Where’d he get THAT idea????

Now all of my children have gone through the putting-things-in-the-toilet stage.  If you have ever had a toddler or had to care for a toddler, you know what I am talking about.

For some reason, Sam has taken this to a whole other level.  I’m walking into the bathroom to find things I’ve never seen before in the toilet…bath towels…blue jeans…where’d he get THAT idea???

In our extreme “Duh!” moment for the week, I’m swishing out a poopy diaper before taking it to the diaper pail, when Nathan wryly observes, “Uhh, Mom?  I think I know where Sam got that idea!”

BA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

Parenting by Peers

This thought keeps coming back to me this summer:  my chidren do not all have the same mother.  Oh I gave birth to them all..I remember that much..but my younger children definately do not have the same mother that my older children had.  I am not the same person at all.

It’s a good thing, really.  I cannot imagine anything sadder than living through 16 years of life, 16 years of walking the path of faith, and not growing as an individual.  But the gift of growth has left me a changed person and the mother that I am today is very different that the mother that I was to my boys when they were that age.

Gabe was born when I was 24 years old.  Nathan was born the day before my 26th birthday.  There was a miniscule 14 months between them.  I was young, inexperienced, and most definately overwhelmed.  I parented the way my peers did.  If everyone else did it this way, then it must be right.  Right?  My peers introduced cereal at 3 months, vegetables at 4 months, fruits at 5 months, and strained meats at 6 months, all out of a baby food jar, so I did too.  It would never have occurred to me to breastfeed exclusively until my baby showed an interest in eating table food, then feeding him directly from the table.

My peers all potty trained their children on a specific time table, when the child in question reached 2 or before.  They kept rigorous potty schedules and so did I..and it worked…but I much prefer waiting until my child indicates he or she is ready, even if it doesn’t fit with socially constructed norms.  It doesn’t take nearly as long and we don’t make each another nearly as stressed and I find that if I don’t bring the subject up, nobody else does either.

My peers all put their children in  half-day preschool (at least the stay at home moms did) for “socialization”, so I did too.  We’ve skipped the whole preschool thing this time around, finding plenty of socialization at home, at church, at life.  I don’t miss the expense or the extra running around, and the kids seem to be making friends just fine.

It’s not that any of the above things are wrong..to my knowledge,none of my peers ever had children who grew up to be serial killers.  To the contrary, they are all pretty nice kids.  It’s just that the plan that God has for you may not necessarily be the plan that He has for me and it’s taken me awhile to be OK with that.  There are still plenty of opportunities for peer pressure within the homeschooling community~and I’m refering to the parents here, not the kids.  Pressure to eat certain types of foods, pressure to use only natural medicines, even pressure to have lots and lots of children.  I have dear friends who happen to eat only certain types of food, or who happen to only use natural medicine, or who happen to have large families (larger even than ours!) and each one of them has chosen a good path.  The test for me is my heart.  If I seek to do any or all or none of these things because that is the direction the Lord is leading our family, then that is a good thing..but if I seek after them because someone else does it that way, then I am parenting  by peers, which at it’s heart is idolatry, and I don’t want to go back there again.

Works for Me!

Wow!  Has it really been this long since I have had a thought worth writing in my online journal?  Scary.

I have found a wonderful new (to me) blog called Raising Olives that I have been enjoying immensely. It is here that I found the instructions on how to make darling little seeded bobby pins for my daughters (mine are pretty plain~not nearly as fancy as the ones she pictures~ but still pretty darn cute and a closer match to my personal style anyway.) It is also here where I found out how to turn your entire wall (or anything else) into a chalkboard We considered painting our prospective chalkboard the same color as the rest of the kitchen, but then decided that plain black would offer more contrast for colorful sidewalk chalk on rainy days and during the long, cold, northern IL winters for budding artists and bored preschoolers.

One of the features at Raising Olives is “Works for Me Wednesday” I’m not sure that my tip qualifies for WFMW, but hey, it works for me. ) I discovered this one completely by accident. We have a darling little red wagon~the kind with the hydraulic tires that you have to order through a farm supply catalog~ that I bought when my bigs were littles and I was parenting by peers (more on that later). It has served us well over the years. The wooden frame got pretty well beaten up and Nathan lovingly rebuilt it as a 4-H project the summer Emma was born. (He also learned to use the power saw and electric drill that summer and I have the gray hairs to prove it, but I’m getting distracted.) The said wagon happened to be left near the clothesline the other day when I was hanging out laundry, so I set the basket of wet, heavy clothes in it. Wow! The basket sat much higher off the ground so I didn’t have to stoop down as far and rolling the clothes down the line instead of constantly picking up the basket to move it both were much easier on my back and saved me a lot of time. Here is a picture of our wagon with the clothes by the line. I briefly considered placing a clothes basket in the wagon for artistic reasons, but honestly, it was already in the house being used for other purposes by that time and it seemed a little silly; but please feel free to use your imagination.

Lessons From the Tabernacle

This year, the kids and I have been attempting to study the Pentateuch for our Bible class.  We’re taking it pretty slow, but it’s been good.  We just finished Exodus and God’s plan for the Tabernacle this week and I learned some interesting symbolism which has been very meaningful to me.

Each piece of furniture in the Tabernacle was symbolic of some aspect of the believer’s relationship with Christ.  Although not technically a piece of furniture, there was only one entrance to the Tabernacle, just like Jesus Christ who said “I am the way and the truth and the life, no man comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

The first piece of furniture as one enters the Tabernacle is the bronze altar where the sacrifices for atonement (among others) were made.  Similarly, one cannot come to the Father without being immediately confronted by Christ sacrificing Himself to atone for our sins.

The next piece was a bronze wash basin.  The New Testament imagry this brings to mind is of Christ washing the disciples’ feet at the Last Supper.  When Peter asked him to wash not only his feet, but his whole body, Jesus replied “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean.” (John 13:10)  It was only the dust of the ground which needed to be washed.  Similarly, even though I have found forgiveness at the foot of the cross, I find myself “dusty” with daily sins which need to be confessed, repented, and forgiven.

Behind the wash basin was a veiled room which partitioned off the Tent of Meeting, consisting of the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies.  Behind this veil in the Holy Place sat the Lampstand, the Table of Showbread, and the Altar of Incense.  The Lampstand is interesting to me.  I never realized before (although it makes perfect sense) that the Lamp was the sole source of light in the Tent because all natural forms of light were blocked out by the series of curtains and it was sufficient.  It reminds me that Christ, The Word,  is my source of Light and wisdom for every situation and that He is always sufficient.  The Showbread reminds us of how Christ strengthens and sustains us, and the Altar of Incense is a picture of prayer and worship.

Within the Tent of Meeting, there was a second veil that separated the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies.  Only the High Priest was allowed to enter and that only once per year at the appointed time. Here we find our final piece of furniture, The Ark of the Covenant.  The Ark is ripe with symbolism.  It’s cover was called The Mercy Seat and it is here where the fullness of God’s presence rested.  Inside the Ark was a jar of manna, representing God’s provision; the second set of tablets enumerating the Ten Commandments, representing God’s righteousness; and Aaron’s staff, representing God’s miraculous power.  Even its very name, the Ark of the Covenant stands as a powerful reminder that God always keeps his promises.  It was this veil which was torn asunder when Jesus was crucified, making all of this now accessible to the believer.

The second day I was considering the Tabernacle and all its symbolism, it occurred to me how the progression of the different pieces of furniture is a picture of the walk of a believer.  When one first comes to faith in Christ, his sins are forgiven and his name written in the Book of Life.  Later as he grows in faith, the believer sees the need for daily repentance and finds the Bible sufficient wisdom for any and every situation.  And so it goes, finding refreshment in God’s presence, becoming a person of prayer, and finally finding oneself at the Mercy Seat, encountering God’s presence, experiencing his provision and miraculous power.  God in His wisdom does not drop us off in the Holy of Holies; He has much to do in our lives.

And so I woke up this morning, facing the day’s challenges.  They started earlier than usual today. )  God placed the thought in my mind to use this imagry to focus my prayer time today, stopping at each “station” of the Tabernacle, using it as an opportunity to thank God for how He has manifested Himself in my life, to worship Him, or bring my requests before Him.  It is one of the best prayer times I have had in a long time.

I am under no delusion that I dwell in the Holy of Holies, but as I think on it, there have been times when the Father has bid me to enter and fellowship with Him there.  They have been times which seem difficult to me here on earth, where I have had to rely on his provision or his power.  These times of fellowship, although outwardly difficult have been very sweet and I miss the sweetness of it when the trial is over.  More often though, I find myself a wanderer, travelling to and from the different stations of the Tabernacle as each situation has need.  Perhaps of late, I have become somewhat of a tour guide, mentoring my children and any others as God gives me opportunity, in their walk with the Lord.

A Lifted Burden

Sometimes God sends people across our paths.  This one could have been an angel sent to minister to me or she could have been simply obedient to His purposes.  I don’t know.  Sam’s appointment with the speech pathologist was filled with treasures of insight and wisdom and healing.

Although we both knew his oral motor skills were just fine, she gave me some really good ideas of what might be happening and what to discuss with his pediatrician.  In addition, this woman has a lot of experience with children on the autistic spectrum so we had the opportunity to discuss Anna.

As some of you may know, I have always carried a certain amount of responsibility for Anna having PDD because we started this journey with her failing to thrive as a baby.  I’ve always blamed myself for her not getting the nourishment she needed when she was little because I was nursing her.  Not blaming myself exclusively, mind you, but I always held on to a certain amount of responsibility.  Many people with good intentions over the years have told me that I couldn’t blame myself, but their words were taken as intended..with good intentions..but they were empty because they held no authority.

As the speech pathologist and I were talking, she told me that 99.9% of all the children she has seen and worked with on the spectrum have oral motor problems and that especially considering how dramatic Anna’s were that she was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that her oral motor problems as a baby were only a reflection of her spectrum disorder that she had been born with, not a cause of it.

The grief experienced by  parents of children with special needs is a funny thing…it pops up at the most unexpected times.  I can go for years thinking I had come to a point of peace and acceptance (and I have) only to break down crying at the oddest moments (like the time I went to see my niece at a dance recital and realized that Anna would never be able to participate because by the time she had acquired the gross motor skills she would be too old).

It was like that yesterday.  I didn’t realize the weight of the guilt I was still carrying until Someone had come along and taken it away.

Update on Sam

Many thanks to all who have been praying for Samuel over the last month.  The steps we took around Labor Day to refer him to Early Intervention for screening were entirely appropriate at the time, but over the last month we have seen him gain what seems to be a lot of weight; there will be a weight check next week to be sure.  Along with the added weight has come added strength and added skills, so when the developmental therapist screened him today, we found out he was only about a month behind schedule in the areas we were concerned about.  She gave us some things to work on and said she’d recommend keeping an eye on him and retesting in 3 months.  We’ll meet with the physical therapist in a couple of weeks, but I doubt she’ll have any concerns either.

It didn’t have to be this way.  John and I are acutely aware things could have been much worse.  Samuel’s turnaround has been so dramatic that it is evident it is in answer to prayer and we are thankful.

The Power of a Star

We are finally well underway in our 2008-2009 homeschool year.  This year Anna’s academic load has been ratcheted up quite a bit.  One of the things she is learning this year is to write using cursive handwriting.  For a girl with significant fine motor delays this is really hard .  She was really excited at first.  We began with a lowercase “a”, went on to lowercase “d”, and then we hit lowercase “g” and it was like hitting a very painful brick wall.  That loop was so difficult, her hand wouldn’t do what she wanted it to, why did she have to learn this anyway?

This is our third day working on the letter “g”.  After the first row, I asked her, “Which one do you think you did the best?  Draw a smiley face next to it.”  When she was done, I showed her which one I thought was the best and drew a star next to it.  You could see her body begin to relax and her face light up.  The next row was the same, except I gave one particularly good specimen two stars.  That was really exciting.  Her handwriting became smoother.  The loops seldom crossed at the line, but on the whole it was much more legible.  She asked if she could have a sticker for her folder if she did a good job on the rest of the page.  Of course she could, that’s what I bought them for.

It’s such a small thing.  It cost me nothing except the dollar or so that I paid for a book of stickers that will last me the rest of the year and the willingness to slow down, remember this is a process, and give the gift of encouragement along the way. 

We are not so different, she and I.  I need to slow down, I need to be reminded that this is a process–I am not yet a finished product, and the smallest amount of encouragement is like a salve to my soul.  Oh that I would turn my eyes from myself, my needs, my agenda, and give the gift to little hearts who are waiting to drink it up like rain to a dry and thirsty land.

More Gratitude

 

*Picnics with friends after church on Sundays

*Emma is almost potty trained!

*Gabe and Nathan helping John with hard, manly work on the farm and the resulting change in their attitude.

*John’s siblings taking turns to help care for Mavis on the weekends

*The swelling in John’s foot is almost completely gone!

*Taking evening walks with John and talking about what is on our hearts

*Listening to Emma repeat “Forks go with the forks, knives go with the knives, and spoons go with the spoons!” as she puts the silverware away.

One Perfect Moment

  Anna in the water, arms and legs working together to propel her, a smile radiating pure joy as she found elusive success.

Emma sitting on the floor, content to watch her sister swim and wave sweetly at the old women doing their exercises in the pool.  She was tall and ladylike, not demanding anything of anyone.

Then in a breath it was gone; but the joy of that one perfect moment will feed my soul today.  It is a gift from God.

A couple of low-tech laundry tips

  Emma is going through a phase where she refuses to wear anything but a dress.  I’ve ebayed and garage saled looking for dresses cheap enough that I won’t hesitate about letting her play in the sandbox or help me in the garden while wearing them.  The one she is wearing in the picture above I bought new at Aldi’s for a couple of dollars and it’s been one of her favorites.

A couple of weeks ago, Emma wore this dress while running errands with her dad.  When she returned, she ran into the house crying because dad had “gotten it dirty”.  That turned out to be an understatement.  In fact, she had somehow managed to smear some very black, very oily engine grease across the front.  Remembering some advice from my grandmother on this subject, I got out some white Crisco (grandma used lard, but I don’t use it) and proceeded to work it into the stain.  Grandma says, “grease cuts grease”.  You can’t just smear it on, you’ve got to really work it into the stain with your nails, but after about 10 minutes of elbow grease (no pun intended), the stain was gone and after a cycle through the washer the Crisco was gone and the dress was as good as new.

This week when I took the dress out of the dirty clothes basket, I discovered that someone had piled wet towels on top of it (thanks, boys!) and with summer’s heat the dress was covered with mildew.  (Ugh!  The plague of summer laundry!)  Mavis was standing with me and she mentionned she had read or heard somewhere to use vinegar.  Now I’m getting to be a big fan of vinegar so I soaked the sweet little dress overnight and a good part of today while I was garage saling.  I have to admit, most of the stain is gone, there are just some faint spots left.  (If anyone has any other tips for getting mildew out of clothing, by all means, please let me know!)