

Aaahhh Caleb. Where I find it easy to describe my other two children, this one just can't be defined in any one word. He has this natural ability for learning, knowledge, reading, math, science, foreign languages, creating and inventing and basic athletic skill. He is wise beyond his years, has a voice that can be heard across town, loves to laugh and play. He makes difficult tasks look easy, he forgives faster than anyone I know, and wants to know everything. Caleb also played football for the first time this year, and also joined the baseball and basketball team. 

Both boys play for our neighborhood leagues and also participate in the local Boys to Men Club which give them a space to hang with their friends, learn life skills, earn some money and volunteer in the neighborhood. 

And then there was her. Eleanor. She is so goofy, and incredibly kind. I have never met anyone who is so concerned for the well being of others quite like this little one. She loves her stuffed animals, her brothers, reading, puzzles and all things artistic. She hasn't started any extra after school activities, but her time will come. She is thriving at Yinghua and loves speaking Chinese. This spunky brave little girl is growing at a rate I am not completely happy about. While I can't wait to see what an incredible woman she will be, I am taking every opportunity to sew, color, do puzzles and snuggle with this little bean. 

Paul and I continue to do what we do. We still live in our little bungalow on the bluffs of the Mississippi with our community garden project right next store. Paul is in his sixth year at Ameriprise which affords him the ability to travel with his band 100 White Flags. This past year Paul also started his three piece blues trio, GOBO which has played a few local fairs around town. He also took the time to help coach Caleb's football team, and assist with Basketball. And for Paul it was a year unmatched as both his Bronco's and his Cubs won their championships in 2016. Needless to say, sports took over a bit over here. Whoa.

I continue to travel and speak. This summer was full of great gigs including the National Youth Gathering, Luther Hour Ministries, and the adult gathering on Mackinaw Island. I love writing for Gatherhaus, an online community that promotes intentional living through simplicity and purpose, and our local paper. I am also working on two new book projects which will hopefully final first drafts this year which I will pitch to publishers. I started working at the kids school two hours a day to bring in a steady income. It's not much but I can't believe how much it eases the pressure of my works of passion. Writing is not a lucrative career, and the anxiety of turning it into one was too much for me last year. Now, I am able to approach my work with the question, "What do I need to say?" NOT "How can this make money?". This distinction is critical to my creative process and the integrity of my work. I have already discovered profound peace in my work with this shift. 

And though the Garden may appear to by my project, it really is a family/community investment. I am honored to be apart of it, proud of what it is becoming, and love my time in that space. We strive every year to grow and improve our outreach and effort. We hosted multiple events last year, grew a TON of food and experienced high community engagement. We are confident this year will be no different.

Thank you all for doing life with us. For following us on this journey. For your interest, your kind words, your time in the garden, showing up for the kids games, donations to our ministry, and booking either Paul's band, or me to speak at your event.  No man is an island, and what good is our heart and soul if we can not share it with each other. 

May we all continue to grow in knowledge, wisdom, understanding, love and compassion. And hopefully in that, be challenged to participate in the restorative and justice work of humanity showed to us by Christ Jesus. 

Happy New Year!

The unseen things...patience with humanity

My son shyly approached me the other day. It was a moment that I knew held emotion and weight by the way he awkwardly didn't even know how to be in his own skin. He was uncomfortable and then, unable to keep it in anymore, he said,

"Mom I am scared of spring. The weather is nicer now and spring means storms. Storms mean lightening and thunder and tornados. I feel dumb because I'm scared of storms and they still bother me. I'm too old to be scared of storms. I don't want to be scared but I don't know how not to be."

It is the stirring of the unrelenting chaotic current that lies underneath our demeanor. 

I know it. 

I know many people who know this feeling well. 

It is the anxiety of what could be, what has been, what might happen. It is the unknown, sometimes based in reality, other times rooted in fear.

I forget sometimes how deeply effected my son was by that day 5 years ago. How that struggle stays with him as he tries to learn how to do life with this wound. 

I think about how already he is worried. I watch as his eyes follow the clouds. How he sneaks peaks on my phone to check the weather. I notice how he plans time with his friends around the weather to not expose his fear or weakness to the people around him. 

His fear and earth shattering experience through the tornado has altered him. 

It makes me wonder about all the others out there who are struggling with a fear, a demon, a ghost, a moment, a person. It makes me wonder how they change their lives to work around this scar in their own existence.

We all have them, yet we feel pressure or shame or anxiety about the timeline in which we should be healed. We have these moments that redefine who we are because these moments never leave us. We simply hold them differently.

Yet from the outside, it is easy to forget that someone else would have an internal scar that I can't see. I only live with your coping techniques, and the sad reality is most often we forget or don't understand so we cast judgements on one another. 

The wind was picking up and tossing and throwing items around the yard and my oldest son wanted to come inside and stop playing catch with his brother. He was embarrassed and so didn't explain why he wanted to come in, he simply left, to which it caused a rift between the brothers. There was angst and some name calling and lots of frustration. 

I saw it and knew. I knew it was  based in fear and panic, lack of communication and embarrassment (shame). It was all about deflecting and hiding and projecting. 

I think it's easy to forget the pain and scars others carry. I wonder how our friendships and relationships could be stronger if we held each other more gently and had patience for the healing process. 

I am no one to judge you and the process of how you carry your struggle, your wound, your scar.  We are all mostly simply trying to navigate our lives and emotional healing is a beast that takes much longer than expected to tame. 

I'm his mother and I forgot his scar. 

I want to take this moment with him and remember to hold him well, but also to reflect and remember that most around me carry scars as well. I am not responsible for all the pain and healing in the people around me. However, if we are in community and relationship as we say we are, then I deeply want to be a vessel for healing and peace. And in order to work towards that beautiful gift, we must be patient with one another and grant understanding. 

What going to the pool looks like now...

I used to be the mom that would meet other moms at a splash pad.

I used to be the mom that would pack one bag for snacks and juice boxes, one with sunscreen, towels, extra clothes, extra bathing suits (for the kid who always has an accident), a bag with toys, water bottles, wet wipes, water guns, sunglasses, sand toys, garbage bags, and of course sweaters in case it got cold. Don't forget my purse and my other small bag that housed the small first aid kit I needed, and emergency kit of Chapstick, essential oils, lotion, tweezers and other small random things that I never thought I could leave home without. You know library books and sewing supplies that somehow just in case I am gifted with 23 seconds of no one needing me, I can get some "Me time". (Cause that totally happens when you are out at a splash pad with three kids.) Then I would stuff the stroller, piling it high so our need to have everything covered was taken care of. I didn't just plan. I over planned. (I think I just stressed myself out reading this.)

But now?

Now we have traded our half day trip to a special splash pad for our public wading pool at the end of our block. 

We traded our 20 minute car ride for a 3 minute walk.

We traded our one hour of prep time to actually just heading out in our clothes, suits long forgotten and optional at best. (I love how all the kids in the hood just come and swim in whatever they are wearing, no one has towels and empty water bottles are the toy of choice.)

We learned to swim with our mouths closed tight because who know's whats in that inner city pool water.

(Actually I have seen some things in that water I wish I could un-see.)

We don't bring towels with us, choosing instead to drip dry on the cement or on the walk home. Instead of packing sunscreen and googles, we bring trash bags to pick up all the garbage that litters our streets. 

We traded conversations about cartoon characters for big beautiful questions like, "What causes someone to start doing drugs? Do they use these needles or are there other ways to take drugs?" or "Why do people throw their trash on the ground? Don't they want to keep our neighborhood clean?" or "Why are there so many police sirens and shootings here?" 

Right? Big. Hard. Questions about culture, about crime, about hurt and what we do with it and why it's here all the time. Questions that don't have easy answers. Questions that I can either answer with prejudice or judgement, or we can talk it through giving small insights and things to ponder. Mostly I answer with more questions urging my kids to think for themselves. Then at night we pray for what we do not know and ask God in all of his mercy and goodness to reveal himself to those who are hurting and grant us trust to live and love.

We traded planned play dates to walking down the street and kids running out of their houses to join us at the pool. As soon as we say park, it somehow sends a virtual message to other mothers I have never met that send their kids out doors and we all go to the park with the pool together. 

I traded a suburban mindset for the inner city lifestyle.

I traded a host of expectations for the simple act of just living. Not planning, just experiencing.

I love watching the kids at the pool now. I love not being burden down with so much stuff.

I traded my preconceived ideas of necessity for a healthy dose of reality.

I traded mom's regulating everything their kids did with being helicopter parents to being the only parent at the pool and having my kids learn every bad word in the American language.

I traded the simple struggle of stuff with deeper struggles of fairness, culture, neglect, and a different set of rules. Rules that seem to apply to the hood and not in other areas of the city. Rules that shift and change and demand you pay attention so you know how to play the game. Struggles that leave kids that aren't yours in your care. Struggles that have kids stealing from you and playing with your kids and eating your food. Struggles to find a way to respect each other when language stands as a barrier between you. 

I traded a perceived idea of safety with always feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

I traded my false idea that I was in control with the harsh consciousness that my kids are exposed to all sorts of things I don't want for them on a daily basis. Yet, that demands my attention, and our conversations and processing about life means and what respect means and how prayer and faith fit into it all.

I traded what I once knew which was easy with what we understand now which is by far much more complex and tangled and messy. It's harder, but I like it a whole lot. 

So now we swim. I bring my key and my phone and we walk out the door ready to embrace whatever adventure meets us on the way. It's our own inner city neighborhood swim club.

The thing you must realize is that I understand full well the privilege we have as college educated whites. We weren't living in great means and decided to move here. It's all we could afford, and being a one income family keeps us living here. However, we do have privileges and opportunities that many in my community don't have. I understand that we often choose to live simply, but for others, limited means is not a choice. My hood is a really mixed bag of folks. Race, culture, expectations, histories and stories. We are so incredibly diverse and that is the piece I love. Maybe some don't have a towel to bring. Others like our neighbors don't have a mother to bring them to the pool because they were left on the door step over a year ago. But others do have means and still they come to the pool with nothing but the clothes on their back just like us. So I don't sit here and make assumptions and judgements on others and what their story is. I am simply put, just thankful for the constant daily reminder that there is another way than the way I understood things before.

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Non-Pinterest Chore charts and Payouts

I kind of just wish I could just blink my eyes and my kids would know how to do chores, manage their money and never complain about helping. I would have magically somehow found a way to have bread three Mother Theresa's.

Chores and Allowance and Volunteering are all things that I want my children to have a healthy relationship with. Not OCD, or hoarding or laziness or compulsion.  I want them to understand these things, respect them, and give them their right place in their life. 

Unfortunately, this knowledge isn't something they just have. Seriously, out of everything else, I wish I could buy this knowledge for them, or give it to them like a vitamin every morning ensuring they were responsible people who were capable and able of great things. 

Bummer.

In the past we have been really, really bad at following through on chores and paying an allowance. We are sporadic at best, consistent never. As I look at how quickly my children are growing and they currently don't posses skills, in my opinion, they need to be moderately adjusted adults. Heck, I want them to be moderately adjusted people always, even teenagers. So... that means this summer became our responsibility training. For all of us. Me included. 

One of the reason Paul and I haven't jumped on the allowance band wagon is we were really struggling to figure our way through it. I am all about kids learning how to manage money and the easiest way to do that is by giving them a allowance. However, we also strongly believe that if you live in the house, then you are responsible to help out. No financial gain. You eat the food, you help clean up. You make the mess, you clean up. We are a team and it is not the responsibility of the parent to assume all of the chores and cleaning and organizing. This is unfair to the parent and most unfair to the kids who never learn how to take care of their things or themselves and live as a community or team.

Then there is the issue of being a team player, but also having some set chores that are elective in choosing to earn extra money. More than this is the fact that I want my kids to learn about volunteering their time without asking for money if they help weed the community garden.

With all of these issues, and the fact that I have a son who needs to know every little detail about every guideline so he can manipulate himself around it and find the loop hole, I decided to write down all of our chores along with our expectations. Gheezzz. it seems excessive, but there is small part of me that likes having it all spelled out on our door so that there is no question about what we expect. 

We broke it down into three different categories:

Family Chores: These you do because you are a part of this team and we live, work, and love together. Because we each take up space in this house, we each are expected to pull our weight in pitching in.

Allowance Chores: The kids have a daily chore they must accomplish without complaint. If they consistently complain, we can withhold payment. I HATE complaining. (Wait, I think I am complaining..)

Community Involvement: Much like our family chores, we live in this neighborhood and the garden and garbage walks help better our neighborhood. We do this because we have pride in where we live, and we want to do our part to take care of the place we live. We live by example. We do not get paid for volunteering. 

I am hoping this will clear up our confusion and expectations. That my kids can go to the board and know what to do. Starting this in the summer allows us time to teach them how to do these chores properly and allow them time for this schedule to become a habit before school starts. 

I will be honest. I am not super excited about all the time this will take on my end to teach them about saving money, how to manage it, and put some way for donating. Or the time it takes to teach them how to clean a bathroom or vacuum out a car. 

BUT...

I would really like to send equipped adults into the world. I want my sons and my daughter to show respect for their things, know how to clean, and have some organizational skills under their belt. More than that, I really want my children to have a healthy relationship with money. To learn how to save it for multiple purposed instead of spending it right away. To learn how to wait and save for the toy they really want, and not spend money they don't have.

Again, if there was a pill that I could give them that would this work for me, I would buy it in a second. I would even donate plasma to make sure we could afford it. Alas, it does not exist, and so our current future looks like we are learning how to be responsible.

Paul and I too, since we have to make sure we follow through and they learn these learn. 

Here is what our overall door looks like now. Meal schedule, daily check list to get screen time, and chores. Whew. Who has time to do chores when making all the signs took this long?

Midlife crisis at the ripe age of... 5.

Our Little was born at the stroke of midnight. We tell her she was born at this magical moment that stands in between time. The witching hour. I told her that every year on her birthday at the stroke of midnight, I come in and kiss her on her nose and say a prayer of thanks for her big beautiful life.

When she woke this morning, on her fifth birthday, she was immediately distraught. Her eyes accusing and her words laced with frustration as she yelled at me,

"I missed it! I missed my birthday! You didn't wake me. You were supposed to wake me!" 

In my most calming voice I said, "You didn't miss it. I kissed you and now its your birthday! We get to celebrate all day!"

She was not convinced as her eyes narrowed at me trying to decide if I was telling the truth. 

She left the room and then came back a moment later. The lines still formed on her face, the frustration still in her eyes, she scowled at me,

"I'M NOT FIVE! YOU SAID I WOULD BE FIVE, BUT I'M NOT. I'm still four! I weigh 40 lbs. I am supposed to be 50 but I am still 40. When do I turn five?"

Well, I never saw that loop hole coming, so I explained the difference between time and weight and how she has a whole year to gain her 10lbs. (I left out the part where we don't actually want to accomplish that every year. I figured baby steps were in order here.)

She was still not convinced. 

The weight thing came back to haunt us a few times today. Each time re-explaining that she can be 40lbs and five years old. I'm not sure where stand on that still. Hopefully the doctor tomorrow can explain it with words she will understand since mine clearly aren't working.

At nap time, I laid her down and she burst into tears. She has currently been obsessed with death. We passed a cemetery the other day and she asked about the grave stones and if people were laying in the ground. I told her their bodies were but their spirits weren't. Everything that makes them alive is still alive in heaven (I went for the easy answer, don't judge me) but it didn't work. She started crying her hysterical cry where you can't understand what she's saying because she is sobbing more than talking. So then I have to ask her a couple times to repeat it because I can't help if I can't understand. Then all of a sudden, the tears magically stop and she is calm so she can talk to me and then the out of no where the tears and sobbing are back. It's amazing to watch actually. I am convinced she has already taken acting classes without my knowledge. 

So she is currently terrified of being put in the ground. I mean, downright convinced that they will put her in the ground while she is still alive and the actual act of being buried is what is going to kill her. I understand, she's five, so it's child logic, I am just not really good at these things. Clearly, since in my effort to help her feel better about being buried alive, I actually said, "Well, you can be cremated instead."

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW! Now you can judge me. 

Ever have that moment where your mouth acts before your brain catches up? And it's like you experience the words for the first time as if they DIDN'T come from your head? Almost as if you were a whole other person in the car and you think, "How stupid are you that you just said that?" 

Yeah. I know. I get it. If there was one wrong move to make in this conversation, I just made it. "Sure little girl, if you don't want to buried alive, they can burn you to ashes instead." 

Way to go mom. There is no way you are winning "mom of the year" now! So much for talking frankly and honestly with our children. Maybe there should be some fine print in this manual that says, "Honest and truthful yes, but age appropriate critical." I think I missed that memo.

So, the wailing got worse. I actually rolled our windows up in the car because I was afraid someone was going to report me for child abuse if they heard her screaming. About an hour later after lots of consoling and trying to back pedal in the most tragic way, I didn't actually convince her that things look good when we die, I just tried to focus on the "Let's live and focus on having a life full of love and fun and family and friends... etc." She either started to listen to me or ran out of steam. I'm not sure which one.

So back to today at nap time.

I laid her down and all of a sudden she started the ugly cry again, (Yes, we all have one and even at age five, it's not pretty. It's actually comical and I have to try really hard not to laugh. One time in the midst of a melt down I excused myself to get her some tissues to help, and even though there were some in the room, I went to another room to get them so I could get my laughter out. I only wish I could secretly record for you. It's RIDICULOUS!) In between her sobs, she tells me,

"I don't want to die and be buried in the ground or burned! (sob) I want to go back to being little. Now that I am five (hiccup) I am big and I don't want to die. I want to be laid on the grass like a flower or be brought back to my bed. (sob) I don't want to be (hiccup) big."

Wow. 

And then at bedtime...

"I wish I was little still. (cry) When I was little, I could go with you everywhere. I have to (sob) go to school now and I am going to (hiccup) miss you. We do everything together and I am going to miss you. We are going to be lonely without each other. I don't want (cry) to die or get big or go to school without you."

So.. we clearly have some issues we need to work on over here. We have some anxiety, obviously, we have a strong fear of death (thanks to me) and we don't like change.

And you know the terrible part? She doesn't even start school for four more months!!! The really selfish and dark hole in my heart wants to scream, "Do I really have to do this all summer?!?!"

My small child thinks her life is over because she turned five today and only death and separation are in her future. Maybe I should make a dream and vision board with her. Find pictures of all the fun things we get to do in the next four months and in then in the next six. You know, give her something to look forward to so she doesn't think it's all down hill from here.

And the next time my child asks me about anything remotely life changing, I'm calling my mom.

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A Birthday Disaster

Let's take a minute, (or 10 since I have lots of words with this being my second cocktail and all tonight) and reflect on my weekend. 

We had a community garden tree planting event and two birthday parties to throw. It didn't sound too difficult.

Friday night Paul was out with a friend. so I did minimal cleaning to prepare for the party. By that I mean I put all the embarrassing things away, but let the vacuuming, sweeping and dishes get the best of me. I claimed I was inspired and wanted to write, so I headed to my room with my laptop in hand, settled into bed. I think I wrote four sentences, got distracted by Facebook and then fell asleep. 

Due to that great responsible move, Saturday morning left me hours behind in prep. While ignoring my kids plea for breakfast, I threw a load of laundry in, put clean dishes away and then realized I was supposed to make a gluten free pastry for our friends who were coming to help plant apple trees in the community garden. I hadn't even made Middle's birthday treat, so there was no way a breakfast pie was happening. At that moment of realization, our neighbors showed up with breakfast in hand to come help plant. I threw on the clothes that were heaped on the floor, because I had worn them yesterday and opened the door with a smile. Having no gluten free option available, I brought forth grapes, and then didn't even end up washing them, but had my neighbor do it. My patheticness took over in that moment. 

Once everyone was assembled, we went outside to plant and that's when we saw a crew of Whole Foods volunteers come to plant the trees that they donated to the garden. With more people than were necessary, we decided to move our effort to cleaning the garden, which turned out to be the smartest move I made all weekend, considering all the x-rated items and glass we pulled from the dirt. Don't want the kids finding those things!

After the cleaning and planting had commenced, it was time for a quick lunch and party prep. Oh yeah, I still hadn't made Middle's birthday treat or decorated. So as the clock struck 1pm and the first friend showed up while Paul and our oldest were putting up streamers. (The only reason we were doing that was because I bought special streamers for Little's birthday party the next day which ironically never went up and I didn't want Middle to think I would decorate for her and not for him. Got to have it fair and even right?) While the streamers went up, I was still mixing the ice cream that was supposed to be frozen over night. But me? Oh no, I was going to be serving it in exactly 1 1/2 hours. Yeah, I was winning over here. No birthday treat, (the ONLY thing we are serving mind you) the bathroom is disgusting, there is garden dirt all over our floors and that is when I realized that we don't have a birthday present for our daughter. Who we are celebrating. The. Very. Next. Day.

So... the first party has started, barely, and I sent my husband away to go buy the bike she was getting from her grandparents who live far away, and a special stuffed animal from us. I am left with the couple of friends who Middle invited, a few of the siblings who decided to stay and the neighborhood kids who joined us. Seriously, it was like I was standing in some weird multiplying machine. I had kids running around the house, running outside the house, and running in our neighbors yard. They were waving sticks and lightsabers and screaming and playing and fake dying all over the ground. I had coffee brewing, the phone started ringing, one kid came in and was bleeding and needed a band-aid, another one was crying, and Paul was texting me about help with what bike to get. I was four stimulations over my max. 

At this point, my dear friend showed up with her son and I clung to her like a life line. We were headed to the park! I had to do something. So for the next 45 min the kids ran and played at the park down the street, and I actually had a conversation with my friend. Once we made it home at the time when the party was ending, we sang Happy Birthday to Middle and we dished up the special ice cream fudge he picked. Izzy drinks were served, and spilled on the ground, presents were torn open, and parents were coming to get their kids, sadly observing the chaotic state in which we were currently existing. 

I am not kidding. At that moment, we had more people show up to the community garden next door to prep the land and get it ready for planting. My son invited those kids into the house because we were having a party, shared the drinks and dessert and we added a few more to the mix. I went outside to talk to Michael who is one of the leaders. His brother joined us and started an inappropriate relationship with my hand, as he wouldn't let it go and continued to bestow kiss after kiss with over indulgent compliments. Paul still isn't home, so I wasn't sure how to get myself out of this awkward conversation. Pulled my hand away, he took it back. Moved myself out of the conversation and he brought me back in. It was then our housemate Chad came home, saw my distress and rescued me. 

When Paul finally made it home to wrapping paper all over the floor, garden dirt smashed into the carpet, the sink full of dishes, the first thing he heard from our oldest was, "SOME GUY KISSED MOM AND I WANTED TO PUNCH HIM." Well, that needed some explaining to say the least. (It wan't kissing... it was my hand... it was innocent...it was awkward....we handled it...Your the only man for me.) Done. 

While making dinner, I decided to have a cocktail. I don't need a drink to relax, but it sure is nice once in awhile. Right after my vodka and OJ and Cranberry (don't judge, it was all we had) I realized that everyone was contained with a movie, the sun was shining and I was desperate for a run. I got changed, and was heading out at 730 before the sun set. Before I made it to the door, Paul grabbed my face in his hands and said to me, "Please be careful. You are going out at night and I need you to be aware and safe. Make smart choices and come back to us. I love you." 

Yes it sounded as final now as did to me in the moment. But living where we do in Minneapolis, he wasn't off base. His fear is founded and I was actually surprised he let me go. (That sounds bad, but I am hoping you know what I mean by it.) So I headed out and about five blocks into my run, my cocktail caught up to me. More than the extra weight I put on, that cocktail is what slowed me down and made my head fuzzy and giggly all at the same time. I thought to myself, I just left my house slightly buzzed (not being a regular drinker, apparently one cocktail will do that to you) going out for a run in a highly complicated and threatening neighborhood. 

Not. My. Best. Moment. 

I had a lot of revelations during that run. Many pondering's about fear and violence and culture and the ghetto that will end up in my next book, (It's name to be leaked later), but I made it home safe and sound, though albeit still a little foggy and completely exhausted. Paul was doing his workout and the kids were asleep so I laid down in bed to wait for him to be done and catch my breath. Apparently when my head hit the pillow, I was out. The next thing I know is that I woke with a start and it was 1145pm. I came out of the room, cold sweat chilled on my body, me still in my workout clothes, and Paul was sitting on the couch all showered and relaxing. I think what came out of his mouth as he looked at me was, "Nice nap? You are a big hot mess that passed out still in your workout clothes without even waking up." I think I glared at him then hopped in the shower for a quick rinse off and crawled back into bed.

Since for the second night in a row, I was apparently incapable of cleaning or joining the land of the living, I had to clean up from one party and prep for the next one all before church. With legos everywhere, the dishes still piled high, the bathroom still not clean, I figured the one thing I could do right today was getting Little's treat ready on time. (Middle's turned out more like soft fudge and not ice cream which worked just fine for the kids.) With some picking up done, breakfast only consisting of two spills, one of milk and one of cereal, we made it to church on time and back home in time for the party to start. 

We wanted to give Little her new bike before her friends showed up. Paul and I made a big deal about the reveal with our camera in hand and unveiling it with the lift of the garage. We were expecting joy, laughter, a squeal maybe.  We were so ready to capture this amazing moment. Her first real bike. All her own. She has been asking for one for over a year and now she got one. When the garage door lifted, we got nothing of what we expected. We literally got...NOTHING. She looked, she saw, she walked up to her bike and just looked at us. I think the word "cool" came out but I'm not sure. What I can say is she was unenthusiastic, unimpressed and the one thing we hoped for didn't happen. 

So while she starting riding her new bike, her three friends showed up and everyone started to play together. I was able to make the ice cream she requested, but I never got the decorations up, and half way through the party, I realized I never even changed the Happy Birthday banner. It still read Happy Birthday Caleb. At her party! After about 10 minutes in, Little started sobbing that her brothers were more fun than her and that her friends didn't want to play with her. She was the Birthday girl so she was supposed to be the favorite. 

I took my kids aside and had a talk. I thought it was all figured out. We separated out the girls and the boys were going to a park with Paul. We had five peaceful minutes, and then Little was crying again. I have no idea what set her off that time, but she came up to me and said, "Mama (hiccup) I need a moment alone (sob) with you to speak about a problem." How can an almost five year old talk like a refined old lady while in the midst of an epic melt down? This was number 2 of I don't know how many because I lost count of the number of melt downs she had. Her party was 2 hours long and she was actually only apart of it for about, oh, a whole 15 minutes. With Paul being gone now for the second party in a row, and me trying to hang with the 3 girls who were invited to this tragic party, all while Little still cried in my room, I went upstairs to elicit Chad's help in convincing Little to come out. 

While Chad was in the room with Little working his magic, the girls and I were playing with the farm animals. Somehow we got on the subject of "if the White and Black cows only gave milk and the Brown cows were for meat." We did some research and kept talking about cows and milk, and babies and feeding them, and milking them. Then questions were happening about other animals and babies and feedings and milk, and all of a sudden I realized I was sitting in my living room ready to deliver a reproduction speech to little girls that aren't mine! All I kept thinking was, "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING?!?!" My daughter is literally living  the mantra"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" while I have other people's children asking me about milk and mommies and babies.

For the second time, of this backwards, upside down weekend, I found myself a little lost and completely unprepared. I have no problem talking about sex, or any issue with my kids. However, I kind of have this fear of other kids asking me questions like that, me explaining things in a matter of fact kind of way, and the child going home slightly traumatized as if I just told them Santa wasn't real and their parent coming and yelling me. So I get a little panicky when the topic turns personal with children who are not my own.

So I decided to distract them with ice cream and cookies. I know. Real mature.  

(Those are the two left over streamers from her brothers party, which she later pointed out where not the special colors she picked.  whoops.)

It was at that point we got Little out of the room, we sang happy birthday to her, dished up ice cream, the moms showed up to get their daughters. That was the moment Little noticed I hadn't changed the birthday sign and it didn't have her name on it. "I don't even get a sign with my name on it?" (tear)

Oh, epical hot mess this weekend.

I sat on the porch with my dear friend who's daughter was still here we shared a cocktail while we talked and the girls played nicely AFTER the party was over. 

So all in all, Middle was a screaming mess, Little was a crying mess, Paul got kicked out of both parties, and I clearly couldn't handle myself this weekend. My obvious coping mechanisms are a blinding light as indicators go.

Middle never figured out how to be quieter, Little, well, we are hoping and praying that the emotional tidal wave of today is not an indicator of her teenage years, though we know we are wrong, we are going to try to keep Paul around more, and  I switched to coffee.

If you made it this far, I am impressed. We should share a drink together. 

I mean get a coffee.

Or a glass of water. 

Bike earned life lessons

The kids and I went for a bike ride today and all of a sudden it was as if my real life collided with my big picture life in the span of a moment. And it happened over and over for the next 30 min.

My real life would be that this was the first time the kids and I biked this year and the rules are different now. Last year Little was still in a buggy attached to my bike and Middle was on the one wheel attachment with Paul. Big would ride in the pocket between us. Everyone was contained and we could keep our eyes on each of the kids. Paul led the way, I brought up the rear and we were all good. Contained. Dare I say, we were in control?

Then somehow this year, everyone got bigger. Older.  More grown up. Independent. And that means that life changes, rules are different. Little rides the one wheel attachment and both boys are free. It also means that we have the freedom to ride without Paul when he is at work. Our family dynamics have changed and we find that we are still a team but with different roles to play and different dynamics when we engage with one another. 

Life doesn't stand still. Families aren't imortalized. We grow, we learn, we gain wisdom and fall in foolishness. We are human living in a world that requries we keep moving forward.

In my real life, I hadn't ever ridden with the one wheel attachment. Fumbling our way through, I almost lost Little because I forgot that she could get on and off the bike. I realized I had to actually check to see if she was ready. Before, I would just put her in, pile in her books and snack and we were good. I could stop and start whenever I wanted. She was contained and under control. Now the girl has freedom. And I'm not gonna lie, its a little unnerving. So after I almost left without her, then almost dropped her because I wasn't used to her unbalanced weight, we slowly took off. 

That's when it hit me. I can't see my other two kids. I take the lead and they bike behind me. Not only are they biking behind me, because I am the one who sets the path, I actually have to trust my oldest to bring up the rear. Trust him. Trust that he knows the rules. Trust that he will be responsible. Trust that he will communicate when something is wrong and that he can recognize when that might be. That's when my heart start pounding and growing big with panic. 

Once that thought hit me, I realized Little and I were tipping. I am used to carrying dead weight on two wheels while she sits tucked in a sturdy buggy. With the one wheel attachment, she can pedal and lean and the whole bike shifts. And she's only almost five so when she leans and panics, that means she over corrects herself to not fall and screams and panics and yells at me that everything is horrible and she can't do and we need. to. stop. now.

So I say in my most calming, I am not stressed out voice, "Little we are OK. You have to trust me that I will keep us safe. We have to do this together. If you feel like we are going to fall, trust that I can keep us going. We are team now and we can do this together. "

Middle chimed in that Dad gave him the same speech when they biked that way too. 

As we biked along, I realized how quickly my children are growing up. How without even realizing it, they are learning things, growing in wisdom, and becoming real people. (Not that they weren't real before, but they becoming their own I guess in a way that I don't get to dictate or control.) 

Next year Little will be going to full day Kindergarten. I will have my days free to workI and volunteer and take care of my family on my own schedule. My children will be living their lives at school apart from me, learning and growing and I need to trust them. I also need to trust that we are doing our job and they are learning from us at home as well. 

Above all other growing pains I realized today, is that the rules are changing. They are getting bigger and even though they need to learn themselves in new ways, I need to relearn my role with them as well. So many pieces of their lives are out of my control and even though that truth has always been real, it is evident in more ways than our previous years of their young childhood. My role as their mother is not to see everything they do and control it, (though seriously I would beg for that to be the way because I have fiercely good ideas and have made so many mistakes, if they just did what I said, life would be so much easier for them.)

I ride along with them. I ride to encourage and guide back if they need it. I am there to tell them are OK. I am there to say, "You are not alone. If you need me, we got this." I am their support system. The place they fall back on because they overcorrected and made a mistake. 

As kids get older, their personalities and opinions change. They shape their own ideas. They gain independence even though we live as a unit, they need to live on their own two feet. The rules change and its important as parents that we let them learn what that means. But it also means that our role changes as well. I need to learn to trust them. I need to learn that my job isn't to control everything but to guide, support, love and help when they ask.

I was thankful today for the physical reminder of what is emotionally happening in our household. Our bike ride reminded me that even though I have been clutching to hold on, I need to let go a little bit and just hold my children and our relationship gently so they know they can trust me not to overcorrect them in my parenting. 

Our roles change as we grow. And as we grow, we change. I hope I can be patient with myself and my children as we figure out this space in our life. And if you find yourself in the midst of shifting roles and growing pains, I am with you. You are not alone.

When Counseling enters your story

I am writing this post yes for myself to journal about this experience, but also for you.  The mom or friend or brother or child in the family where things get hard sometimes.  Or maybe lots of the time.

I am writing to tell you that even though, yes, we as a family have lots of funny stories to share, yes we get to travel the country together, and we live as a family grounded in faith and our house is covered in art projects with music blaring, we struggle with anger.

A lot it seems.

We live big.  I don't mean financially, I mean intense and passionate big.  We are big and passionate when we love each other and when we are angry with one other.  We talk loud, we dance every day, we run and don't walk, we eat a lot.  It seems everything we do and all that we are is just heightened a bit.  A little extra if you will.  I often call my children full.  This is not to imply that other children or families are lacking.  Not at all.  Somehow though my children have tapped into all their thoughts, emotions, creativity, and life's purpose all ready, at a very young age.  So they often feel like grown up people, just crammed in little bodies and they are screaming and clawing their way out.

This is all good and wonderful and you get really funny stories, until they get upset and even those thoughts and feelings are extra large.  That's when people start to get hurt.

I will often say we know how to do 80% of life well.  But we really struggle with that other 20%.   

Those times when the kids are not doing their homework and I remind them again for the seventh time and they get angry. The day you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and the next door neighbor hears about it. Or when you are still trying to teach your kid to tie his shoes two years later because he gets frustrated with himself and gives up and starts huffing and puffing and throwing a tantrum.

At 8 years old.

Our oldest has been gifted with direct access to all of my red hot issue buttons.  I mean seriously, buttons I didn't even know were triggers for me, he found them.  And he LOVES to push them.  He must, because he does it ALL.THE. TIME. 

So, we don't do the hard stuff well.

We don't argue well.  We can sometimes get hurtful.

We don't always do discipline well.  Sometimes it isn't patient and thoughtful, its just down right yelling to get you to go to your room, of which I am never proud of.

And for our oldest, it seems there are lots of things that make  him frustrated.  No matter how we have tried to work with him to find systems where he can find success in doing his homework and chores and helping his siblings, he really struggles anger and frustration.  He is incredibly vocal about it and so the negative energy permeates the entire house.

It's really hard to have frustration in the home.  I am weary of fighting it.  Tired of counteracting it. Researching ways to avoid it.  

I believe that some of the reason for this frustration is directed at his restricted diet to keep him off of meds for ADD/ADHD and sensory issues.  I know part of the reason for his fear (which fuels anger) is the weather after a tornado hit our home three years ago.  And the brutal truth is that living in the most crime dense neighborhood of Minneapolis posses an ever constant dull awareness that we are not safe.

I could go on and on about why I think he might be angry, or why I am angry with him, or why we yell more than we are proud of.

But the truth is that we are maxed out in our understanding of how to help each other.

So we are starting counseling.

We need counseling to learn how to do the hard stuff better.  To find tools in how to communicate with each other so that we aren't doing irreparable damage to our relationships.  I can't send my son into adolescence with all this fear and anger, only to add more life and insecurity that comes from school to the mix.  I don't want our relationship to continue being built on a mine field where we never know when he is going to explode. The prayer is that a counselor can give us ways to respect each other in our hard time and know how to handle it better.

I am not foolish enough to believe that we won't ever fight again.  That will most likely happen within the next 24 hours.  But what do I want?  

I want my son to know that I will do anything for him.  That I will find a way or a person that will help him love himself and life.

I want my son to know that talking to a counselor is not for crazy people, but for people who are ready to admit that the knowledge you hold alone sometimes isn't enough.

I want my son to know that asking for help is OK. 

I want my son to know that he is OK.  That he is funny, and compassionate, and thoughtful, and silly, and smart.  That he is all of those things, and he is frustrated.  So let's see how we can deal with the frustrated.

I want my son to know that we are a safe place where he can come and he knows we see all of him and love all of him.

I want to give my son the gift of self awareness.  This is a gift that helps you navigate faith, judgement, relationships and life.  The more self aware we are, the more compassionate we can be.

And I want my son to learn healthy communication in order to understand faith, God and others.

So.... we are going to counseling.  I want to encourage you, if there are some really hard things going on in your life, please give yourself the gift of counseling.  To have another pair of eyes and ears in your life that will encourage you in what you do well, and give you tools to handle the hard stuff.

Manager of the mess

I get it.  I really think I do.  

The grandmas and mothers of older children look back fondly when their children were smaller and big life issues weren't an issue.  They say stuff like,

"Make the most of this time.  It goes so fast.  Don't sweat the small stuff.  Pick your battles.  The days are long and the years are short.  It won't last forever."  

Most of this advice I try to listen to.   I mean they should know right?  They've done this and I want their wisdom to try to make it through this highly emotional living at warp speed season of life.

However, if I hear one more time how I shouldn't worry about a messy house because we are making memories, I might have to turn on my heels and walk straight away before I scream at you.

What do you mean, don't worry about the mess?  

I have to worry about the mess!

I have to care when I get out of bed and step on scissors because my daughter decided she wanted to be close to me when she woke up early and wanted to make me a card.  However, when she was done cutting, coloring and gluing, decided to go and play legos with her brothers, leaving her mess and forgetting for the hundredth time to clean up after she is done leaving me with scissors glued to my foot.

Or when my kids want to build a city out of their Imaginex toys and Legos and forts with sheets. Leaving absolutely NO space to walk around since their room is 10x12ft small.

Or when my children, Lord bless them, want to help me in the kitchen.  Little hears I need milk, goes and gets it and drops it on the floor, while my middle grabs the knife to cut the cucumbers because he can't, and I mean he just can't wait one teeny tiny minute for this mother to clean up the first mess before he slides the knife, misses the cutting board and then knocks the jelly to the floor.  All of this happens while Big yells to me that the water is bubbling over on the stove.

So I gently  usher them out of the kitchen to get a handle on the mess and my emotions.  I mend the kitchen issues for 10 minutes, only to go out to the living room to see all the cushions on the floor for a big romping mess, water spilled on the table, the toenail clippers on the floor, paper clips scattered EVERYWHERE because of course the kids are making a spider man chain.  It is at this moment that my dear husband asks me where the measuring tape is, the phone rings and the timer goes off.

I take a second, one little second to survey my current out of control life.

The kitchen table has bills piled on it, remnants of breakfast and lunch still hanging around because I did choose that morning to play with my kids instead of cleaning every last dirty dish.  There are scrambled eggs, ketchup, rice cake crumbs, broken chips, squashed blueberries, shriveled apple slices and other food that can't be identified under the table even though I just swept yesterday.  YESTERDAY PEOPLE!

Our kitchen table is also apparently the ONLY place for craft projects of which my children like to have at least five projects going EACH AND EVERY DAY.  They need a piece of paper for every thought, and every idea.  They make books, and cards, planes and crowns, magic tricks and costumes out of paper.  They are unstoppable, and it is unreal how much they love to CUT paper.  Seriously, cutting bits of paper that scatter and fall and stick to your foot and end up ALL OVER THE HOUSE is going to be the death of me.

Unless stepping on all those darn Legos don't kill me first.

Food.

Paper.

Projects.

Clothes.

Legos.

Homework.

You want to know what is incredibly sad to me?

I only described my kitchen table to you. 

One small space in our life.

I'm not taking you into the rest of the house.

See, I have to care about the mess because you know what happens when we don't care about the mess?

Moms go crazy.

That's what happens.

A mom's brain is on overload.  She is already managing ten thousand things all at the same time.  She doesn't need a house that looks on the outside like what it does on in the inside.  I don't want anyone to see what is going on in there.  I wish I could escape it sometimes.  So then to see that not only is my brain a big hot mess, but the house is too?

It's too much.

It makes me crazy.  It makes me incredibly cranky and irritable, because everywhere I step I land on food.  I head to the kitchen to cook, and it turns out I have to wash dishes first so we have something to eat on.  I go to get a pen to write a message and can't find one.  I search under cushions, in the bathroom, and finally find one under the bed.  Everything takes 10 times longer when the house is a mess and frustrations are higher because you can't ever find what you need.

Then according to everyone in the house, mom is the only one who knows where everything is.  But then little people like to play the game, "move things around the house but don't remember where I put it, but mom should know anyway."

I hate that game.  I mean really hate 

A messy house just means there is more mess in life.

Yes, I want to spend my time loving and being with my kids.  I don't want to spend hours dusting and washing floors that will just need to be done again next week.

But all of this also assumes that I am in charge of cleaning.

We don't do any service to our kids by not teaching them to clean up after themselves.  They need to know how to take care of their things.  To show respect for their belongings and know that if you make a mess, you should clean it up.

So, you know what that does to my life?

It makes me a manager and teacher of how to be clean. Not ignoring the mess, but now focusing on it because I am training others in how to handle it.  It becomes my job to help train my kids to put their clothes away when they change into pajama's.  Otherwise, there room is a total  mess within just a coupe days.  

They should be responsible with helping set and clean up after meals because they are partaking in the meal. 

They should clean up after their arts and crafts.  It's called responsibility.

So yes, I understand that there are times, you run out your door after a meal to enjoy a family bike ride, not cleaning up the dishes and waiting till later.

Yes, its OK to let the clean up rules slide for special time together.

But really?

The truth is, we have to care about the mess.  If we don't, then where is my dish fairy to come and take care of the load of dishes in my sink that I am still ignoring from lunch?  

We need clean clothes.

We need clean dishes.

We need toys to be put away so we can find them later to play with.

We need to teach our kids to be responsible.

That means however that I need to care about the mess.

If you really want me to enjoy time with my kids and enjoy the moment, then instead of telling me I shouldn't care about the mess, offer me a glass of wine while I play my 15th game of "Sorry" and you can do my dishes for me.

Crafty when it's cold outside

Today was the kids fourth day this month alone being closed due to crazy, crazy, crazy cold weather.

Cold weather like -25 which doesn't sound as cold as the -45 it was earlier this month.  Numbers I can't even really comprehend.

On days like today, days where we don't leave the house and hunker down, I like to pull out all the stops.

We stay in our PJ's all day.

We drink Dandelion coffee and hot tea.

We snuggle in under warm blankets and read stories.

Our favorite thing to do together on unexpected days off is cook all of our meals together and work on a project.

This morning we feasted on Sweet potato hash and fried eggs with smoked salt.  Using sweet potatoes as hash browns is a really great way to include this wonderful food in an unexpected way at a meal time where you don't usually use it.  I like to add curry to it, or cumin, but I always saute with olive oil, minced garlic, and diced onion.  I let the kids peel and grate the sweet potatoes, smell the different seasonings and  pick which flavor to use for the morning.  A nice and hot breakfast to start the day!

We then had our dear friend over for a long morning play date.  The kids had a dance party, put together a Lego scene (which my kids have continued working on all afternoon) and do some magic tricks and hide and go seek.

My beautiful friend Inga stayed over where we swapped some recipes, drank coffee and brought out our sewing machines.  Perfect day for sewing!  She pulled out napkins to work on that had been on her to do list for quite some time.  I pulled out a tea set table cloth and napkins that I promised my daughter after I gave her a tea set for Christmas last year.

That's right people, her Christmas gift LAST YEAR!  Clearly, you can imagine the pile of back up projects in my craft room.  I am really happy with the result and wanted to share.  While I worked on the table cloth, I had homemade chicken and potato soup stewing on the stove which just made the house smell wonderful and warmed us up when we ate.

This is a picture of Little last Christmas opening her tea set.  I found it online after I was disappointed at only finding pink and purple sets in the stores.  I was so thrilled she liked it so much!

I love this photo because yes my little is dressed up as Thor and the crown she is wearing was her homemade Christmas present from her brother.  I love my little girl Thor playing with her new tea set.  Hilarious Perfection.

Here Little is learning all about her Germany silverware that goes with her set.  I found this silverware at an Antique road show over a year ago and just waited till I found the tea set to go with it. So after she fell in love with her tea set, I had it in mind to use some scrap fabric to make little napkins that go along with it and a little table cloth.  I figured it was an easy project using two old large quilt squares and some scrap fabric.  Little napkins can't be that hard right?  

And yet it took me over a year.

Today after lunch I pulled out the fabric and got the table cloth done along with the napkins.

Here is one side of the table cloth.  The middle piece was already done when I purchased this fabric over two years ago.  I added the border to make it larger for a table cloth.

Here is the other side, a beautiful array of vintage fabric sewn together in scraps.  It is far from straight and perfect, but perfect for a little girl and her tea set.  Little was excited that she had a colorful side and a quiet side.

Little wanted to celebrate by having a tea party.  She filled her pot with water, laid out the table for two and even cut up our banana's.  She exclaimed, "Mom it's like a real little party!"

Here is one of the little napkins I made for the set.  I made six napkins of varying fabrics.  Since most of the little things I make or do for the kids I want as family keepsakes, I decided to embroider her initials in them.  When she saw ET, she threw her little arms around me and said they were the best.  Best. Response. Ever.

After we enjoyed our tea party, we headed to the kitchen to make Sweet Potato burgers for dinner.  With sliced onion, avocado and sliced pickles, they were to die for.  We are off to put laundry away, read some more and make sure we are ready for school tomorrow.

Back to a  normal day I guess.

There is blood in our streets

Two days ago a man was shot and killed for his wallet two blocks from our home.  

He was shot once standing, and then once he fell to the ground, was shot two more times in the head.

The blood remains in the snow and the city seems confused in how to remove it.  Usually the Fire department comes and washes it away, but that would cause an ice slick.  A bobcat came out and shoveled it into a pile but now doesn't know where to dispose of it.

And so a heap of bloody snow remains in the street as a vivid reminder of the fear we live in on the Northside.

Not one news media covered the murder.

Not. One.

That seems to be the piece of information that those of us who live here are holding onto.

I am apart of a social media group called North Vent.  It is a way for all of us who live in NoMi (North Minneapolis) can communicate and share information.  You can hop on North Vent as soon as you hear gun shots, sirens, or see smoke, and everyone starts sharing what they know.  It's almost a modern day community watch program.

Social media has dramatically changed how much information I now have regarding the in's and out's of crime in NoMi.

I am thankful for information because having information gives you understanding of where it is safe and not safe to go.  For instance, I have come to discover that the leader of one the strongest Mpls gangs just moved two blocks away from us.  I learned about the illegal after hours club that got shut down just over a month ago three blocks from our house.  We know when they are doing drug sweeps on the street and whose responsible for the latest shooting.  People here keep watch and share information so we all can stay informed and safe.

What has struck me more than any of this however is getting an inside look into how people feel about living here.

For all the good and hard stuff that happens here, I am not quite sure what to do with the feelings of helplessness that the general community has.

Comments such as, "If anyone approaches you, give them whatever they want and run the other way.  It's your only hope of not getting shot at, and even then it's possible."

or, "People don't understand that when you live here, you are afraid to get out of your car and just walk up to your house.  You wonder if today is the day that your house was broken into.  You fear that at any time, you could get jumped or killed just for being on a bike." (There was a young man shot and killed this summer riding his bike to a neighbor's house to deliver a meal.  It unsettled the community greatly to say the least.)

I know those thoughts.  I have those thoughts.

But now I know that I am not alone.  I am in a community of people who all live afraid and have surrendered to living in fear.

There is an undercurrent of anger towards the government and police officials because the crime continues to get worse, and so often, the outside communities don't hear about it.  

We feel left and forgotten.  When men are shot and killed and in our streets and no one knows about, it sends a pretty loud and clear message.

You are alone in fighting this.

When a community of people who have been hurt feel that they aren't seen or cared for, they get angry.  Anger never makes things easier.

Anger makes things violent and creates communities of fear.

And then here we sit.

Crime running high.  People who are afraid then turn frustrated and angry.  Justice becomes the platform.  Taking things into our own hands become their job, because people have to pay for what they've done.

Or...

You tuck inside and hide.  You protect yourself and those close to you.  You keep your head down, you stay smart and plan when you leave your house.

Fight or Flight.

Those are our options.

16 armed robberies last week alone.  One ending in murder, and no one knew because the news never covered the story.

17 now.  We watched a man got robbed at gun point in front our home this morning.

We live in a culture of fear.

The comments of desperation are getting louder.

It makes me nervous.  Not knowing what is coming.

And so we pray.

We pray for guidance, for answers, for peace, for safety.

We aren't sure what else to do.

Is changing a whole community and culture based on fear possible?

I don't know.

I really just don't know.

Absorb the moments

I haven't done this very well lately.  

If you follow me at all, you would know this to be true with my lack of paying attention to my website and blog.   Life has slipped away as I pour myself into my kids, my husband, and the book.  There has been time for little else these days.

When life is lived at full speed, we are incapable of having the moments of our days absorb into the fabric of our life.   As quickly as the moments come, they slide off our skin the same way. 

I have produced a ridiculous amount of work, food, activity, sleepless nights, projects, frustration and disagreements with my kids and weekends away lately.  Over the last few months I literally have not stopped.  There hasn't been time.   And every time I hear people talk about slowing down and simplifying, it is another avenue for guilt to seep in and overshadow all other emotion, crowding reality.

I know the way things should be.  I know the way they can be.  Sometimes we are able to make choices to help us slow down, to enjoy, to invest, to participate.  If I was being truthful however, most days I don't feel that way.  That even the possibility of slowing down is a futuristic ideal that can't really ever be achieved.

So how do I intentionally live my life and not let it slip by?  

When slowing down is literally not an option for this short or long season in your life, we all have the capability of absorbing the moments around us, willing them not to leave us so soon.  If I won't stop to see the people and the memories directly in front of me, then I am destined to miss my life.

I live in a strong constant motion of doing.  Cooking, cleaning, baking, ironing, washing, picking up...well everything, creating, crafting, shopping, mending, gardening, driving, helping with homework, helping with getting dressed, helping take baths, helping find this particular day's specific super hero outfit.  The work is never done.  The moving never slows.

So how do I slow down?  

I am not sure I can.  However, I can take a moment to pause.

To absorb.

To stop.

To measure my life and hold on, even just for that fleeting moment. 

The fleeting moments of my life, my marriage and with my children.

My oldest son is hard for me.  I see his kind heart and his empathy, and servant attitude.  I see his creativity and love for music and sports.  However, in him I also see all my struggles and shortcomings.  He carries all the things of my life I wish I could easily fix.  It's really hard not to control him, and in someway try to control myself.  

One thing about Big, is that doesn't just wear his heart on his sleeve, He lives with all of his emotions draped over his body like overalls.  You know how he feels about everything, ALL THE TIME.  He shares passionately his opinions and attitudes.  It's wonderful, unless it's annoying.

We have had a string of hard days.  Him consistently and successfully pushing my buttons.  Me, unable to let any little thing slide, pushing him and coming down hard on him.  For the last two weeks, neither one of us have been each others biggest fan.

I went to pick him up from a birthday party, and it was just the two of us in the car at night time.  We talked for a few minutes and then we quietly listened to music together. My mind wandered as I thought, "Is this it?  The extent of our relationship?  This is how it's going to be?"  

I didn't like it.

I wanted more.

Before I could think, I pulled over and parked the car.  I turned and looked at big and said, "Want to go explore with me?"

He looked completely and utterly confused.  He looked around, nervous, and said, "It's nighttime and I have to go to bed."

I simply looked at him and said, "I know, but this will be special for us.  Let's just go for a few moments and see what adventure we can have."

I was rewarded with a bright smile and giddy laugh, and knew this was what we needed. We needed a break from reality, from our routine.  We needed to stop and pause and enjoy our life.

We live roughly a mile from the Mississippi and last year they erected a beautiful bridge that lights up the night sky when its dark.  We were almost home, but felt like we were in another world as we crawled down the river bank under the bright blue lights of the bridge.  Big held my hand and talked about the things we were seeing.  He laughed as  he said how much fun he was having and he thought it was weird that we were doing this, but kind of cool.

When we reached the river's edge, we sat on a rock and I pulled him to my lap.  I wrapped my arms around and we sat in silence looking at the river move before us.  We just sat there and listened to the cars driving overhead.  We heard the crickets.  We listened to the water move over rocks.

"I love you mom.  Can this be our special spot for just you and me?"

That was my reward, one I am confident I didn't deserve after our two long weeks of not agreeing and having a hard time together.

I squeezed him and said, "Yes,  Yes of course.  Just you and me.  Its our secret spot when we need time together."

We hugged and a few minutes in the biting cold, we walked back up to our car.

The whole thing was about 10 minutes long.

Time to absorb.  To let that moment that will never happen again seep in the fabric of our memories and lives.

I went  home and did dishes and worked on projects till midnight, and none of that I remember.

I remember that moment with my son.

I remember sitting around our Thanksgiving and even to the groans of everyone present I make us share what we are Thankful for.  I want real moments to connect me to the people I love the most.

I remember the joy on my kids face and we laid down under our Christmas tree the night before we take it down to sing Christmas carols and say good bye to a magical season.

I remember the comfort I received from Scripture when I read and re-read a verse and before moving on, I let it sink in.  

I absorb it.  

It grounds me.  

It reattaches me to the foundation of my existence.  It reminds me that I am alive and not just going through the motions of my life.  And it makes me want to embrace more of my life and see the joy in the mundane.

Sometimes we can't slow down.

But always.  Always, we can stop, wait, and absorb a moment so we don't miss our life.

Soak something up today, and love it.

Hiking turns us into a circus

As we walked to the rose quartz mine this year, it reminded me so much of our experience from last year.

Somehow because of the schedule, I still ended up in a skirt and ballet slipper shoes.  I had Paul with me though and 15 other people so it was easier to pass Little around instead of carrying her on my own.

We did run into a few mutilated deer limbs though, which I am not sure I will ever get used to.  Seeing animal body parts that have been torn to shred by a larger, fiercer animal should by my first indicator that I should turn and go home.

We paused just as much  though as Big gathered so many rocks before we even got to the mine that he had to hold his pants up, otherwise the weight would pull them down.

Apparently this little hike seems to bring out our ridiculousness.

Either way, here is a fun story for you to read and enjoy from our South Dakota camping adventure.

I did laugh out loud when I read that I shouldn't do this hike again, or at least remember what happened last year.  Clearly, I didn't do that before we went hiking, me in my skirt and girl shoes.

Happy evening everyone.

The storms that seem to destroy our trust

It was early morning, the kids fell back asleep tucked in their car seats and wrapped in their blankets.  I had iced coffee and Sanders Bohke filling the car with soulful rich music.  It was a beautiful way to start our 12 hour drive home.  I was waiting for the sun to come up and greet us.  I was looking forward to the start of a brand new day, with the hopes of being filled with adventure and giggles from my kids as we sang silly songs and played games in the car.

We were heading west, so I watched the first signs of orange and red in the rear view mirror.  The further we drove however, it was clear that there was a huge storm in front of us.  At one point, immediately after the kids woke up, the sun was shining behind us, there were gray clouds over us, with slight sprinkles that brought out a double rainbow, but in the distance, I saw the blackness and I worried.  Big still really struggles with storms.  His triggers are dark clouds and thunder and instead of being safely tucked in a home under its protection, we were traveling in the big metal box that he saw damaged and pierced with tree limbs in the tornado two years ago.  His faith in our current protection was shattered as he too noticed the black clouds coming.  He looked out and said in a high pitched worried voice, “mama, its coming!  Look, something bad is coming!”

I tried to reassure him that we would be OK.  We worked on reality therapy.  I would ask him questions like, “Does thunder hurt us?  What is thunder?  What happens if it rains?  Who is bigger than this storm?  What has you worried the most?”  All these things he would answer, trying to hold onto the truth that the rain doesn't hurt and the thunder is just noise and we are never left alone.

But then we drove in the storm and even I got afraid.  Never in my life have I driven through such a storm.  It was almost like a winter white out, the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see if front of us.  The sky moved from grey, to dark, to midnight black.  The rain pounded our car so hard that I couldn't even talk to the kids.  I had to scream to them that we were all right which just seemed to make it worse.  The thunder cracked so loud the windshield shook at one point.  The lightening would pierce the sky over and over.  My hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and I kept questioning whether we should pull over and stop and wait it out.  I knew though however that if I kept focused we could push through and get through the storm faster, than just sitting in it and waiting for it to pass. 

I needed my kids to trust me.  I took my eyes off the road for one brief moment to check the review mirror to make sure they were OK.  I saw all three kids huddled together with their blankets over their heads.  I saw Big, Middle and Little all holding hands.

As I drove through that storm, I am sure my children wished with all their might that I would pull over and find a safer place to be.   They wished that somehow I could make the storm stop, to just make it go away and bring the sun back.  But I wasn't doing that.  I kept driving through the storm and I needed them to trust me.  I needed them to trust me to make the right choice in driving through the storm.   That I knew when the storm was OK to drive through, and when it was time to pull over.  I needed them to trust that I would keep them safe even though they were scared.  I needed them to trust my love for them, that even though things were very hard right in this moment, I wouldn't do anything to hurt them.  Even when it felt absolutely terrifying, I needed them to trust me.

And then the rain started to ease up.  The thunder slowly started to sound softer, and the lightening was no longer flashing in the sky.  Streams of light starting to shine through the clouds and all of a sudden, we were on the other side.  The blackness we just drove through was behind us, reflecting in the review mirror, and the light was bright in front of us.

We had made it.

The kids slowly pulled down their blankets from their heads, and peaked out.  They cautiously looked at me and asked, “Is it over?  Are we safe again?” 

Yes.  We made it through.  Even though it was scary and hard, we made it through.

In the midst of the storm it was impossible to imagine it being over.  The storm raged so loud around us that it was all we could see, all we could hear, all we could live in.  I wasn't thinking about when it was over, I was thinking about, how do we live in this place right now and be OK?

And then God spoke softly in my heart, reminding me of how little I trust him when things are truly hard and overwhelming in my life and all I can see is the pain and the suffocating struggle of every day.  In that moment in the car, he begged me to trust him, just as I wanted my children to trust me.

There are days when I shut down and I hide in books or TV or FB or Twitter and I don’t want to come out.  I don’t want to face the things that make life hard.  I hide instead of handing my struggle to the Lord really learning what it means to trust him to guide me through it.

My children made it through that terrifying experience in the car that day.  While we walked back to our cabin this week in the black hills of SD, there were black clouds approaching and thunder rumbling in the distance.  As Big squeezed my hand, he looked at me and said, “We made it through that bad storm in the car mama, we can get through this one too.”

That is the great thing about trust.  When you put your trust in the one who can provide for you and get you through, every storm gets a little easier because they have proven to be trustworthy.  They become someone you can count on.

I spoke to Henry that day in the car and recalled the storm experience for him.  The first thing he said to me was, “You have a story in there.”  And he was right.

God has a way of taking the moments in our life and turning them into truths that we can hold on to get us through this journey called life.  These moments that can ground us in peace and love as we fight through the storms of life.  Our little family was scared that day, but we are stronger for it and God rested his peaceful hand on our hearts.

Behind the scenes

Paul and I have been talking a lot about our family values and what are our priorities are.  We have needs as a family as a couple and as individuals and we want to maximize the richness of those relationships.

As we talk about the kind of family we want to create, time together is at the top of our list.  Time to talk, to play, to teach, to encourage.  We want to pass on our living and active faith to our children.  We want them to see by our actions and how we spend our time that they and the Lord are important to our family's foundation.  You need time to create that understanding.

So one of the first things we did was evaluate our time and careers.  How can we maximize our work effort with increasing our family time?  We are both very aware of how quickly our children are growing up, and neither one of us wants to miss it.  These next 10-12 years are going to fly by and we have agreed that we want to be as present and wholeheartedly there for our children as possible.

The only way though to decrease Paul's work load is to increase mine.  I have been a stay at home for the last six years and it is both of our intentions to keep it that way, even with the children in school.  I do however have a passion and small career in traveling every couple months to go speak at conferences and retreats.  It's perfect because it keeps me at home, but allows me a weekend away every once in awhile.  Well, to increase my job means to get more gigs and travel more.  That, however goes against our priority and value of family.

So...what to do.

After taking much prayer time and vision planning, I came up with a plan.  If I am going to speak, than I would prefer it to be while Paul is at work and the kids are at school.  This means local gigs in schools, churches and mom groups.  These are usually simple and no more than 30 min.  They would take up limited time and if my goal was to do one a week, that would increase my work load by 100%.  So the goal is twice a month to start out.  I even hired a gal to help me with the booking so that my time would still be free to write and develop the quality of talks I want to deliver.  This and spend time doing my family responsibilities.

Doing local gigs while not taking away family time is step one.

The other piece is that while I love to travel and will continue to do it on a limited basis, I do want my ministry to extend past the Twin Cities.  This is where the book comes in.  The book is a beautiful way to get my heart on paper and put into the hands of people who need it.  It is the beginning step.  I like to write but really wasn't sure I was capable of a book.  Now I have ideas for the next three I want to write.  Ha, crazy right?  There is also dreams of some other great ideas that keep me at home, but put my ministry out there for others.

I felt like things were coming together.  I was excited about the way I could continue to do my ministry, while really not taking time away from the kids.  It means I manage my time a bit more, and right now its all still a theory, because nothing has changed, but it gives me a goal and vision.

It also allowed me to own my ministry and take responsibility for it.  For the last few years I just kind of let it happen.  If people call me, I take a gig.  I have a website, but its my transitional website till I took the time to develop it.  I didn't seek out gigs.  I didn't know how to talk about my ministry because it was always an after thought.

Then Paul challenged me to step up to the plate.  He is my biggest supporter and was sad to see me not developing my heart for sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ.

So in order to branch out and get new gigs, I need the marketing materials and the language to talk about who I am.  The last few months have been quite the identity crisis.  Much of my ministry has been me praying about who I am on stage, what is it that I want to say to people and how do present myself to potential clients and my audience?  It's been hard long hours of research, journaling, and discovery.

So I had a meeting with Guy from Vision Van Gogh, who specializes in helping artists develop who they are. He met with me and we talked about the importance of the professionalism of your website and press kit.  It is the first thing people see about you.  It is how they determine if you are capable to be hired by them.  What do I want them to know about me?  And a lot of that is based on photo's.  A website is built around photo's as well as your press kit.

So now I sat with all this information.  I now understood that I need great photo's that will allow people to connect with me, create professional materials that will allow me to get new gigs with new clients locally while my kids are in school, to help make that little bit of extra money for our family, to keep Paul from working three jobs, so we can all spend more time together building a family based on faith and trust and love.

If we connect the dots, the first step is pictures.

I have a really hard time designing a website for myself.  I understand that people need to see me on my website so they know a little about me and it creates a connection. Connection is the base of what I do. But I don't want a website that just has photo's of me.  I think it's weird.  So I need a photo where I am a part of a picture, and the picture communicates to you, who I am, but it's not me all over the place.

One photo that tells you who I am.  That doesn't sound hard?  Ha!

It took me a couple months looking through band photo's, actor's photo's, singers, performers, it didn't matter.  I was researching websites and head shots and press kits, all trying to see what others were doing to find my own way.  I couldn't find a location that I liked, or an idea for a photo that felt like me.

And what I realized is that I don't want a website that is just for my speaking.  I want a place where my blog can fit, where people can find out about the book, where I can start an Etsy account for the art I make.  So now, my website is not just for my speaking career, but its also for me.  All the ideas for locations for a photo shoot seemed like they were only a part of me.  I didn't want a city landscape because even though we live in the city, it is only a part of us.  I didn't want a family photo, because even though they are the biggest thing in my life, I am someone outside of them.  I didn't want to be out in a barn or country scape or railroad crossing, or brick wall.  All those things didn't feel right.

So I came up with something that felt natural, real, comforting.  I want to create an inviting and creative space.  I wanted a nook of trees that had elements of our home in them.  I love the unexpected, and little surprises.  So I brought our antique rug outside under the trees to create warmth.  I love details that add a little flair of fun and drama, and so I draped the trees in all my scarves tied together and spent time cutting my old crafting paper and stapling them into rings.  I didn't need Christmas lights because we did the shoot in the evening when the sun is low and magical and adds the effect that was perfect.  So if I was going to spend time out in the wood, I want this magical little reading corner.  Since it doesn't exist, I created it myself.

But then what to wear?

Again, if this is a place that I wished existed, then I would be wearing what I wanted.  Since I can't find it anywhere, I decided to make a very natural makeshift skirt that resembles the drama of a time piece skirt with my kind of twist.  One that is homespun and tacked together full of different textures and fabrics.  There are flowers hidden in the skirt and fabrics only I could see.  I love adding those little surprises.  The color scheme fits me.  I sewed on a little star on my plain old tank top to tie it in to the skirt.

Every little detail was thought through and intentional.  Every little thing was planned there for a purpose.  I even had a little fairy tucked into my old wooden book box.

So, here is the result of my photo shoot.  The photo shoot that was needed to start creating marketing pieces for my ministry to help my husband and family so that we could spend more time together.

See in my world, everything has a purpose and serves our goal.

Everything comes back to my faith, my family and growing our children into strong men and women of God.

Even this.

* A business side note: I used Katrina with Studio Laguna Photography and Brett Dorrian for hair and makeup to make sure I got the dream I wanted.  My vision could only go so far and I would only trust this idea to these two women.  They took my idea and Brett turned my face and hair into a work of art that was perfect for this shoot.  Katrina used her very honed talent and captured exactly what I wanted.  She has this beautiful eye and helped me by finding the dream in my head and making it a reality by capturing it with her camera.  She helped guide me and pose me so that everything was perfect.  I knew I could trust these ladies, I just didn't realize how dramatic and beautiful their art was when it was all said and done.  I love working with these ladies, and I would suggest using them for any of your family or wedding or business needs.

Woodland Fairy costume

I have found by unlocking one creative outlet, it frees up all sorts of other desires and small talents for other creativity to come out.

On top of writing all the time for a large wide of projects, I am crafting as well, and hopefully will have my first painting done in a couple days.

BUT...I had one very special project that I want to share with you!

In our house we have come to understand that every day for me is like playing dress up.  Paul on the other hand thrives with themes and parties and like's having reasons to wear an actual costume.  This paints a very bizarre picture of us, but it's not weird, I swear, at least most of the time.

The pure joy in this though?  My kids get awesome homemade costumes!  Paul really has been on the front end of this, since we had boys and I am still a beginner.  He loves the construction behind a costume.  He can go to a thrift store on 50% day and come away with all sorts of materials, then cut and glue and paint and all of a sudden, the boys are transformed into supehero's.  It's awesome!

Well, I got my second shot this year for Little's 3rd birthday.  We were going to transform her into a woodland fairy.  (When she was 6 month's old, I made her a Raggedy Ann costume.  She looked awesome, but the construction of the dress was horrible.  I had to basically sew her into it.)

I had no idea how to make a woodland fairy costume.  BUT...I knew how to make wings out of old wire hangers, and I had a handful of cardboard wands in my craft room that I knew I could paint.  I just wasn't sure about the skirt.

So here are the photo's of the creation of my little Woodland Fairy.  The T-shirt she is wearing is my old vintage T-shirt that says "Protect the Forrest."  I cut it and make it to fit her since it was  perfect!

I took two hangers and bent them to the shape I wanted.  I duct taped the ends together to protect from the sharp parts.

You can use nylons or shear fabric, or whatever you have on hand and wrap it around the frame.  Tie the material around the middle, glue it, tape it, whatever, just secure it and cut off the extra fabric.

I had feathers, jewels, fake flowers, glitter, moss, leaves, all sorts of things to glue to the wings.  I also had knitting yarn that I braided to use for her straps.

My Woodland Fairy wings.

And her Woodland Fairy wand.  I painted it and glued fun leaves and flowers on it.

The skirt I did backwards, so I am not including instructions because I will do it different and better next time, but what I wanted was a bunch of contrasting fabrics, based in cream with brown and green and pink thrown in.  I needed pink in there, otherwise she wouldn't wear it.  Her and I have differing opinions about color.

My mom was in town and I am SO THANKFUL she was.  It wouldn't have been completed without her.  We basically just kept sewing fabric on.  We would drape it and say, "Looks good.  Sew it on."  We are very structured sewers.  Can't you tell.  I think this was 1am.

Here are a couple shots of the skirt.

And here is my Woodland Fairy.  She is a little excited.

And when she spins, it flairs out all over.  It's AWESOME!

So, I get it.  She is only three, and this costume is a bit much. I think I enjoyed figuring out how to do it more than she ever will wearing it.  So for me it was a creative expression and I learned a TON!

Sewing is fun.

So are cute little girls in a big drape skirt.

Inspiration breeds inspiration

I had mentioned either here or in person how in our home we try to read scripture together every morning.  We do that not because we feel we have to, or because this is what good Christian's do.  Honestly we do it because of our philosophy of Big Picture Parenting.  We believe that as our children leave our home every morning and attend school, we want the word of God in their heart.  We want them to know scripture, to feel comfortable searching God's word for insight into his heart and to really know what God says about life and love.  To really know God and not just what people say about him.

Then I went and had a play date with a friend of mine a couple months ago.  As we were sitting in her kitchen, she had index cards covering her walls with scripture written on them.  As I took a closer look, she had the first couple dozen chapters of Proverbs up.

I fell in love.

I asked her what was going on with all the proverbs posted on her wall and her response was, "I got the idea from you."

I had a look of total confusion.  We have never done anything like this, so it didn't really feel like my idea.  "I don't get it" was my response.

She told me that she appreciated how much we were trying to create a love of God and his word in our children.  She said as her and her husband were trying to raise up their kids, they wanted God's wisdom strong in their mind and in their heart.  

I Love it!!!

See, I pray for God's wisdom over my children almost as much as I cook their meals.  These young boys and girl are faced with choices every day about who they are, who they are going to be, and what they stand for.  Choices of fitting in, going along with the crowd, sticking up for the kid getting picked on, helping someone in need, it will never end.  I want them filled with the knowledge of God's love and his desire for their life.

So instead of just praying wisdom over my kids, this felt like the perfect compliment to put it in their hearts.

The proverbs are also an easy way to find just a couple of verses to read in the morning.  A couple verses read, then discussed leaves us with a perfect small 5-10 min devotion.  It has sparked such great conversations and questions from the kids, and having them written down, on days when we don't have time for a new one, we can pick one off the door and read it again.

The other great benefit of having it written down and up where we can see all the time, is I can stop and read encouragement every time I  need it.

The best part of all this...

I shared a desire of my heart and a small tradition that I do with my kids.  Another mother took that idea and made it her own.  I saw what she did and she inspired me to follow suit and take it another step further.

This is the best part of living life publicly   The way our hearts, our desires, our traditions can inspire others and in turn, we can be inspired by them.

Thank you Jessica!

Social, ethical, parental responsiblity

In times of crisis, I wish I had a medical degree.  I wish I had the freedom to pick up and go to where help is needed.  To comfort people in despair.  To organize volunteers.  To lift away debris and bring the hurting to help.

To work.

To help.

To love.

To be human.

But I can't.

There are people here in this house who desperately need me to survive.  They need me here, and so I can't be there.

When tragedy strikes, and I hate to admit that most of the time it is news on main stream media that I hear due to my lack of media watching and listening, I can't seem to tear myself away.

Today was no different.

We don't turn the TV on, because seeing the images of blood streaking the Boston streets would only serve to put fear and anger in my children.  And so I listened to the radio in the kitchen while I cooked.  Even when it felt like too much, I had a sense that if I turned the radio off, I would be turning my blind eye or deaf ear to the situation.  It felt wrong to leave the tragedy, when so many others couldn't.

And yet, you have to.  Not forget I mean, but take a breather.  Let it sink in.  Allow the gravity of the situation to have it's rightful place.

In these moments I often wonder what my role is.

Where is my responsibility in this?

I think about my children sleeping in their beds right now.  I think about how impressionable they are.  I wonder on what their futures hold.  What battles they will have to fight as young men and women.

I really hate to admit that I have lived a long time in "retreat" mentality.  Pull away, live off the grid, stop all the media from being in my house, go simple, don't invest, it's too much out there, so I'll just live small in our own little world.

But really, all that means is that I escape all responsibility and I hide from being apart of the solution.  What my greatest sin with that way of living, is teaching my children to do the same. When I don't engage, they will never know how.

As parents it is critical that we understand the importance of what our job is.  If you have small children living in your home, then you understand the absolute power you have in your words and actions in shaping the minds and hearts of the young people who look up to you.  The way we engage, or ignore problems.  The words we use to describe hate crimes and those who hurt.  The way we talk about different cultures and religions.  Our words will directly shape the way our children see the world and the people in it.

Humans history is filled with wars and killings based on greed, power, selfishness  and sickness. It won't ever go away.  So how do we deal with that?

The only power I have right now, today in my circumstance is to raise up children who will desire to be apart of the solution, not the problem.  To be helpers.  To be supporters.  To be advocates.

To give my children a language to communicate their thoughts and feelings, so that talking through problems is the first solution.  To teach the power of communication, understanding, forgiveness, and compromise.

To install in my children a longing for justice and a heart for the wounded and hurt.

To equip them with the tools necessary to find solutions to problems.

To in every way possible, give them an acceptance of all people, without judgement so that they can see the man behind the culture, the religion, the uniform.

To talk about the scary things that happen in a space where it allows your children to voice their questions and concerns and worries and wonderings. 

To give them your thoughtful observations and passion against evil.

Today felt overwhelming.  The obvious tragedy brings with it a sense of hopelessness.  After the hopelessness came the urgency in the awareness of the responsibility of raising my children.

Raising them to not run from the fight, but equipping them to be prepared for it.

In my opinion, Jesus hasn't shown up yet, so I would rather we were a family who actively cared about the solution, instead of pretending that all the problems don't exist.

We have a responsibility as parents.  Our children are what we are giving to the world, to the next generation.  They will inherit all of our mistakes and all that is wrong and right with our world.  I will say it again, my greatest mistake will be not preparing them for that.

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   If God is for us, who can be against us?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.