Staying The Course

Have you ever punished a child only to forget a day or two later that you did it? It seems like this has been happening to me more and more lately. Unfortunately, I have a couple teenagers who, once in a while, will take advantage of the fact that I forget. Sometimes on purpose, but other times because they've forgotten too.

Last week I grounded my #2 son from the computer for a week. A couple of days later he comes up to me and says, "Mom can I get on the computer? I have all my chores done." I give my permission and go on about my business. A good deal of time passes and I notice that he's still sitting at the computer doing his thing. I politely tell him he needs to shut it down and get busy with other things. He says, "OK." Again, I walk away to continue my business. Several minutes go by, and just as I suspect, there he is still planted firmly in front of the PC. All of a sudden the light bulb goes off in my head and I remember that I had grounded him two days before precisely because he wouldn't get off the computer when I asked him to.

At this point I'm clearly upset. Firstly, at myself, for not remembering that I punished him. Secondly, because he asked my permission. And thirdly, because this seems to be a repeated offense with him. (Not doing what he's asked when he's asked). It was then that I decided that I needed to write his punishment on the calendar so that I wouldn't forget.

This boy has not given up trying to get me to shorten his punishment though. Every once in a while he will approach me to see if he can use the computer to work on this project or that project, but so far, I've stood firm and have even had to go so far as to include an addendum. I told him that for every time he asks to use the PC, an extra day will be tacked on to his sentence. So far, so good.

A No-Stress Approach to Kid's Chores

I recently started receiving a free marriage and family magazine by Focus on the Family. This morning I couldn't sleep and got up earlier than usual. I hadn't had a chance to read the magazine yet so took a bit of time to look it over before I started my morning devotion. I wanted to share with you this particular article. Perhaps you'll have the need to use Heather's creative idea some day. But hopefully not. Happy Parenting!


YOUR CHORES OR MINE?
by Heather Trent Beers

I'm amazed how two empty trash cans left by the driveway can transform me from Mother of Year to a raging inferno in two seconds flat.

One morning, I entered my 15-year-old son's room. "Jacob," I said. I waited for eye contact.

Yes, Mom?" His eyes darted between the screen and my face.
I'm heading out on an errand. Please bring the trash cans in before I get home in an hour."

"Uh-huh."

Now, I've learned two things about Jacob. First, I must say his name and make eye contact. Second, I need to make him repeat what I've said. Both are helpful in the "But I Didn't Hear You" battle.

"What will you do?"

"Bring in the trash cans."

"When?"

"Before you get home."

"Which will be when?"

"In one hour."

"Good. See you in an hour."

I left with a spring in my step. He's growing into a responsible young man. An hour later when I came home, however, the cans were still at the end of the driveway. Goodbye, June Cleaver. Hello, Mommy Dearest. I fumed as I pulled into the garage.

"Why do I even bother?" I stomped to the end of the driveway, jerked the cans off the ground and wheeled them to the garage. My blood pressure soared, and my heart thumped wildly.

I knew Jacob needed a consequence for his inaction, but all I could think about were the chores that awaited me, and here I was doing his simple chore on top of it! Suddenly, I smiled. If I'm doing his chores, he can do mine. The simple brilliance of the plan filled me with hope. I whispered fervently, "God, please let this work!"

Upstairs, I stopped by my son's room. "Hi, Jacob!" I was pleased with my friendly tone. "Hi, Mom!" He flashed a quick smile and continued his game. "You left the trash cans at the curb, so I brought them in." "Oh... I'm sorry," he said, grimacing. He looked at me, but his fingers continued tapping. In the past, I would have made a smart remark like " 'Sorry' doesn't change things." This time I said, "That's all right. You can do one of my chores. The laundry needs folding." Jacob froze. He knew he'd been had, and it was fair and square.

While he hung shirts and folded socks, I read a few pages of a novel. I thought about what just happened. Bringing in trash cans: One minute. Folding laundry: Six minutes. Five extra minutes reading with my feet propped up. I could get used to this.

I whispered a prayer of thanks.

Two days later, I asked 9-year-old Rebekah to put her shoes away before lunch. I went through the "Say Her Name and Maker Her Repeat My Instructions" deal. She passed with flying colors. Lunch came and went, but the shoes didn't. So I put them away myself, without saying a word or sighing like a martyr. I was planning my next five-minute escape.

After lunch, I said, "Rebekah, you didn't put your shoes away, so I did it." "Oh, I'm sorry, Mom," came the usual reply.

"That's OK. I need to vacuum the den, so you can do that for me." Rebekah looked as if I'd slapped her. "That's not fair!" she wailed, eyes wide with shock. "Well, it's certainly not fair for me to do my chores and yours. Since I did yours, you can do one of mine." Her face fell. She hates vacuuming, so she didn't do it with the best attitude. But it was done, and I got my five-minute reading date.

Over the next several days, I assembled my to-do list with glee, calculating how many chapters I might finish if all went well. I asked the kids to help more, and they did with improved attitudes. I started to feel less like the Lone Ranger and more like Mom.

Heather Trent Beers lives in Grandview, Mo., where she is giggling her way through her latest read.

Resource: family.org
Picture by: Jupiter Images

I'm Invisible

This was sent to me by my mom today. Perhaps you've seen it? For me, it came at a perfect time as I've been feeling a bit inadequate the past few weeks in the motherhood department-- Thanks much mom!!

Ladies, if you're feeling a bit invisible these days, maybe Charlotte's words will bring you the encouragement you need. Keep your chin up, remain faithful and keep leaning on the Lord! He will supply where each of us lack.

Print Supplied by: Fulcrum Gallery

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"

Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Pick me up right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -- but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going ... she's going ... she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well.

It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully
wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read -- no, devour -- the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals-- we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it."

And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand-bastes a
turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home.

And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Momsence

*UPDATE* I stand corrected-- the music she sings to is called the William Tell Overture. That should tell you how much I know about classical music... even though I do like to listen to it.

My friend sent me this funny snip-it of Christian stand-up comedian, Anita Renfroe. She's put some fun lyrics to the Lone Ranger theme song. I find her style of comedy to be refreshing, and if you're a mom, I'm sure you'll appreciate this too. :)



LYRICS:
by Anita Renfroe

Get up now, get up now, get up out of bed,
Wash your face, brush your teeth, comb your sleepy head.
Here’s your clothes and your shoes, hear the words I said,
Get up now, get up and make your bed.
Are you hot, are you cold, are you wearing that?
Where’s your books and your lunch and your homework at?
Grab your coat and your gloves and your scarf and hat.
Don’t forget, you’ve gotta feed the cat.
Eat your breakfast,
the experts tell us it’s the most important meal of all,
Take your vitamins so you will grow up one day to be big and tall.
Please remember the orthodontist will be seeing you at three today,
Don’t forget your piano lesson is this afternoon so you must play.
Don’t shovel, chew slowly, but hurry, the bus is here,
Be careful, come back here, did you wash behind your ears?
Play outside, don’t play rough, would you just play fair?
Be polite, make a friend, don’t forget to share,
Work it out, wait your turn, never take a dare,
Get along, don’t make me come down there.
Clean your room, fold your clothes, put your stuff away,
Make your bed, do it now, do we have all day?
Were you born in a barn? Would you like some hay?
Can you even hear a word I say?
Answer the phone, Get off the phone,
Don’t sit so close, turn it down, no texting at the table.
No more computer time tonight,
Your ipod’s my ipod if you don’t listen up.
Where you going and with whom and what time do you think you’re coming home?
Saying thank you, please, excuse me, makes you welcome everywhere you roam.
You’ll appreciate my wisdom someday
when you’re older and you’re grown.
Can’t wait til you have a couple little children of your own.
You’ll thank me for the council I gave you so willingly,
But right now I thank you not to roll your eyes at me.
Close your mouth when you chew, we’d appreciate,
Take a bite, maybe two, of the stuff you hate.
Use your fork, do not burp or I’ll set you straight.
Eat the food I put upon your plate.
Get an A, get in the door, don’t be smart with me,
Get a grip, get in here or I’ll count to three,
Get a job, Get a life, get a PhD, get a dose of...
I don’t care who started it,
You’re grounded until you’re 36,
Get your story straight
And tell the truth for once for heaven sake.
And, if all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump to?
If I’ve said once I’ve said it at least a thousand times before,
That you’re too old to act this way,
It must be your father’s DNA.
Look at me when I am talking, stand up straighter when you walk.
A place for everything, and everything must be in place.
Stop crying or I’ll give you something real to cry about.
oh
Brush your teeth, wash your face, get your pj’s on.
Get in bed, get a hug, say a prayer with Mom.
Don’t forget I love you (kiss)
And tomorrow we will do this all again
because a Mom’s work never ends.
You don’t need the reason why,
Because, Because, Because, Because,
I said so, I said so, I said so, I said so.
I’m the Mom, the Mom, the Mom, the Mom, the Mom!
Ta-Da!