The Cure for the Imperfect Parent

Yesterday I messed up big time. I had gotten a new purse and it came with this big gold chain and medallion on it as the “tag.” I took it off, obviously, and Daniel wanted it. He thinks chains and medallions are kinda cool and likes to add them to his little treasure chest.

Yesterday morning he came downstairs, where we were all in the kitchen, wearing it around his neck. I couldn’t help it, I cracked up laughing. I mean, c’mon, the kid looked like P.Diddy, all blinged out! I told him he looked like a rapper. Nathan started laughing too, and so did Nate and Laura. As mom goes, so goes the rest of the family. Big. Mistake. Daniel punched Nate and ran upstairs crying.

I found him curled up in his bed, up against the wall. He wouldn’t come down and wouldn’t talk to me, so I climbed up. Now, understand this child has a loft bed up in the sloped eaves of his room. Perfect place for an 8-year-old with hurt feelings to hide out, not such a great place for a 37-year-old mom to try to wedge herself.

What’s a parent to do when they mess up?

We can pretend like we’re the almighty, always right, do-what-I-say-or-else parent and trample all over our kids’ feelings. But, that doesn’t do much for our relationships with our kids. The other option is humility.

Humility allows our kids to understand that their parents are human and make mistakes too. How wonderful for our kids to know that mom and dad mess up and need to make things right. Then our children can understand that it’s ok to not be perfect. If mom and dad mess up and can humbly ask for forgiveness, our children will learn to do the same.

I believe that humbling ourselves before our kids and admitting our faults does not diminish our authority, but actually does more to build our authority and respect in their eyes than pretending that we are perfect. Admitting wrong opens the doors to communication and love.

So, I climbed up on the bed and wiggled over on my stomach to Daniel. My heart hurt. I had hurt my baby, without meaning to, but I did. I put my arms around him and simply told him, “Hey buddy, I hurt your feelings. I am so, so sorry. I was wrong to laugh at you. Will you forgive Mommy?”

The awesome thing about kids is that they are always quick to forgive and they don’t hold grudges.  Within 5 minutes he was snuggling in my lap again and all was forgiven and made right.

I’m not going to ever be a perfect parent. I wish I was. But, by being humble and admitting when I blow it, I can point Daniel to the One Perfect Father who never fails him. The Perfect Parent I rely on for the strength to teach my own kids every single day. He’s the only cure for this oh so imperfect parent.

Good Looks Aren’t Everything

Today I bought the strangest pair of shoes I’ve ever seen, but a pair I’ve had my eyes on for quite awhile.

These are running shoes, called Vibram Five Fingers. These shoes are part of a new wave of runners who love to run barefoot. Of course, running “barefoot” doesn’t exactly work for a tenderfoot like me, so Vibram came up with these nifty shoes that mimic being barefoot, but protect the bottom of your feet.

There’s a lot of science behind barefoot running, but the basic idea is this: the strongest structure in architecture is an arch. Your foot was wonderfully designed by God with an arch! Why would you support an arch? All of the bones and muscles and tendons in your foot, and legs and back and hips were made to work with that amazing, strong arch. Thus: barefoot.

Christopher MacDougall explains all this in his fascinating and sometimes very humorous book, Born to Run.

I admit, these are not my cutest shoes. I’m sure I’ll get looks when I wear them, but only because they are so weird. However, even I believe good looks aren’t everything. Sometimes comfort takes precedence. And when I run, comfort is everything! I’m a girl who lives for being barefoot. If I could live at the beach in flip flops and my bare feet for the rest of my life, I’d be supremely happy!

But, in the meantime as I run and amble over the trails behind my house, I’ll wear these bizarre five-toed lavender shoes on my feet. Don’t be too surprised next time you see me running down the street. No, I haven’t grown new feet, just a new pair of shoes.

Spring Shoes

There are things that have put a smile on my face this week.

Lunch with a friend.

Longer, sunnier, warmer days.

Runs through the woods.

The sound of melting snow and trickling water in the creek.

Geese moving back in on the river.

And new shoes.

In turquoise blue:

And sunny yellow:

Would it be a fashion faux paus to wear them both at the same time?

Through the Garden Gate - March

Next week will “officially” be Spring. However, in the far Northern reaches of our country, Spring is a misnomer. One of my favorite quotes is by Henry Van Dyke. He says, “The first day of Spring is one thing and the first spring day another.” The first spring day could be in June around here!

March is the season of mud, water, puddles, mud, lakes, rivers, mud, mud, and more mud. Currently, I have to walk through the slushy snow in my yard AROUND an enormous puddle on my sidewalk that is ankle deep. At night it freezes into a small ice skating rink, but by 10 a.m. it’s a very cold, wet trap for unsuspecting mailmen and visitors.

My garden is more of the same; melting snow and mud. Spring heralds the changing of the season and here in Duluth, it’s mostly just very, very messy.

Change is messy.

The past year of my life has been incredibly painful personally for me. I’m still struggling with who I am, who I am supposed to be and where my identity is found. There are circumstances that I have to admit have rocked me to the core and changed me in ways that I sometimes don’t like at all.

I wonder what will come out of all of this change? It’s a mess right now. I feel a little like my yard. Wet, muddy, slushy, messy. I wonder if underneath the mud and mess there is a beautiful flower garden just waiting to burst forth. I think there might be, but I think it’s going to be painful to find it and a bit of a mess first.

So, pardon my mud. Pardon my mess. God’s still working on me.

Perhaps you have someone else in your life who looks a little, or maybe a lot like a mess. Maybe you are a mess. Change is messy. Keep pushing through it. Those irises and crocuses and pansies, the first harbingers of spring, have to work hard to push through the snow and slush and mud. Be gentle with yourself and others.

“There’s a better version of me, that I can’t quite see,

But things are gonna change.

Right now I’m a total mess and right now I’m completely incomplete.

But things are gonna change.”

Kitchen Biology

Normally I love home-schooling. And, in theory, I even like teaching science. Biology is fun when we are learning about the phylums and all the different kinds of animals.

This is my kitchen counter how it normally looks on a school day:

One kid at the computer, a science notebook out, a pencil or two.

Today, however, Laura had to dissect a worm. Ugh. On my counter.

I’m all in favor of science, but in my kitchen? Bleah. Of course, the boys found the whole thing fascinating!

I’m looking for the bleach. . ., and dreading the frog.

Reflecting on 15 years of Memories

This time 15 years ago, I was in a lot of pain! But, it was good pain, and I was getting ready to deliver my firstborn. I was young, only 22, and had no idea what I was getting into. Actually, when I got pregnant I had no idea what I was getting into, nor did poor Nathan. I developed something called hyper emesis gravidarum, which basically means, you throw up 24/7 all nine months. I spent my entire pregnancy with Laura in bed, or in the hospital and taking large amounts of anti-nausea drugs. As a 21/22 year-old, I had no idea pregnancy could nearly kill you. So, when I went into labor on March 11, 1996, let just say I was so glad to finally be reaching the end of my ordeal. I had no idea who I was about to meet, but I was convinced in my oh-so-wise-22-years, that I was having a girl.

At 5:17, the doctor indeed announced, “It’s a girl!” Laura came into the world the same way she’s continued to approach life; with little fanfare or fuss; just interestedly observing the players around her. No crying, eyes wide open as if to say, “Hmmm, what have we here? This is interesting.”

I had rosy pink dreams of cuddling my newborn daughter close as I fed her and bonding over the years with all kinds of mommy/daughter activities. Of course, we would be best friends! Laura quickly shattered those illusions. Why did I forget to remember she was born to ME? Me: firstborn, type-A, strong personality. Why did I think my daughter would comply? Laura: firstborn, type-A, strong personality, only unlike me, always and completely in control of her emotions.

She didn’t like to cuddle, she never laughed and didn’t smile at strangers. Don’t get me wrong; she was a very happy baby. At home. In public she was a complete stoic. But, she fell in with our lifestyle very well and we just sort of toted Laura around wherever we went. When she was two she climbed a mountain in Georgia with us, no complaints. Now, I wonder, what were we thinking!? But, that was Laura. I also remember Laura at two being completely oblivious to my emotional meltdowns over her naughty behavior. She would listen to me rant and cry with a stony expression on her face and then say, “huh.”  It would nearly send me into orbit! I felt like she was 2 going on 12!

When I began to homeschool her in 1st grade, I think we both thought we’d not survive. My personality clashed with hers and there were many days we both ended up crying. But, I soldiered on, reminding myself that friendship with Laura was the end goal, not the current state of affairs. I was called to be her mom, not her friend. I desperately read books about parenting, talked to other moms who were farther along the journey than I was, and asked God for the wisdom to raise this strong-willed daughter, who just happened to be an awful lot like me!

I can’t point to the exact time things began to be different around here. Where was that line where the little girl started to fade away and the young lady began to blossom? All I know is one day, maybe we were working together in the kitchen, and we both cracked up at the same thing; something that completely mystified the three guys in the house. Hmmm, this is weird. I thought. It’s kind of like I have a friend here, who ‘gets’ me. But, I thought maybe it was a fluke.

And then it began to happen more often. People would comment how much we looked, sounded and acted alike. Laura and I would get the giggles over nothing and laugh until tears rolled down our faces while the boys sat looking at us like we were insane. We shared clothes and private jokes. I stopped having to tell her to do stuff and realized she was just here helping me. Just. Like. A. Friend. Wow.

And now, it’s 15 years since her birth. 15 years that have flown buy in an instant. I don’t want to even TALK about where we’ll both be 15 years from now; it will go so fast! (and I’ll be so old!!!) 15. 3 more short years til she’s off for college and my closest friend is not here all the time anymore. Then who will laugh at my jokes? There will just be 3 boys to simply laugh at me!

I can’t tell you how blessed I’ve been to know this young lady. She’s not mine, she’s on loan, she’s a gift I treasure. Laura means “Crown of Beauty.”

My prayer for Laura has been Isaiah 62:2,3:

“And the ^nations will see your righteousness, And all kings your glory; And you will be called by a new ^name, Which the mouth of the Lord will designate. You will also be a ^crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord, And a royal ^diadem in the hand of your God.”

She has some amazing plans for her future, and I know she wants to glorify God with those plans. Just like I held her in my arms 15 years ago and wondered who she would become, I can’t wait to see who this amazing girl will become whom God will continue to fashion and shape into a beautiful woman of God.

15. My job is almost over. Hard to believe. I just stand back and cheer right now. I pray. And I step in occasionally with a word of encouragement and advice.

You go girl, I am so proud of you.