Holy Hannah My 3 Yr Old Can WHINE!
Anyone who knows my three year old Simon adores him. There’s no reason not to. He’s funny, wired and dangerously smart. His recall and comprehension levels are off the charts. Good thing is, he has a great heart: loves his family, loves people, obeys his father.
Any parent knows God has a marvelous sense of humor. We get many things we pray for. However, there’s always a trade off. He supplies your wants in exchange for some unique challenges.
I prayed for Simon to be bright, to be hyper for his brothers and father to play with him (we had suffered without more testosterone in the house for tooooooo long), and I wanted him to have a good heart. What I didn’t cover was his sick face. You know what I mean–the face all kids get when they have a fever or upset stomach. Some loud childen become peaceful when they’re sick and just want to cuddle of be held. Some children, who are soft and peaceful show that they have one foot in the burning underground. Their heads start spinning around and fire leaps from their mouths.
Yeah, Simons one of those.
The hard part is, he’s child #9 and I have yet to figure out HOW to help him calm down and chill out when he’s ill. I’m willing to help him in any way possible, but he simply won’t stop freaking out. Three days of that as long as he’s awake can wear the nerves of any adult!
So this is a call of mercy, out to any of you parents who have a child who may be a challenge when they’re sick. How do you help sooth the heart of a screaming banshee??
Read MorePlease Don’t Let My Baby Die.
I was talking with a good friend I have never met. Lafe Langford. Good man, great father and an inspiring example of faith and life in general. We were talking about Mexico, where he lives, the wildlife there and the fun it would be to come down there for some R&R.
We got to talking and he sent me a link to his site, where I read a heart warming story about his experience with his infant daughter Amanda and her life threatening challenge with a bad heart. I recommend this article if you have had struggles with hospitals or health providers. It reminded me of when Cesilea, my oldest, was just an infant herself.
We had moved to West Valley City, Utah and Ditto was just three months old. She had health struggles from the moment she was born until just over a year old, especially with fevers. It was always a challenge to get her temperature down, even with the medicine the doctors gave us. One day I came home from work and Kathi was in a state of panic. Cesilea’s temperature simply would not drop. We did everything we had been taught by the physicians and even our own parents. Nothing worked and as new parents we did what all inexperienced new parents would do: We put the baby in the car and sped off to the closest Hospital.
It was zoo day. The lines were so long, the waiting lines just to get your admission paperwork done zig-zagged through the lobby and out the front doors of the Hospital itself! They had a guard in the lobby making everyone wait their turn, the old women behind the desks shouting out numbers. I didn’t see a single child in line, it was wierd. Within three minutes Cesilea’s breathing had become so shallow, I couldn’t tell if she was breathing at all. Her skin had become so hot it was uncomfortable to hold her. Her body went completely limp.
I remember looking at Kathi and saying “Follow me.” I was determined to make someone listen to me.
I held Cesilea tight against my chest and turned my shoulder into the crowd, pushing my way through. I remember coming up to the guard who blocked my way, people snapping and cussing at me as I cut in front of them. I looked at the guard and opened my arms to reveal my lifeless looking baby and growling, “Move“. He just nodded and held his arms out to clear the way for Kathi and I to get into the main lobby.
Striding up to the counter, I stepped in front of the man sitting in the administration chair and leaned over the counter, placing Cesilea directly into the arms of the grumpy old woman who shouted at me to get back in line.
Her reaction was shock as Ditto’s hot flesh touched hers. The change in her expression was instant as she looked back at me, tears now flowing into uncontrolled sobs.
“Please,” I pleaded, “Please don’t let my baby die.”
Her wrinkled little hand whipped out and hit a button on the wall, yelled something I can’t for the life of me remember, but within moments there were 2 doctors, 3 nurses, and a cart there to take Kathi and Cesilea into the back. In under 10 minutes they had the baby’s fever down as I sat with the woman and did the paperwork–the older gentleman giving me his chair.
When I apologized for my actions, the woman reached over and grabbed my hand.
“My dear, there are days when I forget why I’m here. You did the right thing, in the right way.”
Between you and me, something happened in that experience. I had pushed past the guard at the prompting of the spirit in my heart. “Open your mouth, I will fill it.” was what I heard in my mind, yet when I reached that grouchy woman and opened my mouth, I had never felt so helpless in my life. My whole heart reached out to her in that instant…and regardless of what she was experiencing that day, love met need and my daughter was saved.
That’s my belief, anyway.
Read MoreDaughters…God’s Gift to Fathers.
The bets have been going on for ages. All the kids have been praying for the results, and guess what?!?
It’s not a monkey! WOHOOO!!!
Can’t tell you how relieved I was to put that fear to rest. I now know for sure that we ARE having a 100% perfectly human female child! Got the call a few hours ago and though I don’t think I reacted at the moment of impact like Kathi was hoping I would…he excitement has been sinking into 
my mind minute by minute. There’s never been a gender preference in my mind. Ever. Oh, the exception this time was we had been praying for twins for nearly 19 years and that didn’t come to pass yet again….but past that, I just wanted to know all was good: that both Kathi and the baby were healthy.
Yes, the boys are feeling just a tad out numbered now, being only three boys to seven girls, but if you could watch them behind the scenes, all this whining is for the public drama. besides, the three of them have enough testosterone to compensate for a dozen sons (heaven help 
me). What they don’t say out loud is that they idolize their sisters,…and those girls have no greater pride than in their brothers. Besides, most of these girls can hold their own and clobber their brothers faster and harder than most young adult men could (they pick up martial arts rather quickly). The boys just want to have the tables leveled out.
What is it about girls that makes life so wonderful in my mind? Well, I know they don’t swear and break things in a devious manner or huck loogies. I also know they can’t bench press a Buick or pee standing up like the boys, but they do fill my home with song, give their father hugs and kisses as I come and go to work. They notice the things of the heart and when they smile, life is just…better. Yeah, I’m smitten by my daughters, but they give me a stronger desire to change the world. I know, I know, it probably sounds corney, but I’m serious here. They make me want to roll up my sleeves and bend this world into a better shape than i
t is…or burn my life out trying.
Why? For them.
You see, my view of men and women has always been the same: The females are just as noble, strong (in their own unique ways), intelligent and filled with talent and passion as men. But to me, they bring a special light, a refinement and a joy to the soul that another male just can’t create. Not in my mind, anyway. Oh, I’m not so foolish to know there aren’t exceptions, but my daughters have been raised to be something I feel is lacking more and more in this wide world: good, virtuous, noble, pure women. We are the ones who should be beating the snakes and smoothing the road so that they can walk, unmolested in this world.
Maybe that’s why I’m so blessed: because I’d skin any male who tries to tarnish that purity. Who knows. I dearly love my girls and they are the pride of their father’s heart.
Just my opinion, but then again, they’re are my daughters.
Read MoreSecurity: Giving a Child ‘Structure’
Since my oldest was born, Ditto, who’s now 18, we had a bed time ritual and lights out of 7:00pm. That meant after dinner we would get the little ones cleaned up, into the PJ’s and then settle down for a bed time story, sometimes two, where they could cuddle on mom and dad’s bed and have time directed to their entertainment. Hugs and kisses after that as we tucked them into bed.
Now, I never had that when I was growing up. Kathi on the other hand, talks about how her mother tucked her in up until she was 16 years old. Not the stories, but coming in and checking on her, sitting on her bedside and telling Kathi she was loved. I thought that was a bit strange the first time she told me, but then I sat back and looked at both of us. A quick glance over our personalities created an instant desire to follow in my mother-in-laws footsteps.
Over the years we had variations which included a couple years where I would spend almost an hour each night acting out stories by candle light or singing them songs (not me, heaven forbid—Kathi), but always sticking to the schedule of the 7:00pm ritual.
Over the past couple of years we have not kept that schedule and it has shown. Simon and Carley have become unruly, the older children quickly took liberties which were not theirs and suddenly mom and dad lost every second of their ‘down time’ to recuperate before the daily challenges would start again. Anyone with more than on child knows they need to have their batteries replenished with other adults each day to deal with the world of Sesame Street.
Yet it’s not just for the parents that these rituals should be initiated. It’s for the mental and emotional structure of our children. It happens to be something they can count on. Something to bring comfort when the world simply throws you about. Think of it as a nap schedule for the babies. You know a child needs a nap in the day. They all do at some time in their infant stage, or their systems get too taxed. So you lay them down and that miniature troll miraculously becomes an angel once more, once that nap quota has been filled. Needless to say we are back on schedule with not only Carley and Simon, but also with Jami Taylor and Ethany, both a tad older, but also in need of mom and dad time.
Harmony in the home is established once more.
Now what about our teenagers?
Same rule applies. All youth, so long as they are under your care and under your roof, need structure. Something they can count on until they can create structure for themselves. What some tend to miss, is that law and order (in this case it becomes the rules of your family) establish peace and create an environment of structure needed for freedom of thought, action and happiness. It helps youth know their bounds and to reenforce their responsibilities, keeping them accountable—which is what todays society seriously lacks, IMO.
Structure helps a child develop his/her mental faculties and reasoning abilities. Their discernment between right and wrong, acceptable behavior and not as well as embedding your own parental expectations for them as your children. These should all be measured out in love, patience and encouragement.
Read MoreSecurity: Associations
This is a touchy subject for me as a parent, because I feel it’s so important. Some will agree, some won’t and I have met many who simply don’t care.
A child should have good associations. That means having friends that you approve of and have influence in such connections. Can you monitor everything? Not likely. Should you? That’s debatable. The general concept here I want to make, is that your children should have associations that minimize the risk of ‘contamination’.
That’s the word that seems to offend: “contamination”.
Here’s what I specifically mean:
I don’t want my children to be associating with others who influence or boldly take them away from the values, beliefs and structure we teach in our home…until such a time that my children display an ability to reason and work out the matters on their own. From there they can choose for themselves, knowing full well the consequences of making such connections and how it will affect their life.
Now in English:
If your kid cusses, tells dirty jokes about whores and plays with Tarot cards, they won’t be welcome in my home, nor will my kids be hanging out with them. Why? Because I don’t want my kids to be like your kid. Plain and simple.
Am I over protective? I don’t believe so. Tool strict? Most likely, but proud of it, actually. I’ve had a great deal happen to me in my life, especially while growing up, to know that no one is going to actively protect my children but Kathi and I. No one loves them like we do. No one wants the very best for them like we do. No one would sacrifice for them like we do. Thus it stands to reason that no one else should have a say in how they are raised like we do. So if you feel like arguing, zip it.
Children are a lot like water storage. If you have ever stored water over a long period of time, you know to place river rocks under and around the barrels. Why? For the taste. If they are left in dirt, they eventually taste like dirt. It seems water has a perfect memory and hold an impression. So do our kids. How many times does a kid of 3 yrs. old have to hear a swear word before they start repeating it?
So consider the youth who are smoking, drinking, having sex,doing drugs, looking at pornography and actively talking badly about their parents and ask yourself if you’re willing to take the chance with your children associating with those types of personalities.
If you create structure in your child’s associations, always letting them know why you are doing such things, I promise you that a situation will arise that will vindicate your efforts in the eyes of your child. Something will happen that they will see your reasoning and support the work you have done. It’s not always easy to stand firm, but again I promise you…it’s worth every battle.
Parenting: The catch 22
It was a long but good weekend, starting off with Cesilea’s 18th birthday, charged with loud and excited youth in celebration of another semi-adult joining their tribe.
Saturday and Sunday brought some challenges in reminders of how our parenting style and system has changed over the years. It came up while observing Jami Taylor and Ethany coming out of their room several times in the late evening (when they’re supposed to be a asleep), to tattle on siblings when it was completely unnecessary.
Parents have a difficult job, just from the duty of providing and caring for the physical needs of a child. With each new life comes an unlimited string of variables no one can predict, from personality traits to when the dog might be shaved bald and painted an off pink. Now compound that stress level by having the responsibility of providing their emotional, mental and spiritual needs as well. This is no easy task.
The main catch 22 of the parenting equation, however, is the job itself.
You see, while you have your offspring under a microscope, they have one firmly fixed on you as well.
Babies are MEANT to be cute, so you totally forget what they'll be like once they're teenagers...
As young children grow into teenagers and momentarily become retarded by the ‘I know more than you could possibly understand’ gene, they fail to realize that we as parents are plagued by a no win situation. We are trying to teach and guide while trying to learn and grow ourselves. This also means we, as the parents make mistakes and errors in our judgment as we try to perfect our job.
Heaven forbid! Mistakes you say? Aye, mistakes.
Yet children, whether it be from a genetic predisposition or simple youth prejudice, rarely give us the benefit of the doubt (or leeway) they openly and boldly demand (or hope) we give them. We have the double burden of trying to teach our kids while being examples worthy of emulation, while they scrape our tired, spent bodies across their unyielding microscope looking for flaws.
When my oldest children approached me not long ago and asked why I didn’t treat them the same way I do their little siblings, all I could do was shrug my shoulders and give them hugs.
“I didn’t know how to do that when you were little. I’m sorry.”
It’s actually a profound revelation for teenagers if you can sit them down to have arational talk on this subject, but for those who simply have a house full of hormone dominant teenagers who can only see their one point of view, take heart. You’re far from alone.
It happens to every single parent on planet Earth.
Welcome to the club.
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