He "Don't Have No Homework"

That's what he said to me after school yesterday in a twang I almost didn't recognize. "I don't got no homework." The kid's had perfect grammar his whole life. Ummm...? Excuse me? I chuckled and made him repeat the sentence in proper grammar. He rolled his eyes, corrected his words and quickly pointed out that country boys talk like that. "That's just the way we are," he tells me. "You just don't understand because you didn't grow up in the country." Wow. He's got it all figured out.
My 10yr old is growing and changing now more than ever. I'm happy with the person he's becoming. He's kind, respectful and mannerly. He loves Jesus and the outdoors. He loves to hunt and fish. He's intelligent. He's never made below a B on a report card. He'd rather wear boots than sneakers and camo than a polo. (Don't even ASK him about the time I tried to get him to wear a sweater vest....he's STILL miffed at me for even suggesting it) He's country. Or as he would say...."Mom, I'm CUNTRY."
I try and try and try to explain to him that the way you speak can determine how someone treats you (in the beginning, at the very least). It makes an impression. Proper grammar is important. I've noticed a change in him this year, especially. He's started using the word "ain't" and it drives me insane. I charge him $1 for every time he uses it. The boy really is country. But being "country" doesn't mean you're unintelligent. It doesn't mean you speak like a redneck (even if you'd rather eat squirrel than chicken). He can be CUNTRY all he wants, but he WILL speak with proper grammar if it kills me.
I firmly believe you have to pick your battles with children. My husband would probably let this one go (especially since he's CUNTRY, too.) I might get tired of fighting it one day. Who knows? But right now the kid owes me $37 "ain't" dollars so I'm hanging strong. That's enough money for a pedicure. Or a sweater vest.

Damnteenager

That's what I call them. Damnteenagers. I have two of them. Granted, I didn't birth them but they are mine just the same. I've always heard people talk about how hard teenagers were and I always thought those people were out of touch, old fogeys. I always assumed that I would be able to connect and understand MY teenagers. NOT completely true.
I have one headed toward the end of damnteenager life and one just started and I don't understand either of them. I have no idea what goes on in their minds. I have no idea WHAT THEY WERE THINKING. I actually wonder if they're thinking at all.
Sometimes I get to the point where I wonder if they'll be okay adults. I wonder where we've gone wrong because HOLY HELL they just don't seem to get it. And then they do something brilliant. Something responsible. Something kind and considerate. Something that makes me tear up with pride. And I see a glimpse of what kind of adult they'll be (if we let them live).
I pray, God knows I've prayed and I'll keep praying for them until my last breath. I pray they'll be okay. I pray they'll make good choices. I pray that our example and our rules have been enough.
I heard someone once say that during the teenage years you just have to "hold on". Not "hold on" to your teenager. But hold on to your hope and your faith that they'll get through these years fine, without a criminal record and with all limbs and brain cells intact.
It reminds me of a roller coaster that you really don't wanna be on. Every roller coaster I've ever gone on is one I didn't wanna be on. I hate them. But I go because my kids or my husband says they're fun and I don't wanna be a party pooper. I figured out while riding the coaster that if I fight it and freak out, the anxiety is worse. I've learned to close my eyes, breath deep and have faith. A million people ride roller coasters every day and they get through it fine.
So, I'm just going to hold on, breath deep and have faith that my damnteenagers will be okay.

He Smells Like Another Woman

We embrace and it hits me like a brick wall. He smells like perfume.... not MY perfume.  I freeze and immediately begin to wonder who this woman is. Is she kind? Is she funny and creative? Does she take better care of him than I do? Does he love her more than he loves me? Does she cater to his every whim? For a moment, jealousy rages. I'm not ready to share him. How is it that time flies so quickly? How did we get to this place? It's not fair. I'm not ready for this.
I close my eyes and say a prayer and ask God to comfort me. I ask Him to wrap His arms around me. I ask Him to remind me that life is short and things change and to hold onto the wonderful memories but also to look forward to the new ones.
And God whispers in my ear......be thankful that you have a son who is loved and hugged by his teachers.

Did Jesus Poop?

"Mom. Did Jesus poop?"
(Wow. That's actually a really easy one.)
"Yes.  God created Jesus as a human. All humans have to eat. So, all humans have to poop."
(Simple biology.)
"OK. Well, did Jesus' poop stink?"
(This kid has REALLY thought this through)
"Yes. Poop stinks. That's a normal part of poop. That's how the body works."
(again...easy)
"OK. Well, did Jesus fart?"
(guess the gender of the kid asking these questions)
"Yes. Jesus farted. Again, part of biology. Farting is a necessity."

A little part of me cringed mixing "Jesus" and "poop" in the same sentence. To me, Jesus is HOLY. He's to be revered. He was the ultimate sacrifice and the very best promise. If my kids learn nothing else, I want them to GET that. To KNOW that. With every cell of their being. (even the bowels) I pray every night for these kids. They may lose me, they may lose their Daddy, they may lose friends and love and jobs...but they will NEVER lose the love of Jesus. I SO want them to know they can lean on Him. At every turn. During the mountains of life AND during the valleys. I want them to revere Him.
So, when these questions came up I was forced to ask myself if I'm showing them that. Are they GETTING it? Jesus and poop? Jesus and farts?
Here's what I've come up with: Yes. Jesus and farts. It's ok. He's on their minds. He was on the mind of my 8yr old when these questions came up. My kid is SEEKING to know more. Even if it's just biology. He wants to KNOW about Jesus. He's sorting through the "stuff" as only an 8yr old boy can do. The seed is planted and the first bit of growth is showing.
So, here's what I've come up with. ASK AWAY, kid. Let's talk about Jesus. Let's talk about His shoes and His hair and whether He played baseball or whether He climbed all over everything or whether He really wants the Rangers to win the World Series this time. Let's talk about it. I still have a lot of questions myself. Maybe not about poop or farts. But about stuff that matters to me. And at 8 years old, farts and poop seem to matter to a boy.
So kid, ASK AWAY! Because as Matthew 7:7 says...
SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND!

I Miss My Muchness

                                              
Time flies. I've heard that a million times but never understood what it really meant until I had kids. And boy-oh-boy....time really DOES fly. I've found myself weepy sometimes at how quickly things are changing. We've had lots of changes since our home burned in May. Our world was turned upside down. Waiting for the new house to be finished was a terrible time of "temporaryness". But it was also a lesson to me on God's grace and the resilience of my kids. When the new house was finished, Ben and I decided that I would quit my job and stay home to concentrate on recreating a sense of normalcy for the kids. But I also feel like I have a lot of work to do on myself. Being strong through the fire gave me a glimpse of toughness that I forgot I had. It gave me a glimpse of the faith that I used to have. I have always been a "what's next" kind of girl. Always restless. Always discontent. Never fully comfortable in my own skin. Do you remember in the new Alice in Wonderland movie where Johnny Depp tells Alice that she's lost her "muchness"? "You used to be much more muchier," he tells her. I did, too. I used to be MUCH more MUCHIER. Well, it is time to get my muchness back. And I think that starts with exercise. UGH!....seriously? Unfortunately, yes.  It's time. God is calling me to be so much more muchier. He's calling me to WAKE UP from this stall. That's what it feels like...a stall. A slump. I've felt defeated for a long time. Definitely not in my marriage, but with myself. I've felt weak. My friend Monica and I decided to start going to the gym. We decided to be accountable for each other. I went for the first time 2 weeks ago and guess what.........I DIDN'T DIE. It did not kill me. (it almost did.....we did a spin class) It kicked my big butt but I was so proud of myself. I actually did it. I did NOT die like I thought I would. WHO KNEW?? (my husband says HE knew I could do it) So I've been every day this week. Every time I have wanted to cry right there in the middle of the class. Every. Single. Time. Not because it was too hard. But because I was so damn mad at myself for not doing this earlier. So damn mad at myself for buying the lie I've been telling myself......that I CAN'T do it. So damn mad at myself for letting this extra weight define WHO I am. If going to the gym is going to make me stronger...the thing I'm going to fight for FIRST is my muchness.