Conversations with Kids (The First of the Series)

While I was changing Arabella's diaper, Will wandered in and asked,"Mama, who do you love bester?" Now I had a split second to make my decision. I could go with the truth, I love each of my children the same. I could never pick between them. OR, I could go with what Nathan's parents did. See, they told each of the boys that they loved that particular one the best, "but don't tell the others!!" Nathan believed them for a long time. He had to feel wonderful know he was their favorite. That is until he decided he would destroy his superior older brothers by breaking the news to them that he was their parents' favorite child. They laughed at him and said "Nate, they tell all of us that!" But for all that time, he believed it. I am an only child and I'm pretty sure I was my parents' favorite and I have to say that is probably the best thing about being an only child. You know your parents adore you and think you are something pretty special. I also thought if the kid catches on, it's kind of a fun little joke.

Well for better or for worse, I chose the latter.

"Well, you know, I love you bester, but you can't tell! It's just a secret between us two." My little sunshine angel smiled his winning grin and said, 'Okay."

As I wrapped up the diaper change, I decided to ask him who he loved bester. Okay, I know it was a self-serving attempt to get him to declare me his favorite...because let's face it, my boys are mama's boys.
"Well, Will, tell me who you love bester." I smiled down on him beaming with motherly love.
"Oh I love Papa bester. And I like him. I love him and I like him. I just love Papa."

Curses, foiled again.

Love and Chastening and lots of Ridiculousness

It was bound to happen at some point. There is none righteous - no, not one. Carter got a reteach at school. Yes, I know the name "reteach" is ridiculous. I am not a politically correct type and I think many times, you can call it whatever you like, everyone knows what it really is. So, Carter was given a reteach and had to sit out of part of recess. That really wouldn't have been so horrible by itself, but he tried to hide it from me. Well, of course he did. He'd never had one before, he was worried we'd be angry with him, he'd get more punishment, and probably worst, we'd be disappointed because he'd never had one before. So, we had a "discussion" instructing him to not hide these things any more.

Honestly, I didn't think it would be a problem again. I thought for sure he probably wouldn't get another reteach, at least this year. Except he has not particularly enjoyed the first grade even though he has made some great friends. He is no longer the sweet boy all the girls befriend but instead hangs in the middle of all the rough-and-tumble boys. And recently he has complained about how much he dislikes school. It's easy to see he's tired and ready for some respite. We all are. And really, First Grade is ridiculous. Seriously. The kid can have up to THREE TESTS on Fridays. Reading skills tests, math tests, and spelling tests seem like the SAT at this point. He really dreads Fridays.

On top of all this homework ridiculousness is the room environment. On a normal day, the temperature in that room is 212 degrees. That's right friends, it's boiling in there. The whole school is going through renovation and that seems to affect their ability to cool down that one room in particular. I visited there when I was pregnant with Arabella for the Halloween party - I nearly passed out. That is no exaggeration. I had to leave the room. When I returned, I boldly opened the door and said if the other classrooms had a problem with it, they could speak to me because the temperature was, well, ridiculous. How are these poor kids supposed to function when sweat is dripping off their noses on to their papers? And when we tried to open the windows, they wouldn't budge. So, not even a breeze.

So, I have a child with little reason to be excited about going to school. It really shouldn't be a surprise he was RETAUGHT two days later. But what did surprise me was that he tried to hide it again! I can tell you are just as shocked as I was. I just stared at him like "are you stupid?" I managed to not say it but I really did think it. That meant I had to tell his dad. And that went over like a lead balloon. Carter received a boom lowering. Well, it's not that bad of a sentence but he acts like he's on death row. He says things like "I wish I could play some Wii." Or, "can I have one of those brownies?" I finally asked "Whose fault is it that you can't play Wii or have a dessert for the next three days?" And this child had the audacity to sort of shrug and sigh "nobody's."

I felt this sharp pain shoot through my head as it began to split open. Searing lasers streamed from my eyes, and fire lapped out my nostrils. I managed to not kill him. I asked him "Really? You really think it's nobody's fault?" Some sort of recognition hit him; he realized that he had given the wrong answer but it was abundantly clear from the remaining confusion on his face that he did not understand how that answer was wrong. I decided to be a loving mother and say "it's your fault. You DO understand that, right." His eyes fell and he mumbled "Yes ma'am. I understand that."

The Bible tells us in Hebrews. "For whom the Lord loves he chastens, and whips every son whom he receives." Ouch. It sounds like either tough love or a contradiction. But really, it's not. If I didn't love my son, I'd just let him take the path he is on and we'd see where that takes him. Likely, it would be to his own destruction. I've known kids who weren't loved like that, their parents thought discipline was damaging and now, well, let's just say those kids aren't exactly contributing to society in a positive way. So, even though I hate punishing him and I want to believe it's all just a big misunderstanding, the proof is before me. He's wicked. He needs to learn there are consequences. He needs to know I love him enough to make him feel a little uncomfortable now to avoid a life full of ruin.

The most humbling part of all of this is the fact that it illuminates all the same wickedness in me. Luckily, my mother is around with her switch to "love" me.

*Carter was caught two more times over the weekend exhibiting unacceptable behavior and punished accordingly. This parenting thing is not for the weak.*

A Different World

It's been a very long time since I've posted. Every time I brought up the last post, I suddenly lost the words. The last blog was about finding out our baby's gender, and all the chaos that preceded it. It was about the last day my mother was ever in my house. The last full day she was alive outside a hospital. I look back at it and must admit, I was frustrated, worried, harried, and scared. I have looked back on that day with regret - I should have been more attentive to my mother and no so concerned with getting to the doctor's office on time. I should have not been consumed with the ultrasound and the baby's umbilical cord that day. I have not liked to think about that day or look at that post.

There have been many wonderful things I could have written about: the wonderful things our boys have said and done, the birth of our daughter, tall tales I've heard, etc. But, the primary audience isn't around to read them any more. Mother used to read each entry and print it out and keep it in a notebook. She loved her grandsons more than anything - even more than Kentucky basketball - and that my friends, is a lot! She really wanted a granddaughter. Now, I wouldn't tell the boys this, but she was hoping either one of them had been a girl. So, that day, when we found out little #3 was a girl, I was so excited to tell her. I knew she would be thrilled. The only problem was that she was too ill to really process it that day. She went on home to Harlan, she was admitted to the hospital, and there for a couple of days, she was herself. One of the last things she was able to say to me was, "I can't wait to see that baby. Oh I hope she looks like you."

I often tell Arabella, "Oh your Mimi would have loved to see you smile." One time, Carter was next to me and he said, "Well, I guess, we will all die someday and then, uh...." I saw tears filling his eyes and I said with a smile "We'll go to heave and see Mimi again!" He smiled and agreed. Sporadically, Will would ask "Where is Mimi? Why doesn't she live with Papa any more? Are we going to go see her at the hospital?" I explained that she had gone to heaven to live with Jesus and we'd see here there some day. It took him a few times to understand he wouldn't see Mimi again until then. I didn't mind him asking; I was glad he remembered her.

Well, just yesterday, Will asked his daddy with a giggle, "Do you remember when Mimi made it rain in the living room?!" Nathan laughed along with him and they agreed that was "crazy!" I knew it was time for me to stop worrying about that day and regretting it. Move forward because Mother would have. I don't know how much of my life my mother knows about up there in heaven. I'm relatively sure they don't have access to the internet. But, I'm good at pretending and I'll just keep on going like my primary aundience is still logging in to find out what crazy things her grandchildren are up to today. And she'll love those pictures of Arabella and Patrick Patterson - he was her favorite.

I often find myself thinking of her as like Moses, she was shown the Promised Land and then taken to be with the Lord.