quick to judge

“Ryan! Come back here—Ryyyaan! Sit down!” The Mother pleaded desperately, while the rest of us sat quietly with our kids, waiting for music class to begin. What little control the mother had deteriorated quickly as the teacher handed out bells for the kids to use as instruments. Ryan literally ran circles around us during the entire class. I exchanged knowing looks with the moms around me. I watched my own boys participate appropriately in the class and thought smugly, “Heck, if I can get 2-year old twins to follow the directions, what is this lady’s problem?”

I became increasingly critical after the class, as I rehashed the experience over and over. “I understand that kids misbehave sometimes, that’s not what I have a problem with,” I explained to a girlfriend on the phone, “what I don’t understand is why his mother did nothing about it.”

The more I told the story, the more frustrated I became. Over dinner I told my husband angrily, “We’re paying a lot of money for this music class and I certainly didn’t pay to watch an undisciplined child run loose! I’m going to talk to that teacher next week and tell her she has to do something about Ryan, or we’re out of there.”

The next week Ryan did a bit better, but I was still fuming. While I round up the noisy boys and mentally rehearse my "Take care of this kid or we're out of here speech," I overheard Ryan’s Mom asking,“Are you sure it’s okay that we’re here?”
”It’s fine,” the teacher encouraged. “Music is so good for him. We can get an aide in next week to help you, if you’d like.”
“That would be great,” Ryan's Mom replied. Suddenly, I see her exhaustion and her son's autism.

My face reddens as I remember my rehearsed speech. Why hadn’t I even considered that this boy has special needs? Why am I so quick to judge this other Mom, when in reality I have no idea what she is dealing with?

Lord, teach me this lesson over and over until I get it right. Please help me to be slow to criticize and quick to encourage the people around me. Give me empathy and compassion in place of my hasty judgments. Root out the pride that lurks just under the surface and fill me with your grace. Amen.

God is with us

I stumbled on this blog several months ago, and have to share it with you. The author recounts stories from her Mother’s childhood during WWII, and they are powerful.

How easily I lose sight of the simple truth that wherever I am, God is with me. This truth makes me want to weep and dance all at the same time. Think about it, friends: God is with us.

ouch

I joined a different health club. This one has fun childcare—we’re talking computer lab, climbing structure, open gym kind of fun. The noisy boys were having so much fun today they didn’t want to leave. Twin B. actually said, “Can’t we just stay five more minutes?” This is a good thing.

Now, note to self: next time you’re on the elliptical and a trainer stops by and invites you to a “free” circuit training class, don’t go. It might sound fun, but trust me: that workout will kick your butt.

The ironic thing is that before the trainer came by, I had somehow talked myself into quitting my workout early, taking a nice, long shower, and getting a cup of coffee in the café before picking up the kids.

Next time I’ll do that.

Seriously, people. I’m not sure I can make it up the stairs tonight.

first words

Baby b. has been babbling for awhile now, but outside of the occasional "Mom," hasn't said any real words. Until today. We were touring a fitness facility, walking by the outdoor swimming pool when he excitedly pointed and exclaimed, "NACK!" We were walking right by the snack bar.

He's a boy after my own heart.

road trip

Top Ten Reasons to take a Family Trip

10. Listening to Adventures in Odyssey on tape.

9. Eating in Diners.

8. Learning things about your children you never knew before. Like the fact that their bladders can completely fill up in less than fifteen minutes.

7. Staying at family friendly hotels that don’t mind when a one-year old guest hangs out in the lobby for an hour while his big brothers sleep in.

6. Leapsters

5. Laughing together. What else can you do when you’ve stopped four times in the past hour and someone has to go? Again?

4. Learning to wing it. As a planner / control freak, this is hard for me. But what else can you do when virtually everything is unknown and new territory?

3. Acquiring special travel toys. Like this. (The picture doesn’t do it justice. This thing is almost as big as the noisy boys. And, of course, we have two of them now.)

2. Making memories with far-away family. Playing ping-pong in my Uncle’s basement was Twin B’s favorite thing from the entire vacation.

1. Watching your one-year old share an ice cream cone with his Great Grandfather. Worth the whole trip.

then and now

I walk briskly, pushing the double stroller, hoping to burn off the half-a-package of Oreos I ate instead of dinner. The sugar gives me quick energy, but ultimately lets me down. At least the babies have stopped screaming. From five to seven, nobody’s happy. I walk by the neighborhood school and try to imagine my babies as boys, going to school. Five more years. In five years, I think, I will have a life. I’ll spend more time on my writing, organize my closet, and clean out the garage. I’ll stop eating Oreos for dinner and get more exercise. I’ll have lunch with friends. Surely in five years I’ll have a friend? In five years, I’ll have time for me. It will be my turn.

I navigate baby b.’s stroller down the sidewalk and chat with the noisy boys as we walk to school. “Is today gym?” Twin B. asks.
Twin A. answers authoritatively, “No. Today is ORANGE day. I think it might be music.”
“Actually,” I respond, “it’s yellow day. And you guys have gym on different days. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s gym today or not, B. But you’re wearing your gym shoes, so you’ll be ready either way!” The noisy boys get a kick out of the color system our school uses to keep track of “special” days like gym and art. Or maybe they’re just amused that I cannot for the life of me figure the system out. Either way, it’s a common topic of conversation.

I offer quick hugs as they run to join their classmates and walk briskly home. I put baby b. down for his nap and look around. Three baskets of laundry need folding, the lunch dishes need to be put in the dishwasher, I have four phone calls to return, the kitchen floor crunches, and the family room looks like a bomb went off. I fold laundry while I return phone calls, do the dishes, sweep, and defrost chicken for our dinner tonight. I think about an article I want to write while I snap green beans. Maybe tomorrow, I think, as I get baby b. up for the walk back to school, glancing at the still-messy family room. Maybe tomorrow.

Kindergarten

New notebooks, markers, and pencils weigh down the noisy boys’ school bags as they excitedly march down the sidewalk, ahead of me and their dad and their baby brother. We walk the four blocks to school and join the throng of children and parents and cameras, all commemorating this first important day. Other Moms wipe their eyes, and I determine not to be one of them. I focus on the noisy boys—this is their day, not mine, and I truly am excited for them. This strategy works right up until the end, when they line up behind their respective teachers, and I notice that all of the other children are waving at their parents, while the noisy boys are completely focused on eachother, waving and calling out: “Goodbye A.!”
“Goodbye, B. Good luck!”

That’s when I lost it.

It’s also when I realized that separating them was a bigger deal than I expected it to be. And so it is. I am in new territory and it’s overwhelming, but God is here too. And I have a really, really big new calendar ready to hang on the wall.