Clanging From the Clock in the Hall

Hey, little girl! I’m writing this in hopes that you’ll one day be reading it, because I want to tell you about how we spent this morning — in case we’ve forgotten by then.

You and your sister, after some encouraging, got dressed. In skirts, of course. And leggings — it is only the first day of March and too cold to have bare legs! But neither of you is easily convinced to wear pants, unless it’s a gym day. We dropped Allyson off at school and ran a couple of errands. And we listened to the new cd you got for your birthday. It’s a kids’ album by Jewel, and we’re enjoying getting to know the songs.

For the last couple years you’ve not been a big fan of what you call “lullabies,” because they make you cry. But there are several slow, sweet songs on this new album that you’re beginning to enjoy, with nary a sign of a tear! Woo hoo! I count that a victory — though I’m not telling you that. (Well, I guess I am, now.)

So, after we were done our errands you asked if we could “take a ride on hills.” (That means on the hilly farmland south of our house.) It’s a foggy morning, so we couldn’t see the wind turbines that look like giants hovering on the hills in the distance. But we could dimly see the beautiful rolling farm fields and the enormous flocks of white sea gulls that dotted them. And we sang along with Jewel, and we laughed as we went over hills that made our tummies jump. I enjoyed watching you (in the rear-view mirror);  you were having a grand old time!

We talked about the difference between harmony and melody. We sang “The Green Grass Grows All Around” at least twice as you tried to sing each part. You had your Florence Bear with you and you were giving her a nap on your lap, all in all, being very mommy-ish. You’re going to make a wonderful mommy some day, Petunia!

And when we got home I asked what you wanted to do. You said you wanted to take the music inside and listen to it some more. So, while I’ve been typing this, you’ve excitedly come to get me so we could listen to one particular favorite (even though it is remarkably “lullaby-ish, if you ask me) — all snuggled up together on the sofa.

We probably won’t have much of a memory of this morning we spent together, one day. But that’s okay. It’s because we’ve spent so many mornings together, you and I. I just want us to be able to read this and, if not remember it together, at least be reminded of how we sometimes spent our mornings before packing you off to afternoon kindergarten, where a world of fun and friends awaits you! Not to mention Good News Club, this afternoon!

I love you, my little one who loves to sing and laugh and snuggle. I wonder how your world will be when you’re reading this. I wonder what will make you laugh and what you’ll be singing.

The first weeks of motherhood were pretty exciting, if I’m remembering correctly.

There were, of course, struggles. I desperately wanted to breast feed, but after many weight checks at the pediatrician and what seemed like daily visits to the lactation consultants, it became obvious that I would not be able to just breast feed my new daughter. I would be pumping and supplementing with formula after each feeding — for the duration. So, after four long weeks of doing really not much other than this time-consuming feeding regimen, I made the difficult decision to go to formula alone.

We also struggled at first in getting her onto a schedule. But that was established with a week or two of consistent routine. (And the acquisition of a good book on the subject.)

All in all, I’d say that after our sixth week of this parenting-business, we’d hit a stride that was pretty darn delightful. And I reveled in my new role as a mom. No job I ever had compared in any way to the joy I found in mothering this child. Allyson was an easy sleeper (once we all settled into said routine), an easy eater (till she hit the age of about 2 years), and a pretty nice little girl.

Then we did it all again with our second daughter. Well, most of it. Once again I tried to breast feed, but only agonized over it for two weeks this time before giving up and resorting once again to formula. And once we got her settled into a routine, life was pretty predictable, and much easier than I’d been warned it would be. (Just because you’ve had one easy baby, don’t let anyone tell you that you won’t have another.)

Really, the struggles that followed were mostly me, trying to keep up with two toddlers. Parks were not happening — at least when I was by myself. I learned such limitations by doing. And I protected our afternoon nap schedule like the soldiers guard the gold at Fort Knox. I went to bed really tired at the end of each day, and often slept during their naps. None of this getting-housework-done-while they-were-asleep nonsense for me! Being a 37-year-old mom made me keenly aware of my limitations, and I wanted to survive their toddlerhood!

Now we come to the real focus of my post. After these not unexpected battles came the ones that caught me unawares.

As we began to discipline our girls I began a journey that slowly revealed to me that not everything in life is black and white. You may be one of the billions of people alive on planet Earth today who knew this before becoming a parent. Congratulations. And I don’t say that with any sarcasm whatsoever. I, you see, am one of perhaps three people who really thought that there was a right and wrong to almost every issue that arose. I used to tell Jeff, when the girls were pretty young, that I was at a loss at times because I couldn’t tell exactly what to say or do in every situation with which my children presented me. How was I supposed to parent like that?! I wanted to be able to look over in the corner and see Jesus giving me a thumbs-up or thumbs-down when deciding how to tackle a problem with my children. But I’ve been learning, gradually, that’s not how he does things.

This subject has been on my mind a lot recently because of the Sunday school class we’ve been attending at church about raising kids. The way the fellow teaching the class explains it, there are three categories into which things fall: things that the Bible explicitly confirms as right, or moral; things it says are wrong, or immoral; and then things the Bible takes no clear sides on and we have to judge for ourselves, this would be the amoral category.

The first two categories should consist of pretty short lists. And the third … well, that’s the one that scares me. But, at the same time, it’s kind of nice to know that there isn’t always just one right answer to every parenting dilemma! We need to make the best decision we can, and move on! It’s a slow process, but I’ve been happy to be learning it.

Likewise, the other lesson that brought me up short is this: There’s not a formula that will assure that our children will grow up “right.” God doesn’t guarantee results like that. We need to pray for our kids and do the best we can and know that their lives are in his hands. It’s really between them and God. And that has been a tough pill for me to swallow. 

When my Mom was 61 years old she died unexpectedly in her sleep. We were all blindsided. After that I would wake up in a panic from time to time, afraid my husband would die, or that I would die, and that we wouldn’t get a chance even to say goodbye. (This was the year before we became parents.) At those times Jeff could only remind me that none of us can control how long we live. He told me it was in God’s hands. But my immediate reply was, “Well, look how that turned out for Mom!” Then it hit me — me “letting go” and trusting God didn’t mean that I was really relinquishing control. I had no control! Nothing I could do or say could change what would happen. No, this was about my relinquishing myself to God and to his sovereignty. Not my control. How it “turned out” for our Mom was exactly how God planned it to be. And I needed to trust him with the rest of the people in my life, because it’s really up to him, anyway. This now includes my two precious daughters. And I’m beginning to realize that, if I was the one to control everything in our lives, we’d all be in trouble! The very beginning, the germ, of that trust has begun to take root for me, and I am able, at times, to trust God and not try to hang onto things over which I have no control.

This trust also makes it easier to let go of my desire to know the “right” answer to every question I’m faced with. I can trust that God has given me a brain and he expects me to use it. I’m not perfect. God knew that a long time ago, and yet he has asked me to raise these two girls of ours anyway! It’s not going to be perfect, but that’s okay. I’ll do the best I can, and trust my Lord to take care of everything else.

Since my girls were tiny I’ve not been looking forward to the time when their baby teeth would be ready to come out. This may be, partly, because I never enjoyed the process much myself. I wouldn’t hear of anyone except my dentist pulling my teeth. And only then because I didn’t have a choice. My teeth were late coming out — in my 3rd grade picture I was missing only one of my top front teeth — and therefore I had to have fourteen of them pulled. Ten of those were baby teeth that just had not left my mouth by the time they wanted to begin the orthodontics process in 5th grade. (Four were adult teeth that were too many to keep without crowding everything.)

So, you see, I had what I considered to be more than my share of yanked teeth. The ones that I had any power over were just going to stay there till I wiggled them out. But that was a long, dull process, and I didn’t enjoy it.

All that to say, I could imagine my firstborn being — frankly — freaked out by the experience. Now, she’s also older than the average age for losing her fist tooth. For most, it seems, it happens sometime in the kindergarten year. Well, here she is half way through her first grade year, and has become somewhat embarrassed that she’s not lost a tooth. So, she was ready.

Well, we were hanging out with friends on Saturday — the kids and the dads were outside while we moms were inside — when Allyson came running into the house exclaiming she had a wiggly tooth! What I expected (a slightly loose tooth) was not what I saw. There was blood surrounding it, so I couldn’t see exactly how loose it was, but it became obvious, pretty quickly that it was hanging by a thread. Honestly, minutes after she made her announcement, she was holding her little tooth in her fingers! The process I had expected to take an agonizing week was over in less than 10 minutes.

The joy of the moment was somewhat dampened when I seemingly washed the tooth down the bathroom sink. Oops. Drat! But then Lenny (the other Dad) came in and took apart the sink to find it in the trap. Well, it turned out I hadn’t washed it down the drain, I had only lost track of it on the counter. He found it, then he tried to rinse it off, as I had, only to really wash it down the sink! So, he pulled the trap apart again and found that darn tooth!

Allyson hadn’t really seemed too disappointed when I told her, initially, I had lost her tooth. I believe the sheer joy of finally having a gaping hole in her smile overshadowed the loss. But when I told her that we had found the tooth she seemed very relieved. By now, I think, she had begun to imagine the joy of putting the tooth under her pillow for the Tooth Fairy to find.

So, when we returned home that night, she penned a note to the Tooth Fairy. Something to the effect that she would like to keep her tooth, and the little box it was in, if that was okay, and she wanted a present. I asked her what she though the Tooth Fairy was going to leave. She said she didn’t know, but a friend had advised that course of action. I told her I suspected she would take the note (I wanted to keep it!) and leave the tooth this time. She seemed fine with that and she went to sleep, with much excitement!

Allyson has been saving up for a stuffed animal and needed another dollar. Well, don’t you know that Tooth Fairy left her one dollar! She excitedly told me the next morning, “She must have known exactly what I needed!” But, I’m not sure I didn’t hear her say, “You must have known exactly what I needed.”  When I asked her if she meant the Tooth Fairy, she said, “Of course!” Hmmm … one wonders.

And so, our eldest has taken another big step toward growing up! She feels very proud of her new mark of maturity. And we’re extremely proud of how well she handled the situation and relieved that there wasn’t wailing and gnashing of … well, teeth. At least not this time. With this child. We’ll keep you posted!

Today I was in Katey’s kindergarten classroom helping some of the kids with journal writing. Sometimes, Katey’s in my group and sometimes, not. I love getting to work with my daughter, but, regardless, I enjoy being there.

I love that they get to write in a journal of their own, even if it is only a sentence or two. I’ve never kept a journal. I lack the discipline to make it a daily habit. But it’s fun to be able to look back on the journals our girls have kept in school.

The idea is to have the kids write one sentence at first, and then two related sentences as the year progresses. They can write about anything they’re thinking about. And then they draw a picture illustrating their sentence.

My job is to translate their “kid writing” into English. Some kindergartners are writing pretty well, and some just jot down some letters and tell me what it says. There’s one little guy who very carefully and deliberately makes his letters, head down, looking for all the world like he’s working on a novel. He takes great care to write the letters firmly and correctly. But they don’t make words. I was surprised by that on my first visit. But by the end of the year he’ll likely be writing words that make sense to someone other than just himself.  Another boy zips his pencil along and is usually one of the first ones done. And I’ve never seen him misspell a word! He uses long words, like “favorite” and “rainbow” and he spells them correctly! I’ve asked him how he knows to spell these words and he just shrugs and looks blankly at me. Impressive, if you ask me.

I’m in the classroom usually once a week or so, and I’ve enjoyed spending the time getting to know the kids. They can be hilarious. I get to hear the kinds of things they talk about — the jokes they think are funny, the TV shows they watch, the pop icons they know about. I get to see how they interact. I’ve heard some things that  have surprised me, coming from 5 and 6 year olds. It gives me insight, too, into some of the subjects Katey talks about; some of the dances she brings home, etc. Her latest is, “I’m sassy and I know it, know it, know it!” which is accompanied by a strange little dance that looks like she’s punching someone very tall. Reportedly, one of the boys in her class taught it to her. (I was relieved to realize that she was actually saying the word sassy, as it sounded a lot like a different word the first time through.) Life in our house does look a lot different now than it did before school entered the picture. 

All this to say kindergarten is a great time! They play, they socialize, they learn. Too soon the cares and responsibilities of first grade will impose themselves on these little people. They’ll be gone all day, they’ll play less and sit more. I think of this year as a magical beginning to their schooling. And I hope that when they look back on this time, they’ll think so, too.