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A Day to Remember

Dear Future Me,

For days that are NOT like today, I write this letter. For days when the kids and I do not wake up rested and content, with the house already tidy, I note this to you. I know things will not always go this smoothly, where I have the patience for the kids to help me cook their food and they have the appetite to eat it all. I know there won’t always be days where I am not distracted by phone calls, bills, or errands. For the days when school work is not fun, effortless, productive and impressive for everyone, I memo this as a referral. For the days when we don’t get outside, plant flowers with grandma, play tag, run with the dog, find sticks to dig with, practice on roller skates, and use the slide and swing set; read this letter and remember that some days we do.
As soon as tomorrow could be a day where both the kids aren’t napping at the same time or at all, and you won’t have time to make a nutritious, four-square meal for your family before your husband comes home from work. There will be days where your husband is too tired to take your daughter out bike riding after dinner. Read this letter whenever you have a day that doesn’t allow you quality one-on-one time with each of your children to laugh and listen to them and cherish it all. Days will come when your kids won’t be excited to brush their teeth when you told them to. There will be days when the kids don’t go to bed on time after making up stories, songs and thoughtful prayers. And tomorrow you may not have the energy after the kids are in bed to clean the dishes, talk with your husband and do some writing. Not every day is going to be as perfect as today was. But that is okay. Just read this letter and know that some days are. As rare as these days may come, they are pricelessly worth it all.

Sincerely,
Blessed with Today Me

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Post columnist to appear on Take Five

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Dandelion Prayers

Sibling squabbles. Where to begin? My kids are young, so it has indeed, “only just begun” for me. However, I have already had my fill of the bickering. Not yet have I recorded how many days are “good” days, when my children enjoy each other and play nicely, but I should, because chances are high there are better days then I think.
The problem is, at 3-1/2 years old and 17 months, my kids are still at a vulnerable age in which sharing, tantrums and a sense of fair-play are hard to manage. Emotions ascend mountain tops over something as simple as whether the cardboard box they are in is supposed to be a train or a pirate ship. My daughter, being the older child and able to grasp the rules of playing fair, is especially struggling when she doesn’t feel like adhering to the rules, or when her brother is the naughty one. My son, not yet able to use words to express his anger, his wants or his complaints, does a lot of screaming and throwing.
I let them have their own quiet time to play in their rooms. This is particularly helpful for my daughter, who enjoys her right to not always share with her brother. I allow her to shut her door and have time to herself.
Lately she makes claim over whatever toy her brother has, or, for that matter, any toy he doesn’t have, but looks at, therefore may consider playing with. Sometimes, she cleverly tries to disguise this by offering him a different, less exciting toy instead. Given that he is now old enough not to fall for this, she has resorted to old fashion bullying. Last week, after she snatched his toy and made him cry by holding it out of his reach, I stepped in and told her to stop being a bully to her little brother. “But how do I stop being a bully?” she asked.
“You start by not grabbing toys away from him when he is playing with them,” I retorted. “You know how to be nice, take turns and share.”
I went on to elucidate that he is learning from her how to behave. If she acts nice, he will learn to act nice, if she acts like a bully, then he will learn to be a bully, too. She asked again, “but HOW do I stop being a bully?” I tried simplifying it further. She knows how to be nice. I could see she was still giving it thought, but she gave the toy back and left him alone.
A few days later, outside, she found a white wishing dandelion. I told her to make a wish, expecting to hear her desire for a goldfish or a new Barbie. “I wish…” she paused with reflection. “I wish I could stop being a bully to my brother.”
My heart ached.
She obviously did not like it about herself that she could be a bully at times and wasn’t sure how to change her behavior. I joined my daughter in the grass. It takes practice, I told her, to think before we do things. Even grown-ups have to practice this, I confessed. We must listen to the little voice God gives us that tells our thoughts whether it is something nice to do, or something not nice. It feels good and makes God happy when we’re nice. I went over “the golden rule,” do unto others as you would have done unto you. This, by the way, is the same lesson of ethics across the spectrum, no matter what religion you are. (Because I’m now a homeschooling mom, I’ve since dug up unit studies around The Golden Rule to incorporate into our curriculum and focus on in the coming weeks. Everything is a lesson!)
I also let her know, if there is something we want to change about ourselves but it feels too big to change alone, that is what God is there for. “Just like the wish you made on that dandelion,” I explained. “You say that in a prayer to God, in your heart, and ask Him to help you.”
As the bible reminds us, God does not want us to rely on our own strengths, but on Him. “Look to the Lord for His strength; seek His face always.” -1 Chronicles 16:11
It is invaluable to teach my children, and it is a lesson I am still trying to learn. When we need to overcome something, the power and necessity of prayer lasts our entire lives. We face challenges and pray for strength in place of our weaknesses. That does not wither away simply because you outgrow making dandelion wishes.
Come to think of it, why should any of us outgrow making dandelion wishes, anyway?

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Cheers to Grace

I watched a segment on 20/20 regarding stay-at-home moms who secretly drink. Consumed by the lack of appreciation, loneliness, and sometimes mundane repetition that can accompany the tasks of raising children, these women have become closet alcoholics. One of the featured moms even published a book entitled, “Nap Time is the New Happy Hour,” which encouraged humor and cocktails to cope with the struggles of motherhood.
Initially, I found myself judging. “Please!” I thought, “I’ve had days when my babies are both screaming, won’t sleep, hang-on-me-through-every-last-disgusting-dirty-dish-in-the-sink that I’m washing by hand due to a broken, useless dishwasher while I have not showered or brushed my teeth in days… and I don’t fill my morning coffee cup with wine!”
Then I realized, I easily could have. In fact, I have had days where, if there had been alcohol in the house, I know for certain I would have turned to liquid courage. It is precisely the inspiration that started me writing this column in the first place! Sitting unshowered, half dressed and at my wits end with screaming, inconsolable kids, I searched my mind for a fix to escape, relax and unwind. Through the grace of God, I used prayer and His mercy as my fix. I have since been able to rely on Him through the times I have felt like ripping every last one of my rapidly-turning-gray hairs from my head.
My husband and I do not drink. There’s not even a bottle of wine lying around our house. Are we prudes? Perhaps. I have a long line of alcoholics in my family, including my father, who, due to his unstable behavior and severe alcoholism has never met my children. I decided nearly a decade ago that, while I didn’t have a problem with alcohol, it was best to stay away from it all together. If there were clear lines in the sand that showed “this many drinks” (whether socially or habitually) means you are addicted, then there would be no such thing as alcoholics. Everyone would simply stay one drink away from the line. Since there are no clear lines in the sand, and given my family history and tendencies to fall into bad habits, I steer clear from the party beach. We make our own lame-fun parties with bean-bag tosses and monopoly.
It is through God’s mercy that I am not one of those closet alcoholic mommies featured on 20/20. Instead of using humor and cocktails to cope with the struggles of mamahood, I use humor and faith. I write this column, in part, hoping to inspire others to do the same.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” -Psalm 46:1
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