The Day after Thanksgiving

It's the day after Thanksgiving and all through the house the Mommy & Daddy are hustling to ready the house.

Yesterday we traveled over the blacktop and through the next town to Grandma & Grandpa's house.

We stuffed (ourselves, not the turkey) and we sat and we talked and we ate (again).

The kitchen counters are laden with the remains of preparing food to take to the feast. 

The dishwasher is full, as are the washer and dryer.

The living room floor is almost wall to wall toys, as the Mommy has not had a moment in days to focus on singing, "Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere. Clean up, clean up, Little Guy do your share."

And so, what we are most thankful for this Day After Thanksgiving Morn, is that Little Guy went to spend two hours with his cousins. :) 

With the crockpot and freezer aisle of the grocery store doing most of the cooking for tonight's family feast part two (at our home), these two morning hours (plus a we-can-only-hope 2-3 hour afternoon nap) will mean that when the family comes for supper tonight, not only will they be able to walk without tripping and falling on toys, but also there will be a clean surface on which to set a table and serve and eat our dinner!

I Surrender All

::from the archives about a year ago::

::good reminder::

"All to Jesus I surrender;
Lord, I give myself to Thee;
Fill me with Thy love and power;
Let Thy blessing fall on me."

26 hours into a 34 hour getaway sans baby, I stood and sang this hymn with a new-to-me congregation.  Worshiping anonymously usually helps me ponder the hymns and Scripture and sermon better.

In addition, the change of place and pace, not to mention the respite from 24/7 mothering, had given space in my brain and led to some reflection.

I also was in the middle of reading Lisa-Jo Baker's refreshing Surprised by Motherhood.

The words to this familiar hymn were very fresh in that context, and became a renewed prayer of surrender.  A prayer that my mothering would be a surrender of my heart, that my mothering would be to Jesus, that my mothering would be by His love & power, and that His blessing would be on it.

Nothing wasted

Some years back, an honorary aunt told me:

God doesn't waste anything in our life experience. 

This week when Little Guy's aural rehab therapist was here, she was working on the /p/ sound, specifically the initial /p/ sound in two-syllable words. 

I reached over and found a purple screwdriver from his Little Tikes set.  After she did some therapy with that, I asked Little Guy to find his pillow.  He brought it over, and the therapist did some therapy using it.  Then I mentioned his orange pumpkin, and he went to retrieve it.

The therapist interjected with, "You're GOOD at this!" and I commented, "Well, teaching English for years helps."  She had never known that I taught conversational English in Japan for years, and said, "Oh, that explains a lot!  I keep thinking it's not natural for a mom to be this good at language."

Indeed God does not waste anything in our life experience:

• Modern English Grammar class in college, where we spent each hour of class diagramming sentences on the chalkboard (yes, they had chalkboards then!). 

• Spending a year in a foreign country without formal language training, trying to figure out what the sounds meant and how they fit together. 

• Continuing (for years) to learn that language with some formal training, but also with lots & lots of listening and analyzing.

• Teaching conversational English classes for a dozen years, trying to discern why my students had trouble with certain grammatical constructs, and seeking to help them understand and learn how English works.  

And now, I am entrusted with the at-risk language needs of our son.  Every week I get to observe and analyze the language of our toddler, in order to report to his therapists, so they know best how to help him.

God doesn't waste anything in our life experience.

Toys of the week

Grandma always asks me, "What does he play with the most?"

Of course, it's always changing, but this week's favorites are:

Melissa & Doug Pound-a-Peg
Melissa & Doug Nesting/ Stacking A-B-C tower
Fisher Price garage
simple puzzles

and, always, books, musical instruments, and his kitchen.

Almost everything came from a garage sale.  For instance, the nesting/stacking A-B-C tower is the best 50 cents I ever spent!  His kitchen is similar to this, except white and not hardwood but particle board, and the front doors are missing, but we keep bins of play food in the bottom of the cupboards. It was $7 on an online garage sale!

Pushing?

Recently someone said, "I hope you won't push him academically."

I discussed it with one of Little Guy's therapists and said, "I don't think I'm pushing him." They immediately confirmed that I'm just trying to keep up with him!

This morning, on the first snow day of the season, he is occupying himself (for 2.5 minutes at least!) with bringing me magnets. 

"Uncle Scott!" he declared, and handed me the "S."

"Mommy!" as he gave me the "M."

"Grace!" as he gave me the "G."

And so on.

Whenever we see the first letter of our last name (in a store, on the spine of a library book as he walks through the Junior section, on a yogurt package), he shouts our last name! 

Piggies

(As Jim leaves for the morning:)

Where's Daddy going?

Tractor. 

I don't know what he's doing today. It may be the tractor. Or it may be piggies. Did you know Daddy works with the piggies?

Yeah. 

Piggies need a lot of care.

Lot of care. 

Do you need a lot of care?

Care.  (Translated: yes!)

Bye-bye, paci

In my last post, Little Guy expressed that he loves bedtime because of his paci.

And in the post before that, you might have noticed a library book titled, "No More Pacifier, Duck."

WE the parents are the reason that the paci still was in our lives, yea, even ruled our lives.  For many months the paci had been reserved for the car and the crib.  But one providential day I forgot to make sure we had a paci in the diaper bag, and so when we got into the car after church at 12 noon and Little Guy was ready for his paci & a nap, reality hit ... and BIT!

Once we had endured that 25 minute tantrum, there was no going back.  The next day's car tantrum was only about 20 minutes.  And by the end of the week, the car was not a problem.

We read aforementioned library book about a jillion times and repeated the mantra, "Only in bed, sleepyhead."  One day I even prayed with Little Guy that Jesus would help him say, "Bye-bye, paci."  After we said, "Amen," he looked up at me with furrowed brow and asked, "Bye-bye, paci?!?" 

And then one day, just like in the library book, we said, "Not even in bed, sleepyhead." And sure enough, just like Duck said, "Qua-a-a-a-a-a-ck!!!!" we heard quite a bit of crying from the crib.  But within a few days, it was over. 

Next up: "Jesus, please help Little Guy to say, 'Bye-bye, diapers!'"  :)

Q&A

Little Guy:  Sleepy.

Me:  Are you sleepy?

LG:  Yeah.

Me:  It's not bedtime.  Do you like bedtime?

LG:  Yeah.

Me:  Why do you like bedtime?

LG:  Buh-BUH. [His word for pacifier.]

:)