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ONE POINT TWENTY-ONE GIGAWATTS? Prayer can be the bolt of lightening you require

I need a do-over day today. I needed a do-over since before the day began. In fact, I required a reset button before the sun came up. My son had his 1-year check-up yesterday. I declined his Chickenpox vaccine, but he still got two shots, the last in a series he was due. At 2:30 a.m., I was giving him another dose of Tylenol and by the time he was back asleep, my husband’s 3:45 a.m. alarm was buzzing. At 4, I decided it may be a good idea, as tired as I was, to get my much-needed shower in before my husband left for work and the kids woke up. Note to self: bad idea. It did not result in a quiet, calm, kid-free start to the day. Instead, I wound up with my 3-year-old daughter in the shower with me and my son in a screaming, crying fit in his dad’s tired arms. Even with the three of us back to sleep from 5-7, I still have had grouchy, rest-deprived, misbehaving children the duration of the day. I keep thinking, if I could just go back to that 4 o’clock hour and undo my decision to shuffle into the shower, all would be fine. Alas, lacking a DeLorean, Flex-capacitor and 1.21 gigawatts, it cannot be undone. So, onward and upward with the day!
It feels next to impossible to keep my composure in tact on days like today, when so many factors are working against us. Lack of sleep, teething, shots, terrible-3 temper tantrums, spilt milk and flung applesauce, even a van with a dead battery that won’t start after I have the kids bundled up and loaded in, topped off with a joint-injured, limping dog that can hardly get up and down the back steps in the snow and ice.
When I am worn down and weak, I know I am an easy target to let evil and anger consume my day. It is tricky finding peace and praise when you are surrounded by pandemonium. But the Bible tells us that we should be alert and mindful in the face of challenges. “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” -1 Peter 5:8
Instead of hunting down Marty McFly, or losing my cool yet again with round 12 of time-outs, I decided to take my own time-out, along with a sequence of deep breaths and seek out the presence and patience of the Lord at my side. I may not get a do-over for the day, but God has another day in store for me tomorrow, and His promise to help me survive days like today. “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you." - Isaiah 41:10
As it turns out, when it feels as though my only escape is hitting 88 miles per hour in a cheesy 1985 film, all I need is the even more powerful drive of graceful prayer.
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Happy Holidays, not hectic ones

Black Friday is a bit of a conundrum to me. There is something insincere in the detail that less than 12 hours after Thanksgiving dinner, a meal at which we gather to reflect on all that we are grateful for, folks are literally losing sleep to rush, race and shove their way to accumulate more. On the other hand, with the indulgent heights of consumerism, one could argue we are lucky to get one day of Thanks before the days of MORE resume.
I am not saying I have never participated in early morning shopping on the big sale day in excitement for Christmas. Or that I never will again. Simply that we should pause with awareness, and examine our own raison d'ĂȘtre, or, reason for being. What is our basic, essential purpose, what are our motivations behind what we get swept up with over the holidays? What is driving us? If I were willing to get up in the wee hours of the morning to wait in line for the newest “gadgets” or deals of the year, would I, in turn, be willing to get up at that hour to, say, prep a food kitchen for the poor?
As a stay-at-home mom to a 3-year-old and 1-year-old, I need to watch the road I’m going down more so than ever, as I am not the only passenger anymore. My husband and I must live the example we want our children to follow. If I want them to learn that the Lord should be our guide, then I have to strive to let my actions be driven by Him, rather than the driving forces of advertisements, social standards, or what the Jones do.
After all, as the bible tells us, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
I’m not above a little retail therapy. I like to shop as much as the next mom out there and my kids are certainly spoiled in the way of toys. Our cup runneth over, and yet our tree will still be crowded with boxes, bags and bows. While our children receive more than their share of gifts, we also place just as much emphasis on our charitable activities and teaching the fun rewards of giving.
“In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' "–Acts 20:35
There are many different beliefs, traditions, religions and customs this time of year. No matter a person’s faith, I think that, in the hustle bustle of the retail world and emphasis on Santa, wish lists and material goods, even honest terms of sentiment such as “it’s the thought that counts” or “the reason for the season” can become merely hackneyed phrases.
This time of year will only be hurried, chaotic and stressful if we allow it to be. My goal this holiday season is to enjoy the flavor without rush, reflect and create without guilt, and to savor the magic. And it starts with the homemade cookies I am about to bake with my kids, mess and mayhem included. But hey, with young kids, even a cup of calm comes with a dash of bedlam, doesn’t it?
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Catastrophe, or Toilet Paper Craft Time?

It wasn’t Miss Scarlet, in the conservatory, with the candle stick. It was the baby, in the bathroom, with the toilet paper. My 10-month-old son has been crawling just three months, but he has become a master of mischief. He prides himself on getting into everything, climbing up anything, and chewing on absolutely whatever thing.
His latest magic trick was unraveling an entire roll of toilet paper from start to finish and tearing it into shreds all over the floor. This stunt was completed in a record seven seconds. My almost 3-year-old daughter, who happily witnessed the crime from the potty, must have read the astonishment on my face as I came around the corner, because she instantly and sensibly explained to me, “He’s just a baby, mom, he doesn’t know any better.”
My heart softened from dreadful shock to laughter. My son was exploring and, although I wouldn’t want to habitually clean up entire rolls of wasted toilet paper off the floor, it wasn’t murder. Besides, who could resist that heart-melting, jack-o-lantern grin of his, or the twinkle in his eye?
I am grateful for the perspective I’ve gained from having kids. They teach you when to let go of control just as much as they teach you the importance of maintaining it. Indeed, God gave babes these virtues to remind us through our journey what the truly important things in life are all about.
“At that time Jesus made answer and said, I give praise to you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have kept these things secret from the wise and the men of learning, and have made them clear to little children.” –Matthew 11:25
Instead of seeing a mess, by the grace of God and my children, I sat down on the bathroom floor and joined the homemade streamer fiesta. Who needs craft origami paper when you’ve got Charmin?

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What is more heartwarming than a little girl with a doll? A little girl with a doll she has dressed for another child who needs it more



Three-year-olds aren’t exactly known as the most giving people on the planet. “Mine!” is their typical mantra. Which is why I was so delighted to have my almost 3-year-old daughter take part in a local charity project at her level of understanding. United Bank in Rockford is hosting their 7th annual “Dress the Dolls for Christmas” program, in which donated dolls are dressed by the community and delivered to area children through the Family Gift Basket program at the North Kent Service Center. What’s more relatable to a 3-year-old than dolls?
Supplied by United Bank, the dolls can be picked up free at their Rockford location, (155 Marcell Drive) between now and November 2. Community members dress the dolls, either in store-bought outfits or hand-created clothes and accessories. The dolls must be returned to the bank by November 10, where they will be displayed and voted on. NKSC distributes the dolls to less fortunate children of the community for Christmas. This year, with an increase of families in need, 100 dolls need to be dressed for the cause.
I was surprised by how naturally the charitably side of my daughter emerged when she saw the dolls at the bank this week. “Look at that doll, mommy,” she said to me.
“That is a doll they will give to a little girl who doesn’t have any dolls,” I explained.
“But, it’s naked, mom.”
“Yes, it is. Would you like to dress that doll for a little girl who doesn’t have any dolls?”
Her eyes brightened, bigger than if I had told her the doll was for her. “Yeah! But, I don’t have any clothes she would fit in.”
“Well,” I said, “we could go to the store and get special doll clothes for her to wear.”
“Right now?!” the excitement was spreading from my daughter’s face to her entire body as she started to wiggle.
She picked a doll and we changed our plans to a trip to Michael’s craft store on Alpine. The entire way, she sat in the back seat, explaining to her 10-month-old brother that the doll was not hers or his, they already had lots of dolls and toys at home. This doll was for a little girl who didn’t have a doll, and my daughter was genuinely thrilled to be a part of the giving. She thoughtfully chose the clothes and shoes, along with a small doll backpack and teddy bear, carried her items to the register and proudly thanked the cashier. Not once did she ask to keep the doll herself. “I’ll bet the little girl who gets this doll is going to LOVE it,” she announced. “That was so much fun!”
For our family, the lesson of charity is much more than just the act of almsgiving, it is a lesson of Christian love and agape, which, by definition is “the love of Christians for other persons, corresponding to the love of God for humankind.”
Cost of outfit, along with accessories: $20. Value of lesson in charity, humanity, Christianity and selflessness: priceless.
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We are the World, We are the Children

My two-year-old daughter loves to dance, “elbows out” to the song, “Billie Jean.” She sticks one elbow out at a time and shakes her bum back and forth. It is heart-breakingly adorable. Like many households, ours has recently been rediscovering some new and old moves to the classic Michael Jackson songs as of late, in mourning of the entertainer’s sudden death last week.
Aside from his musical talents, the King of Pop was known for his eccentricity. Roller coasters, monkeys and exotic animals, oxygen chambers, plastic surgeries, along with various other extremes (and alleged perversions) surrounded the Neverland Ranch. At what point did that eccentricity start to mold into something beyond a peculiarity and into more of an illness? His idiosyncrasies propelled his fame past his talent alone, there is no question. Was that type of spotlight helpful or more harmful to his underlying issues? His fans delighting in his strangeness may have only amplified his problems or perversions. In the definition of ‘Eccentricity,’ it is described as, “usually suggesting a mildly amusing but harmless characteristic or style.” How harmless was it, I wonder? Michael was no doubt, a troubled and seemingly tormented soul. Where do quirks and oddities cross the line into becoming unhealthy habits or obsessions?
The topic comes down to the importance of perspective and moderation, I think. You can take just about anything to an unhealthy extreme, I’ve learned. As a parent I consistently remind myself to station myself in the middle of the road. For instance, I let my kids listen and dance to Michael Jackson’s music, but that doesn’t mean I would have ever signed them up for a sleepover at the guy’s house. The world of parenting is chock-full of extremes. From people who never let their kids outside or eat a single gram of fat, to people who deliberately never know their children’s whereabouts and could care less if their daily nutrition is derived from a bag of candy downed with a liter of Mountain Dew. I’ve seen parents who mindlessly buy their kids video games rated inappropriately and allow them to play without limits. I also know parents who think keeping their kids completely sheltered from any plastic toys or electronics will somehow raise an enlightened individual capable of, well, building wooden block towers, I suppose.
Like Michael’s song, “Black or White,” (even if he couldn’t make up his mind which of the two he was) we can learn a lot from letting go of our differences and ditching some of our radical extremes in this world, especially to the betterment of our children. Abnormal as he was, Michael’s talent was undeniable and many of his songs carried beautiful messages, including this lyric, “We are all a part of God's great big family, and the truth, you know love is all we need,” from the hit, “We are the World.”
It is easy to judge someone like Michael Jackson. He is an obvious target for ridicule and scorn. But I, for one, want to teach my kids to have compassion for him and pray that God has now released him from his inner confusion and pain. I pray God has healed his world.
RIP, MJ.

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The 3 P’s: Potty, Prayer, Pride

It’s been 10 months of potty training struggles. Before age 2, my daughter showed an active interest in using the potty, so we started to dabble in it early-on. She had gone off and on, even through messy, unsuccessful weeks at wearing “big girl” underwear. We would start with enthusiasm and end in tears, giving up and inevitably dropping the subject for a few weeks and using diapers again.
Potty charts, reward stickers and treats, pull-ups, underwear, timing schedules, bare-bottoms, potty chairs, potty seats, potty books, potty videos, talking about it a lot, not talking about it all… trust me, we have done it all. The dismissive advice I would get from other parents would often add to my annoyance. “Oh, just use stickers and keep putting her on the potty throughout the day…” or, “Don’t worry about accidents; just don’t put her back in diapers no matter what and eventually she’ll learn.” Well, you know what? My daughter likes stickers, but not enough to stop playing to go potty for one. And my daughter is stubborn. If I put her on the potty and she didn’t feel like it, she would simply wait three minutes and tinkle on the floor. Don’t worry about accidents? How about when those “accidents” are all day long around your house? Am I supposed to sit back while my floors, rugs and couch are ruined? No one would suggest such a thing if I told them our dog was the source of such messes. They’d tell me to build a dog house in the backyard and be done with it.
We started a new system about two months ago with marbles. My daughter loves marbles. We have a Mickey Mouse jar; when she tried on the potty she could put a little marble in, when she succeeded in using the potty she could put a large marble in. We told her that when the jar was filled with marbles she could have a new, big girl bicycle. My husband even brought her to the store to sit on one. It wasn’t long before the novelty wore off and she was back to going number one and number two in her pants again, mostly just to get a reaction from me. And try as I might not to give her any reaction, I’m sure my “it’s okay, just try again next times” were laced with the inner frustrations I felt from having to clean up the mess again. We would have some seemingly progressive days, then back to the drawing board. When I knew she was going in her pants on purpose, I would take a marble back out of the jar, which was never popular. I began to feel as though we would never turn a corner, never reach the day when it would happen and stay that way.
It’s been three weeks of potty training bliss. My daughter, at 31-months-old, is finally and officially potty trained. She tells me every time she has to go, even in public, and never complains when we have to try. She is also diaper-free at night. It’s like I have a completely different child. What turned this magic switch? The only trick in the book that worked was, believe it or not, prayer. Did I ask Jesus to potty train my daughter? No. I did, however, pray that I be released from the agony of caring one way or another if she was trained or not. I prayed for patience for myself, for however long it took. The next day she was accident free and self-determined to use the potty every time and successfully stuck to it.
It brings to my mind this bible quote, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."
-Matthew 17:20 (NIV)
Now, granted, potty training my 2-1/2 year-old is not on the same realm as the miraculous cure of a child that was lunatic and vexed with a devil, as was the case in that biblical story…. but if any parents out there have had to deal with potty-training stubbornness, regression or potty power struggles, well, you can certainly appreciate the similarities.
Her Granny and Papa got her the big-girl bike, which she loves, but it seems to come second to the pride she feels in her own accomplishment, a sure sign it’s the Real Deal from the Man Upstairs. “Say you’re so proud of me, mama,” she will insist each day after she has used the potty. “I am SO proud of you,” I say. With a triumphant smile, she always replies, “I’m so proud of myself, too.”
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The Chronicles of Bedtime

“I’m still hungry mom…”
“I want some water mom…”
“I have to go potty mom….”
“Can I come up on your bed, just a little bit, mom?”
In our house, bedtime is an occasion for extremes. We have excellent nights or horrible ones, there is no grey area. If my two-year-old does not happen to fall asleep right away after her bath and book, she swiftly enters into the “point of no return,” where we all get pushed to our limits on energy and patience. It doesn’t matter how no-nonsense I get. Her melt-downs predictably wake up my five-month-old, or vice versa.
Sleeping arrangements air on the “open nest” format in our house. Our most restful nights come from the Dr. Sears side of advice (open-nest/attachment parenting) versus the Ferber method (cry-it-out/separation). Currently our master bedroom is cradling our entire household; my son’s pack-and-play and my daughter’s toddler bed next to our king-size mattress, which my husband and I also share with the cat and our 60-pound dog.
Last night, after being denied a second cup of milk, a fourth bedtime story and yet another stuffed animal to sleep with, my daughter, at three hours past her bedtime, decided to go for broke and ridiculously requested, “Can I watch ‘The Lion King’?”
What?!? No, you cannot watch The Lion King, go to sleep right now!
On nights like these, after I have passed my personal tolerance level for exhaustion and shenanigans, nevermind The Twilight Zone, it feels more like we are living in an alternate reality along the lines of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia. Half asleep with not an ounce of patience left, I could easily be confused as a lion, a witch, or perhaps I will search for a wardrobe to lock myself inside of.
Yet I am assured by a C.S. Lewis quote that, “miracles do not, in fact, break the laws of nature.” I guess that means I don’t have to wander into another realm looking for a good night’s sleep.
Indeed, on other evenings everything magically falls into place. The kids are both sound asleep by 6:30 p.m. for the night and my husband and I actually enjoy uninterrupted conversation or delight in a non-Disney movie for once. On these nights, I gaze at our sleeping babes in amazement, wondering what miracle sprung their cry-free slumber. I wonder if I could bottle the secret to forty winks. I would store it in an air-tight jar, unscrewed sparingly; specifically on nights when I felt even Prince Caspian couldn’t save us from a bedtime struggle. Until then, whether we are reading bedtime stories or creating them... The Chronicles continue.
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Making (Toddler) Time

Leaving the house makes me sweat. Don’t get me wrong, as someone who is tied down to the house most days of the week with a two-year-old and five-month-old, I enjoy breaking free of the cabin fever I often suffer by staying home. However, it is a significant ordeal to get packed, prepared and ready to leave. Regardless of how rigorously I prepare the night before, when I go out with the kids in the morning, the unexpected (which can always be expected), can be an industrial size wrench in the wheel. I can have the diaper bag stocked, lunch-box filled with nutritious snacks and drinks, clothes for the kids and myself neatly picked out and set aside all the night before… and still miss my mark for leaving the house by an entire half an hour or more.
Before we depart, I need to:
Have my toddler sit on the potty. (She sets her own timetable for this)
Change diapers.
Let the dog and cat outside and inside.
Feed the kids. (Have you ever tried to rush a toddler with breakfast or an infant with nursing? Not possible.)
Change more diapers.
Brush teeth. (“I can do it myself, Mommy!”)
Dress kids.
Get toddler to put down toys and have her hair brushed, and/or follow toddler around with hairbrush as she is playing with toys hoping to get a few strokes in.
Get baby in travel car seat.
Get baby back out of car seat because he is screaming.
Nurse baby again.
Change my clothes and baby’s clothes due to additional, unexpected spit-up.
Put baby back in travel car seat.
Put shoes on toddler.
Microwave a cup of coffee for myself to take along as breakfast.
Have toddler try to use the potty before we leave.
Grab keys, cell phone, bags, along with whatever stuffed animals my daughter has chosen to join us for the car ride.
Change my toddler’s clothes due to potty accident.
Let the dog and cat outside and inside.
Set house alarm and lock-up.

By the time I am actually stepping onto my back porch, bearing two kids, a diaper bag, lunch tote and a travel mug of coffee, I am almost always late, certainly sweaty and most unfortunately impatient.
It is difficult for me not to feel rushed and annoyed when I have been nearly ready to leave the house four or five times before having to leap back ten steps and try again. Like rolling the die in Monopoly and never getting to pass Go and collect $200, because you keep landing on the Go Straight to Jail square.
The other morning, I was trying to rush through the routine to get to a friend’s house for a playdate. My daughter was taking her time as God gave it to her to take. I was trying to cheer her on to go faster so we could see her friend (and so that we could take advantage of the fact that my son was finally asleep in his car seat and if I was lucky, he would use the entire car ride as his nap time).
Suddenly, my two-year-old, who happened across a plain brown paper lunch bag, asked if she could make a puppet for her friend we were going to visit.
“We don’t have time…” I answered hastily.
“Sure we do, mama… (hands me a clock) its right here.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I held the toy clock in my hands. If only it was that easy to “make time.” But then I thought, well, maybe it is. Perhaps we do have time, and it is right here, right in front of us always to do with as we chose. In the state of anxiety and aggravation that I self-created, I found myself in too much of a hurry. Through my child’s innocent concept of having time, I decided to take a deep breath and remember that God tells us to wait.
“Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.” -Psalm 27:14

The paper bag puppet is hanging proudly on our friend’s refrigerator.

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Beer or Cigarettes, anyone? How about just God?

Boy! I have had A DAY. And it's only the early afternoon! I'll tell you what, I don't drink and I don't smoke. But when I am lost in the chaos of a day like today, my mind wanders to find a vice. Any release to escape, to exhale, to relax and unwind!
I've been up since 5:30 a.m. with my two-year-old and four-month-old, which, in itself, is an hour and a half earlier than normal, not to mention, we went to sleep an hour and a half later than normal last night. Lost sleep. Cranky toddler. Did I mention, my daughter has decided no more diapers in her potty training process, and when I'm not hovering, I'm cleaning potty up off the floor? She started off good and had #1 and #2 in the potty. Whew! Then.... not so much. I was scrubbing pee off my new rug, and then she wanted a story but wouldn't get on the couch. I discovered that was because she had pooped her pants. *Sigh*
Meanwhile my son refused to take a nap anywhere but on my shoulder, while I was trying to get the dishwasher unloaded and reloaded and the mess on the counters from dinner the night before because I hadn't the energy to take care of anything before going to bed. (Moms, you've all been there.)
Next thing I know, while my son is nursing, my daughter, who was happily snacking on a small cup of cottage cheese with her spoon watching Blues Clues like usual, has picked it as the time to scientifically experiment with squishing the cottage cheese in both hands and smearing it completely and utterly all over her face and the table and floor (something she hasn't done with food in about 10 months). It is literally SUCH a mess that I have no choice but to strip her down and try to shower her off and wash the cottage cheese clumps out of her hair, along with the rest of her. The entire time I'm trying to clean my daughter off, my son is screaming bloody murder in his swing. On top of which, because it is raining and because our dog is a neurotic sissy, she is following me around acting scared of the "storm," making me trip on her as she tries to linger and stand under me or between my legs. This is an unignorable annoyance since she is a 60 pound lab/boxer.
By noon, everyone in the house needs a nap and I'm ready to kick the dog. My daughter resorted to a full melt-down, crying because she didn't want to hear me read Gerturde McFuzz and didn't want to take a nap. I started to pray for my much needed break. As I was sitting unshowered and half dressed on the floor next to the toddler bed, with my lap filled with my son on his boppy pillow, I started to daydream of different "fixes" I could use to escape since I couldn't physically leave the house. Too bad I don't smoke anymore. (The idea of it is appalling.) My husband and I don't drink so there's no alcohol on hand. No candy bars left after Easter. Maybe I could "unwind" with a nice cup of coffee, seeing as how caffeine is the only thing I have in the house. Love those imitation powdered mochas. As the idea of getting a break felt more and more utterly impossible, I was suddenly filled with the faith that God would answer even my small and seemingly impossible prayer that both the kids sleep and give me a break this afternoon by remembering one simple sentence:
With God All Things Are Possible.
All things, every little thing to every big thing. All things, are possible when I ask our Father. Right now? Both of my kids are completely passed out asleep and even the dog is content on the couch. My fix? I'm enjoying a nice cold glass of water as I type this in silence with nothing but the sound of God's rain drizzling down the window. Life is GOOD.
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