Q&A: Time-Outs

Dear PardyMama,
My son is almost 3 and I can't seem to get him to sit still or listen to me.  His pre-school teacher complains about the same thing, and nothing seems to work.  Do you have any discipline suggestions? I don't want to spank him and I keep trying time-out but it seems to have no effect on him.  

Thanks!

Fed-Up Mama

Fed-Up,

Toddlers!?! They drive you crazy, right?  They can be the sweetest thing under the sun one minute with the hugs and puppy-dog eyes, then the next second they are screaming and running around like maniacs.  I feel ya! This reminds me so much of my daughter, Daphne, who just turned 3 last summer.  

Granted, some of this inability to sit still is simply their phase of life.  Toddlers (the busy ones anyway, and I really don't know any other kind) seem to have fire ants in their pants at all times.  If they don't MOVE they won't wear themselves out, and if you're like me, then of course you want your child tired at the end of the day!

But, sometimes over-stimulation can have the opposite effect.  Children who are too busy can get amped up or suddenly crash into an emotional oblivion - neither of which amount to sitting still or being good listeners. 

If time-outs seem to have lost their effect, gauge your sons surroundings for how stimulating they are.  Surprisingly, if he's fine with being sent to time-out, it might actually be because he enjoys it.  If this is the case, each time he is sent to time out, you are reinforcing the behavior that precipitated the punishment and telling him it is actually "How to get what you want"...which is exactly the opposite of what you're trying to do!

I know this sounds crazy, but try using time-out as a reward rather than a punishment.  

First step:  Change the name.  

Instead of "time-out" start calling it "alone time" or "calm time" or something more positive that he won't associate with discipline.

Second step: Change the location.

Don't have his new quiet moments in the same spot where he used to contemplate his faults.  

Third step: Change the purpose.

Give him something he enjoys to occupy himself - a storybook, a game, or a puzzle will work fine, just make sure he doesn't need your help in order to have fun using it.

Once these things are established, start implementing the new "alone time" as a reward.  When he starts to act up, simply and sternly tell him that he will get some special calm time in a few minutes if he can pay attention.  Then, follow through when you see him responding appropriately. (Do your best not to expect too much the first several times!  After all, most three-year-olds have the attention span of gnats.)  If nothing else, you've started to incorporate more time and space in your environment that breeds calming, self-soothing.

My Daphne was acting up so badly at her Mother's Day Out that one day she received 15 time-outs!  (No joke, see below!)  

I prayed about it, put my "therapist goggles" on, and spoke with her teacher about the situation.  The teacher tried the time-out-as-reward strategy as an experiment, and Daphne had a great day (no time-outs)!  I can't promise your boy won't have wiggly legs or wandering ears from time to time...but, pursuing opportunities for quiet might be just what his busy little self has been wanting all along.  Good luck!

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Polar Express

Toddlers are extraordinary beings.  They are the only humans who can appropriately lose control of their emotions without shocking those around them.  I mean, we expect two-year-olds to throw tantrums and be a little crazy (okay, a lot crazy).

Toddlers are going through so much change in their little lives/bodies/worlds, that it's within their natural development to experience polarizing emotions within a single moment.  There's nothing rational, balance, comfortable, or reasonable about it.  And, as a parent, it can be a roller coaster to go from this...

...to this...

...all within a very short time frame.

You can see why God made them cute, right?  You can understand how maddening it is to be the one who helps contain the emotions that so rapidly cycle up and down throughout the day!?

Today, I'm so grateful God made kids unreasonably adorable to match their irrational development.  I'm so glad that there are the "He's got the whole world in His Hands" moments of the day to help us moms get through the "WHY did daddy have to go to work?!" tantrums.  I'm so glad that I am here to witness the good and the bad, to help channel the emotions into a healthy place of understanding, and to get to be the one that hugs through the unknowns when I've no other impulse or notion as to what to do.

I'm so glad toddlers are ridiculously out of their minds.  Their polarizing expressway to crazyville helps keep me on track to remembering how out of control we are as humans without a solid God to look to for guidance and direction.

Thank you, God, for one more day of survival with toddlers.  Moms - take a deep breath - hug your babes and know you are not alone.  The crazy train has many, many passengers, but the trip is short.  Let's do our best to savor the view along the way.

What are you thankful for?? LAST CHANCE to COMMENT and enter the GIVE AWAY!!!!

Kids for Sale

It's been a trying week.  Work, school, and life in general are swirling about me in non-stop motion.  I told my husband late one night that I felt like I was sucking water from a fire hose underneath an avalanche.  My girls have also been annoyingly "sort of sick" throughout the week.  You know the kind - just sick enough to keep them out of play dates and church nursery, to keep them whining throughout the day and night, to keep them crabby and demanding...but not sick enough to get snuggles or have them slow down at all.  How is it that kids can run a slight fever and run around the house like maniacs all at the same time?

classic hug-turned-strangle situation

Don't get me wrong, of course I don't want my kids to be so sick that they can't play.  I'm glad that their sniffles don't slow them down and that they are generally healthy as caged zoo monkeys.  But, it is exhausting to be with them and trapped in the house day after day trying to not let "The Little Mermaid" songs drive you batty.

As I was folding a volcanic mountain of laundry last night, I realized that God probably infiltrated stay-at-home-motherhood with mundane tasks like that (or doing dishes, or picking up toys, or wiping noses) so that we could feel again and again I'm so good at this to make up for the rest of the day filled with the frustrating doubts and infuriating challenges of thinking I can't handle these kids! What am I doing?!

I might not enjoy folding laundry or doing dishes or generally cleaning up after my little tornadoes, but it does fill me with a sense of pride that I can actually accomplish something ridiculously well in the midst of such loud, incessant, irrational pandemonium.  When I can stack a pile of clothes perfectly straight (which, inevitably get knocked over within seconds of completion), I can take one second of pride in the fact that I'm overqualified for the chores that this job requires.

Then, in the midst of a knock-down-drag-out battle over who gets to buckle Minnie Mouse in the toy stroller, it helps me take a deep breath and remember that I really have NO idea what I'm doing, but I'm still going to be okay.  This is normal.  This is motherhood.  And as quickly as the brawling began, it will all be over and we will probably all be crying into bowls of ice cream at 9 in the morning.

grumpy is as grumpy does

Early in the week, when I could have sworn it was almost bedtime and then realized we hadn't even had lunch yet (tick, tock) I had to just pray pray pray for the fruit of the Spirit to get me through.  I love these little beings more than my own life, and yet there are times I'm ready to post them in the FREE section of craigslist.  As I was literally knocked over the head with a lego block, I clenched my fists and bit my tongue.  And, in that split second all I could think was HOW in the world does God not just smite us all off the face of the planet each and every day?!?

If blatant disobedience, irrational fighting, and incessant demands are all it takes for me to lose my cool (and that's putting it lightly) then I have no capacity for understanding the grace of God and how the heck He compassionately forgives my stupidity day after day, hour by hour.  I need to tap into that mercy.  I need to channel that kind of only-through-Jesus compassion.  I need the patience that surpasses all rationale to be able to be the parent my girls need.

The reality is, I'm going to lose my mind in front of my girls sometimes.  I lose my temper so often I'm thinking of getting a GPS tracker for it.  Praise be, that I live in a place and time where I don't have to parent these hooligans all alone, and I have the greatest resource available as a mother - a Holy Spirit who puts up with my nonsense and extends me ridiculous amounts of undeserved mercy to help me get through the day, and reminds me how priceless this season truly is.

Boo!

Happy Halloween!

The day is here - the day when parents finally get rewarded for their efforts of decorating their children and parading them around to recieve "oohs" and "awws" only to go home with their grumpy-dumplings and toss them into bed as they crash from their sugar-highs and into sweet dreams...and then get to RAID their children's loot like pirates on the hunt.  Hooray!  CANDY!!!  Free candy that only cost us our sanity and patience.  It's a glorious day, isn't it?

I do love Halloween, actually.  I was raised in a household that celebrated the fun of Halloween, and I'm so glad that I got to dress up and be silly and indulge my sugar-tooth.

Today, we live in a different world.  Halloween is celebrated with safety on the brain - with harvest festivals and "trunk-n-treats" and only the rare and exceptional neighborhoods get to hand out carefully-parent-inspected candy to the trick-or-treaters.  Gone are the days of scouring the neighborhoods without supervision or running around town with your friends after dark.

Sometimes, it can feel like the scariest part of Halloween falls into the lap of the parents these days!

It can quickly become easy to want to overprotect your children, I completely understand.  Certainly there is nothing wrong with the adaptations that have been made to this holiday to ensure the safety of our kids or to increase the fun and diminish the "evil" nature of Halloween.  But, reality is that there really is scary stuff in this world, and I think Halloween can be a great time to talk to your kids about it.

Evil exists.  Bad things happen.  And, if we don't stop and take time to explain to our children in a calm and safe manner that life can get scary sometimes, we can be setting them up for some real fears later on.  (Don't worry - I promise to not go all Debbie Downer on you here...)

Halloween is a great time for a young child to safely encounter scary situations that might raise questions for them as well as emotions like fear or anxiety.  This is a great time to help your child build resiliency that will serve them well in the long run.

The great thing about resiliency is that it can be learned, and we as parents have the opportunity to model and nurture this important trait.  I found a great article by M. Tartakovsky regarding children's ability to develop resiliency, and she offers 10 tips that can help every parent navigate their way through these tricky times:

1.   Don't accommodate every need.
2.  Avoid eliminating all risk.
3.  Teach them to problem-solve.
4.  Teach your kids concrete skills.
5.  Avoid "why" questions. 
6.  Don't provide all  the answers.
7.  Avoid talking in catastrophic terms.
8.  Let your kids make mistakes.
9.  Help them manage their emotions.
10.  Model resiliency.

So, this Halloween, HAVE FUN!  But, as you are keeping your kids safe from harm, don't be overly concerned if they encounter a scary sight or sound now and then.  It's bound to happen at some point, and when it does, you can use the frightful moment as an opportunity to build your child's character and help them grow.

And...if you're in too much of a sugar-coma from all the Snickers you've snuck from your kid's plastic pumpkin bucket...well, just hit play below and relax.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!

Getting Messy

Life with toddlers is often messy.  I can't walk across a room in my house without a Cheerio sticking to my heel or a crayon snapping beneath my feet.  Children are a package deal - with a trail of crumbs and sticky fingers that accompany their adorableness.  Yes, I'm constantly in awe of how my girls can take a perfectly tidy room and destroy it into a toyland of smithereens within a lapse of five minutes...or, however long it takes me to step away and prepare their breakfast.

But, the joys of having two kids so close together abound when it comes to activities.  Because they are only 20 months apart, I don't really have to worry about entertaining them each at their own level (slightly, at times, but not significantly) as they can share in the same craft or game or story time.

The other day, I (amidst the chaos) decided we would make muffins...as a team...as a project...together.  This seemed like a simple enough idea in the moment because (against the purist foodie that I am in my heart) I had recently purchased some easy "just add milk" muffin mixes.  Simple enough:  bowl, mix, milk, stir, bake, and voila!  Muffins!

I think it was by the third lick of the whisk that I realized my girls were going to be devouring these muffins all by themselves.  Batter was flinging about, and their JOY in the creation of it wasn't just due to their participation - but in the sheer mess of it!

I stepped back.  Hands off.  And I soaked up the image of their smiling faces, four little feet planted side-by-side on a chair, two swirling whisks splattering batter about, and I calmly stepped back into the scene and tried to reign in their fun towards a productive action.

You know what I mean - we all want to be fun and effective parents!  It's hard to walk the line of patient and frustrated.  I don't want to squash their little spirits - but, I don't want to be scrubbing muffin mix out of the cracks in my kitchen for years to come either!

The truth of the matter is, in order for them to learn and have fun...it's just going to be messy.

This is one of those moments where I get a glimpse of how, as a parent-to-a-child, God must view me at times.  He loves me, He wants me to learn and grow and desire Him more, and He wants nothing but blessings and goodness for my life...and here I am, flinging my mess all over the place, stirring up all kinds of trouble in the name of self-interest.  It's not all bad, but too often I can make things much harder on myself (much messier!) when I try to do it my way.

It's true that life is gonna get messy no matter what.  Only Jesus lived a perfect life and even HE didn't have it mess-free! (Far from it!)

What mess are you in the middle of right now?  Can you laugh about it?  Can you get help with it?  Can you hang on just a little longer?

Because often, if I can just embrace the mess and keep my eye on what's to come...well, it just might lead to a delicious ending.

Guest Blog: An Open Letter to Mothers of Toddlers (The Crazy Kind)

Today's GUEST BLOG is written by a good friend of mine, Stephanie. Not only is she an incredible writer, but she is a mama of four! You can follow her talent at A Wide Mercy and visit her Facebook Page to keep up with what's new.

Dear Mother of a Crazy Toddler,

I swear, it's not you. And it does get easier.

It took me a while to have kids. My husband and I were married just out of college, but my husband traveled for work, and we put off children for a while. When we were ready, I had the shock of my life when I realized most of what I learned in high school health class was a scare tactic, and it's actually NOT that easy to get pregnant. A year later I had a miscarriage that shattered my heart. A year after THAT, I found out I was pregnant. Thirty nine long weeks, twelve hours of labor, and one emergency c-section later, I was finally a mother.

My son, for whom I'd dreamed and cried and waited, was finally here.

Eighteen months later, his little brother surprised us all.

All of that to say, I wanted to be a mother. I waited to be a mother. I cried and prayed to be a mother. And when I finally got to be a mother, I was in waaaayy over my head.

All toddlers are busy. It's the nature of the beast. Their little minds are absorbing the world, one handful at a time, just as they are meant to do. But one of my sons was the crazy kind of toddler.  

When he was eleven months old he broke an "indestructible" outlet, pushed aside the plug, and was digging wires out of the wall when I found him (which was probably ninety seconds after I'd left the room).  

When he was three he woke up before dawn, scaled the kitchen cabinets while we were all asleep, and ate half a bottle of Tums. He has played in lighter fluid, been trapped inside a kitchen stool (his grandpa sawed him out while his grandma was on the phone with 911), and jumped headlong into a swimming pool after taking off his life jacket, when he couldn't swim. I used to point out danger to him, but when I realized adventure glinted in his eye any time he said, "I could DIE," I stopped using those words.

For three years my daily goal was to keep them both alive. I still can't believe we made it.

At the time, I wondered what I was doing wrong. Like Emily, I wondered, "Is it like this for everyone?" The answer to that question is no. Not all toddlers are the crazy kind. Some sit and look at books while their mother takes a shower. Some potty train under two years old. Some even know how to use a napkin.

Just not mine.

What I know now, that I didn't know then, is that those crazy toddlers grow. Their strengths become an integral part of your family. Mine is now a little boy. He loves stories of any kind, and will listen to me read until my voice is tired. He is compassionate, noticing how others feel and running ahead to give what they need before they ask for it.  He is emotional and affectionate, and he has a surprisingly developed sense of humor for his age.  

He still pushes every boundary in life, always testing the edges. My pediatrician once said, "He'll either be a CEO or run a meth lab, and nothing in between." I'm afraid she's right. But every day I thank God for bringing me two little boys in two years, and for the richness that once crazy toddler brings to our family.

When your kids are babies, you don't know them yet. You love them, but you don't yet know who they are going to be. Your whole life is about their development. You are running behind them at a pace that feels almost inhuman, chopping food onto plastic plates and changing diapers and averting the next catastrophe, all day long. At night you crash into bed, fall into a dreamless sleep, and wake up six hours later to do it all again. Every. single. day.

Hang in there, Moms of Crazy Toddlers. In a few years you will get to see who they are really going to be. Their development will slow to a breathable pace, and life will be about more than just keeping your kids alive another day.

You may even decide to do it all again. I have four children now, but I still say the toddler years with my oldest two have been the most strenuous in parenting. With my second round of babies and toddlers, I know that I don't know them yet, and that toddler development is exhausting. I know that pretty soon, they will be kids, and we will talk about more than nap time and "no's." And maybe, just maybe, one of them will be the "sit and read" type.  

After all, I've had my crazy toddler. I'm bound to get an easy one eventually, right?

Bulldozer

I almost didn't write this post.  It has potential to paint me (or my kids, or my parenting) in a bad light, and it's downright embarrassing.  And then I remembered - I'm not alone.  So, I'm hoping this hits home for somebody somewhere and reaches whomever it might be meant for.  You're not alone.

It was just a few days ago...



"Well, if somebody would watch their children like they are supposed to, this wouldn't happen!" the grandfatherly fellow sitting catty-corner to me in Chick-Fil-A huffed and puffed.  His remark was precisely directed towards me like a laser beam, though his eye contact hit the floor in disgust.

"I'm sorry, sir?  Did something happen?  Did my daughters do something?"  I was instantly offended and embarrassed and I didn't have a clue what he could be talking about.

He turned toward me, hugging his around-2-years-old granddaughter in his arms who appeared no worse for the wear from what I could tell.  It was clear, however, that something had him incredibly agitated.

"I don't know, but there's two girls in there who were spitting on my granddaughter!"

Fear rose as my heart sank.  As much as I didn't want to admit it, the only two little girls left in the Chick-Fil-A play area were my own flesh and blood.

"I am SO sorry.  Please wait a minute."  I pleaded with the older man who was getting ready to leave with the sweet little wide-eyed victim on his lap.

Let me tell you, hell hath no fury like a mother whose little ones make her look like a bad parent by behaving like little heathens.  My mind instantly flooded with questions about what had really happened and yet, I couldn't help that it did sort of seem like something my little angels might attempt.  Ugh.

I burst into the play area and with the growl of a mother bear, I demanded my childrens' immediate presence.  Matilda emerged from the plastic-tube-castle-of-fun first, and so I yanked her outta there quicker than a wedding ring from garbage disposal.

"Did you spit on that little girl?" I felt like my voice had reached new depths of seriousness.  Matilda knew I was not kidding around.  She nodded.

I firmly placed her little body in front of the little girl and her grandfather.  "WHAT DO YOU SAY?" I bellowed.

"I'm sorry" came the tiniest of timbre out of the mouth of my babe.

I got in her face, right then and there.  "You NEVER spit on anybody.  You are never unkind to anyone.  Do you understand?  Now, go sit down.  We're done.  We're leaving."

As Matilda climbed up into the chair at our table, I looked up at the grandfather, who I think was stunned more by the scene of the apology than the actual altercation.

"Thank you," said the grandfather.  And they left.

As I retrieved my other toddler from the plastic pit of germs, I could feel the adrenaline rushing throughout my body.  I was so disappointed.  I was so embarrassed.  I was so MAD.  I was so offended.  I was so worried.  I was so SAD.

The long ride home was fraught with mixed emotions.  We calmly talked through what had "really" happened, and I gave Matilda a chance to explain herself.  By the time we got home, I was still choked up over the whole mess of it.  I wanted to handle this correctly.  I wanted to make sure my child understood all sides of this story.  And I wanted to drill into her the impact she can have on others and empower her to use it for GOOD.  Good grief.

While my babes went down for nap time, I had a chance to think.  Was this really about Matilda?  Was this really about making sure she understood?  Certainly.  But, was there more to it than that?  After all, wasn't I also mad and offended about not being able to explain myself to that grandfather?  Why did it bother me so much that he didn't know the whole story - that he would never know the whole story?

Here's the whole story:

On multiple occasions, we have had to discipline our girls for "spitting" at each other.  It's not exactly spitting - I mean, there's no liquid or drink in their mouths or anything - it's just putting your lips together and blowing and making a silly sound.  To them, anyway.  To us, it's annoying and rude.  Sure.  But, when you put it in context, it's just two mischievous sisters goofing around.  Yes, we tell them not to do it, but it is a rather mild offense in our home and usually knocked off after a warning (or two).

On this particular day, my girls were being extra-rambunctious.  Oh, and it was only 9am.  I needed to get them OUT of the house, but it was dreadfully humid outside.  They suggested Chick-Fil-A, and the thought of an air conditioned play area where they could be confined and minimally supervised was extremely appealing to me.  I set up camp at a table RIGHT outside the play area where I could completely see them, but their sound was curtailed.  I brought my iPad along to do some reading for homework while I kept an eye on them.  Yes, I understand this could appear very slacker-mom-ish...but, I know my girls and my hearing and sight on them was a-plenty, I assure you.

Matilda explained herself immediately to me after "the incident".  She said "But mom, I was just being so funny.  I thought it was funny!"  Sigh.  Knowing how she and her sister are, I can definitely imagine how they egged each other on and then, being the extremely boisterous and social types that they are, wanted to include EVERYONE in on the fun.  The poor little girl never had a chance - she was pegged  as a "new friend" by the Pardy girls from the get-go and just ended up cornered in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now...I definitely explained thoroughly to Matilda afterward how "Being funny means EVERYONE is having a good time and laughing.  Hurting someone's feelings is NEVER funny." and so forth.  But, all in all, it was clear to me that her intentions were pure while her execution of the joke was very poor. (First rule of comedy, Til...know your audience!)  Still, she was punished, and "good intentions" never get you off the hook in the Pardy home.  Enough said.

I had never before been a position where my child was the bully.  I have been the parent of the child who was bullied, however, and that is nearly equally as frustrating.  However, this situation shed new light on the stressful scenario.

I don't mind telling you another strategic detail of this story.  The family of the grandfather and his granddaughter were not white (though I'm not disclosing any more than that because it is irrelevant).  And, I bring this up for a VERY specific reason.

When he made his comment regarding my parenting, it added to the social awkwardness that invisibly already existed.  The situation became instantly uncomfortable.  I don't know about you, but I don't interact with elderly non-white men on a usual basis.  And I'm just going out on a limb, but I'm gonna guess this gentleman doesn't encounter too many youngish hipster white moms like myself.

All this to say, I can attempt to understand his reasoning for not just confronting me about the situation, no matter how much I wish that he would have handled that situation differently.  I couldn't help but think, "Just TELL ME TO MY FACE what happened!" in the moment.  But, looking back and putting myself in his shoes, I probably would've done what he did too and passively addressed the situation in an extremely stern and obvious way.

Here's my point:  It would have been a LOT easier for me to get pissed off, turn my back, and wait the 10 seconds for them to leave.  It would have been a LOT less uncomfortable for me to ignore his remark and justify the dismissal since he didn't know the "whole story".

But, I don't live in a world where these uncomfortable barriers are going to disappear without ACTION.  So, I took action.  I stepped in.  I took the chance to embarrass myself in a split-second and decided it was worth the confrontation in order to reach out and make things right.  This isn't because I'm extra-wise or super-insightful (again, none of this even registered with me until hours later) but, because I felt the opportunity present itself and it was what I would want to have happen if the tables were turned.

I'm not raising bullies.  And I'll never get the chance to tell that gentleman how loving and sweet my little hellions really can be.  He will never know that these silly girls are raised in a home where we talk to them about equality and compassion and the love of Jesus.  He has no idea that I was doing homework about studying racial inequality in the Family Life Cycle (no joke)...but, one thing is for sure:  he didn't leave brokenhearted and angry or without recognition.

Here's the thing.  All that "whole story" business - it just doesn't matter.  The entire reason I even share it with you is to bring you up-to-speed on the full context of the situation.  I'm guessing several of you have been in similar circumstances; and, if not, then you might be someday soon.  All of our kids are gonna hurt other kids' feelings (intentionally or unintentionally) at some point.  That's life.

But, just like it "didn't matter" that Matilda didn't intend on hurting that girl, it truly "didn't matter" that the grandfather knew the whole story.  The hurt here and now is just about all we can handle.  The good news is, it's not so entirely outside of our grasp to make a difference.

The next time I'm in an uncomfortable situation where my impulse is to dodge the confrontation, I'm going to do my best to take the leap and reach out and do my best to destroy that wall of social barriers.  I want to plow through those inhibitions with the compassionate might that only God can grant me.

Yeah, it was my kid who was guilty.  Yeah, it made me "look bad" in the moment.  Yeah, it was mortifying at the time.

But, as my little girl has repeated the experience back to me and reiterated the lessons that she's learning through it, I'm motivated to remember that I'm raising more than just a silly little girl.

I'm not raising bullies...I'm raising bulldozers.

Full Plate

Ever feel like your plate is getting a little crowded?  Then, right at that moment someone offers you seconds?  Then, right as you turn them down, someone else hands you dessert?  And just as you're about to drop everything, your toddler throws her sippy-cup at your head???

What? Doesn't your home look like this?

Yeah, sounds about right for this week.

This transitional season of chaos has my family feeling anything but normal.  My husband is job-hunting, I'm diving head first into grad school, and our two toddler daughters are screaming at us all day long to go play outside in the summer heat and 1000% humidity (that's not a typo - seriously - the humidity is maybe more like a million percent here).  Whew.

My daughters are three-and-a-half (you understand why that HALF  must be attached) and two-years-old.  When one of them isn't tackling the other down with a "hug" (hugs look very similar to violent wrestling moves around here) then their each climbing up some new apparatus they've constructed from pillows and dolls and most likely some rather wobbly form of furniture.  Most of these activities end in one of them hitting her head and both of them crying and my husband and I wondering how our life together ever got THIS LOUD!?

Toddlers are tense.  Toddlers are insane and irrational.  Toddlers don't care that you aren't fulfilling your life calling or too busy trying not to already-get-behind-on-homework the first week of class.  Toddlers think the world has come to a brutal and completely unalterable demise if it takes more than ten seconds for Netflix to connect.  Toddlers can not be predicted.

Basically, my daughters are the bosses I always hated embodied in the cutest and most desirable forms of humankind that I couldn't possibly love more.  They are walking paradoxes.

If I listed all the emotions that my toddlers put me through on paper, it would become glaringly obvious that this "relationship" is one of complete and total dysfunction.  It doesn't make sense to love them as much as I do.  It is completely unreasonable to continue to give of myself to that degree over and over and over again and without expectation of some guarantee in return.  It couldn't possibly be healthy for me to situate myself to be challenged so often in such a confined space for such a long time.

And yet, here I am.

Perhaps you might think (if you are grossly cynical) that I'm just saying all this because the reality is that I have no way out.  I had these children.  Indeed, I contributed willingly and significantly to the creation of them!

But, you'd be wrong.

I choose my children every day.
(Sometimes I also choose to yell at Netflix.)

I didn't walk into parenthood completely blindfolded - we all know there are challenges that come with acceptance in a position of this magnitude.  But, no matter what child you get, there are going to be surprises.  The amazing thing is, most of these surprises come in the form of revealing who you really are and finding out what you're made of.

Sometimes I drop the full plate.  Sometimes I make a huge mess and have to cry about it as I clean it all up.  Sometimes I have to ask for help and let other people hold my drink for me.  Sometimes I have to say "That's enough.  I'm full."

But, sometimes.  I close my eyes and feel the weight of the plate in my hands, the imbalance, the risk of it all, and I'm reminded that this is the STUFF that makes up a truly rich life.  It doesn't make sense to want such a loud and imperfect life.  It's a mess.

And I'll choose it all again tomorrow.

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DOUBLE BONUS
SNEAK PEEK! 

Have you entered the Share & Care Contest yet??  Did you know you can enter up to THREE times a day??  Here is a peek at a couple more items I'm throwing into the fabulous PARDYMAMA CARE PACKAGE!


Thistle Farms Citrus Vanilla Lotion!  Not only is it good for your skin - it is helping change lives!  At Thistle Farms, products are handmade by survivors of prostitution, trafficking, addiction and life on the streets.  Find out more at their website and see ALL the wonderful products they make!








Jesus Calling a devotional that has daily nuggets of insight into "Enjoying Peace in His Presence".  If you're "not the devotional type" - then this is the book for you.  Many times, this book has started my day off right or encouraged me unexpectedly.  Some days, I will pick it up and read the page for the day and find that it hits so close to home I'm curious if someone hasn't been spying on me!  It's a delightfully encouraging read, and I think it will brighten your day too!

Toddlers on the Move

Today is my girls' last full day in California.  Ugh.  While on one hand they are excited to get to their "new home" and see what all this packing fuss has been about, they are also in a weird flux of sadness and discomfort.  It's hard enough for me to process all that is happening right now, so I can only imagine how this drama is interpreted through the lens of toddler-goggles.

I'm no expert in raising children.  I can't tell you what will work best for your child in these circumstances.  But, in talking with other moms and doing a bit of research and learning a LOT through prayer, trial, and error, I have come to find out a lot about living through this massive change with two toddlers.  I've decided to share this experience here as tips on how I've gone about this - in hopes that maybe it will help you come up with your own ideas for how to intentionally go about introducing big changes to your own child - whether that's trying a new vegetable or packing up all their toys and moving 2,000 miles.  For what it's worth, here's how I've handled the last several weeks with my girls.

1. Information.
My daughters are 3 and a half and 22 months, so most of these regard Matilda, my eldest daughter who is just old enough to take in what's happening.  However, both of my girls do best when they are prepped with more information rather than not enough.  In other words, while some parents can sneak out of the house on a date night and their youngster swimmingly adapts to the babysitter's authority...my girls would wage World War III.  They do much, much better if I spend the whole day prepping them with info on how the night will pan out.

That being said, when I first started telling friends about our big move to Nashville, I caught myself constantly talking past my children.  I would whisper in conversation with friends or avoid eye contact with Matilda as I told others of our plans.  I feared introducing the subject too soon might be too confusing or cause undue drama too far in advance.  But, soon I started to see that she was very contemplative and starting to shut down if I "talked around her" too much.  She was left out, and she knew it.  She didn't know what she was being left out of, she only knew that she didn't like the feeling, and I began to sense a wall being put up.  Nobody likes being talked around, even a toddler.  And maybe I wasn't giving her enough credit.  So, we decided to tell her early.

Here's my tip:  Talk early, talk often, talk calmly.  Just because there may be a lot of emotions tied to a change doesn't mean you have to deal with all those emotions at once.  Telling Matilda about the move weeks in advance gave us time to answer her questions (again and again and again) and talk about it positively and thoroughly long before boxes and duct tape scattered our living room.  Erring on the side of too much information also allowed me the time to process how she was understanding everything.  I would hear her relay the information to her sister and then began to see how she was taking it all in and interpreting it.

2.  Process
Figuring out how to get my toddler to process all this new information was another story.  I prayed and prayed to know how to explain to a three-year-old that she would say goodbye to the only home she's ever known, all her friends here, and yet her family would remain intact and there would be safe and familiar things to surround her on this new adventure.  How would she understand that some things stay and some things go?  How would she feel secure and adapt?  How could I make this inevitably difficult experience as manageable as possible?

Then, one night, I got the idea (thank you, Lord) to make a photo book in story form for her that would explain the entire journey.  The plan for our move is that I will fly out with the girls and take them to my parents house in Kansas.  Then, after a couple days of familiarizing them there, I will fly back to California alone, and help my husband pack up the moving truck and forge ahead via road trip!  We will meet up with the girls in Kansas, pick them up, and continue another day and a half on to Nashville.  Whew!  (You can see why I value your prayers so much!)

This is a LOT to understand for a little brain!  So, I wanted a consistent story.  Something that she could see visually and hear again and again until it stuck.  Luckily, God created toddlers with an incredible ability to soak up information in this way!  I gathered photos off Facebook and the internet, wrote a short story of our exact journey from here to Nashville, and even included photos of the outside of our new home.  Yes, it may seem a bit extreme.  Yes, it took a few hours to throw together.  But, after reading it again and again, I can tell you it has been totally worthwhile.  Now, Matilda reads it to Daphne and can tell you how the whole journey is laid out ahead of her.

We will find out for sure in the next few days just how well she has absorbed that information.  I know that there will still be questions about where her toys and friends are for weeks to come.  I know that she will have confusion no matter what.  I know that I can't buffer everything so that it makes perfect sense to her.  I know that she is a toddler.  :)  But, my goal isn't to downplay what is happening or avoid tears or questions.  My goal is to help her understand and help her feel understood.

3. Closure
Finally, tomorrow as we pack the remainder of their little belongings into a suitcase and blow kisses into the California sun, I hope to bring my girls a tiny sense of closure for the chapter in their lives they spent here.  I want them to not only say goodbye to their friends, but their rooms and their little yard too.  Sadness is okay.  Sadness is allowed.  Sadness is a perfectly normal response to change, and I want them to witness it in me and see that it is something honest and human and expressible.  You don't have to be sad or cry necessarily, but it's not an emotion that needs to be suppressed either, and I just want them (yes, even at this very young age) to feel the security of knowing sadness is okay.

One reason I think this is important is that it allows them the ability to recognize the best thing about sadness:  that it is temporary.  There is incredible security in learning that while sad things are inevitable in life, hope exists.  It is very sad to leave California, but with that change comes much excitement and anticipation of joy in things to come.  Closure is sort of an impossible thing to actually discuss with a toddler, but not impossible to demonstrate.  My girls watch and imitate me to a frightening degree, and so it's important for me to have them witness my own process in taking the time to say goodbye, be sad, and then be excited and hopeful and happy again.  I have complete confidence that God will use this experience in all our lives to remind us of how He protects and provides for our family.


I'm amazed at the resiliency of children.  I love their wild questions and hopeful courage.  I love that they hug without abandon and wholeheartedly just feel.  As usual, I often learn more from them than I think they gain from me, and that is always an awesome and unexpected blessing.

It's gonna be a tricky journey.  I don't know if there is any easy way to force adaptation on a person, no matter how welcome the change may be.  We're in transition, and all I can be is trusting in my faithful God who continues to lavish grace on my life.  Thank you, Jesus, for leading us in this crazy life!

Now, if only they made bubble-wrap for the heart.