Category Archives: Parenting

Tooth Fairy Troubles

**I know I promised Carter that I would let him read my blog, but I’ve done everything I can to make sure he doesn’t see this page.  I almost didn’t share this at all because I was afraid he’d see it, but it’s something I want to remember and I think you’ll enjoy. So shhhh….don’t tell him you saw this, okay?**

I was away this weekend and I knew that Carter had a pretty loose tooth, so when Marshall sent me a text to let me know he’d lost one I thought I knew which one it was.  But…I was wrong. The tooth that came out wasn’t the one that was loose.  The tooth that came out was the one that my brother helped knock loose with a frisbee. Oops! It didn’t fall out right away, but it bled a bit and then didn’t seem to bother him any more. The next morning he was talking to my mom and whoops, out it came.

As he got ready for bed he told me that he wanted to leave a note with a question for the Tooth Fairy.
I didn’t think a thing about it until I went in his room later that night.
Here’s his note:

A quick Google search found some interesting (um…odd)(and somewhat amusing) ideas such as
“She grinds them up and mixes it with glitter to make fairy dust.”
But that seemed a little too much and so I turned to Facebook and Instagram for help, and you guys are smart.
Several people suggested that she builds something with them(her castle, streets in her town, etc.).
Some people said she saves them for babies.
Monica informed me that whaddayaknow…the Tooth Fairy has a website to answer all kinds of Tooth Fairy questions
Nancy cracked me up when she said that she will “make miniature pianos for the Keebler elves.”  Hahaha!
Sarah said that she puts them in spray paint cans and that’s what you hear when you shake the cans.
At one point, I thought I’d found a winning idea from @OnMyPlate:
“Throw them into the sky to become bright stars. That’s why you should always brush and floss so your teeth sparkle.”
But Marshall and I talked about it and decided that Mr. How the Universe Works would see through that.
Marshall suggested to just say she uses them for research, but that seemed so boooring.
Finally Marshall went to bed with a sigh, wondering why I was fretting over this so.

Here’s what I finally went with:

My thought was that Mr. Analytical would find any loophole I left in the answer.
But my other thought was this: if I’m always providing answers for him, he won’t search for answers on his own.
If I always tell him things, I steal his joy of discovering things.
If I always give him every detail, there won’t be room for him to dream, to imagine.
Maybe I’m over thinking this.    Or maybe I’m not.
I just know that with an imagination like his, I want to do my best to leave it unbridled for as long as I can.

Raised To New Life

Carter started asking me about the details of Christianity a few years ago.
A little over a year ago he began asking me what exactly it meant to be a Christian.
He decided that yes, he did want to make a commitment to God that he would try to live a Christ-like life.
But he wasn’t quite ready to make that commitment in front of other people.

He and Lydia share a room and she listened intently to what we were saying.
She’s a quiet thinker, but I could see the wheels turning.
A few months later, she started asking questions as well.
Some really hard questions.
(I told you she was a thinker.)

Then this summer Lydia went to a summer music camp at another local church.
She loved the music and we listened to it on repeat for months.
(It’s still in rotation, but we don’t listen to it every day.)
What I really loved about this musical is that almost every song is straight from scripture.
My children have all (even the baby) learned a handful of verses through music.
What better way to learn about God than through music?

Soon after camp was over, the questions began again; this time about baptism.
A few weeks later, two of their friends joined our church.
The week after that another friend (the sister of the first two) joined.
And their enthusiasm was contagious.
Now that they’d seen the others go before the church, it wasn’t quite as scary any more.
Carter joined one week.
Lydia the next.

This past Sunday, they were all baptized.

 

 

I am proud of them.
I am excited for them.
I am inspired by them.

 

The Words of Our World

I knew it would happen eventually.
They know that I share our lives online.
First it was Facebook, asking if I would share this or that about them.
Wanting my friends, their teachers, our family to know about this or that.
But today he snuggled up next to me as we logged on for his morning school session,
“I almost typed out the whole iveyleague.com thing but I didn’t.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. You know you’re only allowed to go to the websites I set for you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I stopped.”
“But you can read my blog if you want to.”
“I can?!?!”
“Sure! It’s kinda like my journal.
I read your writing everyday so it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t share mine with you, now would it?”

I wondered if it would change anything, knowing he would be reading.
I always said that I write for me and for them, but in my mind ‘them’ meant ‘grown-up them’.
I never imagined my 7-year old would want to read my words.
But he does and so I’ll share it with him.
And I hope that in reading my words, he will find his own.
This week we have been working diligently on writing and he’s come a long way.
Adding dialogue and using descriptive words.
Telling a story instead of just stating facts.
It is one of my biggest hopes for them all, that they will be story tellers.
I hope they will know this joy that I know.
And if it’s not with words, I pray that they will learn how to express themselves somehow.
Because, for me, it is in creating that I find myself.
It is in the words I write, the colors I paint, and the moments I capture
that I discover what it is that truly moves my soul and makes me me.

A letter to my son

Dear Carter,
You were my first born. My laid-back baby. The one who slept 22 hours a day. The one who tricked me into thinking this parenting gig wasn’t really all that hard. Oh, you tricked me goooood.

Last night our Adventure began. We dropped the others off with Grandma & Grandpa and headed of to the big city. You were mesmerized by the cityscape and pointed out the tiniest details around us. You’ve always been a details guy. I love that about you.

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We ate dinner, the three of us. I can’t remember the last time Daddy and I have been alone with just you. Usually at least Lydia is with us, if not everyone. You like it that way, you tell me. And I believe it. Your sister is your absolute best friend in the whole wide world. I have no illusions that you’ll stay that way forever, but I pray that you will always be close.

After dinner, you thanked me for picking a delicious restaurant and you thanked Daddy for buying. I really love it when your manners shine through unprompted. You are growing into a very well-spoken and polite young man.

I absolutely love hearing you talk. You confidently state facts. You always want to share your excitement for whatever you happen to be talking about. And you sound like such an adult when you do it!

After Daddy dropped us off at the station, I just sat and listened to question after question about the train. I don’t know how long it takes to get from here to New Orleans. I have no idea if the workers work the whole route. I don’t know if the food in the dining car is good or just okay.

On the way, we played Hangman on the iPad. I was surprised at how long it kept your attention. Back and forth we typed in words and watched the other guess. You like to give hints, and your hints are especially helpful when you misspell a word. I never would have gotten wunderfull. But you didn’t misspell this and I didn’t need any clues (but I did tear up a little). I love you too, buddy!
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Love, Mommy

You’re doing just fine!

Dear Mommas Who Worry You’re Doing It All Wrong,

You aren’t. You aren’t doing it all wrong. You may not be doing it all right…okay, you probably aren’t doing it all right…but you certainly aren’t doing it all wrong. So take a deep breath and hear me out.

If your precious baby is screaming his/her eyes out and you simply can’t take it any longer, put him/her somewhere safe and walk away. This is true for babies, kids, and teens.

Mommy time-outs can be a beautiful thing. Back away from the moment and regroup. It may mean you are a few minutes late, but you’re going to be late anyway so two more minutes won’t hurt.

Most of the things you do with your child before they are 5, they won’t remember. Sad, but true. So take lots of pictures of the good and the bad moments. You’ll want the former to help jog their memory and the latter for blackmail later.

Don’t waste time and money doing things with your little kids that you don’t enjoy. When they get older, there will be plenty of opportunities to attend things you don’t enjoy just because your child wants you there. (Thanks, Mama, for sitting through hours of football games just to watch me toot the flute for a total of maybe 10 minutes a night.)

On the other hand, feel free to take your munchkin on adventures that logically you can’t justify spending money on. Case in point: Disney. Your 2-year-old won’t remember seeing Cinderella’s castle, but you will never forget the look on that chubby-cheeked little face.

Remember to often choose your heart-whispers over your brain-shouts.

Find routines that work for your family and then be flexible about it. We have a general flow of our days, but not a strict schedule. And some of the best memories I have are from times when an opportunity popped up and I took the chance that no one would melt down because we pushed back nap time.

Be prepared, however, for meltdowns. Sometimes you see them coming and can work around them. Sometimes they just slap you in the face and blow raspberries at you. Not all meltdowns are the same, but a few guidelines I’ve discovered are universal for all 4 of my (all very different) children. Remove the child from the situation. Try to make the little sucker laugh. And walk away if it doesn’t work. Don’t negotiate with terrorists…or little terrors. Even if you “win”, they’ve learned your breaking point and will push all the way to it next time.

The easiest way to make a child laugh is to do something unexpected. I’m partial to the scare tactic where I snuggle up reeeeeeeaaaal close and then AAAGGGHHH frighten the poop out of them. Sophomoric humor is also a great tool.

Don’t fret about potty-training “on time” or hitting any other milestones on anyone else’s time table. Your child will (fill-in-the-blank) whenever (s)he is ready. Don’t push them forward too much. They grow up fast enough without any help. (I feel like I should include a sidenote here: If your child isn’t meeting developmental milestones and you are concerned, please talk to your pediatrician about it!)

Give them a nudge sometimes. (I know I just said don’t push them, but you know…parenting is weird like that.) Sometimes all they need is a pat on the back or an ‘attagirl’ to do more or be more.

Remind them often that they are enough. They are good enough, kind enough, smart enough, fast enough, etc. But be sincere. Don’t tell your turtle-paced runner that they are the best runners in town.

Be honest with them. If you don’t know the answer to their questions, research it together. If something big is about to happen, give them a heads up. They need time to adjust to things, people, and ideas just like we do!

Love them. Love them. Love them.
And make sure they know that you love them.

Show them respect so that they will learn to be respectful.
Show them compassion so that they will be kind to others.
Show them hard work so they understand what it means to give your all.
Show them that things are nice but that relationships are what bring happiness.
Show them confidence so that they will learn to be proud of themselves.
Show them humility so that they will not boast or become a braggart.
Show them love so that they know the joy of loving.

Oh, there’s so much I could say, so many things to be learned.
But it’s true that each child is different.
And every time you figure things out, it all up and changes.
But just roll with the punches, friend, and soak up these moments.
One day these days will be “the good ol’ days”.

Love and hugs,
B

Lugh too

She pushes the little cart full of chalk, pinky out.
(Because you must be proper even in the driveway, I suppose.)

She turns the cart, turns herself, and plops down on top of the chalk.
Expecting to roll down the hill, she doesn’t move an inch.
Her frustration shows as she struggles to stand.
She teeters back and forth, trying to propel herself forward.
Blam!
Face first on the concrete.
(Maybe she should have tried a little less.)
She isn’t really hurt, but says “ow…ow…ow” out of habit.
It’s her new favorite phrase.
That and “no”, which with her drawl sounds like Noah.
“Brush it off,” I tell her as she stands,
and she rubs her round belly.
I lean in to give her a kiss and we bump noggins.
Both laughing, we try again.
She pushes the cart forward, but I am holding it steady.

“I love you,” I say.
“Nowah.”
“I love you.”
“Nowah!”
She just wants to go.
I just want her.
I release my hold on the handle and as she toddles away she turns back with a smile.
“Lugh too.”
“I love you, too.”

Linked with Heather’s Just Write.

And then…and then…and then…

Every night I make my to do list for the next day.
Often bits of the day-not-yet-over’s list bleed onto tomorrow’s.
I have our days fairly well-structured.
There is wiggle room, of course.
(I’m a sucker for a playdate.)
(And cupcakes.)
Sometimes we do rearrange our day, but we usually stick to the general routine.
This follows this.
That follows this.
This follows that.
And so forth and so on…

But today my to do list is empty.
Sure, there are things to be done.
But none of them as important as what I’ll be doing.

It’s so rare that I get to spend one-on-one time with my children.
I try to make it a priority, but it’s hard.
So often I settle for two-on-one time.
They don’t seem to care.
(Or even notice, really).
(But I do).

Without the littles there, I can really listen to him without being tuned into the background noise.
Without the littles there, I can look into her eyes instead of scanning and counting “one-two-three……four”.
Without the littles there, I can focus on just the two of them, my “big kids”.

And so today I will.
I’ll go completely off script.
I’ll follow their lead.
I’ll listen (really listen) to them.
And let them show me their world.

*****

And y’all?  I did. And it was perfect and beautiful.
Their world is full and happy and wonderful and it left me on a cloud.
Thank God for kids. 

Wrinkles

Just when I think I’ve got it all ironed out, somebody shifts and it all gets wrinkled again.

“I’ve finally got a handle on this”, I think.
And then whoops!
I forgot about this or that or that other thing.

Just when I figure out the logistics of who goes where
and when they go there
and how they get there
and what time they need to start,
it all changes.

Such is motherhood, I suppose.
(Or really, such is life.)

Once upon a time, I rolled with the punches.
The ever-changing tide never pulled my feet out from under me.
I stood firm even on shaky shores.
But now?
Now I am juggling so much.
So many humans, so many schedules,
So many wants, needs, ideas, hopes, and dreams.

And I worry…
What if I drop the wrong one?

What if, while trying to wash and clean and tend and plan and prepare,
I forget to look and listen and love?

But the washing and cleaning and tending and mending and planning and prepping –
Isn’t it all done in love?

My soul crashes in and out with the tide, never sure where I’ll hit next.

It all rushes by me, and I gasp for clean air.
I choke on the sea spray, salty and bitter.

I look down at my fingers and find them puckered, and wrinkles taunt me again.

 

*Linked to Heather’s Just Write.

The List

My name is Bridget and I am a list maker.
I love thinking about what I need to do and which order is most efficient.
I love looking it over and knowing what comes next.
I love the moment when I can swish a big, dark line through each of my To Dos.
I really love lists.
And it would seem I have passed this trait on to at least one child.
As we were walking into church last night I noticed that Lydia had a notecard and pencil in her hand.

Hey!  What’s that in your hand?
My card.
Your card for what?
My words.
What words?
Just all the things I’m good at.


(Translation:
Art.  Songs.  Write.
Read.  Hide.  Draw.  Live.
Sleep.  Play.  Love.  Ride.  Learn.
Looking.  Nose Wiggling.  Swimming.
Joke Telling.  Coloring.  Baby playing.
Eating.  Laughing.)

I absolutely adore this list.
Here’s my girl – my so-often quiet and shy girl – taking pride in her strengths.

At first I giggled that eating, sleeping, and living were listed as things she is good at.
But then I thought about my friends who struggle with anorexia or insomnia or depression,
and suddenly eating, sleeping, and living didn’t seem like such silly things to include.
Even these are things to be proud of, to celebrate.

As the evening wound down, I sat and thought about her list.
Then I decided to make a list of my own.
I started with those three things: Eating.  Sleeping.  Living.
But then I got stuck.
As a grown-up, it’s hard to list your strengths.
(I’ve always hated that question in interviews.)
But she did it so easily.
Even after I took this picture, she added more.
Her paper is filled to the max.

So I pushed on.
Slowly.
One word at a time.
Loving.
Laughing.
(I had to steal those two from her!)
Taking pictures.
Meal planning.
Crafting.
Simple sewing.
Parenting.
Encouraging.
Accepting.
Reading.
Writing.
Singing.
Honesty.
Kindness.
Cuddling.
Kissing uh-ohs.
Reading aloud.
Sharing.
Caring.
Texting.
Talking.

As I wrote my list, I struggled a few times.
What if someone reads it and rolls their eyes?
What if they laugh at me because I think I’m good at ___ but they know that I’m not?
What if ??  What if ??  What if ??
But what if I stopped worrying about it and just embraced my list like a 6 year old girl?
What if I wrote down my words and kept them with me and looked at them when I needed them?
What if I saved her card and gave it to her when she needed it most?
What if ??  What if ??  What if ??

***

What if you made a list?
What words would you include?

 

 

Pull and Push

As I swung my head around, I saw him pull his little brother to the ground.
We locked eyes and he knew it wasn’t going to end well.
But I didn’t yell.
I sent Asa away and spoke gently to him across the room.
They had been fighting over a Lightning McQueen plush toy that he’s had for years.
One that he only plays with when someone else is interested in it.
My “What were you doing?” got only the response of a blank stare.
“You can’t just pull him down.  That hurts.”
“But I wan–”
“I think it’s time to let Asa have it.  You’ve had it a long time and he loves Cars now.”
His eyes just barely begin to well up and blink.blink.blink. three times hard.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says and blinks a triplet again.
We stare at each other – him trying not to cry, me trying not to let my heart break.
Am I pushing him to grow up?
Maybe a bit.
But we all need a good push every now and then, right?
Even in the moments when I feel like I’m on the right path, I question.
I want to say more, but I’m not sure where to go.
There is really nothing to be said.
The silence fills us both and it pushes a tear right down his cheek.
He rushes to me and collapses into my lap, too big to fit comfortably.
I hold him and drink in his smell, his feel, his everything.
And I hold my tongue.
Tiny beads of sadness glisten on the tips of his eyelashes.
Mothering is hard, I whisper to myself.
But Growing is hard, too.
Cut him some slack, Mama.
He most certainly does it for you.