Category Archive: Parenting
Livia: Mom, can I stay with you?
Me, thinking of an upcoming trip: What do you mean?
Livia: When I’m a grownup, can I always stay with you?
Me, heart melting: You can stay with me as long as you want to.
There will come a day when Livia is ready to move away from my side, when she finds her first apartment or moves across the country to a dorm room. But for today, for this moment where she needs her mommy and wants to stay close, I am grateful. I pray I have the grace to let her go when it’s time for her to not need me so much.
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After school Liv told me about a video she watched with a ballerina and a toy soldier. This led to questions about real soldiers and, as I often do, I told her way more than she needed to know. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Afghanistan, President Obama, Congress and, oh yes, God bless the USA. I told her there are some countries where people aren’t allowed to worship God and meet together for church, and there are other places where women aren’t allowed to vote or be in charge of the government. There are some countries where children have to work instead of go to school, and there are some places where the government doesn’t take good care of its own people.
She thought seriously about all this, then asked, with great concern in her voice, “Are there places where kids can’t have play dates?”
I love the six year old mind. Because really, what could be worse than not being allowed to have play dates?
I stood in the aisle at Target for goodness knows how long as I contemplated buying the plush white throw pillow. I had completed all important shopping and my brain wasn’t functioning very quickly anymore as I entered something of a Shopper’s Daze. The store lights, smells and dizzying colors had gotten to me and I debated and debated and debated the purchase of one throw pillow.
In the end, I bought it.
And I’ve found I have officially turned into my mother. “Don’t drool on this one!” I warned Livia right away. “Because I can just see you drinking something chocolate-y and then laying down on this pillow.” She cuddled into the fuzzy stripes and nuzzled her face in it. I took one look at her, and promptly gave her an old couch pillow. Just like my mom used to do. But somehow, despite my mom’s best efforts, I repeatedly napped—and drooled—on the good pillows.
Why we mamas purchase anything new is beyond me. And something white to boot? I’m blaming it on that shopping daze—and those alluring fuzzy white stripes.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
- James 1:7
I praise God for this child, for the fun of being together on a Friday afternoon and doing special things together like drinking Sonic slushies and going to the lake.
I praise God for this world He’s created—that Livia loves to explore—and for the creatures like ducks and caterpillars that bring her such delight.
I praise God for her chubby kid cheeks that will someday morph into a more slender shape. I praise God that He has given such a beautiful child to me to love and care for.
This unchanging nature of our God brings me such relief and profound gratitude. He doesn’t change. His goodness can’t be altered. Praise God.
Under the headline “Why getting messy can be good for children,” The Macomb Daily newspaper printed my photo in their Sunday, July 18 newspaper.
It was pretty cool. Here’s the photo:
If you Google muddy child, (and if you ignore the horror show shot of one particular small child, eek!) then Livia’s image will immediately pop up and that shot will lead you to this blog post. I believe that’s how a journalist from the Macomb Daily found me. We conversed back and forth via email and I submitted several images for consideration. I also gave a small email interview and was then quoted in the article.
Like most other papers, the Macomb Daily doesn’t publish every last article online, but I wish I could link to this one so you all could read it! I think I come off sounding much smarter and more professional than I really am. [wink, wink]
“We’ve always known that kids and play are just a natural combo,” [Dr. Michele] Borba said. “But new research also shows that letting kids engage in self-directed play has immense value for their social, emotional, cognitive and physical growth.”
Rebecca Tredway, 32, would agree.
The former middle school teacher and freelance photographer—whose blog, View From the Prairie Box—provides readers with a daily dose of images and stories about life in America’s Heartland—said, as a mom, she tries to value childish fun and exploration over cleanliness and easy parenting.
The article goes on, with a little more quotage by yours truly, to detail the benefits of messy, independent play for young children. If you’d like to read it in its entirety, you’ll have to stop by for a cup of coffee sometime. I have exactly one hard copy in my possession.
You can see the rest of the mud photo series on my Flickr account. My favorite shot is this one.
Two weeks ago: Is it kindergarten yet???!!!! [bounces around the house with glee]
Tuesday night: Tomorrow I start kindergarten!!!!! [bouncing, glee, etc]
Wednesday 7:02am: It’s kindergarten today!!! [a little less bounce because it's early in the morning, lots of glee]
Wednesday, 7:47am: Backpack, sidewalk notes, lunch!!! [big smiles]
Wednesday, 8:04am: [The tide turns. Emotions on edge, finally spill over into tears.]
But I want to take my dollies to school! Waaaaah!!
Wednesday, 8:12am: I want to go home. I want to go home. [said in a whisper while clinging to mommy's leg amongst the millions of schoolchildren and their parents]
Wednesday, 8:13am: Mommy is forced to be strong while blinking back tears of her own.
Wednesday, 8:15am: Child is safely and peacefully walked into classroom. Mommy holds Daddy’s arm and attempts to be brave.
Wednesday, 8:47am: Mommy thinks school is a *brilliant* idea, marvels over the fact that it’ll go on, day after day, until May.
Wednesday, 1:55pm: School was GREAT! My teacher is so kind; she’s not a yeller! [And the giddy chattering commences until bedtime. Seriously, she couldn't stop talking she was so excited.]
Summer has dwindled into the hot, humid days of August where some of us mommies begin to say, Now, when does school start? The structure and enthusiasm of earlier weeks has turned into something less shapely, where too much television might be consumed and motherly motivation is lacking.
It was on one of these lazy, hazy days that Livia and I emerged from our pseudo-naptimes (Quiet Time in our house) and simply had to find adventure. Here I was, reading all the Facebook statuses about friends being in cool Colorado, and it was high time to entertain myself in the city of Lincoln, Nebraska, instead of merely being envious.
So we wandered through Indigo Bridge Books, picked up the best ice cream in town at Ivanna Cone, and wandered among the trains for a time. Deciding the wandering should be extended, we quickly drove out to Pioneers Park and pet turtles and snakes at the Nature Center. Livia caught—and released—a toad and a moth. I snapped photos and filled up the creative space in my own heart.
A few days ago, Livia told me that I’m very smart, “like a robot with a brain in it.” That’s not exactly how I’d describe myself… but I’ll take it!
It reminds of the this conversation I recorded some time ago…
Liv: Mom, I love you. You’re great! You’re kinda like a servant.
Me: Aw thanks. I kind of am!
And finally, the line that earned her a trip to college and a pony:
Livia: Mom, you have skinny legs.
The End.
Plucked from a pot of herbs, Scrubby became a household pet for a brief time. With the help of Google, we learned Scrubby was a Papilio polyxene who liked to eat parsley, among other things.
For four days, Livia carried Scrubby’s jar to her room during quiet time. She would sit in her room for an hour, quietly letting the caterpillar climb all over her hands and arms. I was pretty sure that such frequent handling of the insect would prevent him from turning into a butterfly, but I was wrong.
Scrubby began to do what he was made to do. He had a really odd poop, climbed onto a twig, strapped himself in with one strand of silky thread, then stayed still for about 24 hours straight. I went away to a mini-retreat at church and came home to a green chrysalis. Livia said Jeremy kept looking at the jar and only seeing leaves and that she was the one to point out Scrubby’s chrysalis.
For 11 days, we kept vigil by the side of the jar. Towards the end of the time, Scrubby’s chrysalis turned grey, then one night it was almost black—apparently the chrysalis becomes transparent before the butterfly emerges.
We awoke on a Tuesday morning and Scrubby was no longer his green striped chubby caterpillar self; he was a glorious Black Swallowtail butterfly. Livia wasn’t home at the time, so I took the jar, with its transformed inhabitant, and picked her up from my mom’s house. Liv’s jaw almost hit the floor when she saw Scrubby—it was awesome. She chose to release her winged friend and he was last seen testing out his new wings over the lake in my mom’s backyard.
I was surprised by how fascinated I was at Scrubby’s transformation. I knew Livia would love it, but really, I loved the whole experience too. I’m amazed at how God created such an interesting life cycle for this fat little caterpillar. The Master Artist clearly spared no detail in his creation.
There are always more dishes to wash. And don’t get me started on the never-ending laundry piles. There’s always another blog post to read, another email to reply to, another task to check of my list of things-to-do. There’s always another chapter in the good book I finally got into, and there’s always something that catches my eye on Netflix.
But for Pete’s sake, it’s summer. And sometimes you’ve got to get out of the house.
A few days ago Livia and I wandered through our local rose garden and we both snapped pictures of what interested us. Liv took off her shoes and dipped her toes in the gorgeous and cool fountain. She left watery footprints on the hot sidewalk and meandered with me through the rose bushes.
I can get completely caught up in the mundane activities of my life and need these Rose Garden moments to give me breath and joy again. Thank God for a six-year-old who holds my hand and explores with me.
My girl loves to paint. I think I’ve said this before, but she’d roll her whole body in paint if I let her. (New summer activity perhaps?) If I give up my timetable, and my desire for cleanliness, and my pursuit of easy, simple activities, then painting, Liv’s choice, is perfect. Why is it so hard to do that as a mother? To set aside my own interests in order to do something my child absolutely adores?
Friday was a relax-at-home kind of day and painting fit the bill for afternoon entertainment. I opened the craft cupboard and there garage sale picture frames sat, looking all boring in their wood frames. An hour later they were coated in orange, teal and a glorious hodge-podge of colors, the last precisely replicated on Livia’s ten fingers.