Reneging

Soooooo, Mindy got her bath.

But it didn't happen Tuesday, as we had said it should.

And Josh didn't participate in the chore, as I said he would.

Yep. That's pretty much the way it played out. Brain said the boys should give Mindy a bath Tuesday and - in spite of his argument/other plans - I said Josh would be helping. Period.
But neither event occurred.
So what happened???
Let me 'xplain.

When I got up Tuesday morning, Josh's Jeep was gone. Which meant he was gone.
Gone fishing, that is.
As it turns out, the kid got up at 4:45 to meet his friend for an early morning catch. Yes, he is that committed to his obsession hobby. And when he got home in the early afternoon Josh was full of excitement about an opportunity he had to go fishing with another friend - in "20 minutes." I reminded him about the dog bath, but honestly - I was so wrapped up in the things I was juggling that I just didn't want to make an issue of it at the moment. So I settled for a verbal nod that the job would get done.
And when Brian and I got home Tuesday night from some work we were doing and Josh said, "Doesn't Mindy look nice after her bath?" I was totally ready to apologize for doubting him. Until I looked at the dog and saw she didn't look like she'd been bathed - and then I looked at Josh and saw that silly grin on his face. Yeah. He got me!
By then it was dark outside, and too late to send the boys and the dog out for a bath. So I figured the bath would have to happen Wednesday. (The thing I neglected to account for was that Matthew would be at driver's training all morning, and Josh was scheduled to cover the afternoon/evening shift at work.)
So Wednesday afternoon I made an executive decision and told Matthew to come outside with me to give Mindy a bath. Which we did. Because she needed it. And I wasn't going to make Matthew do it alone. However, in the back of my mind I was looking for something I could assign Josh to do - since he had managed to "get out" of washing the dog.

But as I began to ponder odd jobs around the house which need to be done, I got a picture in my mind of Josh outside Sunday night. He was digging up dirt, placing it around the driveway, and planting grass seed. And he was working hard at it. I asked Brian if he'd assigned the job to Josh and he said he hadn't. Josh was just taking it upon himself to do.
Then I recalled seeing Josh out Monday night with the hose - watering the grass seed. Without being asked. He even watered some flowers I recently planted.
As these images played around in my mind, I began to wonder if it was really necessary to assign him another job. Oh, we have some progress to make with regard to the way he responds to me when I ask him to do things, but I realized I need to see Josh for the good kid he really is. Sometimes (too many times) I get uptight about certain teenage behaviors, and I feel like I need to come down hard on my son. You know - make sure he knows who really has the authority in this house. *ahem*
But other times, God gives me pause to take my eyes off myself and my ridiculous desire for control - long enough to recognize that I really have good kids. And so, in light of the things Josh does around here (many without even being asked) I am officially reneging my claim that he has to help bathe the dog.
And I am not going to add a replacement duty.
Done.

This Week with Grandma

OK. So, I am convinced the worst combination of personality traits for any given task is to have a recovering perfectionist doing a job for a doesn't-realize-she-is-a-perfectionist. (When the recovering perfectionist is fully aware of the other individual's - uh - condition.) Especially when the task in question is one which simply cannot be completed to a perfectionist's standard.

And there you have the background information necessary to understand the exasperation welling up within my when I say:
This week, I faced the greatest challenge I have ev.er. faced while ironing a pair of pants.
As in, I was ready to cut apart and re-sew the stupid challenging pants.
See, Grandma was going out to spend the day with my dad and my aunt. She was so excited about it. Started thinking about what she would wear DAYS in advance. (That's where I came in.) Grandma wanted to wear a particular pair of pants, which needed to be ironed. And she asked me to do it.
I'll be the first to admit, I don't do much ironing. But I'm not afraid of it. And I was happy to help my grandmother in this way. You need to understand, however, that she is very particular. She always looks sharp when she dresses to go out, and I knew she would be expecting a top-notch job from her "laundress."
I fully intended to give her that high quality result.
So, there I am, lining up the seams in the leg of her pants. I pressed the back side of the leg. Got the crease just where I thought she would like it, being careful to keep the seam on the inside in line with the seam on the outside. But when I started pressing the front side of the leg something went terribly wrong. The crease wouldn't line up both above and below the knee if I kept the seams in line. It was like there was extra fabric in places it shouldn't be, and I'm all, C'mon! Ironing these pants shouldn't be this hard.
I began a personal debate inside my head. One side telling me to relax, let go of my perfectionist tendencies, and iron the crease in a crooked manner. Since that's the way the material seemed to want to go, anyway. The other side retorting, Oh, no. That'll never do. As a memory came to me of Grandma sitting in a chair, examining the crease going down the front of her pant.

And so the battles continued.

The one between myself and me - arguing about letting go of perfectionist ideals while realizing Grandma's standards were that high.
And the one between me, the iron, and the stupid challenging pants.
In the end, I did the best I could.
It wasn't "perfect."
However, Grandma didn't care. Or didn't notice. Or was too polite say anything. Anyway, she had a great time with her children. And that's what really mattered.

But I'm telling you, for the love of mental stability, never send a recovering perfectionist to do a job for someone who has a history of expecting perfection.
It might just send her off the deep end. *wink*

When Will Dinner be Ready?

That question hasn't been so painful the past couple of weeks.

Because three nights a week, I haven't been the one who has to answer it!

My wonderful husband instituted a plan when school let out for the summer that each of the kids would be responsible for making dinner one night each week.
I'll help them pick out what they're making, and I get the groceries during my weekly shopping trip. I even am home to answer questions and provide necessary guidance as dinner is being prepared. BUT, I am not on my feet doing the work. (In fact, I *might* even be creating a blog post while dinner is being prepared.) And, I am loving it!
The kids are gaining valuable experience in the kitchen, they are proud of what they're doing, and I am getting a break at the end of long days a work. This.Is.Good.

OK. Honest moment here:
My first reaction to Brian's proposal was two-fold.
First, I thought, It'll never work. The kids will object and I'll spend all my time nagging and cajoling. Not looking forward to it!
And second, the control-freak in me started rearing her ugly head. I thought, But then, I won't have charge over dinner. I won't be in control. And that just doesn't feel right.

Thankfully, God got me past both of those objections and now we are all reaping the benefits.

I am sharing this story with you, not to make you jealous, but to encourage other control-freak-prone moms like me: Let it go! Give your kids a chance to do more of the work, to experience growing up, and to find joy in discovering what they can do. (Just don't go far, 'cuz they will need your help!)

Gotta go now. Josh says dinner is ready. *wink*

The Last Word

AAAARRRGGGHHH!

OK. I just needed to get that out. Thank you.

Well, on second thought, maybe there's more I need to get out.
I have just about had it with teenage attitude and immaturity around here!
See, a certain teenage son of mine (the one with more experience being a teen *ahem*) seems to think he's so wise and clever that he can't keep his mouth from making "smart" comments. And every time we get into a disagreement about anything, he won't stop. That is, when I say something - intending to end the conversation - he has to make a rebuttal. Usually of the sarcastic nature.
And it drives me nuts!
So, last week we were in the midst of another disagreement (Over what? I cannot even remember.) and this experienced teen of mine was going on with his usual smart-alec comments and I-must-have-the-last-word-on-the-matter tirade. And as I sat on the couch trying to have the last word, myself, I found myself thinking, I cannot let him have the last word. If I do, he'll think he's right. He'll think he's out-smarted me, or that I am giving in and crowning him the winner of this argument. No! I must not let this child have the final say. I need to keep responding to his responses to prove to him that I AM RIGHT!
Because, honestly, I was right. I mean, I'm the adult here. I know more than my teenage son. Right?
For a moment I really did feel like I needed to keep going for the last word. Because I didn't want my son thinking he was going to have it. I didn't want him to think that by me staying quiet, I was indicating that I was giving in to his argument. Oh! What chaos would reign in this home if that boy began to think he was running the show.
Besides, I just didn't like the idea of him thinking he was right and I was wrong. And I found myself thinking again, I must not let this child have the final say. I need to keep responding to his responses to prove to him that I AM RIGHT!
Which is just about the moment God's Spirit convicted mine. I took a deep breath, bit my tongue, held my words and realized, I have just about had it with teenage attitude and immaturity around here!

Yep. His and mine.

Gracious Father, please help me out-grow my immaturity!

Loosening My Grip

It isn't quite time to "let go", but I think I need to start loosening my grip.

There are just a few weeks left in Elizabeth's junior year of high school. Next year at this time we'll be in the midst of graduation plans. *yikes!* And soon after, my baby girl will be headed off to college, and then - if she's anything like me - she'll never really "live at home" again.
*mix of excited-for-her-but-sad-for-me feelings in my tummy*

So last Friday I came to a realization when Elizabeth told me about plans she'd made with friends. They were all going to meet at a local park and hang out for the evening. Ride bikes, play on the swings, talk - just doing things teenagers like to do.
That was all fine with me, until she mentioned they were planning to meet about 5 or 5:30, and I said, "What about eating dinner?" Elizabeth said she would grab a snack "or something" before she left. And that's when my control issues flared.
I immediately thought, You can't just grab something and go. You need to be here for dinner. We need to eat together as a family. Doesn't all the latest research point to how important it is for families to eat dinner together? We have to do things right. We must eat together.

Because it's important to do what the researchers say is important, right?
I mean, if I let her go hang out with her friends instead of staying home to eat with her family, I might be viewed as an unloving mom who doesn't care about the well-being of her daughter. Right?
And I certainly don't want to be viewed that way. Because I do love my daughter. And I am concerned about her well-being.

But then something happened.
I asked myself, Why?
Why do I think it would be better for Elizabeth to stay home and eat dinner with us, than for her to go spend time with her friends? Because I'm concerned about what other people would think of me? Because I'm afraid of letting her go???
That's when the reality hit me about her moving on in the near future. And I realized letting her go hang out with her friends didn't mean I was "letting her go", but that I was loosening my grip.
My baby girl is growing up, and she will leave the nest one day. I realize I can't change that fact. And, honestly, I don't want to. Rather, I want my baby girl to grow into the young woman God has created her to be. To live for Him and honor Him as a mature, independent adult.

So, with the knowledge that she would be back in a few short hours, I sent her off to be with her friends. And when she got home and told me about all the fun they'd had together, I was so glad I'd loosened my grip. She would have been totally bored if I'd made her stay home. *wink*

I'm Learning to Laugh

I remember laughing frequently at dinner when I was a kid.
I have an older brother and an older sister who picked on each other A LOT. And my brother was generally goofy anyway, always cracking jokes and doing silly things. Hasn't changed much, now that I think of it. Between the two of them, we laughed a lot.

As a mom (with control issues *ahem*) I have not been a fan of goofing around at the dinner table. I am much more in favor of calm conversation and compliments for the chef. So when I heard my father reflecting on how much he enjoyed our crazy family meals, I wondered how it could really be possible. How could he revel in that chaos? (My father is the one from whom I believe I inherited my control issues...) I wondered, Is it a factor of his age - and the reality that his memory isn't what it used to be - which allows him to remember the chaos with such fondness?

Or, could it be the silliness we experienced at the dinner table really was as fun as we remember it to be? Could it be the noise, bumped tables, and occasional spilled milk are all a part of future fond memories?

These questions are making a big difference for me.
Especially at the dinner table.
I have caught myself loosening up. I have watched both of my boys acting very silly - really cracking themselves up - and found myself laughing right along with everyone else.
Sometimes I look at Joshua and see my big brother. The goofiness. The joy in making other people laugh. The love of being the center of attention. I remember how much I enjoyed laughing at with him at my childhood dinner table, and I find the same joy at my adult dinner table.
And, honestly? It feels good.
Letting go of the need to be in control of every moment is freeing. Recognizing the value in goofiness and the ability to express oneself in a silly way is - dare I say it? FUN!

Oh, I wouldn't call myself "cured" from my control issues and uptight tendencies around chaos.
But I'm learning to laugh. And it feels so good!

I Don't Really Want it My Way

There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way."

C. S. Lewis

I have heard many, many stories of people wanting something, really believing it was the best thing, praying for it, even begging God for it. And when He didn't respond affirmatively - or in a manner which they considered timely - they wondered where God was. Wondered if He heard them, or cared, or was able to affect their circumstance.
But after they made it through their circumstance, they understood. God's plan was better than their own. Often times they have recognized just how much better His plan was. Like one of the residents I know at Edgewood. She told me this week that when she was in high school her family moved to a different city. And how desperately she didn't want to go. She cried, and prayed, and begged to stay where she was.

But she moved.

And at her new high school she met the young man she would marry one day. The man to whom she has now been married for 73 years!
We chuckled as we talked about what a good thing it was that she didn't get her way when she was in high school. But beyond the surface, I wasn't chuckling.

I will be the first to confess, I have control issues. I like to have a plan. I like to know what's going on. I like to be able to control what's happening. I DON'T like waiting to find out what's around the next corner. I like having things my way.
However, the more I learn about God - about His sovereignty, His perfection, His trustworthiness - the more I realize, I don't really want it my way. I don't want God to give in to my whining and say, "All right, then, have it your way." I don't want to miss out on His best.
I want to trust Him and experience life as He has planned it.

Yes, LORD. Thy will be done!

Who's in Control?

I Had a Choice to Make

Oh, how I love God's timing.
And His grace toward me.
Did you read last Friday's post, about stepping back and being quiet? Well, just after I finished writing it, I was getting dinner ready. And in the process of looking for the cutting board I discovered that Joshua had not unloaded the dishwasher yet that day.

Did I mention I was getting dinner ready?
This chore should have been done HOURS before.

Other times when this oversight has occurred, I have called Joshua to the kitchen and put him to work right away. But on this particular day, he was gone. So I had time to grumble think about how I was going to address him when he came home.
My first instinct was to express my frustration. I wanted to make Joshua aware that I was tired of him forgetting to do his chores. Wanted to remind him that unloading the dishwasher every morning has been his job for years, and there really is no excuse for not doing it.
I thought of lots that I could say to get my point across.

Then I thought about the blog post I'd just written.

And the wisdom of that woman who has 'been there.'

And I realized I had a choice to make.

When Joshua walked through the door I could lay into him about not doing his chores correctly. I could attack him with my words so he would never forget to unload the dishwasher again hate me. And then I could deal with the fight which would certainly ensue.

OR

I could step back and be quiet. I could tell Joshua to unload the dishwasher, and leave it at that.

I chose the latter.

Do you know what happened?
The dishwasher got unloaded. There was no yelling or slamming or broken dishes. No one got mad at another person, or raised their voice in anger. Joshua just put the dishes away, and that was that.

Sure, I want him to do his chores in a timely manner. I know he knows what's supposed to be done. But, in reflecting on my conversation with P, I realized my relationship with my son is so much more important than when the dishes get put away. And if I had to do it again, I would make the same choice.
Actually, I'm sure I'll have to do it again. Many times. And I hope I'll remember this lesson I've learned.

I Can't Save My Children

I don't know about you, but one of my greatest desires for my children is that they would live better lives than I did when I was young.
Though I grew up going to church, I didn't begin a relationship with God until I was in college. Now, I see the opportunities my children have to grow in the LORD, to know Him, to grow in godliness, and I just want for them to seek Him.
When I think about the priorities I had as a teenager (read that: BOYS! Often at the expense of other relationships.) and the focus I had on trying to fit in - to be like everyone else - I want so much more for my children. I want them to have confidence in who they are in Christ. I want them to pursue the things of God. I want them to value the eternal, not the temporal.
And I wrack my brain trying to orchestrate ways for all that to happen.
I want to say the right things, provide the right opportunities, shield the wrong things, and demonstrate a life surrendered to God.
I just don't want my kids to make the same mistakes stupid decisions I did when I was their age.

But as I was thinking about this desire recently, it occurred to me that I can't save my children. And, in fact, I don't even need to. Jesus has already done it!
God's grace was big enough to capture me in spite of my foolishness. His love for me was stronger than my sense of independence. And He will be the same with my children.
That does not mean for a single minute that I am going to stop leading and teaching and guiding. Oh, no! It does mean, however, that I am going stop thinking I have control over my children's eternity. Oh, I will continue to pray for them - that they may make "good" decisions and walk closely with the LORD. But God is leading me to understand that He might allow my children to wander, and He is able to use anything they encounter for their ultimate good - and His glory.

*Whew!* God is really dealing with me on my control issues lately.
I'm so glad I can trust His perfect control!

There is No Formula

Through a series of recent conversations and email exchanges, I have come to understand something about myself. I have realized why I liked math when I was in school.
Because in math, there is a certainty and a formula for everything.
Two plus two is always four. Always!
You can always figure out the area of a surface by multiplying the base and the height.
And if you know the value of x, you can always figure out the value of y. Just plug it into the formula and work it out!
Math is so predictable, and if you just understand the formula - you can make it through anything!

I like formulas.
Predictability and certainty make me happy.
I feel comfortable knowing if I just do 'this', 'that' will happen.
It's the control freak in me!

And what I have realized recently is that I am longing for a parenting formula. I want raising my children to be just as certain and just as predictable as Algebra and Geometry. I want the assurance that if I limit computer time to X minutes per day, require Y showers each week, assign Z chores every day, and read the Bible and pray with them every night, my children are going to become God-loving, God-fearing, servant-hearted, other-centered, highly-motivated, self-controlled adults.
But do you know what that line of thinking made me realize?
What I'm really saying is I want control. I don't want to leave room for faith. I want to trust my actions, rather than God's sovereignty.
*Gulp* Am I stepping on any toes?

I think you know the conclusion, don't you?

There is no formula.

I will impose limits for the good of my children. I will look after their cleanliness and well-being. I will train them in responsibility. I will teach them about God.
But the end result is in HIS hands.
There is no formula. God is in control. Our job is to be faithful.
Amen?
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I may have plugged this before, but I'll do it again. There was a wonderful article in the January 2010 issue of Christianity Today, called The Myth of the Perfect Parent. It really helped me in my thinking on this subject. I think you'll like it!