When Newness brings Peace

“And the peace of God which transcends all understanding….” (Phil 4:7)

There certainly was very little Peace and Quiet over this Christmas break despite the typical expectation of such. This year we moved to a house after living in a cramped, tiny townhome for the past 3 years. The older two had their own bedrooms, but the youngest slept in my bedroom. The TV was on one side of the “living” room space and the couch on the opposite side so the great joy in annoying the eldest was to cross in front of the TV multiple times…or just pretend to forget and stand there. The kitchen was tiny and I couldn’t stand to have a kid in there with me whenever I tried to cook anything on the non-existent counter-space. There was no garage, no basement, no storage area.

But there was an outside. There was an open green space with playground equipment that hardly anyone used if they were over five. And there was a glorious double-bump hillside that made perfect sledding conditions (perfect because the boys could thump over in their boots and I could stay in my warm abode!). And there were kids. Kids who also liked to play outside. Kids who knocked on the door at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. Kids who knocked at 8:00 pm on a school night. Kids that thrived on my boys’ energy and creativity. Kids who were great friends.

So the Saturday before Christmas, I moved over as many boxes as I could pack in the car with supplies to host our first “Cookie Day.” Many friends came out and we baked for hours (despite a nasty cold), creating 56 dozen cookies as the one oven browned sheet after sheet of dough. Sunday and Monday we packed and carted boxes. We cleaned some parts of the new house and some of the old. My sister tore up carpet and sanded two hardwood floors. And Christmas day after the excitement of gifts and a quick meal, we put polyurethane on the floors and opened all the windows. And when the moving trucks pulled out, my wonderful brother drove in from Ohio with two of his older daughters to finish up moving all the odds and ends.

It’s been anything but restful. Anything but quiet. But there has been a remarkable peace that has descended on the family. Christmas Eve I sent the boys down to the basement (“game room,” “man cave,” “den”…we haven’t settled on a name yet!) and I set up their rooms with beds and new blankets and put some select pieces of their school artwork (which I just framed the week before Christmas) on the floor as I didn’t have the tools or the energy to work on hanging them. I had name signs for each room. And The Little Guy jump around in his room with such joy and excitement to have his own space for the first time in his life.

Space. There’s now space for the boys to get away from each other to rest. There’s space in the kitchen (bless my mom and a couple great friends who helped clean and set it up) for me to experience joy and peace in preparing meals for the boys (I got tired of pizza and take-out pretty quickly!). There’s space to put the new hoverboards and electric scooters in the shed and the hand-me-down dirt bike that Mr. Ornery managed to fiddle with enough to get it working. There’s space to breathe and breathing feels very good.

And after three years, there’s a sense of settling and permanency. My brain is no longer searching and searching for the right house, the right location, the right school. It’s not perfect. I really intended to get a MUCH bigger yard for the boys, but it’s got great indoor space and a quiet flat road in front for their craziness.

I am so grateful for everyone who helped physically and emotionally with encouraging texts and messages and Facebook comments. There’s still much to do. I haven’t finished cleaning up the new place yet and there’s boxes upon boxes in “storage” at my sister’s and parents’ houses that need to move over.  But, a longtime friend said to me recently, “It’s so great to see how much you are enjoying that beautiful new home of yours.” And he’s right.

I’ve actually caught Super Tall Guy with smiles on his face!

Reckless Love

(Verse 1)
Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me
You have been so, so good to me
Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me
You have been so, so kind to me
(Chorus)
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights ‘til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn’t earn it, I don’t deserve it, still You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
(Verse 2)
When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me
You have been so, so good to me
When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me
You have been so, so kind to me
(Bridge)
There’s no shadow You won’t light up
Mountain You won’t climb up
Coming after me
There’s no wall You won’t kick down
Lie You won’t tear down
Coming after me
(Reckless Love: Written by Cory Asbury, Caleb Culver, and Ran Jackson)

 

We sang this song at church this morning. It is currently my favorite praise song. And it is one I really needed after dealing with Super Tall Guy’s latest “rage” fit yesterday in which quite a bit of anything that was not nailed down went flying. We even hit a new level – the next door neighbor who absolutely never talks, came out of her house and grumbled, “What in the world is going on?” Sigh….

But as we sang this morning, I realized that while this song was written about God’s incredible love of His children, it could so easily describe in a very imperfect way my relationship with my boys.

When they were infants – before they spoke a word – I would sing over them as I rocked them to sleep. (While I did not carry them in my body, their birth mother breathed life into them before they ever took a breath.)

When Super Tall Guy is in a rage and we are squared off foe to foe….my love fights for him. Fights to have him calm down. Fights for him to know that I love him despite the ugliness. Fights for him to know that I will be there with open arms when this hurricane ends. When he weeps in sadness and feels unworthy, I wrap around him in love. I pay such a price in providing for the boys, not just in material things, but in time and worry and stress and endless energy.

And should anything ever happen to my boys, I will always come after them. I will light up the world for them to see more clearly through the darkness that might threaten to overwhelm them. I will climb any mountain for them if they wander away. I will tear down any wall to free them. There’s no lie that the world could tell them about their brown skin or their worthiness or that they might tell themselves in self-doubt that I wouldn’t tear down.

And despite all their grumblings about how mean I am or how other families are so much better, I truly am trying to be good to them and kind to them. I would leave the ninety-nine, I would leave anything I had to for my children.

I am a failure every single day at this parenting gig. I want to do so much better. I get down on myself. But then I am reminded of the intense love I have for these three incredible boys. The absolutely overwhelming love. The never-ending love. The reckless love. Unconditional love. No matter what they are doing. No matter how many times they have ignored me or disobeyed. No matter how many mistakes they have made. No matter what, it is an overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love that tears up my heart and drains tears down my cheeks as I stand there singing.  And in those moments, I know that if I feel this passion for my boys….how much more does a Perfect God love each and every one of us. How much more does He breathe into us and come after us when we wander? How much more does He ache when we disobey, but has already paid the ransom? How much more overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love does He give?

Click on the album cover below and listen to reckless love….

 

Moments of Silence

I have a new car. Another minivan. I laugh, “This is my last minivan. When it dies….I finally get MY car!” (Mr. Ornery promises to buy me a pink Lamborghini!) The last minivan decided to die a little before I was ready for it but this one better give me another ten years; ten years for the last little guy to get out of high school!

Farewell to the blue van that holds so many memories.

Farewell to the scratches and dents from boys’ misdirected emotions.

Farewell to whatever smell that was that was never going to come out.

Farewell to the stress of not knowing just exactly when after 150,000 miles it was going to konk out!

As with any new car, I now have the “gift” of Sirius XM. For two whole months. I’m trying to make the most of it. One of the channels I’m surprisingly enjoying the most (until I realized that they repeat content some) is “LaughUSA.” It hit me that I just wasn’t getting enough laughs in my life and this puts a smile on my face more frequently.

Recently, one of the comedians was ribbing with some of his audience. He joked about a man having a “worn-out face” from his marriage and divorce and kids. He retorts, “Look how great I look. I’m 64 and no wife or kids. I have something all of you want…..silence.” I paused. He was right. He had silence.

“Are these two yours?” she inquired genuinely.

“Uh, yes,” I hesitantly replied.

“Bless you.” The teacher overseeing “younger siblings” during the parent open house at the middle school shook her head. “You have your hands full! They are delightful, but…”

I get that a lot.  “Yes, pray for me,” I reply. “They are non-stop!”

I wouldn’t change this parenting gig for the world. But every once in awhile I could use just a little bit of silence. It’s what causes me to “need” to stay up for an hour or two after the kids fall asleep so I can recharge with my silence (ie, midnight or later). It causes me to grab my laptop and hide in my bedroom on the weekend for a moment of silence. It leads me to announce, “I’m taking the dog for a walk,” and scuttle out for a loop around our community as often as I can get away with it – silence.

And, it has led me to be okay with planning a trip to Croatia at the end of this month to spend a week in a villa with a friend and her friends…in the hopes of finding silence. We all know how crazy September is. The month where everyone who ever wanted to do anything, but wasn’t going to plan it for August vacation month, has now scheduled their events. The month when kids are returning to school and while they are in a “honeymoon” period of little homework or studying, the parent is intensely trying to figure out their schedules and how to keep up with this new routine. The month when the school honeymoon ends and behavioral slips are sent home, tests are scheduled, and everyone’s stress rises. The month when my work has ramped up, creating early mornings and late nights.

So, it just seemed right to say “yes” to a friend when she asked (and begged politely) me to join her. I never thought of going to Croatia, but I was hooked as soon as I spent some time on Google looking at the photos of beautiful water.  I’m not sure what my expectations are. I’m not sure how this introvert will connect with a group of people I’ve not met yet. I’m not sure if my saintly mother is going to regret her “willingness” to watch my boys for eight days. I’m not sure if my boys are going to spend the eight glorious days trying to get away with anything they can at home and school.

But I’m pretty sure that I’m going to find a few moments of silence.

And that will be beautiful.

The Master Plan….

I strum my fingers together and smile devilishly. An unexpected plan has come together this summer – “practice” camp.

We stood at the registration table on Sunday afternoon. Nine-year-old Mr. Ornery was unusually subdued as they searched for his name on the list. Beside him and slightly in front of him, the Little Guy bounced up and down and tried to answer any question with as much true or somewhat-true information as he could. The auburn-haired woman peered over her dark glasses and said, “Ah, are you staying for mini-camp?”

“Mini-camp?” I queried.

“Oh, yes,” she proceeded. “In addition to Kids Camp, we’re also running mini-camp this week. How old is he?”

“Seven.”

“Great. And where do you live?” she asked as her brain clearly contemplated her next question. Thankfully she held in the “Why don’t you just run on home and pack him up,” and instead said, “When you get home, go online and register him. Then bring him here Wednesday night.”

Wednesday night? Both my “young” guys in camp at the same time?!? I filled out that online application immediately, followed by mad texting and emailing to see which friends I could gather for my two glorious nights of “limited” kid responsibility (the twelve-year-old fends for himself pretty well these days).

For days it was nonstop questions. “Has my flashlight arrived from Amazon yet?” “Is it Wednesday yet?” “When do we go?” “Will you miss me?” “Did the mail come yet with the flashlight?” “How about my sleeping bag?”

He fell asleep on the short trip up to camp. Our car was greeted by two very enthusiastic camp counselors who had been his summer day camp counselors. They screamed his name and rushed to open the door, slathering him in hugs and kisses. The other counselors stared. This kid is going to be just fine with these young mother hens all over him.

As we started up the path to the office to register, I spied Mr. Ornery leaving the pool area. He saw me and came running over for a wet tight hug. “I’m having a great time. Love you. See you later,” and off he went waving the love-you sign behind him. My eyes welled. I had been worried that I’d arrive to find an unhappy little man ready to pack up and go home.My heart though was hoping he would be enjoying it and have the full camp experience. Thankfully, this little clown seems to have made some friends and found his own space. I just hope the presence of the Little Guy won’t be too disruptive. The Little Guy commands an audience. He smiles and people melt. I had checked that Mr. Ornery wanted him to come, but I’m still thinking that the stories should be interesting.

And so… I drove off….in a quiet car….praying blessings upon them for peace and safety and friendships and a deepening devotion.

And thinking – “Now, my young padawans, as you graduate from mini-camp and one-week camp this year….the “secret” plan is “Summer’s Best Two Weeks” next year!”

Did you catch that?

TWO WEEKS!

This might not go completely according to plan. The report from Super Tall Guy in the weeks after his camp experience was that he didn’t like it too much. He was bothered by a set of brothers in his cabin who apparently had a lot of brotherly “bickering” and overall seemed pretty tired by the constant activity level. (The lack of any screen and internet might also have contributed his unhappiness….But we’re going to keep working on the importance of screen-free weeks and finding an “away” experience during those two weeks!).

And, of course, my two days “off” didn’t go completely as planned. The irony of parenting is that just when you are free from the responsibility of the daily grind of caring for the younger two, the typically-independent eldest develops a fever of 102….and so I am still “needed”!

Next summer….

*ps – I miss these guys terribly, but am so proud of their bravery in stepping out a bit on their own.

Delivered: My First “Summer Camper”

I sat at the pool today ….a blank laptop screen in front of me…reflecting on a blank mind with nothing to say….until I left a piece of my heart…..at a summer camp….in a cabin with five other boys, ….and a counselor named Lyvth.

Super Tall Guy went to this camp in October for two nights with his fifth-grade class. He had a great time. He and his best friend decided they wanted to go for a week in the summer. I am hoping that they have a great time again.

It was a tough weekend leading up to it. The poor guy had some GI upset which mercifully resolved. Then we had the suspense of his friend’s baseball tournament. Drop off times were from 4-6 pm. The baseball game was at one. If they won, he would have another game and then not go to camp until the next morning. Super Tall Guy was reluctant to go to camp without his buddy. I tried explaining the importance of that first night. You are going to hear all the rules. You pick your beds in the cabin. You meet your counselor. Other kids are new too. It’s the time to get settled in together. If you wait for the morning, you will miss some important things.

He was not swayed. He needed his friend. It was too stressful to think about being there alone.

Thankfully, the team lost and their tournament ended. We made it to camp at 5:30 and they got the last two bunks side by side.

B’s mom and I helped them make their beds. We took the mandatory photos. We awkwardly stood around. The counselor gracefully exited for good-byes. I sent the “annoying” younger brothers outside for a few minutes. I leaned over to Super Tall Guy, kissed the top of his head and said, “I love you.” “Leave,” he replied. Yes, that’s my boy.

We stood outside the cabin for a minute. I swallowed my heart skip and quieted the tears that threatened. My eldest was in a cabin and I was leaving him. This time he had one friend and a “village” of about fifty other boys to meet. Instead of stories about classmates keeping him up all night, he’ll have stories of five other boys he’s going to get to know, some of whom were returning for the third or fourth time. Instead of teachers and school counselor watching over him, he’ll be on his own to remember the bug spray (I’m pretty sure B will be better at remembering it and reminding him!), to figure out where he should be and when, and to get to sleep. Instead of being surrounded by people who know him, he’s going to be on his own negotiating his stance and emotions and behaviors.

Lyvth seemed like a really great guy in the two minutes I saw him. The returning campers had great rapport with him. He looked like he was going to be fun. I’m entrusting my son to him.

Most days, Super Tall Guy drives me crazy. He pushes all my buttons. He argues with 99.9% of what I ask of him.

And yet, he holds a pretty big chunk of my heart.

Which is now 20 miles away….

For the next five days….

But, since there were three boys chattering happily (and occasionally unhappily) in the back of the van as we drove home, there wasn’t much mental space to think about it.

Now, at 7:30, I sit at the pool again. The pizza is delivered. The beer is cold. The heart is full. And I’m praying God’s blessings on the boys.

I am happy for Super Tall Guy.

I sure hope he’s happy too.

 

Repaired Windshield, Shattered Relationships: Another Weekend of Tears

The windshield was repaired this past week (review of that story), but I had to make a tough decision that I really didn’t want to. It was the second Friday in a row of kids crying and Mom crying. The second Friday of sobbing on the couch after the boys went to bed. The second week of cycling through shock and numbness and sadness and wondering why this parenting “gig” has to be so hard sometimes.

I had to let the sitter go. She’s been with our family for three years. She’s a part of our family and the kids are a part of hers. But around 3:30 on Friday afternoon I got a call from a friend who asked, “Where is your sitter? Or who is picking up the boys after school? I see the younger two playing here on the school playground, but I don’t see your sitter. I started to drive away with my kids then turned and came right back.” Asking her to stay there and keep an eye on my 7 and 9-year-old boys, I called the sitter. She left the boys at the playground (“there were other people there”) because Super Tall Guy really wanted to be taken home.

She left my boys.

In shock, I said, “You can’t leave the boys alone! Those kids are the most precious things in the world to me. What if one of them fell off the monkey-bars, split his head open and died….alone? What if someone walked by and took off with one of them? What if you got in an accident as you drove and then they are hanging out at the playground for hours wondering where you are?”

She arrived to pick them up as I communicated with the other mom again how I appreciated her taking care of my boys. I got home as soon as I could. I wrote out her weekly check and told the sitter it wasn’t going to work out anymore. She had done this once before a couple months ago. I had talked with her then. Then she had left the 7-year-old at the playground in our community once for a few minutes while she ran to the school to pick up the middle kid because “he was playing with the other kids and wouldn’t listen to me when I called him. What did you want me to do – go over there and drag him to the car?” Yes.

This time, I flipped out. I couldn’t bear the thought of my kids being in danger. She wasn’t intentionally hurting them. She just wasn’t thinking through the potential dangers. And she wasn’t assigning another adult to hold the responsibility of the kids in her absence. She loves the boys. She doesn’t want to make any of them angry or disappointed. Yes, I understand that, I said. But, their safety is first priority. Whether they are “happy” is a bit lower down the line of concern. And trying to protect the boys, mostly from their own rash decisions as well as from other people’s decisions, is a huge challenge as a parent.

Another huge challenge of parenting is managing your own emotions while also scaffolding those of your children. The role is complicated with multiple children who have different personalities, different types of emotional processing, and need different help with managing their emotions based on their developmental stage and individual abilities.

Super Tall Guy doesn’t care. “That was stupid,” he says and walks off. Mr. Ornery says, “Aw, that’s sad. What’s for dinner?” The Little Guy crawls into my arms, shaking as he sobs. I reassure him that we love the sitter, we’re still friends, we can still visit, but it’s Mommy’s job to always, always make sure my boys are safe.

In the past couple of days, the weight has just hung on me and the tears are easily present. The Little Guy asks about her often and before falling asleep the next day, he said to me, “But Mommy, everyone makes mistakes. Why can’t you give her another chance?”  Yes, I replied, we all make many mistakes every single day, but there are some big mistakes that are super important. Keeping you safe is super important.

And we cried together again.

 

 

 

 

Broken Windshields and Digital Detox: Handling Mother’s Day

It was not a good morning. A wet t-shirt whack to the middle child’s arm left him in tears and left the eldest arguing about the subjective experience of pain. My attempt to explain this subjectivity was unwanted factual information at a time of emotional distress which escalated the issue. Before long, TV remotes were flying, pillows were flying and by the time the baseball helmet was about to be launched toward the sliding-glass doors, I took him down.

I give the boy credit for moving into submission rather than fighting back with all his might as he outweighs me by at least twenty or thirty pounds now. But we drove to school with me emotionally exhausted. As they jumped out of the car, tears welled as I texted a friend: “It’s so hard when people tell you how mature and wonderful Super Tall Guy has become and they don’t have to see the shit that he gives me at home.” Over and over again.

He pops into school and does well all day, while I carry around a heavy heart. Because his loss of control seems more intense lately, I eventually decided to call for an intake appointment for psychiatric/therapy services. It’s been on my mind, you know, every time he flips out and then I say, “Well, he’s calmed down again.”  But I worry about the emotional toll on myself, the toll on him to deal with uncontrolled anger again and again, and the toll on the younger brothers emotionally and sometimes physically.

After school he wasn’t much better. I arrived home with The Little Guy (after learning that since a cavity was filled in the same tooth eleven months from the last time, insurance wouldn’t cover it and I’d be paying $175) to find Super Tall Guy running out to my car to say, “I’m sorry for hurting Mr. Ornery.” Sigh. Apparently a discussion had gone awry about who got the “best” placement for the Mother’s Day gifts they brought home from school. Mr. Ornery’s loss left a scratch on his back.

My consequence of banning him from visiting his aunt’s house where Awesome Cousin had just arrived from the West Coast was met with upturning the video/CD shelving. I took the younger brothers over while Super Tall Guy cleaned up the mess. Expecting him to have turned the corner, we went over to my sister’s as well.

The evening seemed to go smoothly and given the beautiful weather, I worked on cleaning my car while the boys rode bikes on the street. I heard but didn’t see the crash that sent my 7-year-old nephew onto the pavement as he swerved to avoid Super Tall Guy lying in the middle of the road. His full-face helmet offered important concussion and teeth protection, but his lack of a shirt resulted in brush burns to back and shoulder. Comforting the young one, I let Awesome Cousin chat with Super Tall Guy about his poor decision.

We soon left for home and just a few hundred feet down the road, I reiterated how dangerous it is to get in the way of young kids riding on the street. Super Tall Guy was not in the mood to hear more about his mistake. Embarrassment leads to anger. Remember that. Embarrassment leads to anger. He picked up his feet and kicked the windshield – causing a brilliant star-shaped shatter. Shocked, I pulled over to the side of the road and just sat there for a couple minutes crying “I can’t do this anymore.” Super Tall Guy cried in sadness and despair. The Little Guy cried out of fear at the intensity of the emotions around him. Mr. Ornery must have been wondering what all the fuss could possibly be about as he didn’t notice the cracked windshield until the next morning.

Walking into the house a few minutes later, Super Tall Guy collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep as I took the dog for a short walk. I gave The Little Guy a tight squeeze as I reassured him that his mom had this. “I’m strong. I got this. Don’t you worry. I’m going to help your brother.” Kissing Mr. Ornery good night, I talked about the many reasons people cry but he seemed unconcerned other than hoping that his cousin would be feeling better soon.

Then I sat on the couch with a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s and let the shock fade.

This is Mother’s Day weekend. This is the boy that first “made” me a mother. This is my love. And yet I struggle so hard to parent him. The emotional toll is huge. The physical burden gets overwhelming. The struggle to understand what he needs and temper his anger is intense.

Reflecting on his day, I can tell that he was very tired. He was probably also reacting to a long week of dealing with consequences for behaviors last weekend that left him without his Ipod and without his laptop to play games on (the XBox has been gone for quiet awhile – that will be another story). And, I have a strong suspicion that he is “detoxing” from sustained “digital heroin” intake and experiencing a reorientation of his dopamine neurotransmitters.

Too often I have relied on electronics to keep Super Tall Guy quiet and keep his emotions at bay so that he isn’t bothering his brothers. But time spent in this digital reality hasn’t been teaching him how to deal with the typical everyday annoyances of having younger brothers. It’s going to take years and years to learn that, I’m sure.

The day after his explosions he spent a couple hours doing “community service” for his aunt. He spent hours playing with his brothers and cousins. And, after an hour of TV and then a tantrum about how he “needed” more, he and I started a game of Monopoly before bed.

I remind myself that detox is not easy. I am going to need a lot of patience and friend support as Super Tall Guy and I go through this, I’m pretty sure.

And, I remind myself that this parenting gig is not easy.

But it is oh so worth it.

Happy Mother’s Day!