Family Vacation

Donny and Grampy spot a loon...or is it a boat?

We are on vacation this week. In return for seven days without internet access, we get to enjoy a private lakeside beach, nightly cook-outs on the grill, and the company of family. We are nearly halfway through our vacation already, but this is the first time that all three of my boys have been asleep at once. After using up the play dough and bubbles from our limited stash of emergency toys during yesterday’s quiet time, I decided to let Donny nap today rather than face another two hours with a restless three year old. Hayden has been ornery all week, so naptime was certainly a necessity for him as well. And my hardworking husband deserves a day to rest, so I am glad he is taking this opportunity to nap on the couch while the cottage is quiet.

Having children changes everything, including vacations. The four of us are sharing a bedroom that has two twin beds, so we set up the Pack N Play for Hayden’s naps, and put the two twin mattresses together on the floor to create a makeshift king-size bed (just what we have been needing!). When Don and I tiptoe into our dark room at night (I didn’t think of packing a nightlight, and of course there are no streetlamps here to shed light through the windows), we usually find Hayden curled up on one mattress and Donny on the other, and we have to push them aside just to carve out a place for each of us between them as we try to avoid getting wedged in the crack between the mattresses. Then every morning around 7:00 am, I wake up to a little face just inches in front of mine, whispering, “Mumma, the sun is up!” Yes, Donny, the son is up. And even on vacation, when most people would sleep in late, if my sons are up, I am up too.

Activities have to be adjusted as well. We made a special trip to the nearest Wal-Mart - about 30 minutes away - to buy life jackets for the children so that we could all go out in the canoe. After bundling up the boys in their colorful new life vests and setting sail, we paddled only about 30 feet away from the shore before Donny started asking if we could turn around. Soon Hayden stood up and declared that he was, “All done!” So, we turned the canoe around, dropped the children off at the beach with the grandparents, and Don and I enjoyed a quiet canoe ride around the lake together. Thankfully, our new purchase was not completely wasted; Donny is getting plenty of use out of his life jacket by sporting it as a stylish top whenever he goes near the water. Hayden, on the other hand, is “all done” with the flotation device and prefers to make his grandmother panic by running out on the dock sans life jacket or chaperone.

As we paddled around the lake, I admitted to Don that I have changed my sentiments about family vacations. I used to think that spending a week with extended family was more of a social obligation than a time of relaxation. More recently, I have realized that having family around makes it much easier to vacation with young children. Relatives can play with the children while I enjoy a mini-date with my husband or take a much-needed shower, the children get plenty of attention and affection, and it is always helpful to have another set of eyes to tell me when my toddler is playing with garbage and eating questionable items off the unswept floor.

Something about the peaceful quiet of the lake, the rustling of the wind in the trees, and the freedom from everyday distractions make this a perfect time for reflection. Years ago, my family owned a trailer on different local lake, and I would spend hours playing by the water composing stories in my head. This week – and during this season of my life – vacation has been more about making sure that everyone has snacks and sand toys and sunblock than about sunbathing with a book or dozing off in the lakeside hammock to the sound of the waves lapping on the shore. Still, thanks to the help of family members and naptimes, I have managed to carve out a few moments such as this when all is calm and I can reflect on what God is teaching me during this time away.

The way God created things is good. He made the placid blue lake, the rolling green mountains in the background and the bluer mountains beyond. He created the loon who calls during the night and made an appearance just a few yards in front of our canoe. Even the ants that marched across the kitchen table last night are part of His Creation, though I often question why the Lord declared insects to be necessary components to our ecosystems, as I would happily live without them. And He created people to be in families. I am so blessed to be a wife and helpmeet to my strong, handsome man who can swim with a three year old on his back and catch a minnow with his bare hands. I am blessed to be a mother, not because my children are always perfect and wonderful, but because the challenges they bring are perfecting me. I am very blessed by my generous parents, who not only invited us on this vacation, but are also grilling steak and potatoes for us to eat when I would have served leftover spaghetti. And I am blessed to have siblings and siblings-in-law so that Don and I can practice our skills at Mad Gab (not that we need practice; we beat everyone else in record time) and Texas Hold ‘Em, and so that our children can read books with their aunties and learn to fish with their uncles. (In fact, Donny caught his first fish today with Uncle Matt! I don’t have a picture, though; I was in the house at the time, eating lunch with my mom.)

Yes, the way God designed families is good. Even if our children’s cries disrupt the peace of a quiet lakeside morning and wake everyone up prematurely, we are blessed to be surrounded by people we love and who love us in spite of our imperfections.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day. - Genesis 1:31

Patience, Love, and Forgiving Hugs

I used to think I was a patient person. I rarely, if ever, got angry. Then I had a two year old, and the truth was revealed.

My two children are some of the most precious and beautiful blessings God has given me, but I am convinced that children are not just to be enjoyed. Parenting is a constant challenge to our character, a drain on our energy and patience, and a true exercise in learning unselfishness. It is only through the trials of parenting a toddler (and now two toddlers) that I have discovered how quick to anger I can be. I recently read She's Gonna Blow!: Real Help for Moms Dealing with Anger. While the book helped me understand that many mothers struggle with similar issues, the author focused on a more explosive type of anger than mine. For me, I may not be yelling at the top of my lungs, but I react to misbehavior in anger, words of frustration slip out, and after a string of such misbehaviors, I often convey a mood of general annoyance with the children. As the Lord convicts me in this area, I am realizing that loving my children has little to do with thinking they are beautiful and precious (what mother doesn't think so about her offspring?) and a lot to do with patience, sacrifice, and forgiveness.

Today's events were nothing extraordinary. I had a migraine and was busy trying to finish baking, wash the dishes, fold laundry, and start packing for our upcoming vacation. When I finished folding the boys' clothes just in time for lunch, I set them out on top of their dresser so that it would be easy to pack them later. The thought occurred to me that the piles might get knocked down and unfolded, but I decided not to worry about it as I moved on to the next task. After lunch, Donny was supposed to be napping, but like many days recently, I found him still awake. I was less than thrilled to discover a messy "accident" in his Pull Up (I use quotes because "on purpose" would be a more fitting term for a child who is well aware of his need to use the toilet). Then when I walked over to his dresser, I saw all the clothes I had folded...on the floor. I was angry - angry about the Pull Up, about the clothes, and probably a little bit about the fact that he was so wide awake and making no attempt whatsoever to take a nap and give me a few moments of peace.

After a few words indicating that this laundry unfolding was a terrible tragedy and an unheard-of offense (even though I knew it would happen), I stepped out the room to analyze the situation. WHY was I so upset about refolding a few tee shirts and changing a dirty diaper? I concluded: because it makes more work for me. When my children make a mess, I have to clean it up - even if they help - so I try to minimize messes. But am I so selfish that I cannot do a little extra work for the sake of my children without grumbling? Acts of defiance may bother me greatly and should be disciplined appropriately, but appropriate discipline is done in a gentle and loving way, not with anger or impatience or a defeated woe-is-me attitude. I would never talk to a stranger or a friend or a student with an exasperated tone, so why do I feel justified in speaking that way to my children? And besides that, unlike my peers and random people I meet, my children are learning from me. Since they spend nearly all of their waking hours with me, my words, actions, and attitudes are the model that will shape their early years. Do I want to teach them to sigh in exasperation, or to raise their voice if they have to repeat something? Of course not. Such behavior manifested in a child would merit discipline, because it would be rude. And love is not rude. Love gives selflessly, even if it means changing diapers that should never have been dirtied, folding laundry that you have already folded, or forgiving children for the same offenses that they seem to commit seventy times seven times each day.

Later that afternoon, I went in to clean up the laundry mess and pack the boys' bag for vacation. Surprisingly, I didn't have to refold anything - all of the clothes had stayed perfectly folded despite being knocked to the floor. I calmly placed the piles in the bag while Donny, eager to help, insisted on fastening the bag buckles. The chores were finished, my headache was gone, and the trials of the morning were forgotten with what Donny likes to call "a forgiving hug." Thank you, Lord, for forgiving hugs, and for teaching me how to love my children.

There are many Scriptures that would be appropriate for today's reflection, but the one that came to mind is actually posted in the boys' room next to Psalm 4:8 - ironically, right above their dresser. These fitting words from the familiar love passage remind me of my own little loved one, as I hear his toddler voice reciting them in my mind:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. - 1 Corinthians 13:4-5

Baby Teeth

My Donny is growing up, or at least it seems so since he decided to switch toothpastes. A few days ago, he declared that he doesn't like the fluoride-free apricot toothpaste - which we have been using to brush his teeth for over a year - "emeneemore." We actually use it on both boys, since even Hayden has outgrown the toddler training toothpaste that contains a fruity flavor and zero cleansing action. I set the half-used tube of Baby Oragel aside a few months ago, thinking we would have to give it away or save it for our next baby. And now Donny wants another new toothpaste. Unwilling to waste money on various flavors only to have him turn up his nose at them too, Don and I agreed to let Donny try a tiny bit of our "adult" toothpaste. The condition? Our toothpaste contains fluoride, which is supposedly bad to swallow in toothpaste, and supposedly good to swallow in tap water...but I digress. So instead of lying on our lap for his toothbrushing session and swallowing the toothpaste as usual, he would have to stand at the sink and spit it out.

I soon discovered a flaw in the new plan: Donny did not know how to spit. As I brushed his teeth with the sudsy Crest, I told him, "Okay, now try to spit it out" - to which he swallowed, ran for his water cup with a panicked look on his face, and gulped down several sips. I was ready to return to the familiar and swallow-able apricot after that, but Daddy offered to teach him the fine art of spitting. After just one evening of male bonding with glasses of water over the bathroom sink, my eldest son can spit like - no, not a camel - more like a waterfall. Yesterday evening, he christened my sheets, his sheets, and his brother's shirt with a flow of backwash. (And no, this was not smiled upon by either parent.) Of course, he still swallowed his toothpaste. Tonight I used the apricot paste. So far, the sheets are still dry.

Earlier today, Donny and I were having one of our conversations of Whys and Hows and other deep questions of which three year olds never tire. "Mumma, where was Hayden when I was a baby?" Not surprisingly, my answer of "He wasn't born yet," was countered with, "Why wasn't he born yet?" So I explained that God usually gives babies one at a time. "First God gave us baby Donny. Then when you were almost two years old, God gave us another baby, which was Hayden. Maybe someday God will give us more babies."

Immediately, Donny exclaimed, "Like, ten! I want ten babies, to use that baby toothpaste we have."

Both his random toothpaste reference and his choice of numbers caught me off guard. On our first date almost five years ago, Don and I discovered that we both wanted to have a big family. In fact, as our relationship progressed and others began to point out the many differences between us, this was consistently one value that we had in common. That evening as we shared our dreams for the future in the Barnes and Noble cafe, we jokingly agreed to have no more than ten children. Since having our first two blessings, we have amended that agreement only to remove the limit altogether; we will welcome as many children as God gives us, whether is is three or six or ten or twenty. The Bible tells us that children are blessings, and we believe that God's Word is true. A friend from the church we grew up in saw me last summer and asked whether Don and I still want ten kids - and I said yes. Now, without us ever mentioning it to him, our firstborn has the same dream!

If Donny gets his wish, I will have a good reason to stock up on every flavor and type of toothpaste. For now, I think we will stick with the fluoride-free apricot, so I can brush Donny's teeth on my lap like I always do. Since I only get babies one at a time, I want to cherish their little smiles for as long as I can.

Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him. - Psalm 127:3