7 Quick Takes-Almost Too Late

-1-

The busyness continues, and I'm just not finding time to organize my thoughts and write them. If all goes as planned, we will be in Asia the beginning of November. Never mind that we have a house two sell, eight years of marriage and three kids worth of stuff to go through, visas to obtain, and any number of other things to accomplish by then. Oh, and we need to find good time to spend with family and process this whole moving thing.

-2-

That leads to take number two, in which I tell you that I am not sleeping well...at all. For some of you this may be normal, but not for me. Even when I have a newborn waking me up multiple times at night, I sleep exceptionally well. In fact, sometimes my husband has to wake me up to tell me a baby is crying. All three of my kids sleep through the night now, and I have always been one to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow and not wake up until the alarm (or a child) wakes me. This lack of sleep due to stress is new for me, and I am not handling it well at all. Any suggestions other than just drinking lots of caffeinated drinks? Help, anyone?

-3-

On a brighter note, we spent Labor Day weekend in the mountains and took Monday totally off from moving/support raising/totally uprooting our lives work. It was lovely and cool and clear on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and we stopped at my favorite apple orchard (definitely the most scenic in the world) for some apples. We've already made applesauce and will be doing apple butter and pie tomorrow. Yum!

-4-

I have been thinking a lot of deep thoughts lately, but I just haven't had time to process them in writing. I have been thinking about how we spend so much time living our lives for an audience and documenting them that we don't actually live them. With blogs and digital photography and Facebook and Twitter, even those of us who try to avoid it often end up spending more time thinking about how to present our lives to others than actually living them. Because I have spent so much of the summer having to live in the here and now and not even having a moment to consider blogging or taking pictures or updating Facebook, I am realizing how much better life is without all of that. I think the generation becoming adults right now is growing up more narcissistic than any before because none of us have thought through how to use this new technology well. I heard about this book on NPR the other day, and would love other good resources that discuss how to live well without becoming a luddite and rejecting all technology.

-5-

I've also been thinking about Muslims in America. I want to hate that crazy preacher in Florida who wants to burn copies of the Qu'ran. I want to hate him, but that would make me just as bad as he is. So instead I want to be like Catherine, who is finding ways to reach out to her Muslim neighbors. But can I still be mad at 24-hour news media? If it weren't for their need to have something to report on, the Qu'ran burners would not have national coverage, and the hatred that they are showing would not be the fuel for more hatred, toward Muslims or toward Christians. I'm pretty sure the Jesus I follow said something about loving my neighbor. In fact, He even said something about loving my enemy...I guess that includes the guy in Florida as much as it does the 9/11 hijackers and even the news media.

-6-

On the parenting front, I have loved this article from Leila of Like Mother, Like Daughter (whose blog you really must subscribe to). Her parenting articles (and others as well) are so sensible and down to earth. This one was even better. I especially liked the alternate version of Ma Ingalls telling Laura to go in the house when there was a bear:

Today's child, in the false comfortable world of prosperity where parents think they have the luxury of listening to "experts" (who have no obedient children themselves), would cause this scenario:

"Laura, get inside!"

"Why?"

"Sweetie, get inside, please. Mommy needs you to get inside. Mommy doesn't want to scare you, but there's a big bear and she needs you to make a good choice now and do what she says."

"Will you buy me a treat?"

"Yes, sweetie, please, go inside."

"Where's Daddy?"

"Mommy knows you have questions, and that's very smart of you. I'm so proud of you. Please go inside now."

"He's never here! Why isn't he here? You TOLD me he'd be here!"

"Sweetie, when you argue with me, you are making a bad choice. What did we say about bad choices? Now, you'll have a time-out if you don't do what I say..."

Meanwhile, the bear eats them.

Why? Because Mommy is so patient that she allowed every interaction with her child to be an exchange between equals rather than a strong wall that a child can't breach. For her own sake.

My husband and I took her advice on having obedience practice, and it has worked wonders. We randomly ask the boys to run to the middle of the room and stand on one foot or hide behind the curtains. They do it the first time we ask because it is so funny, but the great thing is that they really caught on and started obeying the first time we asked them to pick up their toys or do something helpful for us. It was...well...wonderful.

-7-

On a purely frivolous note, my team plays Oregon tomorrow. We are totally outmatched. But we are playing at home, which is an intimidating place for even number 7. It could be an upset. I can always hope...

And Also With You

"Calvin, you can't say those words to Auntie S. Words have meaning, and when you say that you don't love her you are saying what those words mean, even if you don't really think you are. You need to apologize and tell Auntie S that you love her."

It seems we have this conversation a lot with our boys. We tell them that we don't say words like that in our family, that we love one another because we are family and because God placed us together. We stress that these are the relationships that we must guard most closely because our parents and brothers and aunts and uncles and grandparents will be with us the rest of our lives. Even when we are halfway around the world, these relationships will come with us. They are gifts to be cherished.

~~~

Some say that the very repetition of the liturgy, Sunday after Sunday, renders it meaningless, but I don't agree. The words I say matter, not because of how I feel about them, but because the truth in them has power to change me. Every Sunday, as I recite the Nicene Creed and pray the prayer of confession and offer the "Peace of Christ" to those around me, those words mean something.

Whether I have conjured enough faith in my heart or paid enough attention to each word that Sunday matters little. I have chosen to say those words and those words have meaning. By saying them, I choose to be transformed by them and to join the community of the church, both in that building on Sunday and throughout all of history.

Some Sundays I am distracted by children or exhausted by life and go through almost an entire liturgy without thinking about what I am saying. But it never fails that one word or phrase or prayer jolts me out of my distraction and reminds me of the cosmic reality, the meaning behind those words.

"The Lord be with you."

"And also with you."

We say these words every Sunday during the Eucharistic liturgy, as the priest begins preparing the table. So often I have said it and only half thought about it, but this past week, as I looked at our pastor and dear friend who was serving the Eucharist, the meaning behind what I said moved me to tears. Suddenly I knew, beyond any doubt, that I truly wanted the Lord, in all of His fullness, to be with our rector and with that beautiful group of people gathered to commune around His table. Because of that moment, because of the meaning of those words, my soul was changed. I am certain that when I am halfway around the world and remembering that liturgy, even as my church family is saying it aloud together, my soul will be knit to theirs. I know that, because the Lord is with me and also with them, we are united in His love.

Words have meaning, and when I say them I am transformed. When we say them together, our souls are united in worship. No matter how alone I am feeling in a foreign country, no matter how much my faith may whither, I can speak the words of the liturgy and know that there is a greater truth than how I am feeling. The Word, who cares about my feelings and my struggles, meets me in that liturgy, and the strength of the community sustains me when I am too weak to say the words alone.

We love one another because we are family and because God placed us together. These are the relationships that we must guard most closely because our spiritual parents and brothers and aunts and uncles and grandparents will be with us the rest of our lives. Even when we are halfway around the world, these relationships will come with us. They are gifts to be cherished.

~~~

And so Calvin and Hobbes say the words of apology and love, sometimes sincerely and sometimes still protesting in their hearts while they repeat what we have said. But they say them because those words have the power to transform them, to remind them that they do love, to unite them to a truth greater than their own emotions.

"I love you Auntie S."

"The Lord be with you..."

It Can't Be Helped

As I cuddled with Calvin on the couch Sunday night, the night before his sixth birthday, I said, "Don't turn six, Calvin."

"It can't be helped," was his reply.

His answer was so very Calvin-like, with his uncanny ability to toss out grown-up or antiquated turns of phrase at the most unlikely of moments. But lately those grown-up ways of speaking seem to fit him more and more. He is really growing up into a boy-man, and though there are traces of those emotional meltdowns and tantrums of his preschool years, he often tries really hard to control them. I love watching him discover his gifts and passions, seeing him learn to take responsibility, and following him along this path to greater independence. He stays up way past his bedtime reading old Hardy Boys books, he takes care of Linus with great attention, and he can occupy himself with Legos for hours on end. He is one amazing kid, and I am privileged to be his mommy.

I have not been a great mom to preschoolers, but if what I see of Calvin is indicative of the future, I think I am going to like the boy years. It can't be helped.

These Feet Were Made For Walkin'...

Somehow, in this insanely busy past month, Baby Linus became Toddler Linus. I almost missed it. I mean, I knew he was starting to walk and getting braver every day, but I was so overwhelmed and exhausted that I almost forgot to celebrate when those cute, curled up toes decided it was time to conquer the world. I certainly didn't manage to get video of it. I do have video of some of his early steps, so I guess that's good enough.

But walking is not the only way he is growing up. We are down to two nursing sessions a day, sometimes one, and while I thought he might hold on for a while longer, it seems like he may be ready to wean. I had a rare peaceful moment with him today. As we lay on my bed, him feeding and holding onto my shirt and me stroking his cheek, I knew that this might be the last time like this, even if not the last time he nurses.

Linus has never been one to nurse to sleep or want to cuddle. He likes breastfeeding, but he usually does it quickly and hops up to play. Even as a newborn, he nursed right after waking and preferred to go to sleep on his own in his crib later. For the most part, I have been very thankful that my third wanted to go to sleep on his own. It made life much easier for me after having had two who needed lots of help going to sleep. But now that we are at the end, I wonder what I missed. Nursing him has always been a distracted business, with one or the other of us busy paying attention to Calvin and Hobbes. There has been very little one-on-one time in these breastfeeding months.

So as he feel asleep this afternoon, one hand holding mine and the other clutching my shirt, I treasured it. I looked at those sweet toes, curled up under his feet after a morning of wandering the playground. I stared at his body becoming long and lean with the work of walking. And I cuddled my baby. He may be beginning the journey to boyhood, but when he is asleep and those feet are at rest, he is still my baby.

Eulogy for My Grandma

Today was the worship service celebrating my Grandma's life. All of the grandkids were asked to say something about what we learned from her. This is what I wrote and read.

When (my uncle) asked me to write something about what I learned from Grandma or what she meant to me, I wondered what to write. Should I tell about how she taught me to make her famous chocolate cake, measuring the cocoa so that it was heaped just the right amount in the tablespoon? Or about how I used to love spending the night with her as a kid because we got to have all the candy we wanted, stay up late, and eat chicken noodle soup for lunch? Should I tell about my memories of eating freshly picked blueberries off the bushes in her backyard until my stomach hurt? Or of sitting in her living room stringing beans with her and most of the family helping? Maybe I should tell how her involvement in missions, though she never moved away from these mountains, was one of the influences that led me to follow God’s call to China. Whether big or small, all of these are pieces of her story that have helped to write mine, and I am so very grateful for them. But they are not want I really want to tell.

When I was pregnant with my third child, I wanted more than I even realized to have a girl, and when we found out we were having yet another boy, I was a bit disappointed. How does anyone raise three boys? Then I remembered (I don’t know how I had forgotten) that Grandma did it. Grandma, who had wanted so much to have just one girl and was thrilled when I was finally born into the family, raised three boys and raised them well.

When I asked her how she did it, how she managed to raise three boys who turned out so well and even liked each other, she said, “Well, I guess I just did it.” In this age, when motherhood is such a complicated business, and everyone is telling you the perfect method for childrearing and insisting that you buy their book or take their class or follow their method, my Grandma’s wisdom is the only advice that has really stuck with me. She just did it. She got up every morning and made the meals and mended the clothes and disciplined when needed and didn’t worry too much about self-esteem or cognitive development or anything else. In fact, the only thing she ever told me that she was sure to teach her boys was that church was not optional.

I know that Grandma was able to do what she did because she loved Jesus, and she showed her love for Him and for the people around her by meeting practical needs. Even her most treasured gifts to us were made for the most practical of reasons, to keep us warm. Those beautiful quilts she made for all of her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren are pieces of art, but they are not meant to hang on walls. When I tuck my three boys under them at night and crawl under one myself, I remember Grandma’s love for us and her acts of service that allowed her to do more for the Kingdom of God than she might have expected. I am reminded just to finish the next task that God places before me, to care for those He has put around me, to keep our family close and Jesus at the center. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to look back and see three godly sons, loving daughters-in-law, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren who love Jesus and their families. Because in all of those years of just doing the next practical thing, those are the works of art Grandma created, more beautiful than any quilt.

"That's exactly why I'm not heavy into activities" (Or I wasn't, anyway.)

Bonus points if you know the movie I'm quoting. In this week's 7 Quick Takes, I promised a post about soccer.

I have sworn since Calvin was first born that I was not going to have my kids involved in a lot of activities and spend all of our time in the car. In fact, avoiding "minivanitis," as a friend puts it, is one of the reasons I am looking forward to moving to Asia. Now, I took piano lessons and spent nearly every day at the ballet studio as a teenager, so I am not sure why I am so opposed to the idea. Perhaps it's because I want to avoid living an over-scheduled life. Maybe it's because I don't want my children burning out before they reach middle school. Most likely it is because my rebellious nature causes me to dig in my heels every time I find myself taking one more step toward a conventional, suburban, American life.

So when I suggested to my husband that we sign Calvin up for soccer, he pretty much thought I was crazy. I pretty much thought I was crazy, too. Calvin had been kicking the ball around with Auntie M and really fell in love with it. When he found out that kids his age played real games on real teams, he was ecstatic. With great hesitation, we signed him up for the Spring youth league that started in March.

That was in January. Over the past two and a half months, we have become increasingly certain that our decision was actually a good one. Calvin spends a lot of time outside playing sports of all kinds by himself these days, kicking the soccer ball, hitting golf balls, asking us to pitch a softball to him so he can practice batting. But he is always by himself.

When Calvin competes with an actual person, his good sportsmanship skills leave a lot to be desired. An innocent board game like Candy Land often ends with the board turned over, pieces scattered, and Calvin stomping off, fists on hips, ready to punch anyone who gets in his way. Bike rides turn into screaming, hysterical meltdowns if Hobbes gets a head start and is in front of him for even one second. Never mind that Calvin always passes his brother in the end. He is a remarkably bad loser. Every time. I would say it's just a kid thing, but Hobbes is not like Calvin, not to that extent.

With this is mind, we headed to the fields today, Calvin in his sky-blue shirt, ready for the first game of the season. I wasn't expecting much, since the only practice had been sort of chaotic, but when the whistle blew, a miracle happened right before my eyes. Sure, the kids all sort of ran in a clump around the ball. And they kicked it out of bounds or into the other team's goal more than into their own. Players tripped their teammates. No one kept score, and there were not many rules to follow.

But Calvin ran and dribbled and kicked and tripped with the best of them. He ran hard, determination and joy mingling on his face. He celebrated when his team got a goal, whether he kicked it in or not. He gave high fives and listened to his coaches and actually tried to play the game with his team instead of in spite of them. When the other team scored, or he accidentally kicked it into their goal, those hands went to his hips for a minute, a scowl threatening on his face. Just as quickly, the ball moved in the other direction, and his scowl was lost in joy as he ran back down the field. When the game ended and the teams lined up to shake hands, he didn't just give a slap and a mumbled "good game" to each passing player. He walked down the line, huge grin covering his entire face, giving each player a hearty handshake as he went.

At the end of the game, two players on each team got the "MVP" award and received a coupon for a free ice cream treat. The idea is that each child will receive one by the end of the season. Part of me cringes at that, at the way our society wants to make everyone feel like a winner when I want my kids to realize that they will lose sometimes. Part of me hates that they don't keep scores at kids' games so that feelings don't get hurt. But most of me knows that minimizing competition is a really good thing for Calvin right now. His joy in the game might just be enough to move him a little closer to good sportsmanship, and if he can just learn to think less and move faster, he might even become decent at this sport.

Then again, this is Calvin, the king of overthinking. I don't really care how good he becomes, as long as he learns to lose and win with grace. Missed goals and all, when he ran to show me his award tonight, there wasn't a prouder mom on the soccer field. Then he showed me the certificate and said, with much disappointment, "Mommy, it just says a free waffle cone."

"Don't worry, Calvin, it means a waffle cone with ice cream."

And now I'm off to wash a uniform for tomorrow's game. Maybe afterward we'll celebrate with that ice cream cone.

Revised Calvin Version

To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. For to one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the ability to distinguish between spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. All these are empowered by one and the same Spirit, who apportions to each one individually as he wills. (1 Corinthians 12:7-11, ESV)

Hobbes: I want to learn to read, Mommy.

Mommy: I could teach you if you want.

Calvin: I already know how to read. I could read when I was only three years old!

Mommy (trying to temper the pride coming from the backseat of the van): That's right, Calvin. Being that good at reading is a gift that God gave you. He definitely gave you the gift of language.

Calvin: Yeah, and he gave Hobbes the gift of making pouty lips.

(Hobbes sticks his bottom lip out as far as possible and bats his long eyelashes.)

End Scene.

A Cake Wreck-Keeping It Real

So you don't think that this is normal. Here is a photo of Linus' first birthday cake.


Now that was a failure. With the insanity and travel around Christmas, I got into town late on the 23rd only to realize I needed a cake for the babe. I ran out and bought some mix and canned frosting. (All of my cakes are from mixes, by the way. I can't bake a cake to save my life.) I baked a lopsided two-layer cake with some hastily slapped-on frosting and M&M's for decoration. Then, in my sleep-deprived and over-busy state, I put it in the cake saver the wrong way. We basically had to dump it out upside down and turn it back over because the plate was wedged tight in the saver. Linus was so tired by the time we got around to celebrating his birthday that he didn't even want to look at the cake. Yep, that goes down the in loser mom category for sure. We didn't even get him a present. I'm just glad they don't remember their first birthdays. Maybe I should delete the photographic evidence?

So, thanks for the compliments, but without some internet images of R2 and this tutorial, I would have been lost.

Finding His Place

(photo credit to my youngest sister-in-law)

And so it is complete, that transition from baby to boy. So much growing up happens between three and four. I saw it with your brother, so I knew it was coming with you, too. Still, I am in awe to see it again, watching as your face and body grow long and agile and strong with the play of boyhood, seeing you grow more daring and independent, watching you run into childhood and leave the baby years behind.

I am glad, though, that you have not lost you sweet spirit and love of beautiful things as you enter the kingdom of boys. You are such a gift to us, Hobbes, and we too often forget to notice. You are kind and helpful and loving, you like to spend time just being with the people you love. Grandpa still seems to be your favorite. He bought you a big bag of candy for your birthday, and the way you beamed at him, your whole face smiling, made all of us glad. The only person who beats out Grandpa is your baby brother. You love Linus so protectively, going in to his crib to play with him when he is crying in the morning, bringing him toys, and feeding him while he sits in his high chair. You are a good big brother.

You have such a great imagination and enjoy making beautiful things, painting and blowing bubbles and sculpting play-dough. Your daddy and I got you art lessons for your birthday, and I can't wait to see you at work in the studio. If there is a paint brush out, you beg to have it in your hand. You have such a busy little mind, working to create and build scenes from computer games you play with Daddy or making up your own creations. You are comfortable in your own skin and mind now and can play without Calvin, creating your own worlds and stories.
You are entering your boy years with such a wonderful spirit, quirky sense of humor, and lively imagination, and my joy at the boy you are becoming far outweighs my sadness at your growing. It doesn't hurt that you still love your people enough to come back to us after a good adventure.

Go forth, dear Hobbes, to slay dragons and build cities and paint masterpieces and run barefoot in the wild. I know you will always be home for dinner and maybe, if I am lucky, for a few more years of cuddling at bedtime.

The R2D2 Cake

I'm no cake decorator, but this one turned out okay. I used a couple of ideas from other folks on the web. It was much easier than the space shuttles I made for Calvin's 4th and Hobbes' 3rd. Hobbes liked it, anyway...almost as much as the big bag of candy he got from Grandpa. We had a lovely birthday party for Hobbes and Auntie M today. The weather was warm and sunny and perfect for a picnic by the waterfall at the farm. Couldn't have been better.

The Contraption

"Mommy, you're tiny!" Hobbes exclaims as he looks backwards through the binoculars.

The contraption (because I don't know what else to call it) belongs to Calvin, a green plastic toy his Nana bought for him on a museum trip. It has a compass and little lenses that fold out to work as binoculars or a magnifying glass. I'm sure it does many other things. I am certain Calvin can tell me what it is called and quote the entire instruction manual verbatim for me if I ask him. But Hobbes just likes to play with it, watching objects magically shrink and grow through the various lenses.

"Now you look, Mommy. See how tiny I am!"

But when I take the binoculars from my eyes, Hobbes stands so large before me and his brother even larger beside him. It has been five and a half years since I held my first baby, and now I hold my third son, on the verge of walking, his older brothers so very big to me.

I remember when Calvin was a baby, and everything seemed to focus on him. I watched every move or noise or face he made with such wonder and scrutiny. Every failing as a parent seemed so huge and every disobedience on his part devastating. I was more than once certain I had failed him. I too often made too much of something little. I was looking through that magnifying part of the contraption.

Five and a half years and two more babies and something is beginning to shift. There are still moments and days and weeks when I find myself looking through that magnifying glass, the microscopic problem suddenly looming large before my eyes. But sometimes I remember to step back, to open my eyes to a new perspective. Yes, those little moments and actions and words are important. They are also very small pieces of a very large world. Sometimes I remember to turn the contraption around and look through the wrong end of the binoculars, to see how tiny I really am.

When I realize my true place, I find myself folding up the contraption, the plans and need for control and fear that skew my perspective. I realize that this moment does not hold the weight of the future. When I stop looking down to analyze, I can look up and see something bigger. Then those moments don't become less significant. They become heavy with the grace and beauty and goodness of a God who is there in it all, placing all of the small pieces lovingly in their places. Because they are no longer all about me, they become moments of gratitude and peace and joy.

I am a small piece of a very big world, but it is a world guided by a grace and mercy that takes small pieces and turns them into more than the sum of their parts. A grace that redeems the failures and sorrows and struggles. A grace that does not reject the small moments but puts them in their right places. Because God cares about those parenting moments when I fail and when I rise to the task, but until I see them from His perspective, I can't see them rightly. I can't see me rightly.

Yes, I am tiny, Hobbes. We are all so tiny and yet loved by a God who is so very big. Now let's look at some bugs and flowers through that magnifying glass.

Hands

When you were born, I did what all mothers do after the business and mess of labor are finished. I lay there exhausted while you slept on my chest, and as the sun crept through the windows of the hospital room, I held your hand in mine and counted. One, two, three, four, five. Then the other hand. One, two, three, four, five. They were perfect, those chubby little hands with short fingers. Everyone said they were manly hands, not delicate or dainty. I loved everything about them, about you. You were perfect.

We took you home and adored you as only first time parents can adore their children, observing every new development with wonder and amazement. We stared at your little fingers, gripping my finger as you nursed. We watched you on your blanket on the floor, reaching for the red squares of fabric. When you discovered your fingers, turning your hands around and around looking at each one, we were enthralled. I delighted the moment you learned to put those hands together to pull a toy to your mouth. I remember the exact moment it happened, outside a barbeque restaurant, pulling on the toy attached to your carseat.

Those hands have learned to do so much since then, to put pieces in a puzzle, to hold a fork and spoon, to color and paint and write your name. Those hands have stroked my cheek and clinched in anger. They've tickled your brother and pinched him, too. They've swung swords at imaginary dragons, thrown footballs to your daddy in the backyard, and climbed trees higher than your mommy finds safe. Those chubby baby fingers, clinched in a newborn fist, are becoming the strong hands of a boy learning to do the work of manhood. They are so much bigger now. I noticed it as I held one of them tonight.

You had finally given up after about your eighty-seventh question. How does static electricity work? Why is the answer to Gollum's riddle "time"? Will you scratch my back? Finally, you lay sleeping beside me, no longer small enough to curl up on my chest, your five and a half year old body stretched out in your top bunk. Your hand was gripping mine.

And I counted. One, two, three, four, five. And the other hand. One, two, three, four, five. We've made it this far with all ten digits intact, and those hands are learning, slowly and with many mistakes, to do the good and faithful work to which God will one day call you. I just pray I will be strong enough to hold onto them until we get there. In the meantime, I will stay beside you, looking for that last bit of baby pudginess which is hiding somewhere in those hands, those perfect, handsome, manly hands.

White As Snow

These have been hard weeks around the TwoSquare household. I have been disorganized and sleepy, the boys have been cooped up from cold, rainy weather, and nothing has been quite right. All of that is an equation for disaster with boys, especially Calvin. The yelling and hitting and emotional meltdowns, the sibling fights that end in biting or shoving, the wound up five-year-old who can't fall asleep until sometime between 10:00 p.m. and midnight have all contributed to the misery.

There have been so many days that I ended on the couch wondering how we will ever see Calvin safely into adulthood, wondering what will become of him if he doesn't learn to reign in his violent, uncontrollable emotions. And then I start wondering how Hobbes will even find his own path or learn to negotiate battles without imitating his brother's anger. And I look at sleeping Linus and wonder what effect seeing all of these battles between brothers and parents and children will have on his sweet personality.

By Friday of this week, we were just entrenched, surrounded by carnage. Every little exchange had become a chance to do battle. Life was miserable, especially between me and Calvin.

But snow was in the forecast. When we packed up our snow clothes and headed out to the in-laws' farm, I had no idea how it would go. Five inches of snow, three days of sledding and snow balls, and many hours by the wood stove later, I am grateful. I am grateful that God knew we needed this time together and away from home, with nothing to do but play and relax, with a big house, lots of snow, and a huge collection of Legos. I am grateful that I heard my eldest laugh and watched him sled with such joyful abandon. I am reminded of this time last year, when I saw that same, genuine smile, one that appears so rarely on his alternately serious and joking or insincere face.

I am grateful that God takes our bloody, war-torn, messed-up lives and washes them white as snow. I am praying that I can remember that, and that we can step back into this week holding onto a bit of that joy and rest that fell on us with the snow.

Odd Man Out

Calvin and Hobbes were in the bath. Daddy Two Square was finishing up some work in his office. I was trying to wrestle the clean sheets onto the top bunk without falling off and breaking my neck. He was sitting in his high chair with only the dirty dinner dishes on the table as company. Rice and muffin pieces were scattered on his tray in hopes he would get some calories into himself. And he sat, the occasional squak coming out of his mouth to remind us all that he was there. If not for that, I suppose he could have been choking on that muffin. Eventually I did get him, after the beds were made, the boys were reprimanded, and the dishes were cleared and cleaned.

Poor Linus, this happens to you so often. You get put in the high chair or the crib or the pack 'n' play and just left there, the rest of us scurrying around you, in and out of the room, or not in the room at all, trying to get the basics taken care of so that we can function as a family. But is it functioning if you are alone in the dining room, contained but not included, acknowledged only when you finally get mad enough to demand it?

I need to know, those of you who have had or currently have three or more children at home, how did you do it? How did you manage life and pay enough attention to your children that they knew they were loved? I'm not talking having daily planned crafts and activities, reading oodles of books, and making sure each one got individual floor time with mommy. I'm talking about just acknowledging their existence long enough that they know you remember them.

It's not as bad as it sounds. Certainly Linus gets plenty of love and attention from his brothers, and from us, when we are take a moment to stop. But he does get left on his own a lot. Is that just part of being the third?

Seven Quick Takes-Movies and Discipline Edition

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1. Thanks to Wolf Totem, I am totally fascinated by Mongolia now. My husband and I just watched Mongol and were thoroughly impressed. It is an incredibly violent movie, but I was still engrossed in the story. It is the first of a trilogy of movies based on the life of Ghengis Khan. There are a lot of liberties taken with the history, but after having read Wolf Totem, which gives a very detailed account of Mongolian culture and life on the grasslands, I loved seeing a movie that had Mongolia as its setting. I can't wait for the next two films!

2. These days have been really, really hard with Calvin. Does anyone have any experience with taking children to a psychiatrist? We may not need to, but he definitely has frequent episodes where he is completely out of control of his body and emotions, and nothing we try seems to help. Other times, he is incredibly funny, sweet, creative, and in control of himself. But when these episodes occur, he is like a different child. It is unbelievably exhausting and scary for all of us. Anyone who has experience with this sort of behavior, please feel free to offer advice.

3. Linus is suddenly becoming a much less pleasant baby. Oh, that strong will. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a compliant child. I know that no children are totally compliant, but some are less intense than others. Despite his normally pleasant demeanor, Linus is showing us that we may be three for three in the strong personalities department. Lord, have mercy.

4. Despite this, things are actually going okay around here. I am trying to intentionally slow down and enjoy the good moments with my kids, even if it is just a minute where Linus is laughing at Calvin being goofy. Even if that minute is surrounded by two forty-five minute battles with Calvin and with Hobbes refusing to take rest time. I am trying to not make life always be a battle between me and these boys, trying to convince all of us that we are on the same team.

5. Having my husband working at home during this season is incredible! He can handle Calvin when he is too out of control and strong for me to contain. And he can step in when I need a break or have a crying baby and pouting Hobbes and angry Calvin. God always knows what he is doing when he moves us from one job to another.

6. It's almost Chinese New Year! What are you doing to celebrate? We are sending out our first prayer letter and doing some more purging and cleaning and generally preparation for one day leaving the country. One day before the next New Year comes around, we hope.

7. Tonight, I am escaping from this craziness and watching Julie and Julia. I love Meryl Streep, and I have loved Amy Adams since I saw her in Junebug (which is her best movie, by the way, and one you should definitely see). I may or may not let you know what I think of it.

One Year Ago

One year ago today you made your appearance, and Christmas will never be the same again. Whenever I contemplate the birth of our Savior and imagine Mary holding the tiny King of the Universe in her arms, I will also remember the moment I first held you, wet and red and slippery from the birthing tub. We had no idea then what sort of baby you were, but perhaps the fact that you chose Christ's Mass to enter our lives revealed some of your personality. On the most joyful and quietly beautiful day of the church calendar, you came home to us.

Linus, we could not be more in love with you and your sweet, joyful, and unassuming approach to life. We don't stop often enough to enjoy you. You are so quietly content most of the time, though thrilled when we stop to play with you or take your picture or enjoy your sweet babble. You seem to be saying, "Excuse me, wonderful people around me, I know that you are busy doing something important, but if you have time, I would love to throw this ball to you. I'm equally happy to keep playing here near you, though. This is nice, isn't it?"

You have really started to become a little person in the past few weeks, and it is a gift to see you discover your own abilities. You are learning to communicate with a combination of sign language and your own adorable gestures and noises. You don't really talk yet, and you don't seem to be in much of a hurry to do that or to walk. And you still don't have teeth. You are delighted to let these developments happen as they will, enjoying each moment and not being too anxious to grow up. You may think it is amazing to see this in a baby, but your brother Calvin was the complete opposite of this, always striving, from birth, to do more and to be more than he was ready to do or to be. You, on the other hand, are content just to take life as it comes.

You were born with eyes of wonder at the world, on a day of great wonder for the whole world. May you never lose that, and may it be a gift to our family, to all of us who often take life too seriously and look at the world through anxious eyes.

Words truly cannot express the immense joy you bring to our lives, our beautiful Christmas baby. We love you!

7 Quick Takes

For more Quick Takes, visit Jen.

Just in case you were wondering why I haven't been around this space...

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We haven't taken off and moved to Asia yet. I am just choosing other things and/or trying to keep my sanity and make it a somewhat meaningful Advent. So far, that isn't going so well. We are having major behavior issues, and chaos reigns. Currently, our Advent wreath is hidden among the piles of books and mail and a laptop on our coffee table, and the Jesse tree banner hangs crookedly beside our TV while the ornaments are somewhere hidden under the mess of our living room.

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Do you ever have times where nothing about any of your relationships is easy? In addition to the above mentioned discipline problems with the boys, I can't think of a single close relationship that is easy right now. Even my really close friends have troubles of their own that make time together for us less than refreshing because neither has much peace to offer. My marriage is not in a bad place but we are definitely having growing pains. And extended family problems always like to surface at Christmas. There have been times when I have been showered with sweet, peaceful, good times of refreshing in so many relationships, but this is not one of those times.

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Even baby Linus is getting in on the action. He is still sweet as ever, but he is a sweet almost one-year-old, which means he is into everything. I can no longer sit and watch him play contentedly while I read. Now he is climbing onto the coffee table and rocking chair and generally trying to give himself a concussion. So even my alone times with him are draining.

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Needless to say, Christmas preparations are not coming along so smoothly. I have a few gifts purchased, but I am far from ready. I was all set to write a post about our handmade gifts for the boys, but now I am just hoping to get them done. I am excited about them. We are hoping to make a bow and arrows for Calvin. (Bad idea, I know.) And my mother-in-law is going to help me paint a mat for driving cars on for Hobbes. It will have all of the places we go (our house, the in-laws', church, school, Nana's, Neyland Stadium...you know, important places in his life) painted on it and roads for his cars to drive on. I had one of these as a kid that someone made for me and my brother, and it is one of the few toys I really remember playing with and loving.

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I didn't mean for this to be a complaining 7 Quick Takes. Really, life is not all bad. Advent is still my favorite time of year. We had our second annual St. Nicholas Day party this year, with 15 kids and 8 moms in our tiny house decorating cookies, learning about the saint, and playing the "toss the gold (chocolate) coin in the shoe" game. It was a lot of fun. And watching the boys, Hobbes especially, as they take in the wonder of Christmas trees and lights all around is still a lot of fun.

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And my boys still make me laugh. A lot. Calvin is really into knights these days and has been reading a lot of King Arthur books. Hobbes is along for the ride, as usual. The other day, Hobbes said to me, "Maybe his name use to be Alot, and then he got a lance and became Lancelot."

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And Calvin, oh Calvin. I swear he will be a lawyer one day. Yesterday, he came up to me with a clever smile on his face and said, "Mommy, if you need to get things done around the house, and I bet you do, you could just put me on the Wii." He thought he was being so clever. I love these boys, even on the worst of days.

Missing Girl

Once upon a time there was a mountain girl who dreamed big dreams. She dreamed of traveling the world, learning three languages, blazing a pioneer trail to some remote village to share the gospel and help those in need, living an independent life, and then returning home to get a PhD in comparative literature, settle down, and have a family. She had passion...for God, for adventure, for learning, for life. She was good at what she did, got scholarships and awards and recognition. She could have made a career of teaching literature and writing scholarly papers. And if she had chosen not to, it would have been because she was called to something even more exciting. Then she graduated college, got married, finished grad school, had a few kids, and lost herself.

What? This is your story, too?

I am feeling a bit lost right now under the pressure of caring for three kids, taking care of the household and finances, and trying to prepare for an overseas move. All of those adventures I longed for and thought I was called to are coming to fruition is some ways, but the girl that I was when I dreamed those dreams is buried...if not lost completely. Now I am going as a wife, a mother, a cook, a maid. I fear that my life overseas will look exactly like my life here. That my ministry will still be limited only to my family. I know my family is my primary work right now, but I long for there to be something more, too.

Invisible. That's how I feel. Anyone else out there ever felt this way? All of the ways I used to define myself are no longer valid. And I have not done a graceful job of accepting my current roles. I am finding myself bitter and tired and angry much more than I would like, and I am not sure how to change things.

I tried the good "Christian" way (at least in some Christian circles) of accepting my vocation as a mother and doing that job well. And it has been very good for me to think through how I run the household and how to order our family life. I am not saying that staying at home and being really good at being a mom is a bad thing. It just isn't working well for me, and the culture around me and my own inner voice tell me that it is because of some character weakness. There are plenty of weaknesses that I am aware of (and many more I am not), and I do want to work on those and become a better woman and mother.

But something tells me that no matter how much God matures and changes me and fits me for motherhood, I will always desire something more. That mountain girl who longed to do something with the brains and passion God gave her is still in here somewhere. Certainly, there are plenty of outlets for using my skills and passions in homemaking and parenting, but my heart says that I am not ever going to be satisfied staying at home. God has called me to that, but He has also called me to other things, too.

I think I am needing some wisdom from you other women out there. Is it okay to long for something more than what I have? Do I need to just learn to be content in the roles I have to play? Is it possible to learn to be content and to still yearn to do more? Will I ever find that girl again? I miss her.

7 Quick Takes-What's Inspiring Me

I somehow managed to waste the first half of my week and am making up for it by spending the second half on major purging and reorganizing projects, always needing to be done in preparation for moving next year. In lieu of any good words from me, check out these posts.

And, as always, visit Jen's blog for some more Quick Takes.

1

This post is from a blog I just discovered. I was saying "amen" through the whole post. Introverts out there, you know what she is talking about.

2

This post offers some good thoughts about the obsession with sex in our culture and how the community of the church can answer to that deeper longing. I always love Anthony Esolen's writing.

3&4

This post by Rae made me cry. I so often wonder what happened to the person and child I once was. She is buried somewhere under laundry and bills and constant, mundane tasks. I miss her. Rae writes, But not all of a woman is made to work. The soul of a woman contains so much more- there is a girl-child inside, ready to play! And her list for finding that spirit of play in the midst of work is fantastic. I may need to write one of my own.

5

This post on taking a day of rest for the whole family goes so well with those last two. Without a Sabbath rest each week, I am certain I would have given up on this motherhood/homemaker thing a long time ago.

6

Gratitude. I am hearing God speak this word to me from so many directions lately. I know that joy comes from practicing gratitude and not from a change in life circumstances, but I don't really practice it. This post...and this one...and this one...all came to me this week. It was the same time I was studying Jesus' parables on money and true kingdom treasures. I am thinking it is time to start a gratitude list of my own.

7

On a completely different topic, but still an inspiration, check out my dear friend, former commune housemate, amazing cook, creative mama extraordinaire's new food blog. Join in the feast! She is cooking all kinds of yummy recipes from her CSA box. I got to live with this woman and eat her cooking weekly. Aren't you jealous?

In Two Months...

...we will celebrate your birth. How did I miss so much of this year, sweet Linus? It seems that Calvin's first year was in slow motion. I had time to watch him while he slept, to play games with him, to record every moment, every tiny new development. Even Hobbes' first year had plenty of slow moments. We were still so very much in the baby phase of life.

But you, third child with the much older brothers, you just come along for the ride. You sleep in your car seat where I can't see you. On the rare days we are at home for your naps, I am just thankful that I can put you down and let you soothe yourself to sleep. I rarely stop to watch your beautiful baby rest.

Or to play with you. You have to remind me to do that. Lately, you have started initiating peek-a-boo with us, covering your face with your quilt in the crib and then pulling it down and squealing with delight when we say, "Where is Linus? Peek-a-boo!" And you love to play ball, sitting in the floor throwing or handing the ball to me for me to throw back.

Somewhere in there you have learned to crawl and pull up and feed yourself. You are trying so hard to balance on your own, and I am sure you will be walking next time I remember to turn around and look at you. And you are working on all sorts of language in your head. I can tell. I hear the garbled sounds coming out, attempts to say your brothers' names or the names of objects. I swear you have said "all done" and "more" and "bath" on more than one occasion. You definitely say "DaDa" a lot. You love your daddy.

All of these things have happened without my really noticing, really enjoying the moments. I don't completely ignore you. No one could, with your engaging smile, contagious joy, and sweet spirit. But I do wish I had slowed down more often this past ten months to really just enjoy being your mama.

I will try to do that more sweet one, as we prepare and wait for the coming of the King and for the celebration of your birth. That's one day I do remember. Every detail of it.