He had to be moved at lunch for comments about his hotdog...

(Que sirens here) This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill! I thought all those years growing up with a brother would prepare me for this moment and NOTHING. Zilch, nada. I got nothing. I stared at the ominous note from the teacher (teachers, if you're reading this, I adore you. Keep doing what you're doing). Usually I am able to write something back to them. "We are addressing the problem, we are working on it", etc. All I could do was put a check mark and my initials to acknowledge I had seen it. Here it is in all of its glory. 

To hear his side of the story, hotdog was not a metaphor. They had hotdogs for lunch and he was, gasp, waving it around and saying "things". That's the only story I got. Quite frankly, that's the only story I want. Raising boys is not for the faint of heart. They're gross. They think body functions are hysterical (neither of these first two statements decline much with age). But they love as hard as they possibly can. Here's the culprit, I mean, precious angel. 

Both of these were faces he was making during family photos.

Now, on to the good things. This is just a phase (hopefully). He didn't learn this at home (we certainly don't behave this way). He's a brilliant child with chestnut brown eyes and I know he's going places. He's testing me to every limit and boundary I have, but that's okay. Mauri has made me break out my "Wise Words for Moms" by Ginger Plowman, more than once. Ginger missed the section on when he decides to "comment about his hotdog". In our home, we do discipline, love, sorry, fun, Bible reading and prayer. Lots of the last two. 

So for now, this Mommy is praying with her little foul-mouthed babe from :

Psalm 19:14 ESV Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Parents tell their children to "be good because (insert fictitious person here; ie, Santa, Easter Bunny, etc) is watching" but I want my children to strive to "be good" because that's how Jesus was and we are called to be imitators of Christ.

God is a God of second chances.

Wait a minute. I wasn't ready. I call a do-over. A mulligan. I want another try. I feel like this almost on a daily basis. In one form or another I fail. I kept the kids safe, but we didn't eat as healthy as I would like. We made it to church but there were huge meltdowns and we spent the whole time fussing. We didn't make it to church at all.

Take a minute. Breathe. While I'm busy losing it, God is already busy forgiving me and giving me a second chance. And I'm so grateful. There is no measure of sin. A sin is a sin. But our God is a God of second chances. (Who would have thought an early morning Jonah Veggie Tales movie would've led me to write this)

Luke 7:49 ESV ..."Who is this, who even forgives sins?"

Thank you God for reminding me that you provide second chances to everyone. No matter the magnitude of sin, no matter how unworthy we feel, you are the forgiven of sins. If I only cry out to you and ask, you make me new each day.

Photo credits (http://harvestgainesville.org/series/hes-a-second-chance-god/)

I want my Mommy!!

I want my Mommy! No, really. Me. I want *MY* Mommy!

Almost three weeks out post-op and the past three days, I have started running a fever. Not an infection fever. A "you've done way too much and you need to sit your behind down" fever. Fast forward to today when it hit the fan. I was feeling terrible, the big kids wanted to go outside and play, daddy was at work and John Blake needed a nap.

I get everyone fed lunch and laid down and John Blake decides it's time to fight me. He hits me and kicks me, right in my incision. I saw stars. Then came the tears. My tears. All I needed was for him to lay down and go to sleep. Just this one day. Any other day, he would've done it, but the day I felt the worst, he complied the least. I begged him. I bribed him. He hit me. I spanked him. (That made no parenting sense whatsoever. I'm spanking you because you hit me. But I wasn't in my right mind). There was only one thing left to do. Cry for my Mama. I admit it whole heartedly. I'm 32 years old and I wanted nothing more than my mom to be right here with me. I called her in tears. The conversation went something like this: "(sob) I'm feeling worse instead of better, (sniffle) I shouldn't have tried to do it by myself this week, (sob) I still need help". My mom calmly listened. She acknowledged that my surgery was a major one and that I did need additional help and she offered a solution just like I knew she would. I can always count on her.

It's not always been this way. My mom and I butted heads for a number of years. That was completely my fault. I blame it on hormones and stubbornness. But as I've grown up, gotten married and especially since becoming a mother myself, I've grown to appreciate my mother. Immensely. Thank you Mama for all of your help since my surgery.

Psalm 119:147 ESV I rise before dawn and cry for help; I hope in your words.

Thank you God for showing me that I cannot receive help if I do not ask for it. Thank you for my Mama!

Huh? I didn't hear you.

Hey kids, come pick up your toys before daddy gets home. Hey Saharra, come do your homework and pack your lunch. Hey Mauri, what are you doing? Hey....anybody listening? Guys. "Huh? I didn't hear you". I feel like I'm constantly repeating myself. I'm a scratched CD that keeps skipping. No one hears me. No one is listening.

It could be the dandelion stuck in his ear. Or it could be that they're busy. They're off playing, doing their own thing. Too busy for whatever mom may want. And then I think, that's how God must feel about me. Beth, hey Beth. Are you listening? I don't have a dandelion stuck in my ear, but I am busy. I don't quiet myself long enough to listen for His voice, most days. I don't divulge in His Word because I'm too busy, most days. We are His children. He has the desire to shape us and mold us and guide us. The way we have the desire to do the same for our own children. But we have to listen. We have to be open to His suggestions and His warnings and His love. We've got to start requiring the same of ourselves that we do of our children, TO LISTEN.

Proverbs 19:20 ESV Listen to advice and accept instruction , that you may gain wisdom in the future.

Thank you God for showing me that I need to be still and quiet and listen. You are there to show me the way if I would only accept the instruction.