temperamental, are we?

Navigating the murky waters of mothering four young, distinctive souls, I learned ago that no one method of approach works for every child. This is largely because every child is different, as nearly any parent of more than one child would acknowledge. Each child is unique and special, and each one is "wired" a little differently. This is the Lord's doing, as he has a specific plan and purpose for every life he wills into being.

With that in mind, I have been doing some reading (and re-reading) about the four classical temperaments and how to discern the defining characteristics of these temperaments in ourselves and those we know and love. I was first introduced to this idea which has its roots in ancient Greek medicine by a book called The Temperament God Gave You by Art Bennett and his wife Laraine. They've since authored The Temperament God Gave Your Spouse and The Temperament God Gave Your Kids. What I like most about these books is how the Bennetts take an ancient yet (one that many other researchers and theorists still utilize in their own work) and draw upon the writings of more recent sources as well as modern research in their application of Church teaching and the quest for virtue as a part of the Christian's journey toward heaven. 

Temperament is not the same things as personality.  Temperament is one of the factors in one's personality. Each of the four temperaments (choleric, melancholic, sanguine, and phlegmatic) has distinctive markers. Most people are a blend of one or two of the temperaments with one being predominant, but we can have characteristics of all the temperaments or cultivate skills that are inherent in a temperament other than our own.

Through the lens of faith we can think of these temperamental characteristics as the ways in which God crafted each of us in order to fulfill the purpose he has for our lives. We are not locked into the confines of our temperament's parameters; many other factors can influence our behavior. Our temperaments are simply how we feel about and react to people and situations by default. We can choose to behave differently, however, and sometimes we should.  Understanding these various factors is immensely helpful when it comes to tending to the temporal and spiritual needs of those entrusted to our care.

In a family, it's likely there are different temperaments interacting with each other.  God does this intentionally to help each member of the family, each with his or her own God-given identity and temperament, grow in virtue by strengthening both the things that come easily and those that do not. We are called to be patient with each other even as we challenge each other to overcome the weaknesses that are the flip side to our many positive traits, always mindful of the presence of Christ in each of us.

Each of us is a creation unique and precious to the Lord. We are not meant to all be the same, to handle things in the same way or experience life exactly as another person does. When I take the time to know myself better through prayer and discernment, including studying such time-tested ideas as the four temperaments in a faith-informed way, I am better able to be live each day as my true self, the one God created and calls me to be.

helpers

Since having children, I've often wondered how mamas who sewed finished any projects. Until very recently, the last time I sewed anything was when I was expecting the younger lad (more than five years ago). I made a few baby blankets--two girly ones, because I was *sure* he was a girl (I'm so glad I was wrong and that he is who he is) and one just in case the "wee babe" (as I referred to the bambino in utero, though he was the least "wee" of the four, weighing more than nine and a half pounds at birth) was a boy.  That blue waffle-weave blanket with chocolate brown trim got a lot of use. The two floral, ruffle-edged blankets would have to wait -- not really all that long, as it turned out -- for the lasses to come along.  They still use those blankets.

In the past couple of months I've gotten the sewing machine out for some "quick" projects. It's been a lot of fun. I set up my work space near the bambini's play space, which gives me a chance to work on projects little bits at a time (which is, by the way, how I get pretty much anything done) while keeping tabs on the bambini (and receiving trays of play food tea party treats and other pretend play fun).  I've been able to carve out some longer stretches of time to work solo on these projects as well, which is a recent and still novel-to-me phenomenon.

Working at the sewing machine in the midst of the bambini does attract their interest, so I've tried to explain what the various parts of the machine and let them help me as they can. The elder lad helped his grandmother sew baby blankets when the younger lass was on the way (when we referred to her as "Quattro", since we didn't know her gender either). He's manned the foot pedal of my machine (while reading the sewing machine manual and probably imagining he's driving a Mack truck) a few times recently in the construction of some nap mat covers for his younger siblings who nap (do they?) at school. The younger lad is fascinated by the machine, especially the needle-threading mechanism and bobbin winder. He'd love to take the whole thing apart and reassemble it (into a robot, I'm sure). For now, he's happy pushing the "u-turn" button that sends the fabric back under the needle for a little back stitching to secure the stitches.

Of course, little hands in front of where I'm trying to work are not always easy to see around (or safe, for that matter, but I keep close tabs on that). Why do I let them help me? For one thing, it's something constructive to do together (and you know how I feel about that).  For another, it shows them a side of me they don't know very well.  For yet another, I'm hoping one day the elder lad will be able to sew the patches on his Scout uniform himself.  Maybe someday my machine will jam or otherwise break down.  By then the younger lad might be my go-to guy to get it up and running again. 

Yes: plenty of times I'd like to be able to just sew it myself without little hands reaching in to "help."  By taking the time to teach them certain age-appropriate aspects of the job I'm doing, I'm hoping to honor their desire to be helpful as well as a part of what I'm doing so as to help them learn an array of life skills (including patience with and a respect for their mother and her creative inclinations) with which to serve the people around them now and in the days and years to come. 

lessons learned (eventually)

One happy day not so long ago, I slipped out for a coffee date with a friend (*thanks to our beloved husbands for making this happen).  We got to talking about all sorts of stuff, including the consequences that are natural results of our actions (or those of our children).

My beloved and I have made a long-standing practice of allowing natural consequences to help reinforce important life lessons, as well as or along with logical consequences when conditions warrant.  Many such natural consequences are effective because of the responses people around us have to our words and actions.  Mean-spirited speech or play might result in the loss of playmates -- even siblings -- who don't like being treated so poorly.  Screaming demands for drinkable yogurt or assistance in some endeavor pretty much never result in the desired dispatch of whatever was sought via such a disrespectful address.  In fact, prolonged wailings might even result in the removal of the caterwauler from the common family area because of the potential risk of hearing damage (not to mention sanity) of those in attendance.  Rude or messy behavior at the table might risk the loss of future invitations to dine with a friend who prefers neater conditions.  Backtalking or definance usually results in the loss of privileges, which is not so much a natural consequence as it is a logical one.  Violence toward a sibling or parent usually results in the natural consequence of removal from close physical proximity as well as logical consequences, especially when the violence results in injury, which is the most regrettable of natural consequences.

By allowing these consequences,  it's not that we are seeking out situations to put our bambini to shame or to book them on guilt trips or make them feel badly about themselves.  We are not.  But a significant part of loving these bambini is working to form their consciences, that internal voice of Christ speaking to each of us, helping us to navigate life's difficult choices.  So much of the early formation of conscience is teaching right from wrong, obedience to God the Father through obedience to one's parents and authority figures, and  how to treat other people (and along with that what kind of treatment to expect from other people).  One of the most effective ways of doing this is to allow the bambini to experience the effects of their actions and words, then help them to process those effects perhaps by labeling or verbalizing what those effects are.  Oftentimes this logical progression needs no explanation, although it might take a few (or several) episodes for the lesson to sink in.*

*bangs head against the wall...

Social pressure is a mighty force to be reckoned with, but it is not the end-all-be-all of our existence.  By this I mean that what other people think of us does not define us or determine our path in life or ultimately (and most importantly) our eternal destination.  Our individual identities come from our Creator.  With that in mind, he created all of us to live in harmony with each other, and in order to do that we all have to abide by some fundamental principles of behavior.  This forms the basic idea of "manners," wherein we order our actions in consideration of other people, hoping that they will extend the same courtesy to us but realizing that we can only control ourselves.*

*this also applies to mamas mortified by bambini behavior in public and private venues
in direct violation of long-standing house rules; see above head-banging reference... 

Who among us has had to learn lessons "the hard way", experiencing disappointment or embarrassment for ourselves after refusing to heed instructions from appropriate authority figures?  Personally, I try to learn from the mistakes of others so as not to endure the resulting misery, but there have been plenty of lessons I've learned through the heartache or embarrassment that have resulted from not minding instructions. As difficult as it can be to stick to one's proverbial guns and enforce the consequences of a poor choice made by one of our bambini (not piling on unnecessarily, but not mitigating to the degree that the poor behavior is seen as excused), we would be doing them no favors by not holding them accountable and expecting them to face the music, make restitution, and move on.*

*edging dangerously close to preachy now, which is not at all my intention...

It's a long, arduous process, this business of cultivating virtue by working against the vices that seem to come so much more easily because of our fallen nature.  Thankfully, God supplies sufficient grace to overcome these vices -- even the one that leads one overtired mama to resort to drill-sergeant-like repeated instructions such as "Legos!" "Shoes!" "Napkin!"  "Gentle!" (not necessarily in that order or at the same time) when the selective listening switch has been flipped.    Over the course of a childhood (or four), we realize that the process is not only refining the bambini in this household; it's also having an effect on their parents who have not yet attained sainthood, but who are striving for it every day.

fighting words

Maybe the triple digit heat with temperatures upwards of 110 degrees have something to do with it, or maybe it's a consequence of us slacking off on our agenda, but I've noticed an unwelcome increase in the amount whining, fussing, and caterwauling heard in these parts -- yes, even from me.  What's going on?   The answer is probably multi-fold, but on my part I'm sure my sleep deficit isn't helping.  I thought this braid of homegrown garlic curing in our kitchen might help ward off the crankies (just kidding), but alas it has not.

I am not one to criticize, blame, nag, cajole, or be passive aggressive.  When I am extraordinarily tired, however, I am far less able to take the "normal" drama and shennanigans in stride.  Instead of employing humor, goofiness, or alternatives to yelling like singing or whispering, I am far more inclined to be snarky, snippy, snide, or sarcarstic in my terse responses.  I am never proud of those pronouncements.  They are anything but constructive. I don't like to be spoken to in any of those ways, and I always feel terrible when I allow such vitriol to escape my lips. 

It is one of my highest priorities for our bambini to learn to authentically, respectfully, and honestly express whatever emotion or need they're trying to verbalize.   However will they learn to do that?  By replicating the way the adults in their lives handle themselves in times of stress and moments of need.  (That would be me, among others)

When one of our children spouts off some poorly-phrased demand request or hurtful insult, I try to respond matter-of-factly with an opportunity to restate him- or herself and a script to use in doing so.  When the insults are flying among siblings or disrespectful demands are hurtled my way, adding my own yelling voice to the equation gets us nowhere good (even if I'm trying to communicate that some things are better left unsaid).

Feelings of frustration, disappointment, hurt, and confusion are all part of the human experience.  It's important to sort them out and move on without name-calling, empty threats, or brute force, just as it's important to take ownership of the emotions we feel and take control of how we allow the treatment of others to affect us.  Similarly, we all have basic (and not-so-basic) needs for all kinds of things both tangible and intangible.  Not every need is of equal necessity, nor can every one be met *right now.*  And we can't always have everything we want -- not in this life.

We owe it to our bambini, their future spouses, ourselves, and society at large to express our own emotions, needs, and desires clearly, respectfully, and as lovingly as possible -- even when we are tired, frustrated, hungry, overheated, or otherwise vexed -- so that when our little loves go to express themselves, they will have some positive point of reference to model.  They won't always get it right, but with practice comes a greater chance of success.

On my part I have to get better about going to bed earlier so that I have easier access to the tools at my disposal.  When it comes to conflict resolution, I'm still working on developing the virtue of fortitude to speak up in a manner that honors the needs of all involved.  The best outcome of such a faithful response to conflict or insult instructs those who are watching closely to be ever mindful of the presence of Christ in every person and to be respectful of the inherent dignity in each of God's precious children, young or old, sassy or circumspect, willing or unwilling, peaceful or troubled, happy or sad, whatever and whenever.  It's how I wish to be treated, and it's how I endeavor to teach our bambini to treat others, to "do as I would be done by", and to tread lightly on the delicate ground that is the heart of the other.

do-over

We took the Bambini Ride to the car wash not too long ago, an outing the bambini usually heartily enjoy.  Even without my glasses or contacts on I could tell that the wash we'd been through was not satisfactory, with soap left on the vehicle as well as dirt.  At first I thought I'd go rinse it myself at the quarter car wash, but that didn't seem right. So I called the car wash manager, explained the situation, and asked for a pass through to rinse off the vestiges of soap and dirt.  He said to bring it back, so we did.  He gave us a higher dollar car wash on his nickel than the one we'd purchased, and the Ride looks great (snack remnants on the inside notwithstanding; vacuuming wasn't part of the deal to begin with).

My dad has been known to describe himself as essentially lazy, preferring to do a good job the first time with the requisite preparation and seemingly extraneous attention to detail that makes for the best end result than having to go back and do the job over again.  He says he learned this the hard way, having to wash his grandmother's windows more than once when his first effort didn't pass her muster. I've had to redo some lackluster jobs of my own, and I always think of him saying that bit about him being lazy, which is the last word I would ever use to describe him.

Speaking up for myself to ask someone else to redo a job they did for me that wasn't good enough does not come easily for me, like so many other conversations with conflict potential.  I did it anyway.  It's part of the growing up I'm doing as a mother.

We all make mistakes.  We all might even cut corners from time to time for whatever reason.  Don't we all hope for the opportunity to do it over when we know we need to?  That's a tactic we've employed with our very young bambini -- the chance for "do overs" when they've mishandled a situation.  Second chances aren't just for toddlers learning how and when to use their "inside voice".  Adults need second chances sometimes, too.

The car wash conundrum may have been a first world problem (and an insignificant one at that), but it afforded a teachable moment for our bambini (and for me) about the inherent dignity in and importance of doing a good job at whatever task is at hand, to take pride in the work we do for the glory of God, and to hold ourselves and each other accountable for doing that kind of good work, accepting responsibility for when we don't quite make the grade.

That's what I tried to tell the bambini on our second pass through the car wash, but I think the colored foam, octopus-like brushes, and blow dryer might have drowned me out.  That's alright.  Perhaps the actions of speaking up, going back, and seeing the final fantastic result spoke for themselves.

help yourself

Somewhere in the mix of not being a cruise director yet still being present to the littles, there is this idea of cultivating in each of them the art of doing things for oneself.  This takes patient instruction and coaching.*

*she says as one lass flails on the floor upset about having to share a couple of toys while the other tugs on Mama's pant leg demanding to be held while the lads are chasing each other through the kitchen with blunt objects rather than completing some age-appropriate task such as making one's bed or clearing one's cup and plate after lunch, and the collective emotional temperature gets higher and higher...

I have to write about such pie-in-the-sky ideals to keep sight of the long view I try to take, especially when it seems everyone is all out of sorts, with siblings going feral on each other and Mama close to wit's end to try to restore some sense of peace and positive vibe (or endure, at the very least). This does happen, believe it or not, more often than I would like. We all have our moments.

From the beginning, the idea of mothering has a daunting, breath-stealing, overwhelming idea for me to imagine myself being successful executing. Taking a proactive approach to everything from the day's routine to the tending of infants and young children has been my way of trying to do what sometimes seems impossible.

In terms of logistics and efficiency, sometimes it is simply easier to do things for the bambini that they (at least some) can now do themselves because not so long ago we had multiple very young children in need of diapering, feeding, clothing, and just about everything else. Engaging everyone in activities fell right in with these other needs. Given the temperaments of our children and the resulting dynamics, this proactive approach has been necessary.

Now as the bambini are getting a little older, they are finding more opportunities for self-directed exploration and entertainment as well as lending more practical help with household duties like emptying the dishwasher and putting laundry away. They are still very young, but there's a lot they can contribute to the family's functioning well being.  They can also do a lot more for themselves, though they don't always want to, and they play together a lot of the time, though they don't always get along very well.  They still need close supervision, but they don't always need me right next to them, though they don't always agree with me on that point.

Along the way I may have inadvertently deferred their growth in self-sufficiency out of a sincere desire to do something constructive mixed with a little bit of fear of the resulting chaos that comes from a lack of direction/sleep/attention/growing food/whatever. I was doing the best I knew to do at the time, and the experience I have gleaned from that informs the way I manage things nowadays, which may or may not be the same as how I did them in those freaky early days of motherhood.  As we all grow up a little more each day as a family we're each figuring out how to take care of ourselves.  It's all part of the journey, isn't it?  

the happy medium

It's not like I'm trying to be like an activities director on a cruise ship by having a daily agenda with planned activities (and snacks) throughout the day, although there are some definite similarities between managing a brood of young children and captaining a large ship.  I'll steer clear of corny puns (oh, sorry) and leave it at the skipper reference -- although any kind of group maneuver does take a long time to execute.

I'm hoping to find that elusive happy medium between being someone the bambini expect to entertain them and an all-but-absent adult presence in an otherwise kid-ruled space.  My goal is to provide an environment rich with possibilities for the bambini to learn, think, imagine, and create with loving guidance and sincere encouragement -- an environment in which virtues are cultivated by the consideration we show for each other and the obvious primacy of place our faith has in our lives.

It's a proactive approach that does take a lot of work on the front end, but I'm hopeful that we are laying the foundation for a lifetime of exploration, study, and prayer that each of our bambini will feel confident in undertaking as they seek out God's will for each of their lives.

high five

 

This. Is. Sammy. 

Sammy. Is. A. Robot.

The. Younger. Lad. Built. Him. With. The. Lad's. Father. Brother. And. Papere. 

(that's robot language -- can you tell?)

We celebrate five years of life with the delightful younger lad, born this day (finally -- after *many* hours of active waiting).  The lad has always been a fun-loving, free-wheeling, highly-imaginative kind of kid.  He's  growing ever more into a considerate, compassionate, and loving boy.  He's a busy guy, with lots to act out from the stories he cooks up in his head, and he has big dreams for what is to come.

May the Lord bless you this day, dear lad, and every day, with an unfailing awareness of both His and our love for you.  We are so glad and grateful you are a part of our family.  You bring such richness, adventure, and warmth to every day.  God has big plans for your life, lad, and we're here to help you discern what those are.

We love you, young squire!

animal house

Monday morning, the PJ-clad elder lad (in observance of PJ Day at school) declared, "I really mean this, Mom.  I want a dog." 

As in, "I know I've made this crystal clear on many occasions before.  Why has nothing been done about this?"

As if we need a dog.

So we get our dog fix via books, of course. 

 In his Meet the Dogs of Bedlam Farm, we meet Jon Katz's four funny dogs who live and work with him on his farm.  Each dog has his or her own job to do, from herding animals and guarding the farm to visiting the sick to one whose job isn't readily obvious until the end (spoiler alert: this dog sees to it that the other dogs do not want for company). 

The penguin exhibit is one of our favorite spots at the zoo (but you won't find me at the zoo on spring break *ever* again, just sayin'), so Jean Marzollo's Pierre the Penguin was an instant hit here.  It's the true story of a penguin living at the California Academy of Sciences (a favorite place of my mother's, just sayin') in the San Francisco Bay area who had the unfortunate fate of inexplicably losing his feathers -- and his penguin friends in the process.  His handler tries a few different things to help him, and finally finds the solution in a penguin-sized wet suit she designs and makes herself.  Laura Regan's illustrations bring Pierre, his handler Pam, and the other penguins to life most endearingly.  What would you do if you saw a penguin in a wet suit?

When I was a single gal I had a huge orangy Persian cat named (sir) Baldwin, who had shown up on my parents' driveway bald and starving.  They nursed him back to health such that soon he was neither bald (quite the opposite, actually, being a Persian in all his fluffy glory) nor starving -- though he did suffer from allergies -- eventually resembling in both appearance and demeanor the aloof cartoon feline Garfield.  Friends thought he was named Baldwin because of the piano reference, but no, the veterinarian with whom my parents collaborated to bring the poor thing back from the brink came up with the name (because the cat was bald!). 

The title character in Tumford the Terrible by Nancy Tillman reminds me of Baldwin in many ways, except Tumford is black and white.  Tumford tends to make messes and otherwise goof up, but he cannot bring himself to apologize for his mistakes.  He would rather hide.  Once he finally makes amends for a most embarrassing gaffe, he finds that his people still love him and that life goes on.  As difficult as it can be for any of us to admit wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness, this sweet story helps reinforce the need for doing so and the positive consequences that result from having accepted responsibility for one's actions and showing contrition. 

In a similar vein, David Mellina's Don't Worry, Douglas! focuses on the importance of truthfulness -- even when it's difficult to get the words out. Young Douglas receives a knitted hat from his father, who tells Douglas to take good care of it.  In a moment of exuberance, Douglas snags his hat on a tree branch, and the hat begins to unravel.  Once it becomes clear that Douglas won't be able to fix the hat, he begins to worry about how his father will react to what has become of the hat in light of the admonition the father had given.   In the end, Douglas's father shows him compassion and mercy.

As we work to cultivate virtue within ourselves and our bambini, these last two books help convey the important messages of honesty, accountability, contrition, forgiveness, mercy, and hope.  It isn't always easy to do the right thing.  That doesn't mean it isn't worth doing.

So in spite the elder lad's deep dissatisfaction, we may not have any furry friends (who breathe on their own, that is), happily we can read about the funny antics animals display and draw from them some very important life lessons.

pray. hope. don't worry.

It's election day here.  Comparatively, today's trip to the polling place with the two lassies wasn't quite as eventful as this one.

In the face of what would seem like perfect hand-wringing conditions considering the state of affairs in this election year, I hope to apply what I've adopted (or rather, am *trying* to adopt day by day) as my approach to life in a nutshell:

1. Pray.  When I'm anxious about something, I mean to pray about it -- even if in the form of "Lord, I know you can see how anxious I am about this.  Please help me be receptive to the grace I know you supply for me to let go of this anxiety to make room for the peace with which I know you wish to bless me, and kindly guide my thoughts elsewhere."  Repeat as necessary.
2. Hope.  We are a people of hope.  All is not lost.  We have to hold on to this hope, not in a naive sort of way, but as a matter of faith. We are mistake-making humans living in a fallen world rife with suffering and selfishness, but each new moment is a chance to start fresh.  
3. Don't Worry.  Worry accomplishes nothing.  Worry is not the same as fear or genuine concern for a person or situation.  I might be splitting hairs here, but I'm nothing if not a stickler for semantics.  This is the reasoning behind my saying to my children -- for example and hypothetically speaking of course (ahem), "I am concerned that you or someone else could get hurt swinging from the rafters" rather than "you're worrying me!!" (and besides, the latter phrase gives any-kind-of-attention-seekers who would pull such stunts more power than they should have -- just sayin')

Now, I realize this might seem overly-simplistic.   Maybe it is.  Maybe that's as it should be -- or all it needs to be, because really who am *I* to think that I can have any kind of influence over the outcome of a given problem or situation?  I'm not the one who works things out.  That's the Lord's doing.  He works through me (when I cooperate) and others as they allow him to.  He sees to matters monumental and miniscule.  Everything happens for a reason, and we are each in our particular stations in life because he wills us to be.

The world/our country/our metropolitan area might be in a sorry state of affairs, but we are not doomed.

When we are faced with such circumstances, if we pray for wisdom, fortitude, and grace, then listen for the answer, we will know how to act. 

When we act as we ought by discerning God's will through prayer, we have reason to hope for the best.

When we have faith in the Lord to reconcile all things to himself and make all things new, we can dispense with worry.

Onward...

water under the bridge

With six months elapsed since my last post, I hardly know where to pick up the story.  Most of the fall semester went unchronicled, and here we are nearly halfway through the spring semester of the elder lad's first grade year and younger lad's preschool year.

While this grieves me, I own that I've never been very good at maintaining a journal of any sort for the long haul.  This latest silence can be attributed to several factors, among them a lamentable lack of whatever motivation and ability I had to see the process from thought to written post to completion.  Part of this was owing to external factors (such as an overwhelming amount of the stuff of lowbrow humor to contend with as well as having nary a few moments in which I had both the use of both my hands *and* cognitive function to devote to navel gazing), but a lot of it had to do with me auguring into a git 'er done mode, staying on top of domestic affairs more consistently and not allowing myself to dilly dally at the glowing screen as much.

Highlights of the past six months include

• the elder lad's involvement in Cub Scouts as a Tiger Cub.  He seems to really revel in the challenge of it, and we recognize the potential for his growing in virtue by participating in Scouts.  For inspiration and encouragement he can look to several Scouts in the family.  I'm still trying to figure out the quickest and best way to get those patches and badges on his uniform...
• the transformation of the younger lad to a school boy, one who charges around the school playground playing superhero, rocks his snow boots (aka "moon boots") like nobody's business, and shows an ever-growing capacity for tenderness toward his sisters -- sometimes... 
• celebrating birthday number three for the elder lass (which still sounds weird to me, but neither of these girlies is "wee" anymore, so some other distinction is necessary), who still loves to read and now is showing quite an interest in ballet.  She's about the age her mother was when said mama began taking ballet lessons... 
• an entertaining and enchanting display of the younger lass's (now 19 months old) charm, wit, sweetness -- and chutzpah, as she has no qualms about letting us know exactly what she thinks and how she feels...

Along with these highlights and several poignant opportunities for keeping things in perspective has come a greater awareness of the beauty that lies in accepting and fulfilling some aspects of this vocation of wife and mother that aren't anything anyone would call glamorous (see aforementioned reference to that which the Honeywagon ferries away) -- if I choose to look at it that way -- and more gratitude than ever for all the many blessings with which we've been showered.

I wouldn't call the past six months the most prayerful of my existence, although I hope to offer the work that has gone on during this time -- and continues -- as such. 

As for all the soundbytes and family birthdays and books we've read together, at this moment they seem to be water under the bridge.  Perhaps I'll be able to reclaim some of them.  I still struggle mightily with "brain fog", so we'll see what cuts through the haze.

For everything there is a season.  This one in our family life continues to be very full of minute-to-minute changes in climate and conditions, and that takes a lot of stamina -- not to mention prayers.  Please continue to keep us in yours. 

school spirit

School starts next week for the lads.  The elder lad is going into first grade.  He is looking forward to having a "buddy" at school in the form of his brother, who is enrolled in preschool three days a week.

To get us in the school spirit, we've been reading some school-themed picture books...

Is Your Buffalo Ready for Kindergarten?  by Audrey Vernick is one of my favorites.  Its appeal lies in its wacky premise of a buffalo (of all creatures, brought to life by illustrator Daniel Jennewein) going to kindergarten and learning to interact with other kids, follow classroom procedures, and "get along without using your horns" (ahem). 

The elder lad often admits to wondering what we're doing while he's at school.  He's obviously not the only one.  Toby Forward's What Did You Do Today? follows a mother and child through their respective first days at work and school, beginning at home with them packing their lunches and getting ready.  Throughout the day each is thinking of the other while enjoying their respective environments.  When they are reunited, they are both eager to know the title question. Carol Thompson's illustrations carry the story with poignant secondary illustrations such as pictures the mother and child have of each other in their respective cubbies. 

One Smart Cookie: Bite-Size Lessons for the School Year and Beyond is the latest in the series of cookie-themed vocabulary books by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, charmingly illustrated by Jane Dyer and her daughter Brooke.  Ideals like empathy, punctuality, initiative, diligence, and honesty are conveyed with the sweetness only cookies can deliver.  I've mentioned these cookie books before, but have I mentioned how addictive these whole-wheat oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are?   

Audrey Penn's The Kissing Hand is a classic in the canon of books designed to prepare kids for the experience of going to school.  Chester Raccoon is nervous about being away from his mother, expecting he will miss her.  His mother acknowledges this and has a tangible solution for those times when Chester needs some reassurance that their reunion is coming soon.  We have adapted this for our own farewells.  I daresay it really works.

Along the same lines, Llama Llama Misses Mama by Australian author/illustrator Anna Dewdney is one of several books featuring lovable Llama Llama and his loving mama.  Llama Llama is starting nursery school, and though it looks like fun, he wonders if Mama will really be back to pick him up like she has promised.  When the younger lad went to vacation bible school earlier this summer at the school that will soon be his (not just his brother's), he had fun but missed me.  I hope that experience will serve as comfort if and when the lad misses me at preschool, since he'll know I'll be back before he knows it.

In our school-readying efforts, we're also queuing up our schoolhouse rock playlist.  Still, it'll take all of us some getting used to this sight:  

All signs point to a great experience on the horizon.  Here's hoping for that and praying for the grace to allow ourselves the best possible outcome.

team players

By God's grace I managed to evade ever having to participate in team-building exercises via a ropes course in the course of my working career or church camp days.  It's not that I'm not a team player.  It's just that I've been on enough "teams" where I was among those pulling more than our share of the weight so that now every time I hear phrases like "team-building" and "teamwork", it's all I can to suppress the darn near involuntary rolling of my eyeballs.

As overused as these closely-related terms are, they are very useful in family life.  After all, and as I often tell our bambini, God has built our family for a reason -- or several.  We probably won't fully understand those reasons this side of heaven.  Nonetheless, each of us has unique God-given abilities to help the others in the family become the people Christ calls them to be, and we are to use those gifts always with that service to others in mind. 

This focus on teamwork is a revelation to me of late as a means of counteracting selfish tendencies -- we all have them -- and a tool in both developing empathy and cultivating virtues like courtesy, respect, generosity, gentleness, and humility.  The virtues serve as the framework for my "phrasology" (to quote Mayor Shinn from The Music Man, which was our movie night feature last weekend) to expand upon the token "teamwork" buzzword I loathe but use anyway in certain circumstances.

So it is with reluctance that I continue to utter the "T" word, knowing that it's a good, quick reminder that each of us has an obligation to the others to help us all get to heaven.

the long view

In the midst of extreme close-ups and rapid fire attention-seeking maneuvers from multiple children, I try to detach myself in a way so as to take a long view.

Where is this all going?  What am I supposed to be learning from these people at this moment?  How is that going to affect what happens tomorrow?  Or next year?  Or ten years from now?   Or how our bambini ultimately come to treat themselves and those around them?

Finding that sweet spot of grace that is staying in the moment yet keeping it all in perspective is one of those holy grails of parenting -- of life, really, isn't it? 

Years from now there will be memories of family life both exhilarating and heart-wrenching that will stick out in my mind, as I'm sure there will be in each of our bambini's memories.  I pray the overall picture will be suffused with peace and the sure knowledge that Christ has been with us at every moment.

the enforcer

Six-year-olds, I'm learning, are keenly aware of rules.  They may not always follow them.  They may attempt to tweak or place certain conditions on the rules.  But should some sibling deign to break a house rule, woe to that one.

The Enforcer will see to it that the perpetrator realizes the risk involved in choosing not to fulfill a certain obligation in order to merit a certain incentive.  He will likewise be swift to point out the longstanding logical consequences that follow some injustice one sibling does to another.  Never mind that it may not actually be his place to do so.

To be fair, The Enforcer is also taking on more responsibility for his siblings of his own volition and showing more concern for them as well.  He especially likes helping care for the younger lass.  Sometimes she'd rather him not cart her around (she'd rather walk), but there have been many times he's been a big help to me in caring for her while I am engaged with one of the other bambini.  He's got big plans for her first birthday coming up.   He's also been very encouraging of the two-year-old lass as she has recently attained a certain "big girl" status.

So yes: justice must prevail, but always with mercy and empathy.  For some of us, the latter aspects come more naturally.  For others, it's the former.  Together we'll work to find the balance.

truth be told

I don't relish the idea of being the mom yelling over the din of the air compressor into the bounce house such things as "no tackling!" and "let him go!" -- even if such maneuvers are "part of the game".

But I'll do it if I have to, because I love my children and am concerned for their safety as well that of the other kids bouncing around in there.

Likewise I don't relish the idea of some day being the mom who tells her daughter that a potential prom dress she's eyeing might not necessarily send the message that she's a daughter of God and should be treated as such.

But (God willing) I will find a way to convey the message in terms she understands and accepts that both her virtue and that of the young man that might take her to the prom (laying aside that scary thought for a moment) must be protected as the gifts from God they are, and that the choices we make in both apparel and behavior have impacts on the successful delivery of that message -- and help her find a dress that she fancies *and* that fancies her back, virtue and all.

I really hate to tell people things they don't want to hear. 

But I pray for the grace to speak and act the truth in love -- always seeking God's aid in my word choices and delivery manner so that his message of love is what comes across, and nothing less.  It might not be the message someone wants to hear, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be said (with love, tact, compassion, and consideration -- some might call it diplomacy, of course).

As the mom, being this messenger comes with the territory.  As one who shrinks from conflict, this is a tough place for me to inhabit.  Maybe it's a part of God's plan for my salvation, though, in forming this family for me.  Conflict can't and shouldn't always be avoided.  It doesn't have to be loud or combative, but the truth -- and there is such a thing -- must be told.

This requires the virtue of fortitude, which is something I pray for every day (along with wisdom to know the truth), so that the words I choose and the actions I take are guided by love and thus reflections of the love God has for each of us.

Lord, help me know when to speak up and when to keep silent.  When it's time to speak up, please give me both the words to say and the courage to say them. 

good guy

Good St. Joseph*, protector of Mary and Jesus,
pray for my beloved this day,
  and for our fathers, grandfathers, uncles, brothers, cousins, friends,
  and those who have no earthly models of virtuous men.

May your example serve as an inspiration and aid in the loving, humble service
  they render to us, their loved ones,
and may your prayers and ours on their behalf
  be instruments of God's grace working in each of them.

Amen.

*For an explanation of the significance of St. Joseph Day to our family, check out last year's post.

bedtime story

the elder lad reading stories by headlamp to his sister at bedtime...
(alternative caption: buying a few extra minutes after Lights Out.  Sold.)

loving action cross

Acts of charity and sacrifice made by the bambini this Lenten season are being commended with stickers (as well as expressions of gratitude) on this Loving Action Cross (an idea borrowed from the preschool at the elder lad's parochial school).  May it be a visual sign of their ever-deepening concern for others, and a way of reinforcing for them that God loves us (which the elder lad spontaneously noted when he drew the cross for this project).

Amen.

C.W. Anderson's Billy & Blaze books

On our afternoon drive to collect the Kindergartner from school (the one who came charging around the corner today, backpack bouncing from side to side on his back, huge grin on his face, Bon Jovi-esque hair flapping every which way in the wind), we drive past a home on a large lot with "miniature horses" for sale.  Said "miniature horses" (not ponies, though I still don't know the difference) are often grazing in the large yard in front of the manor house, and we always look for them.

(Well, the lass usually looks for them, if she's awake; the younger lad is often on his way to zonking out for a power nap by that point.)

Whenever the lads are playing with cars and trucks, very often at least one of them has a horse trailer hitched up to a truck or similar vehicle.  Neither of them has ever ridden a horse, but the lads find the creatures especially fascinating -- at least as seen from the safety of their car seats.

By happy accident, my eyes landed on some books by C.W. Anderson on the top shelf of the children's section at our branch library that have since become some of the lads' favorites.   Their hero is a young squire named Billy, a country boy who loves horses more than anything else.  He receives a horse for his birthday that he names Blaze.  In various adventures, the inseparable pair inspire a neighbor boy and his pony, save a number of homes from destruction by forest fire, vanquish a mountain lion, befriend a wild stallion, and make new friends and discoveries exploring both the wooded area around their home and places the family visits (horse trailer hitched up to the family vehicle, of course).   Anderson's pencil-drawn illustrations bring the stories to life while allowing plenty of room for  imagination.

Along with other vintage favorites of ours such as those by Esther Averill and those by Edward Ardizzone, they have the kind of timeless appeal that keeps them relevant, entertaining, and inspirational in an age of glowing screens and urban sprawl.

In fact, sometimes these books are about the only enticement we can offer those mud-lovin' lads to come in from the slop for some quiet time.  That's probably as it should be...