Category Archives: boys

When you are Three Feet Tall….

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The Little Guy went sliding across the floor this afternoon, landing face-first on the Jack and the Neverland Pirates “telescope” in his hands. He cried. The bruise formed.

“Aw,” I said. “Mommy just mopped the floor there because something spilled and you slipped on the wet floor.”  For the rest of the evening, he repeated in various renditions the woes of running across a wet floor and how it would be better to walk.

It made me think about Life from Three Feet. There is so much to learn….and most of it from experience.  “Wet floor” = slippery = fall on face! And the world is so very different from the perspective of being three feet tall….

When you are Three Feet Tall:

  • Big dogs are actually very scary monsters. Their happily wagging tail is aimed directly for your eyes and yet everyone keeps telling you, “he’s really friendly – you don’t have to be scared of him!” Try being hit in the face with that lashing rope and see what you think about his “friendliness”!
  • A simple task of “Go wash your hands” becomes an acrobatic feat as you balance atop a stool and lunge your belly onto the sink to teeter precariously while somehow turning a knob clockwise, twisting your torso to reach the soap, then lather and rinse. Boom! Landing on your feet again with pride….your joy is dashed when out rings, “Turn off the water!” Oh, darn.
  • Every single little bitty toy you want to play with has been placed high on top of the mantle with those tall parental creatures thinking that “out of sight” is “out of mind.” Not so!.  Look, I may be short….but the brain still works, buddy!
  • Brothers barreling through the room at full speed are almost guaranteed to knock you off your feet – especially the 85-pound one who barely seems to have any control of his flailing arms (or maybe he does….maybe he just pretends that “was an accident”….hmmmm….something to think about…..).
  • People say things like, “Oh look, you’re tall enough to ride the roller coaster this 130525-Idlewild-Amusement-Park-45-1024x681year!” They never once consider whether or not you might actually want to ride the roller coaster….and since you have no clue what that word means, you decide to go along with the apparent giddy waiting in line….climbing aboard….SHEER TERROR!!!
  • Of course, the very next weekend, they might deem you “too little” to join them in roller skating…or bowling….or Laser Tag. Come on – sometimes I’m “too big” to still be wetting my pants and then “too little” to hang with the cool dudes?!?
  • You practically run a 10K every time the family decides to go for a “short walk.” Anyone ever think about the fact that these legs are half the size of yours….thus they only move half the distance?  I’m doing 5 or 6 steps for every one of yours – think that might be why I’m so far behind you?

Some great things about being Three Feet Tall though:

  • You can still cuddle up in laps to read books at bedtime.
  • People still carry you around when you lift your hands halfway through a “short walk.”
  • Bending over to pick something up off the floor is hardly any work.
  • People tend to think you’re just really cute…like all the time! And this can go a long way. A Long, Loooong Way!

It helps me to think about Life from Three Feet a little. To be a little more patient with the short legs, the earnest attempt to complete tasks while living in the world of giants, and the view of big things coming at you fast. Sometimes it helps to slow down a bit and view the world from the kids’ point of view….rather than my own.

 

“How high is the sky? Bigger than 12 feet?”

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I don’t like to lie….but I’m okay with making things up.  Especially when it comes to answering the rapid-fire questions of 4-year-old Mr. Ornery (he’ll correct me here – he’s technically 4 AND A HALF!).  This interrogation is most frequent in the car where I cannot possibly get away. His current favorite question is “how high is the sky?” “Is it IMG_3276higher than 12 feet?” (all size is now measured in comparison to the depth of the swimming pool where he would jump off the diving board into 12 feet of water. For example, “Is the big rubber ducky in the water bigger than 12 feet?”)

Back to the sky though….after numerous “I don’t know answers” I finally said “10,000 feet” and I’ve stuck to that pretty faithfully. And now, after a few weeks of lying to my innocent child, I finally decided to look it up. Technically, the “sky” going all the way to the edge of space is 250 miles (the distance between D.C. and NYC – now that’s fascinating!) which would be 1.3 million feet. So….I’m off by a few (ahem) decimal places. And since I prefer to feel “right” – we’ll go with the definition of “sky” between the ground and where the weather occurs (clouds, etc) which is 3 miles and about 15,000 feet (making me much closer to right than the first definition – and this is important in whose book??!?!). At least tomorrow I’ll have a better answer for Mr. Curiosity!

This weekend the question stream shifted a little to the power of God: “Is God bigger than 12 feet?” – yes.  “Can God pick up the Hulk?” – yes. As well as a string of queries about what God eats: “Can God eat a tree?” – yes. “Can God eat the ocean?” – yes. “Can God eat the whole earth?” – yes. And on….and on…. “Wait a minute….I don’t think God really eats anything….come to think of it.”

And I realize that one of the things Mr. Ornery is doing is processing his place in the world. How big is he? How old is he? How strong is he? If he puts on his Batman batmancostume, is he now stronger and more powerful than he was before? Is he bigger than 12 feet? Where does he fit into the pecking order of all these boys? It’s a challenge being the middle guy.

And it’s a challenge for me to remember to pay attention to him and his social and emotional needs (and not just his incredibly soft curly hair and impishly sweet smile). I have to remember not to snap at him to stop crying because the noise is bothering me while I try to address the offender (typically older brother, sometimes Little Guy). Not to shut down his line of questioning because I’m tired of making up answers. Not to forget to read bedtime stories since I’ve already done two sets in putting the other two to bed.

I have to remember that he really is only 4 years old (despite the fact that he usually runs with the 7 year-olds and seems quite mature). That 4-year-olds are not always in control and sometimes melt into tears, or throw toys in anger, or wet themselves (despite repetitive prompts to “go pee” based on tell-tale signals!). That 4-year-olds crave attention (“watch my cartwheel”) even if they can entertain themselves well for quite some time (while you sneak in evening treadmill runs). That 4-year-olds have figured out how to deflect consequences – “no, that’s not my candy wrapper”….”I didn’t do it, The Rascal did.” That 4-year-olds need to know they are loved even when they try to stand on their own two feet (and on the couch and the monkey bars).

Most of all, I have to remember to pause in the morning when the 4 (and a half)-year-old asks me to sit beside him for his morning cup of milk and put my arm around his shoulder (despite lunches to be made, homework to be done, diapers to be changed). I must remember that it is so important to take that time with him – for 4 is such a fragile age….. when you’re figuring out your place in the world.

Just a little patience….and grace…..and joy.

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One push of the pedal…

Two pushes

Three and he was off

Training wheels gone and Micah was soaring…and I’ve heard nothing else for the past two days than “Can we go ride our bikes?”

It’s so fun to see the joy on their faces when they learn something new. Micah knew he was ready to do it this time. Any other time that the training wheels even wobbled a smidge, he would get upset and unwilling to ride his bike. But the other day, it was Ryan’s new bike and it just seemed so attractive to Micah. And there were no training wheels on it so it was the perfect opportunity to try. And he did it – around and around the church parking lot he went, testing out his speed, figuring out how to slow down to make the turns, learning to put his feet down to stop. He was in heaven. I hope he soon learns to use the brakes rather than the tops of his shoes to slow down the tires!

As there was a wrench handy and sheer joy in Micah’s new accomplishments, Noah brought his little bike over and demanded that his training wheels take a hike too. I knew Noah had the balance for it so a few hard twists of rusted bolts, and he was ready to try. His bike is a little big for him so he needed some steadying of it until he got peddling and then kaboom! He was gone. I ran alongside him wondering if I really intended to be helpful in any way should he start falling. Probably not. I shouldn’t have worried – he never even wobbled – and after a few seconds, he said “Next I’ll ride with one hand!”  Tiny little 4-year-old whizzing around on a tiny little bike. With grit and determination and a whole TON of tears, he finally taught himself to start peddling on his own without me holding the bike. It was a mix of his desire and my “planned ignorance” to encourage him to learn.

Such a fun evening for both of them (and they were wiped-out asleep by 7:30!). However, I was not interested in taking them back to the parking lot at 7:10 the next morning and so promised we’d take the bikes to the park after church. Given a little bit of inappropriate running in church (“Geesh, M and N! I JUST told you as we drove in to the parking lot to NOT run in church!!), the bikes were required to spend 10 minutes in the car contemplating their misbehavior before they could get out and cruise around the pond.  Soon, though, the two boys were learning such things as how to avoid casual pedestrians and zippy little toddlers, how to keep their eyes looking forward, and to keep the two bikes away from each other to minimize scrapes and falls. These are lessons that will need to be learned in a very repetitive fashion I can tell.

While the bike excitement lapped the pond, I chased little Seth. As we passed a few people, an older guy caught my eye after he clearly noted the older boys. “Yes,” I said in one of those I’m-the-proud-mother tone of voice, “they just learned to ride two wheels yesterday.” My smile smoldered when he cut “oh, they’re yours, eh?”  I walked on wondering how a total stranger can dash parental joy and wondering what issue he had with the boys (though a few minutes later I noticed him beckon them to slow down and I realized he was probably trying to protect his dainty toddling granddaughter from the vicious bike gang).

It’s amazing how every life is a little thread that goes and goes, intersecting with other people’s threads and getting bumped or jiggled…or totally derailed as a result. My boys’ threads were in the joy of a new skill and the freedom of bikes without training-wheel drag. I rejoiced in their new ability….and “the” stranger’s thread bumped into ours with dismay….but, he does not know their joy. And he does not know that they are still learning. That one day soon they will realize their responsibility as a bike rider to not clip the back of someone’s heel. They will know to keep it slow around other people and kids. They will learn to slow down to make a sharp turn. But yesterday, their thread was so early on in their learning process – they were still working on slight shifts in balance.

As I think about this, I wonder about the times when my life thread bumps into other people and I grump at them or snap impatiently. I knowingly at times or unsuspectingly other times cause a shift in their life. It’s a good reminder to give a little grace as I don’t know where the other is coming from, how far along they are in their thread and what direction they’re actually going in. The word of the month for Micah’s karate class is “patience.” I think I need to work on it a little bit more sometimes.

Okay….the truth….I know I need to work on it more!

So, today I “patiently” lifted bikes in and out of the back of my car (I hate how the wheels turn and pinch your fingers, the grease marks up your hands, and the trunk of the van beeps its refusal to close when it thinks something’s in its way!). And I patiently watched them ride around for another hour.  And I patiently put the bikes back in the garage.

I can’t wait until we get to the beach next week so the boys can walk out of the house, hit the boardwalk, and ride and ride….(and for the sake of innocent pedestrians, I hope they soon learn to dodge people!).

Unpacking I love you

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In the middle of the field, I stopped a running Micah, knelt down in front of him and tucked in his football shirt before replacing the flag belt around his waist. In that split second of not even thinking about it, I said “I love you.”

Sometimes I wonder if the boys know how much is packed into those 3 little words.

If they know that the “I” is me, a woman who has given up so much of what I used to know and do in order to become someone so completely new and different that sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. Do they know that responding to the word “Mommy” is second nature now, but at one point I actually struggled with having a new name….and a new identity. That I could tell them everything they ate today and the last time they brushed their teeth, but wouldn’t be able to answer many questions about myself.

Do they know that the “love” is so complete and so total – that when I say “forever, for always and no matter what” every night as I tuck them in bed…. that I actually mean that? And it doesn’t mean that I’m happy all the time or that I am at all pleased with them in those moments when they pee on the floor because they don’t want to clean up the toys….and yet I still love them. Sometimes Noah knows it – for when I was “displeased” with his behaviors at bedtime tonight and kept a frown on, he finally asked “are you ready to smile yet?” He knows the love is there….right there.

Can they understand that the “you” refers to the entire beautiful, delightful, energetic and winsome little boy that they are? That they are each unique and fantastic. That it is not based on anything except the fact that they are my Micah, Noah and Seth and that I love them.

motherhood

From Huffington Post

So when I look into Micah’s eyes and whisper “I love you,” I hold within me so much — he can’t even imagine the depth of the phrase. He doesn’t know that in the same moment, my brain is also saying “wow – this is hard.” That I’m wondering whether I’m doing the right thing.  Even in the small things – do I have him in the right sports at this time? Is he getting out of it what he needs to? How can I get him to stop fiddling with the mouth piece the entire time he’s on the field and maybe look up for a minute and see if he should be catching a ball.

And in the big things when I worry about what school they will go to? When I wonder if I’m balancing work and mothering at the right level? When I silently thank God that my children are so healthy as I walk through the hospital hallway ?

Yesterday was the party for Micah’s 7th birthday. A friend who has four boys all around the same age and I sat on the side of the sandbox and talked for a bit in between dodging flying scoops of sand and settling property-rights disputes. She said “sometimes I wonder if I had to do it all over again, would I?” I know those words and those thoughts. I know that mothering is my greatest challenge.  I know the struggle of trying to do what’s right for the boys and yet not knowing really what that is. I know the weariness.  I have also started to remind myself – shortly around the time that I’m reminding myself to be jello – that it should get better in another couple years – once they can all use words instead of intonation to get their points across, are able to handle personal hygiene without my assistance physically or in repetitive verbal prompts, and when 5 minutes of quiet within the house does not herald a serious sense of foreboding and impending doom.

Yes, I know the weariness.

Sometimes in my work in setting up a crisis nursery as a break for stressed families, I use an analogy that I recently heard – families in stressful situations are trying to get a sip of water out of a gushing fire hydrant. They want a simple drink, but life is coming at them so fast and so hard that there’s no chance of stabilizing, making a good decision, or reflecting on how to make the right changes and do the right thing.

Then I look up and see the fire hydrant right in front of me.

There’s that saying about nailing Jell-o to a wall….

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“I am jello.”

That’s my newest mantra….in the scheme of constantly changing parenting mantras. Hey, at least I can temporarily find something to cling to.

This one has been working this week. I learned it from a saint of a friend who has 4 young boys – all within 6 months of the span of my boys’ ages. So whenever I think I have it bad or that I’m having a rough day, all I have to do is say “at least I only have THREE boys!”

The concept of “jello” is that it doesn’t stick to you. So when you start an “engagement” with a child (euphemism for an escalation of emotions), you remember that you have your own emotions and do not have to take on those of the child. Be jello – don’t let their emotions stick to you.

This is in stark contrast to my usual mode of engagement – volcanic eruption! So I thought the jello thing might be worth a try.

Monday was strawberry jello. Micah jumped right into one of his typical morning jelloinfractions – full-body slam of one of the younger crew – usually either Ryan or Noah. I suggested that he take a break on the stairs (or you could call it a “time out”). He took his cup of strawberry milk with him and for the next 3-4 minutes sat on the bottom step taking a swig of milk and spewing it happily across the hard wood floors. I stood one room away in the kitchen door frame saying to myself, “jello”….. “jello” …… “not volcano….jello.” I wet a few rags, walked over to Micah and suggested that whenever he was ready, he could clean up.

Score one for Mommy Jello Queen!

Tuesday was lime jello….as in the color of the “Micah broke the stained glass window” text that I received as he and I pulled into the driveway. Apparently, that morning after I left early for a meeting, he and his aunt got into an engagement – likely for a reason very similar to Monday morning = full body contact! So I sat him down on the couch and “jello,” suggested that he tell me what his punishment/consequence was going to be. I rejected the 100 push-ups idea (he can’t even do 2) and accepted the 6-weeks of no TV….begudgingly….because that really just means 6 weeks of punishing me!

Score two for Jello Queen!

The orange jello of the Cheez-it eruption was just not quite as successful. Probably because I was tired and grumpy and he was tired and grumpy and I didn’t feel like repeating “mushin” (the martial arts word for controlled mind) to him or “jello” to me! Instead we had Cheez-it lava spewing throughout the kitchen and hallway floors and eventually the dust-buster was pulled out for this “when you’re ready, clean up” mess.

So, I’m 2 for 1….which is very important to Micah’s competitive brain (even though he doesn’t know my jello trick so the competitive aspect is not quite so fun). Maybe we’ll have to keep seeing how many colors of the jello rainbow we can be!rainbow_3

Top 10 Reasons that my boys like to live in our old house

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No one really knows for sure how old this house is. It’s been a great place to live for the past nine years, but it’s time to move to a better school district. There are a few things the boys will miss about this place though.  Here are probably ones that are in the Top Ten although there are plenty more!

10        The hardwood floors lend for delightful full body sliding.

9          The stuff on the wall seems to pull off in long flat pieces if you find a tiny bit sticking up….and since Auntie always said she didn’t like that pattern anyway….

8          There is a running loop on the first floor which yields endless hours of happy (and sometimes not so happy) chasing of each other (kids and moms).

7          The leaky roof of the garage sends water spilling along the corner which forms icicles in the winter. These can be knocked down and eaten (though chucking the ball into the glass window while attempting to get the ice didn’t make “someone” very happy….).

6          There are warm perches under most windows which apparently should not be considered as seats despite how enticing it is to warm one’s bottom while watching the cars go by.  Maybe if you turned the thermostat above 64, we wouldn’t need these built in tushy-warmers!

5          There is a back staircase so you can sneak down that and into the dining room to grab a snack when Mom thinks you’re still in “time out” upstairs.

4          Apparently there are these flat wide open areas called “mantles” but they seem to be more like ledges from which SpiderMan might pounce.

3          The chute is the coolest thing ever – you can drop clothes down to the basement like you’re supposed to….but you can also drop down toys, cups, the body wash bottle, toothbrushes, pretty much anything you can get your hands on – though brothers appear to be banned. Mom particularly loves it when you throw a diaper down which then gets swept into the washer without notice and thereby leaves annoying plastic pellets upon all the “clean” clothes!

2          They actually put glass windows on “ground level” that open into the basement. If you’re curious, it does shatter nicely when kicked ever so gently.

And the Number 1 reason boys like to live in an old house….

The best thing of all is on the very top floor….there’s a hole no bigger than two hands across….and no one knows where it goes…. It’s so mysterious that anything you drop down there does not make a sound….and never ever   r e t u r n s…..