What happens when boys watch a princess movie

So many of my mom friends (especially those with girls) have written on facebook how much they, and their kids, love the movie "Frozen" that when I saw it was available at the library, I checked it out. The boys had seen the moose and snowman trailer, and were excited about watching it. 

Our policy is that generally if the boys are going to watch a video they have not seen before, Mom or Dad needs to watch it with them. I figured, since it was a princess movie, we'd watch it once, I'd think it was cute, and the boys would go back to asking for "Planes" (good message about doing the right thing and helping others) or "Cars" (learning that winning is less important than good character) or "Mater's Tales" (how to tell a good story? That might be stretching it. Pun intended.) 

But as it turns out, even boys like a cute princess story. But they like it in an entirely different way.

Let me explain. (Warning - may contain spoilers)

When we watched the movie, we talked about some of the things as they happened. Sometimes I asked a question or just added commentary, and I think we paused it at one point to discuss something. But this is usual when watching with mommy. If there is something frightening in it, I often stop and we talk about why it is scary, if it is reasonable to be afraid or if the scenario is silly or of someone's own making. Anyway. It got played multiple times over the next day, which was the last day of the library loan. 

There were two things I was not expecting. The first was that they would like it so much. In my mind, the protagonists were both girls and were princesses, not things the boys are really that interested in. The other was all the questions. Reuel was usually the one asking the questions - but he was not the only one interested in the answers! One time, I had sent Cephas after something upstairs, and Reuel asked a question about the story line. I answered his question, only to have Cephas say, as he hop-stepped back downstairs, "Mom, can you say the answer to that question again? I didn't hear you."

Some of the questions are simply factual. "What did Anna mean when she said "The One" in that song?" "Why does Olaf come apart all the time?" "What are those stone people called?" "What was she talking about when she said she had a ball room with no balls?" (This one was totally out of the blue, no context, and it took me a bit to figure out what he was asking! He only know of a ball as being a round toy, and the idea of it being the name of a party where you dance was a totally new concept. Yes, they are boys!)

Some questions are pretty deep. "What are we supposed to learn from the video, mom?" "Why did Elsa say she couldn't stop the winter, but then she did?" "Why did that man not help Anna?" 

And some, I chuckle about. "Why was his name Hans?" "Why didn't the snowman know he would melt in summer?"

Basically, they enjoy the video, but they seriously deconstruct, inspect, and evaluate everything about it. I have to admit, I hadn't really thought about how much they do this with other videos too, until we spent all afternoon talking about all the different aspects of it.

Then I realized . . . they've done the same thing with "Cars," "Planes," and "The Fox and the Hound." We recently watched "Monsters Inc." and had all kinds of discussions about how sometimes we are scared of things that aren't dangerous at all, and how silly that is. (And now we have monsters roaring at our house. . . nice.)

I like to see the boys run around, and play, and dig holes in the yard (well, okay, that last one can be dicey depending on what they are digging up and where they leave the holes. Generally, it's cool.) But if stories, videos in this case, get them thinking so much, I think maybe that is good for their intellectual and spiritual development too. I kinda think we'll keep that "first view with mom or dad" rule so they know we have seen the video and care enough to watch so we can talk about it with them.

But if they are asking these sorts of questions NOW, just think about the discussions we'll be having in 5 or 10 years!!! I really hope that their hearts will follow Truth, and not just information. I would love to see this translate into compassion for others, seeing the value of sacrificing for someone else. Maybe especially their brothers. I could do with a few less of the "Eli bit me" and "Cephas hit me" reports, and replace it with more hugs and laughter. Who knows, maybe the lessons in "Frozen" will lead to my sons showing some warmth toward one another!

Getting your just desserts

One of these days my life on earth will end and I will go to my eternal home. While I have every confidence in the power of Jesus blood, I'm less certain that I will hear, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Lord." (Can anyone tell I grew up reading/memorizing the King James version of the Bible?)

I want to, yes. But not necessarily enough to forgo a second helping of that ever so delicious dessert (gluttony) or to put down my book to go play a game with the boys (selfishness) or resist the temptation to compare my home to someone else's beautifully decorated one (covetousness.) I could go on, but I don't really want to wallow in my weakness, or reveal that much of it to others, for that matter.

How often, though, do we adopt the attitude that *I* am the most important person in my life? "I'm worth it," "I deserve this," or even "I earned this," are phrases I am learning not to use. Because I, more than anyone else, ought to be fully aware that grace is a gift, freely given to the undeserving.

When we feel entitled, or understand something to be a right, we lose the wonder of being given a gift. So if I do not seem thrilled if you tell me that I deserve something nice, maybe it's because those words downplay the blessing of it. Please understand that I will also not tell you that you are "worth it"  - but I will not rejoice any less with you if you receive blessings. In a sense, being unworthy makes the greatness of the gift even greater.

I know that I have not done well, that there is more to do. I know too that I make choices each day, some of them better choices than others, even though they may all be quite small in consequence at least at this time. I also know that I have been blessed far beyond what I deserve. May I continue to learn to do well and be faithful with all that I have been given - time, resources, health, and abilities. I do long to please my Lord and Savior, and even when I lose sight of that, I want to gain that focus again.  Not because I deserve words of commendation - but because he deserves good service.

When Mommy needs a Time Out

When my children have a bad attitude - when they simply refuse to share, do the tasks assigned them, or whine and fuss, they usually get a time out.  We don't actually call it that - I just tell them they have to sit. No playing, privileges, or snacks. They get it.

Well, I think mommy needs time out today.

I've had a cough. Having a cough at 26 weeks pregnant adds an extra dimension of pain and sleeplessness to the already interrupted nights. Therefore, I have built up a shortage of sleep.

I am also not a cute little pregnant woman. I gain immense amounts of weight. Thus, the nearer the end of the pregnancy, the greater the effort to accomplish even the most common tasks. I am certain that the third trimester gets longer with every pregnancy.  I think it's up to nearly 5 months this time!

Those are my excuses.  But I know full well that excuses may explain why it is hard to have the right attitude, but they do not actually give me a license to have a bad one. But oh, I'm struggling.

You know the good part though? The next time my little guy stubbornly insists that "I don't WANT to!" or insist that toy is theirs and only theirs, I'm likely to have a little better idea of what it takes to change that attitude from grumpy to generous. I'm likely to remember that the attitude isn't the normal state of things, but may have roots in not feeling well, being tired, or hungry. And instead of getting frustrated that they aren't being as good as I know they know how to be, I can view it as an opportunity to teach them to have a good attitude even when everything around them isn't ideal.

If I just indulged in having a bad attitude, whining about all the things that aren't what I want them to be (and oh, it was a temptation this morning!) I would be modeling behavior for my children that I don't want them to emulate. But when I recognize the factors that are fogging up my glasses and making everything look darker than it is, I can work on cleaning the glasses off instead of fussing about the bad lighting.

I can also recognize that things aren't necessarily as bad as they appear from this side of the lens. In the same way that I know that the sun is shining on the other side of the clouds on one of those dreary, rainy days, I know that the blessings are still there even when I don't see them. It doesn't take the clouds away from today, but it does give me a reason to hope - and to look for a break in the clouds.

Am I hopelessly optimistic? I certainly don't feel so today. But I think some attitudes and thought patterns are learned behaviors, and the more we do them, the more entrenched they are. And that is why I did indeed give myself a time out this morning to sit down, write, and pray - despite the laundry, the dishes, the housecleaning, even dressing little boys that needs to be done.  I needed to change the direction my attitude was heading!

So it's 45 minutes (and two interventions, 23 interruptions, and a cup of hot cocoa) later and I'm still tired and lacking energy. The only thing that has changed is the trajectory of my attitude - oh, and the time. But what a difference!

Okay, mommy.  You can get down now.

The laundry may be done, but don't look at my kitchen. . .

           I woke at 2 AM to the raspy coughing cry of my too-recently potty-trained three year old. My hand was damp with evidence of a hard sleep and the couch’s texture was imprinted on my cheek in the still-lit living room. Bleary-eyed and aching I assembled a pair of miniature underwear, clean and dry pajamas, and the bedsheet I washed just last night before I stumbled up the stairs, hoping he hadn’t wakened his little brother yet.

I don’t pass out on the couch every night, but the combination of sick children, multiple night wake-ups, and a new pre-natal vitamin that I blame for my inability to sleep before midnight landed me there, apparently imbuing me with at least enough energy to change sheets, pajamas, and throw the wet things in the laundry before collapsing on the floor beside the sweet, demanding little prince’s bed as he insisted, “Sit by me, mom.” This is becoming enough of a routine that I have become more efficient –at handling the crisis, and at comforting the soaking, smelly, precious little boy.

Even so, there are times when yet another request for water seems to demand more energy than I know where to find. Times when I just want to sit and eat for more than 20 seconds before encountering the demands of little boys.  Or times like just now, when I find a huge wet spot on the couch from who knows what (not pee thank goodness, it doesn’t stink!) and just move over rather than deal with it, for now. Other times, such as when my oldest son reminds me that yelling at people isn’t kind, and I have to explain that sometimes it is appropriate – including when he’s stepping on the lid of the toy box where his little brother’s finger are pinched.  Times like this, I feel all served out and I wonder if there really is anything left in me worth giving.

Most days, I do not treasure the requests for “More water mom?” or the need to change poopy diapers or dress energetic little boys who simply do not want to come and be made modest.  But there are times that I am reminded that this physically demanding time is only a beginning, a stage that will soon end. Now, I am teaching little ones to potty and dress and button and zip, to feed and sip from cups without lids, and to clean up their own messes.  But one day, they will have learned these lessons, and then they will be learning to think and understand for themselves.  They will not always take what I say as truth, but, Lord willing, will learn to seek out the Truth for themselves.  There will be a time when I look back on the requests for a snack or a “squeezy hug” as the easy things, because then they will be asking tough questions – questions that I may even then not know the whole answer for.

So for now I look at the chaos and cacophony and feel the utter lack – and know that God is here too.  In the midst of the days that bleed one into the next as though there is no change, He is here and He is teaching and leading and touching young hearts in ways that cause me to wonder and marvel when I glimpse what is happening beneath the necessary and the seen.

And He is still working on me too.  He reminds me not to be weary in doing good – “For in due time” the harvest will come. He reminds me that He is the one who began a good work in me, and he will indeed be “faithful to complete it.” I am not alone, and it is not my own strength that will carry me through this weakness.  So two days and 14 loads of laundry later, I find myself still going, still giving, and still wondering what in the world we will eat for dinner tonight.  And I know that it is because of his mercy that I am not consumed, and even have the ability to think and pray even in the midst of hacking coughs and crying children.

It’s not because I’m super mom.  A glimpse at the dusty corners, cluttered counters, finger-printed windows, and disorganized calendar will tell anyone who cares to look that I’m not even close. But I am mom, and I am here by the grace of God.  And by His grace, I will be faithful – through the wearying months of pregnancy, the sleepless nights with an infant, and on through the years of teaching, training, and praying for these little lives I’ve been entrusted with.

So I stand up from this couch again – this holy ground where I have been refreshed and renewed.  I may not have anything left in me worth giving – but I can still give from the abundance of the one who gave himself for me.

Now let’s see what is going on behind that closed door over there. . . 

Once upon a time. . .

"Once upon a time, in a land not far away, there lived a beautiful little family. The father worked hard to provide for wife and children, but his favorite part of the day was arriving home to a clean, cozy little house, a kiss from his wife, and hugs from his three little boys. The mother read to her little boys every day, and taught them to help her as she worked.  The little boys were obedient, respectful, and polite, and got along beautifully with one another. Each evening they sat down to a hearty, healthy dinner and thoughtful conversation, followed by devotions and prayer.  They then spent each evening enjoying one another's company. They never wanted for everything, but had just what they needed. They all lived happily ever after."

Most of us have read fairy tales at one point or another, but we know better than to believe them.  We don't expect to happen upon a house in the woods that is occupied by talking bears, or to occasion upon witches who are fattening up children to eat on some future occasion.  The idea of trolls, mermaids, or talking wolves who dress up as grandmothers is recognized as silliness. These stories may have a purpose, but it is not to teach us that such characters actually exist.

But do we sometimes act as though we think the tale in my introductory paragraph might be true? I have to admit that there are times that I'm disappointed when my husband or sons don't act as I might have planned. I wonder if we sometimes think of people, even those we love dearly, as little more than props for the tale we want to write, and are disappointed when their actions aren't the ones we had planned as part of the story.

But if you paid attention, that introductory paragraph was missing a crucial story element. Do you know what it was? If not, go back and re-read, see if you can figure out what was missing.

Figure it out?

It's conflict.  There was no problem needing to be solved.  No difficulty to be overcome. There was no action, and no need for it.

Every story needs to have something go wrong, so that it can be made right.  Maybe it's an antagonistic character to overcome, or to become a friend or help. Maybe it's an unexpected dilemma to resolve. In any case, there is nothing to hold your interest if there is no problem.

Think about it.  Did you identify with those characters? Did something in you resonate, make you say, "Hey, I know just how that feels"? If you are like me, you might admire them, wonder how they do it, but you don't identify.  I'm far enough from perfect that those characters are more discouraging than inspiring. And I don't feel empathy - there is nothing in their life that calls for sympathy!

(Which brings me to a sub-point - don't be afraid to admit your struggles.  People don't identify with your "perfection" mask but they do identify with real people.)

We need conflict in our lives to spur us to growth, to encourage us to improve, to seek out fellowship, to change us from what we are to what we will become. It isn't good, nor does it feel good - or it wouldn't be a problem to overcome. But that doesn't mean it isn't good for us, or that the results won't ultimately be good.

The moral of my little tale? Don't be afraid of problems.  They are given for our good.  They should be faced bravely, with courage, because every good story needs a bold protagonist! And after all, we know that God is with us and if we seek Him, we can be confident that He will help us through.

And that, my friends, is no fairy tale.  It's the real thing.

Learning to be content (the mommy role)

Sometimes the blessings of one thing mean that you miss out on something else.  So you have to make a choice, not necessarily knowing all that choice may mean for you and others.  And sometimes you are not given a choice at all, but a set of circumstances and blessings to make the most of, like it or not. That's life.

Becoming a mom has repercussions far beyond those we imagined prior to becoming parents. For example, I love to visit, and especially to discuss theology and education and literature, and had not foreseen that having young children would fracture my conversations. That as I'm leading up to my main point, I would inevitably hear a child scream, "No no no no no no no" and hear a loud thump followed by a prolonged wail. Or as I introduce a topic into a conversation, my grubby little boy would rhythmically thump my arm while he chanted "scuse me. scuse me. scuse me," until I acknowledged him. And under no circumstances would I be permitted to hold a conversation without having to talk over the wail of the toy fire engine racing to the fire on the sofa!

There are stages in life.  With the young children I have now, I have come to know that any conversation I want to have will be distracted, interrupted, and may even simply go on without me because I do have children whose needs are usually urgent. When the recently potty trained child needs to go, putting him off may mean I have to clean a floor and change an outfit. If I try to put off a hungry child, they become grouchy, fussy, and may take it out on a sibling. While they do need to learn patience, I need to have wisdom in teaching it. I need to make sure that I choose the right times, places, and situations for such waiting.  I need to be ready and able to dole out appropriate consequences for failure to comply.  I need to be able to explain, and be in a place where failure is an option. And I need a decent stockpile of patience for myself! And that often means foregoing something I want to do for the things that are important.

They are young.  They are growing, learning, amazing blessings and full of wonder, beauty, and depravity all wrapped up in the sacred vessel of a human being. And somehow, I am blessed to be the mother of these amazing little beings.

I have found that it is best to enter fully into the role I am in, and choose to enjoy it. It is a waste of time and energy to try to conform the circumstances (much less the children) into something other than what it is. This stage, too, is a passing stage and I choose to embrace it, even when that means putting off some of my other interests. It's ok.  I have eternity ahead, with only a short time now to teach, train, and love on these little lives entrusted to me. So I'll do the best I can do, now.  While I can. They will grow, develop, and one of these days I may even find myself enjoying an uninterrupted theological discussion with them!

At least, that's what I think on the good days.  Other days are auto-pilot days, where the interruptions engender irritation and frustration rather than refocusing me on my mother role.  Days where I hear the questions as pestering rather than opportunities to share beauty and a love for learning. Days where I just want to get through with hopes that I might be able to get a few hours more sleep tonight than last night.

That's where this writing comes in.  I am able to refocus when I write it down, and when I read it again. I can see the lofty goals and desires behind the fog that surrounds the daily grind. 

So the next time I am engaged in a fulfilling conversation, or in writing an inspiring blog post and I hear, "MOM, I NEED YOU TO COME AND WIPE MY BUM" hopefully I can remember that this too shall pass, and that just maybe wiping toddler bottoms is not too terribly different than washing feet like Jesus did. After all, they both needed done, were smelly jobs, and are rather humbling.  And since my goal is to be like Jesus, I can do it with alacrity and a willing heart.

And who knows, one day, they may have to wipe mine.