Kate is Amazing

Every mom thinks that. I know. Still, she's amazing.

We went out to dinner Saturday night, just the three of us. Sam was with friends (argh- he's so big!). Stuart ordered this dessert with donut holes and two dipping sauces. I tried one and dipped it in each sauce to see which I preferred. When we gave one to Kate, she wanted to dip too-- first in one, then the other. It was really gooey, so instead of just bringing the donut to her mouth and making a huge mess like most kids would do, she actually wiped off the long strand of sauce on the rim of the glass and then brought it to her mouth. I was so impressed. What two-year-old does that? I'm sure she was mimicking something one of us had done, but still. That's pretty amazing.

That same night, as we were getting ready to leave, she stopped us on the way out the door for "one more suck" on her blanket. She grabbed the purple blanket, sucked her thumb for a minute, and then said, "Okay, ready."

That Kate.

BMB: Reckless (and I don't mean my driving)

Parenting is such a mysterious thing. I feel like our days are totally unpredictable. Not for lack of schedule-- in fact, we often have too much schedule to go around at my house. Unpredictable because I can't accurately forecast the mood of the house from one moment to the next. One minute, the kids are playing and having a great time, and the next there is a major breakdown because K changed the tv channel or threw a sword down the stairs or bit her brother's back. (Yes, Kate is often the instigator of such destruction.)


Last Wednesday, I felt like we'd had a pretty good day, yet I also felt like I'd gone through the wringer at least twice by the time I plopped into bed. Like a good Christian role model, I save my quiet time for the very end of the day, when I'm good and attentive (read: nearly asleep, but trying hard.) I pray that God will make something stand out of the chapter I'm reading, but I admit I don't always anticipate lightening. It struck, however, when I read these words:

"Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing." Proverbs 12:18

So often, I instigate drama, or at least fan the flames, by using words that are not necessarily hurtful, but aren't very well thought out. In the heat of battle, I often say something that, while logical, isn't very helpful or healing. Later, I regret these words. Not because they were violent or profane, but because they were exactly as that verse put it: reckless. Not wisely chosen. Not helpful. Just convenient.

Last night, for example, I left Kate playing in the bathtub long enough to get Sam started on a project. I could hear her playing, and was making progress with Sam's kindergarten info sheet (did you know they gave out homework before a kid has even attended class???!!!). But when I went to help her wash, there was water all over the floor, soap everywhere. Lots of soap. "Kate," I snapped, "What were you thinking?! The water has to stay in the bathtub! This is a TOTAL mess! I'm so disappointed in you!"

Now, that isn't a tryable offense, but it wasn't at all what I wanted to say, if I would script the moment in advance. I calmed down a minute later and apologized and told Kate that messes are easily cleaned up and that we need to try to keep the water in the tub next time. Those words were the right ones. The first set: reckless. I spent lots of time and energy trying to fix the careless words I spoke initially, and dealt with the guilt of those words for the rest of the night.

Kate's resiliant, and was fine after a few minutes of some rather soggy snuggling. But my prayer is that next time, I'll forego the reckless words for the healing ones.

www dot sam dot com

When I was putting Sam to bed last night, he told me that he was going to build airplanes when he grew up. I had some sort of non-committal mom response (like, oh, that's nice honey). He continued to tell me all about the cool things on the plane, most of which sounded like they were inspired by Star Wars. Then he added, "And each plane will have a bomb on it. That way if there is a war going on down below, they can just drop the bomb and wipe out all the droids and the frozen droids below. See?"

"I see. Okay, good night," was I'm sure my response. I was thinking we ought to read a book on World War 2 sometime so he would know this wasn't entirely a unique thought, but he seems a little young for that kind of correction.

"And I'm going to have my own company, called the Sam Company. And we'll have a web site, www. sam. com, and people from all over the world will look at my web site and see the planes and they'll come volunteer to help me build them!"

A five-year-old with a marketing plan and a plane cool enough to get people to volunteer to build it. Watch out, Bill Gates. We've got a young entrepreneur on our hands (heaven help us!)

Circles of Change

I'm in the process of redoing my bathroom. By redoing, I mean changing the shower curtain and towels. I know, it's hardly earth-shattering, but I think it looks nice.

Sam was talking to me as I was folding laundry and he was sitting on the toilet last week. (That may sound odd to you, but in mommy world, it's totally normal). He said, "Mom, I really like the new bathroom."

"Good, honey. I'm glad you like it," I replied.

"I like these circles [on the shower curtain]. They are pretty neat. It's hard to see that one [the brown on brown] though," he continued.

"Yes, you have to be in the right light, I think," was my reply.

"You know, this shower curtain. It's kind of like the circles of change. Or something like that," he said.

Where he came up with "the circles of change" I have no idea. He's such a philosopher.