Examples

We decided to be trendy and cool and use sign language with both our kids.  We stuck to the basics (eat, milk, drink, all done, more) and have found baby sign language to be a very helpful tool of communication.

When Daphne was about 6 months old and just starting to learn the signs I was wondering if I should be teaching her 'please' and 'thank you' in addition to our basic repertoire.  The internal conversation I had with myself when trying to make this decision was as follows:

"Teaching her these words will help her be polite.  I need to teach her to be polite."

"Hmm.  How shall I teach her these?"

"I sign milk, I give her milk, she learns the sign for milk.  Easy."

"But 'please' and 'thank you' are so abstract! How will she understand!"

"I need to figure this out!  Or she won't be polite and people will judge me!"

"....................(crickets chirping)..................."

"This is too hard.  I am not equipped to raise children."

"Here Daph, have your milk.  Sorry I can't help you to become a better person."

Much to my surprise after such a great parenting fail, now she's 4 years old and one of the quickest I know to say 'thank you.'  She thanks everyone...servers at restaurants, cashiers at the grocery store, her doctors, the mail man.

Of course I know "monkey see, monkey do."  I've heard it all my life.  But it is another thing entirely to watch it happen right before my eyes.  The reason Daphne says 'please' and 'thank you' so freely is not because we sat her down and told her how important it was to say those words, but because David and I say 'please' and 'thank you' as naturally as we breathe and she's just copying what she sees.  

(Because, you know, David and I are perfectly amazing people and why wouldn't she want to emulate us?)

Every night when I'm tucking her into bed we spend a few minutes chatting.  I ask her how her day was and just listen as she talks.  She tells me her stories and then she says, "how was your day, mama?"

When we get into the car after BSF I ask her what she learned in class.  She tells me what her teacher talked about and then she asks, "what did you learn in your class, mama?"

I'm showing an interest in her life, and in the process she is learning to show an interest in mine. 

When I set myself up for a year of focusing on being purposeful I had no idea how much that word would end up permeating throughout my entire life.  Watching Daphne follow so closely in my footsteps is the perfect motivation to act on what I say and to be the type of person I want her to be. 

What I'm really figuring out here is that children are great for far more than their sweet snuggles and kisses.  They make you fatter, more tired, and steal every ounce of energy you have and multiply it a hundredfold in themselves.  They give you a new appreciation for going to the grocery store all by yourself and help you realize that it is indeed possible to catch vomit in your hands while keeping your eyes closed from the terrible sight.  And they are tiny little sponges, taking in everything you do and spewing out the good when you're the only one to see it and the bad when you're in the middle of Target. 

Maybe, someday, we'll stop catching vomit and find them grown and amazing, not because we spent so much time telling them what they are supposed to do, but because we lived the way for them.

It seems we'll be all the better for it.  

helping, because we like to help people

*DISCLAIMER: Daph might be a special case of being an excellent copy cat right now at 4 years old.  This could change in a year or even a day.  Christian, despite our most excellent efforts, might turn out to be a terror.  You never know.

Where I Rant and Rave

We were in line at Fred Meyer when the lady in front of us turned around and said, "She is just so cute!  What a darling little girl!  Oh my, she is just the cutest thing!"

I take praise about my children's cuteness with a grain or two of salt because some people seem to lose it around small children.  I think my kids are the cutest ever, but I figure no one's really going to tell us our kids are ugly even if they think it's true. 

A minute later she turned around again.  "What are her disabilities?"

I'm not what you would call quick with the comebacks.  When someone catches me off guard by asking an intensely personal question I pretty much start turning red and stare stupidly before I can catch my bearings.  Finally I responded, "Well, she has dwarfism, but we don't really consider that a disability."

"Oh."  She said. "Well, she is such a cute girl."

At home I relayed this story to David.  He glanced at Daph, who happened to be performing some acrobatic stunts off the side of Christian's high chair at that moment and said, "I don't think anyone can take a look at that girl and think she's disabled."

And that pretty much ended our conversation.  

This encounter got me thinking about what I want people saying to us or asking us in public.  It's a question I hate thinking about because (and you may think I'm crazy here) when I look at Daphne I don't see anything wrong with her.  I think part of the reason I get so flummoxed when people ask about her is because it takes me a second to understand what they're asking.  I forget that others might notice anything different about her.

My heart aches when I realize they do. 

A year or so ago, a lady stopped me in Costco and asked a question about Daphne.  She was raising her grandchild who had some pretty severe health issues, and she said to me, "We're a part of a pretty close-knit group, aren't we?"  I think she sensed my confusion, because she clarified by saying, "the group of us raising handicapped children.  We stick together."

Then I was ultra confused.  I feel as though my peers and I are just raising children.  That's all.  We talk about discipline issues and eating issues and sleep issues.  We talk about our plans for schooling and whether or not our kids should be in sports.  I like to talk about the great deals on name brand clothing I find on half price day at the Salvation Army (best day of the week).  But am I supposed to be in a different group?  A group with the 'handicapped' kids?   Is that where people picture us and expect us to be?

Maybe we're doing it wrong, but we raise Daphne just like we would raise any other kid.  Maybe she is 'handicapped,' I don't know, but we certainly don't think of her that way.  She's just our kid, who, quite frankly, can do anything any other 4 year old can do.

I don't mind when someone asks us about her shoes.  Asking why she wears her braces is a lot better question than "what's wrong with her feet?"  I can easily answer why she wears her shoes; I can't tell you what's 'wrong' with her feet.  Nothing is wrong with my kid, people.  Nothing.

So when you come in contact with someone you decide is uniquely different (because you're so perfectly normal?), don't ask any questions unless you have a genuine interest in his or her life.  Don't be selfishly curious.  Treat them like a person, because that's all they are.  First and foremost, and to the people who love them most, they are just a person.  That's how you should think of them as well.

Ask only the questions you would want someone asking your own child (or asking you).  Remember the child you're asking about can hear you.  And for goodness sakes, realize that sometimes, some things are just none of your business.

As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.  His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

 “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him."    ~John 9:1-3

Daphne is a rock star, folks.  She's got great things ahead of her.  Maybe just ask me about that. 

Winter Rest

It snow misted all day yesterday.  Teeny, tiny snowflakes that you could barely see, but it was enough to make two children happy and to dust the ground with a bit of white.

In enjoying the winter spirit we did snow-themed art projects, made chicken stock and chicken noodle soup and cornbread, we had a Scrabble game going, and were snug at home enjoying David's day off.

The weekend was packed with an overnight trip down south, two birthday parties, a big 49ers game, church, and cow-buying (to keep in Albany, because no matter how cute I think it would be for the kids and I to walk our cow around the neighborhood, I think she'll be happier in a pasture with other farm animal friends).

Somehow the days can be so full, to the point where we don't even want to look at our calendar and be reminded of the commitments we have, but then we get a restful, rejuvenating day like yesterday and we're fit to tackle the upcoming week.  Your Sabbath doesn't have to be on Sunday, you know.

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.   ~Mark 6:31

I hope you can find your time to rest this week.

sweet Pascha

Beautiful Mornings

Have you seen this e-card floating around?

This quote is basically MY LIFE right now.   I have a renewed love for my old French press as I've discovered that I love black coffee just barely sweetened with a bit of cream and stevia.   Looking forward to my cup of coffee encourages me to get out of bed early and I even think about it as I'm going to bed at night.

As I used to (seriously, like 3 months ago) only like frou-frou lattes and mochas, I'm really not sure who I am right now.  

Most mornings I have to reheat my cup three times and of course I can't sit down to drink it because as soon as I sit someone wants on my lap.  But still, I feel as though I'm enjoying a leisurely morning in a coffee shop even though I am definitely not, and that is why mornings (with the coffee) are beautiful.   (Lately they've been made even more beautiful thanks to these homemade fig newton bars, which I conveniently made gluten free.)

My morning coffee has become a time of restoration for me.   I pick a mug I love, and even though I can't sit and enjoy it uninterrupted, I try to choose a time in the morning when the kids are playing and I can pretend like it's quiet time for me.  It's not the actual beverage that makes it so special, it's the experience of having something nice for myself each day.

"...He restores my soul..."  Sometimes through something as simple as a warm mug of coffee. 

Apparently it is important to us to instill the same love for the beverage to our children.  David let Christian try a sip (or 7) yesterday and he loved it.  I didn't think you were supposed to like coffee when you're 16 months old?

This was his face after having a few sips:

And then coming to beg for more.  Remember that this was DAVID giving him coffee.  DAVID (not me, as I would never do such a thing):

Today David had training and so worked a day shift and day shifts are the most wonderful thing.  Our morning was busy taking GAL to the airport, and then making bread and applesauce and baking gluten/dairy free snacks for the kids, and then before I knew it it was lunch time, nap time, and then David was home. 

The coffee was extra good today.

Firmness of Purpose

Recently David and I have been inspired by the book Organized Simplicity by Tsh Oxenreide.   Of course if I'm being honest I was super inspired by it and kept reading portions out loud to David, who I'm sure was tuning me out all the while acting interested.  

(Just kidding.  He totally listens to every thing I say.)

I won't write a book review here, but suffice it to say it was convicting and encouraging and gave me this lovely quote that will be a theme for our household this coming year:

Lovely.  Just lovely. 

Also I've decided I love the idea of having a word of the year.  I've heard people talk of it in the past but have never been too inspired to find my own word, until I actually found a word and decided I love having a word of the year. (!!!!)

For 2013, my word (our family word, really) is purpose.

purpose  (ˈpɜːpəs)
— n

1. The object toward which one strives or for which something exists; an aim or a goal
2. A result or effect that is intended or desired; an intention.



We want our intentional actions to result in something good. 

So. 

We'll purposefully clear out clutter from our house and reserve our spaces for beautiful and useful things. 
  
We'll purposefully make our house a sanctuary where creativity is inspired.  I want my children to have the freedom to think and dream and create, and I don't think that can be done well in clutter.  I hate the way I feel when I walk into our house and all I can see are the messes I need to clean.  We aren't super messy or gross people, but when there's too much stuff around there's too much to clean and too much time spent on thinking about cleaning.  

 We'll purposefully clear out clutter from our calendar so that we can enjoy down time with our kids. 

We'll purposefully let things go of stuff so that we can spend time on more important activities.  For instance, I was spending many minutes a day straightening up the decor on the coffee table because little hands were constantly messing it up.  I took the stuff off the coffee table and now I spend no time at all on that chore.  I cleared up about an hour a week of my time just by cleaning off my coffee table.  The less stuff I have to take care of, the more time I have.  My heart feels lighter just thinking about it. 

We'll purposefully be saving even more money (for a down payment on our country home!) because we won't buy things unless they are beautiful or useful.  If one object is beautiful AND useful that's even better

(By the way, when you start saying 'purpose' too much it starts sounding ridiculous and like a made up word.  Purpose, purpose, purpose, purpose....see?  Weird word.)

Here's to 2013!  Go forth and be amazing.  We sure will. 

his resolution is probably to eat more potatoes

hers would be to decorate the entire house with her artwork

yeah, baby

 

Just Us Girls

Oh my dear Daphne, full of spunk and sass and a bit of sugar and spice.

It's hard sharing attention with a baby brother and she struggles with feeling left out. 

She needs to know that I love being her mama, even when we're having a hard day.  Especially when we're having a hard day, because no one could love her as much as I do.

We've started having hymn sings.  We sit at the piano and play and sing.  It's good for my sight-reading skills as she always manages to pick the few unfamiliar hymns that I don't know. 

"This is a good one!" she says.

We always do the regulars too: "Angels We Have Heard on High," "While Shepherds Watch Their Flocks," "It Is Well," and "How Great Thou Art."

She needs it and I need it.

Just us girls.