Fall Photos - Happy Sunday

After a super long day of church and meetings, I don't have it in me to come up with another Naples post--and unfortunately I didn't discipline myself to work ahead at the end of last week. But I don't want to lose my NaBloPoMo momentum, so here are some recent photos to make you smile :)

 

Gratitude tomorrow and then we'll get back to Italy on Tuesday! 

November Cuteness

Steve: "Ready for bed?"
Amy: "Hang on, I gotta throw a couple of pictures up on my blog and call it a night."
Steve: [chuckling] "You get credit for that?"
Amy: "Oh, it totally counts. Halfway through the month and I haven't even done it once yet."

 

Little Man Turns Three

Every once in a while I still find myself counting words. "Can you put my window down so the fwy can go out?" Twelve. "An' den it will be CWISMAS! An' I'm gonna JUMP outta my chair 'cause I'm EXCITED!" Sixteen.

 

You see, throughout the process of evaluating Elijah's language delays and getting therapy, I frequently had to fill out surveys that assessed his "mean length of utterance"--How long are his sentences, on average? What is the longest sentence he spontaneously says? List three examples.

I'd listen carefully for a couple of days and scribble down the most impressive ones I could come up with, encouraged as the number grew with each successive evaluation. Meanwhile, friends of mine would recount the conversations they were having with their two-year-olds, and part of me didn't actually believe them. Your child is Elijah's age (or younger!), and she says all that? 

 

I never knew it was possible to have an actual conversation with a two-year-old--until a certain adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed little boy came into my world. Week after week over the last year I have marveled at the difference it makes to have a verbal child.

I don't want to spend my life comparing my boys to each other. I know they will each have their own strengths, each be their own selves. And as I've shared before, Elijah has more than overcome his early struggles (sometimes at the dinner table, when we're struggling to get a word in edgewise, Steve will glance at me with a look that says, "Remember when you wanted him to talk?"). Still, unless you have dealt with a language delay, you can't fathom how incredible it is to talk extensively with a toddler, to feel like you can interact and *know* him.

Jude is articulate, interesting, funny, mischievous, exuberant. He turned three last week almost two months ago, so I'm overdue for a photo-heavy blog post reflecting on my littlest man.

 

He is a delightful (or at times patience-testing) mix of "I can do it! I don't need help!" and "I want you to cawwy me. I can't! Mama help pwease?" The word "can't," by the way, has two syllables. Jude has picked up more of a Southern drawl than his big brother so far.

Jude is definitely still obsessed with school buses and the garbage truck--well, trucks of all kinds, actually. He also loves to help Mama bake...

...or help Daddy fix things...

 

Really, he just loves to be considered a helper in general. He is joyful and energetic, sensitive and imaginative and always, always thinking. And talking. Did I mention this kid would talk to a brick wall?


Jude is my social butterfly--the one who's eager to have friends over or go to their houses, who barely says goodbye to me when I drop him off at "Jude's preschool" (a Mom's Day Out program at a local church) once a week. He loves other kids, but in the end, when I asked him a while back, the answer was, "Lijah is my best fwend."

His other best friend is a certain Big Red Dog.

  

Our stuffed Clifford was actually a gift from my parents to Elijah, years ago, but somewhere along the way Jude co-opted the dog and now Clifford rarely leaves Jude's side. He has his own chair at the dining room table; he sleeps in Jude's arms every night. We get away with not taking Clifford everywhere we go by explaining that he needs to stay home and be our watchdog.

Jude has already mastered the art of the Sunday school answer; it's not uncommon to hear him shout proudly, "Jesus died on the cwoss to forgive our sin!" (We won't talk about the time he listened carefully to a Bible story and then shouted, "Jesus is a bad guy!") But however superficial his current understanding, a few weeks ago he blew me away with his quiet spiritual insight. I was looking everywhere for my keys, with no luck. Jude sat patiently in his stroller, watching me, and then remarked, "God knows where your keys are."

On the other hand, Jude can also be my little Pharisee, self-righteously declaring in response to his brother (or other children) being corrected: "I'M not cwying!" "I didn't whine!" "I didn't touch it!" "I'm not throwing it!"

 

Like his big brother, he does remarkably well with entertaining himself--but his solitary play is so much more verbal than Elijah's was. He's *really* into cars and trucks and trains, and they have endless conversations. Occasionally I'll hear him saying, "You need to be kind," or, "Do you understand me?" "Good job! That makes me so happy!"

When Elijah is around, Jude happily submits to his brother's dictating the toys' conversations. It is ridiculously comical (and sometimes irritating when it continues on and on) how compliant Jude is as Elijah scripts the entire interaction. "Say, 'Wow, that's amazing!'" Elijah orders, and Jude cheerfully parrots, "Wow, that's amazing!" "Now say, 'I didn't know you could fly!'" and Jude doesn't miss a beat: "I didn't know you could fwy!"

 

On any given day you might find him imitating anything and everything his big brother does...sliding his arm around Mama...jumping from the second-to-last step...singing a rousing rendition of "Hakuna Matata" or "The Itsy Bitsy Spider"--or singing "Na, na na, na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, Hey Jude!" Or hearing the Beatles' rendition, and exclaiming, "Dat's my song!"...pretending his toy vacuum (or a pair of sticks, or any other random prop he can find) is a cello, and playing along with the Piano Guys...or parked in a chair with a giant pile of books.

 

At the end of the day, before I put him to bed, we usually sing Randall Goodgame's little lullaby "Sweet Baby Boy." A really sweet moment to share with him, though lately it's been more silly than mushy, because Jude recently decided it was absolutely hilarious to sing *with* me. Only he sings (in between giggles) "Sweet Baby Mom."

 

I love this kid. And wow, parenting the second time around is so much different. I can see how things I freaked out about with Elijah, fearing his misbehavior meant I was a hopeless mother whose child would turn out to be a sociopath, actually were normal developmental phases he would simply outgrow. I realize how challenges that were all-consuming (hello potty-training) faded into a distant blur.

The delight of having a preschooler/kindergartner in the house, combined with the fun of Jude's verbal skills, have made parenting a two year old much more enjoyable this time around. I have been *present* for Jude's early years in a way I was not with Elijah, and for that I am grateful. The days are still long; I am still too easily irritated and impatient. But our Jude indeed gives me many reasons to praise the Father who has given me such a sweet gift.

 

On Potty Training and Eternal Realities

Jude had been saying for months that when he turned three, *then* he would be a big boy and use the potty. I'm not sure where that idea originated, but we decided to run with it. Over and over in the weeks leading up to his birthday, we talked it up. On Monday, we celebrated his birthday with a zoo date and strawberry cake. On Tuesday: GAME ON.

So those of you who are parents know that Tuesday was a long day. It was high-fives and text updates to Daddy, crocodile tears and wet laundry, beeping timers and stickers, all brought to you by Lightning McQueen and Thomas the Train.

The truth is, Jude was awesome on his first day. The problem was simply that my gut reaction to potty training mirrors my gut reaction to many of the day-to-day demands of motherhood: a whiny, self-pitying "This isn't fun. This is hard. This is too much work. I don't want to do this."

Let me save you the trouble of commenting: I know that's shameful. I know how great I have it; I know there are countless women who would give anything to be enduring potty training. Yes, I know that these are blessings, not burdens, but I'm going to be honest and admit that in my selfish flesh, they don't always *feel* like blessings. My emotions, like most people's emotions, don't always follow objective reality.

Late Tuesday afternoon, with my patience wearing thin, I knew that my attitude was deplorable and I needed to shift my thinking. I asked myself: How can I see Jesus in the midst of potty training? (Is there blog fodder in all of this?)

A few thoughts came to mind:

When you have an early victory, you can't lose your head celebrating. You might get so distracted mentally composing a triumphant Facebook status that you don't even notice you're standing in a yellow puddle. In other words, "if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don't fall!" (1 Corinthians 10:12, NIV).

You will have successes and you will have failures, and you get to choose how to frame both. You can say, "The black Xs now outnumber the Cars stickers on the potty chart. This is horrible." Or you can say, "We have some hits in between all those misses! Not bad for the first day!" In other words, this life is a long obedience in the same direction, and we can celebrate every baby step of progress along the way.

In the moment, the work doesn't seem worth it. Diapers would be SO much easier, right? No pleading with reluctant, scared children...no setting timers and making dozens of bathroom trips...no frantic hunts for public restrooms...no changing clothes several times a day...no puddles on the floor...you just go on with your life, and change a few diapers along the way.

But over the long haul, no one questions the merits of potty-training. I still sometimes marvel when my six-year-old recognizes the urge, goes to the bathroom, and wipes himself without any assistance from me. It is so wonderful! So you have to keep the bigger picture in mind; you have to keep reminding yourself how good it's going to be someday.

And the crazy thing is, someday all this work will be a distant memory. When we were in the midst of Elijah's potty-learning, tracking his progress was all-consuming. Suffice to say that the process was a long, drawn-out nightmare.

What amazes me now is that I can't even recount the dramatic details. I remember that it was awful, but I can't even recall the timeline of when exactly he learned to pee and how much longer it took for the pooping, or how old he was before he could stay dry overnight. At the time, it was overwhelming and seemed like it would never end; in hindsight, the memories are fuzzy and unimportant, even a little bit funny.

And so that's why I'm here being honest about my selfish laziness and reminding myself of the truth. In the moment, hard work of any kind almost never seems worth it. My flesh whines, "I don't WANNA! It's not FUN! It's too HARD!" (Hmm, sounds just like my three-year-old!) But in the end? "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us" (Romans 8:18). And yes, I fully recognize the big-picture ridiculousness of calling potty training "suffering," so if you'd prefer, there's this:

"For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).

The truth is that Jesus is so glorious and Heaven so real that ANY affliction we endure now--be it the obviously "light and momentary" woes of potty-training, or the unimaginable, lifelong sufferings that seem crushing and unending--ALL of it is going to fade when we see Him face to face.

Jesus is the one who endured real suffering and affliction. He is the one who did the work and made the sacrifice that would have destroyed me. And when I fall at His feet, I won't be thinking of even the hardest things He asked me to do. If anything, I'll wish I could have done more in response to His great love. 

So as I look with my physical eyes on a red potty chair and adorably tiny briefs, I'm still trying to train my spiritual eyes to look up. This life with its trials and joys is but a breath, and I will enjoy it so much more if I focus now on what will matter eternally--if my thoughts are consumed with His sacrifice instead of my own. 


[This post is part of the series "31 Days of Seeing Jesus"--click here for a list of all posts.]

How We Skipped Training Wheels (or "Why We're Sold on Balance Bikes")

We get a lot of strange looks when we take the boys for bike rides. And people are often confused when Elijah tells them excitedly, "I have pedals on my bike!" But after a summer and a half, with one kid riding a big-boy bike and the other just about ready for one, we are 100 percent sold on the balance bike concept. We've skipped training wheels in favor of a method that just makes more sense.

Last summer, when we were shopping for our almost-five-year-old's first bicycle, we heard about something called a balance bike. As far as I can tell, a company called Strider sort of pioneered the concept, and I learned a lot from reading and watching videos on their website. The idea is simple: training wheels give a child a false sense of security. They essentially turn a bicycle into a tricycle, and tricycles don't teach anything about balance (not to mention they're pretty unsturdy if you really get going fast--a blooper-esque video of tricycle crashes on Strider's site was painful to watch!). Kids feel confident tearing around with their training wheels, but when it's time for the wheels to come off, everything is different and panic sets in. 

Instead, why not teach them to balance *first*? Why not let them learn the hard part gradually, at their own pace--and then add the easy part, the pedaling, once they've conquered the tricky part? Then, as the founder of Strider explains in a promo video, "There's not this big step, this big leap of faith where all of a sudden they have to be riding. At the first inkling of insecurity, they can just put their feet down." Brilliant.

The balance bike concept made a ton of sense to us, but we didn't want to shell out $80+ for a Strider bike. Instead, we bought a regular 12" bike on craigslist, and Steve removed the pedals. (The chain wasn't removable, so Steve wound it up carefully and taped it to the frame of the bike, out of the way.) 

Elijah started out as most every kid does on a balance bike--they simply walk slowly, straddling the bike. Eventually they feel comfortable enough to sit down on the seat, and then they learn to make it go a little faster. That's about as far as we got last summer, since he didn't have many opportunities to practice. 

This spring, when we got out the bike again, Elijah quickly began balancing. He'd get going fast enough that he could lift his feet and coast a bit, or he'd pick up his feet coming down a little hill. After only a month or so, he was ready for pedals.

I can just imagine what a nightmare taking off the training wheels would have been with our hyper-cautious oldest son. Oh, the weeping and gnashing of teeth. But with this method, Elijah was able to figure it out bit by bit. We did have some weeping and gnashing when it was time to add pedals--but it was pure frustration, not fear. Elijah had been going so fast with just his legs to power the bike that he was frustrated to have to slow down and learn to pedal. Figuring out how to *start* pedaling and take off was kind of tricky. And it's exasperating to accidentally pedal backwards and wind up violently braking! Also, he may or may not have inherited some unfortunate character flaws from his mother and may or may not be exactly like her in that when he cannot do something easily and perfectly the very first time, he doesn't want to do it at all, ever. Aaaaanyway... 

So there was a bit of a learning curve, but within a couple of practice runs, he conquered the pedals. It was amazing to see how quickly and easily he took off. And there was no running behind him, holding the seat; there were no terrified cries for Daddy not to let go, no crashes and falls. Just the big grins and giggles of a boy supremely proud of himself and his new skill.

After last summer, we were convinced enough that we wanted to get Jude started a lot earlier. He was too little for us to just remove the pedals from a regular bike, as we'd done with Elijah; the great thing about actual balance bikes is that they sit lower to the ground and are incredibly lightweight, making them easier for toddlers to handle. But we found a Chicco balance bike for about half the price of the Strider bikes, so Grammy and Pops gave one to Jude for Christmas.

Jude followed the same pattern as Elijah--really hesitant and reluctant at first, then walking with the bike between his legs, finally sitting, and then zooming away. We were blown away by how quickly he learned to balance and got comfortable enough to pick his feet up off the ground! By mid-May, he was amazing us by coasting like this for several seconds:

At only 2 1/2, Jude is great at balancing and able to go pretty darn fast on his bike. He loves to have us push him so he can balance and go fast without using his feet--if Steve is on rollerblades, he can use just one or two fingers to push Jude while the little guy does all the work of balancing! He's actually just about ready for pedals himself.

All in all, we are *really* pleased with the balance bike concept in general and with Jude's Chicco balance bike specifically. We highly recommend this approach to bike-riding, rather than training wheels!

Ten on Ten: May 2013

I love the *idea* of Ten on Ten, but I've only managed to participate three times now: November 2011, April 2012...and today. It was a perfect day for capturing the very ordinary...a Friday, so Elijah is home all day after three mornings of preschool, and a rainy day, so we were cooped up inside. God provided grace for me to engage with my kids and be productive, for which I am very thankful. Without further ado...a few more than 10 photos of our life today, because it's my blog and I can :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Favorite Christmas Moment

One of my favorite things this Christmas was seeing Elijah give his first real gift. Jude really needed a stool to be able to wash his hands in the downstairs bathroom. We have a stool upstairs that Steve built for Elijah, but Elijah still needs that to brush his teeth at the pedestal sink, so a second stool was in order.

The weekend before Christmas, Steve said he thought he'd have Elijah help build the stool, and let him give it to Jude. So Elijah and Daddy spent a couple of hours in the basement. Elijah helped with everything but the planning and cutting--he sanded, he used the nail gun, and then he wrote names on the bottom:



He was so excited to give it to Jude, he must have told Jude about it at least four times before Christmas morning. Finally it was time to bring out the stool.



Jude loved it. We actually ended up switching so that his new stool is upstairs and Elijah's old one is downstairs. Every night when we go upstairs to brush Jude's teeth, he says proudly as he climbs up, "Jude's new stool Lijah made!" So sweet. These two have such a love-hate relationship right now...but I am hopeful that in the long run they will be the best of friends.

 

The End

I so hate to end NaBloPoMo on an anticlimactic note...alas, it's eight minutes to midnight and I've spent most of the day cuddling an extremely pathetic two-year-old. Jude is miserable, and nothing but Mama would do. So my house is a mess, but I let him nap on my chest this morning and tried to soak in the moment, knowing soon he will be much too big for that and I'll miss having a snugglebug.

As usual, my drafts folder and idea list is bulging with things I didn't get to this month. As usual, I really need to cut back on the blogging time these next few weeks and use my online time for shopping and creating photo calendars and such instead. But! As usual, I have been reminded of how I *need* to be writing. And I want to keep at it. So I'll be back here and there over the next month, and hope to settle into a better routine in January. I'm still working on the love story series--thanks for your patience :)

Hey Jude, What's for Dinner?

The other day I walked out into the dining room to find this:



oh, how cute! Jude is cooking. what's for dinner? 

...people broth. good in soup or, apparently, straight from a cup:

mmm, delicious. 

my son, the cannibal...