Author: lardcupcakes

Let me just state this right here: I do not have all the answers.

Most of the time, I have no answers.

My kids are straight up crazy and have me questioning my parenting daily.

D.A.I.L.Y.

With that being said, I do have some resources that help keep me on track, particularly when my initial response to something isn’t constructive, nor scripture pointing.

One of these frequently used and favorited resources is the book, Parenting with Scripture: A Topical Guide for Teachable Moments by Kara Durbin.

It’s an amazing resource that I (thankfully) find myself grabbing in moments of agitation or speechlessness.

Why?

Because Scripture addresses every heart issue.

Every. Single. One.

And, the behavior that my kids display are just that – heart issues.

Fighting over toys.

Arguing with one another.

Speaking disrespectfully to either myself or Brent.

And, this guide makes all of these issues easily accessible and provide scripture for appropriate redirection.

Which is exactly what I need, because, honestly and unfortunately, my initial go-to response is to return in kind and yell.

I’m not proud of that, but it’s honest.

For example, sometimes homeschooling can bring about some really negative reactions and frustrations that turn into really nasty, disrespectful words towards me.

A few weeks ago, Sprite had one of those moments.

After multiple failed attempts to adjust and regather her words, I sent her upstairs to her room so we could both recenter, and I particularly could save myself from words I would regret.

So, I reached over and picked up this guide and looked up self-control.

This is a big issue of hers (probably gets it from me – which is super awesome and convicting).

Anyway, the guide directed me to scripture, multiple ones actually, but, I picked this one.

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. 1 Peter 5:8-9

I chose this one because it’s important for her to know, she has choices – to resist.

She has a choice to stop, even when the feelings don’t.

It’s important for her to know where these temptations come from – satan.

When she can recognize that, she can also recognize that Jesus has power over it.

And, praying for help from the One who has already defeated satan is all she needs.

So, as a reminder I had her look up and copy the verse.

The guide not only provides Bible verses for redirecting and reminding, but it also supplies some questions for reflection.

FACT: discussing scripture and answering questions doesn’t prevent my kid from sinning again.

TRUTH: it does help reinforce who is in charge, His unconditional love for her, and His power over sin.

In all, I hope these moments reinforce the importance and necessity of grabbing her Bible and surrounding herself in truth when those heavy feelings abound.

I would love to hear what resources you all find helpful while trying to raise your children in the Word?

Wait.

It’s a word at the top of my, “I don’t like hearing,” list.

It’s a word that’s hard to hear under regular circumstances, and even more so when it prohibits meeting a need.

I mean, we tell our kids to wait multiple times a day for one reason or another.

But, not usually in regard to a legitimate need.

Yet, here we are, grown adults, with a need, and still told to wait.

You see, Brent has been searching for a job for over a year.

And after months and months of no call backs from multiple companies, he finally had an opportunity for a phone interview.

We were beyond excited to have some movement in that area.

While he was prepping for his interview, you know, changing out of pajamas, I was completing my Bible study.

This particular study was on the Old Testament, specifically looking at Abram and Sarai and their life of waiting. (Genesis 16; 21)

And, as I was answering some discussion questions about the pursuit of their own plans instead of waiting on God’s plans, something happened.

God told me to wait.

I don’t mean I had this tug on my conscience, I mean an audible, “wait.”

It felt as if God was standing right in front of me, hands on my shoulders, looking directly in my eyes, and said, “wait.”

It was powerful.

So, I sat for a few minutes thinking about all the things “wait” would apply.

I gave serious contemplation to every possible decision on our docket, and the only one that had weight was Brent’s phone interview.

Which then created a different dilemma, sharing my experience with an expectation of him to say no – it felt like I would be telling him what to do.

I hate doing that.

I may be an enneagram 8, but telling my husband what to do wasn’t my thing.

But, the experience was so strong, I couldn’t ignore it.

When Brent finally came through the living room prior to beginning his to interview, I shared my experience.

“Babe, I really don’t want to tell you what to do, but I just felt God audibly tell me to wait.”

He just looked at me.

He knows this isn’t my style.

He responded, “You don’t ever tell me what to do. So, this carries a different weight.”

At this point, I’m slightly shaking.

I hate it.

I hated telling him to wait.

I hated telling us to wait.

The unknown of waiting.

Of saying no.

Here we are with an opportunity in front of us, providing a need (employment) and I was asking him to trust my gut and say no.

It was weighty.

It felt like we had the end of the rope and we had to let go.

And, we did.

We let go.

Some magical job didn’t appear the next day that was perfectly designed for him.

We’re actually still waiting.

Waiting on God’s timing.

Holding fast to His promises.

Because His timing is perfect.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Romans 8:28

This is a question I ask ALL THE TIME.

Like, everyday.

I didn’t realize how much of my daily parenting conversation would include this collection of words.

Last night, as I was sitting on the couch listening to the bedtime riot, probably doing something important, like surfing Facebook or something and I look to my right.

Standing next the couch is Banshee.

Naked, hoisting up the Costco size container of solid coconut oil on to the arm of the couch.

“Why are you naked?”

Seems an appropriate question to ask.

“Well, I need to change clothes. My shirt was wet.”

“Why is your shirt wet?”

“Pee got on it.”

“Why is there pee on your shirt?”

She then steps around the couch.

She’s completely naked.

“Where is your pull-up?” (night training takes forever).

“Pee got on it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brent comes down the hallway and informs me Banshee peed in our bed.

Listen – we just washed and made our bed.

Fresh out of the dryer, clean, sleep-welcoming sheets.

Now decorated with fresh pee.

*sigh*

Ok, so, normally I love keeping up Christmas decorations, sometimes past their welcome.

But, this year, I was ready to regain ownership and normalcy within the home sooner rather than later.

So, the weekend following Christmas, we discussed and agreed Tuesday is clean-up day.

Guess what happened.

Tuesday arrived.

So, as soon as Torpedo went down for a nap, I went downstairs and retrieved the Christmas decor containers.

Once everything was upstairs I began.

Ornaments, lights, tree branches, set about decor, stockings, signage and more.

As I was wrapping them up, Brent came down the hallway, shook his head and announced, “well, I see mommy waited for me to get the containers!”

*awkward smile and shifty eyes* “Sorry, the baby went down, so I was trying to use my time wisely.”

As he left for a quick trip to the store, because well, we had one diaper left – you know, those fourth kids get the shaft – I finished wrapping, boxing, and stacking the remaining Christmas decorations.

Anyway, upon his return he threw up his hands and said, “Well, I guess Christmas is over.”

I busted out laughing.

This banter continued for the rest of the day.

Relentless wit about my destruction of Christmas.

As he began to take the containers downstairs, he grabbed Terrence, our Christmas reindeer, and said, “C’mon, Terrence, you’re apparently not welcome up here anymore.”

And, there’s more.

As Brent walked outside to deflate and re-box the inflatables, he threw his scarf around his neck and said, “I’m going outside to lay waste to the Christmas spirit.”

*side eye*

Another instance, as Brent carried a ladder outside to dismantle the Christmas lights, the girls made a general inquiry.

He animatedly responds, “Mommy said Christmas is over.”

*scoff*

Later that afternoon, Banshee’s Christmas pajamas arrived – yep, just then arrived, 4 days late.

I excitedly say, “hey Banshee, you want to try these on?”

Brent retorts, “she has to wait until next year. Remember, Christmas is over!”

*eye roll*

Whatever.

As we continued to purge the living room of unnecessary items, Brent picked up my gifted container of assorted popcorn, studied it intensely then said, “nope, it’s Christmas popcorn. I’ll just store this until next year.”

Then proceeded to walk away briskly with my Christmas popcorn.

Listen, it was all day.

ALL DAY.

But, it’s cool.

It made me laugh constantly.

Ok, so, we don’t do Santa.

It’s not for any religious reason.

We don’t think families who participate in the Santa gig are horrible people who lie to their children.

We just don’t, and it works for us.

And, our kids have been threatened within an inch of their life not to spill the beans to any believing child.

This creates interesting dynamics with other children during the Christmas season, and voicing the nuances of Santa can be difficult at times.

For instance, Tempest had a Zoom Christmas party with her American Heritage Girls (scouts) group a few weeks ago.

Prior to this gathering, she had a small piece of homework.

She had to list 3 things that describe Santa.

And, because I’m so amazing, and always have everything completed in a timely manner, we finished this list minutes prior to her party.

She’s standing next to me, and I ask, “how would you describe Santa?”

Tempest replies with her hand on her hip, and a Valley girl neck tilt, “Why? Santa isn’t real. He’s fake.”

*snicker*

“Well, you’re not wrong, but I would guess the other girls in your group (usually Kindergarteners) will believe Santa is real. So, you will have to play along.”

“But, that’s not the truth.”

“That’s true. But, remember what we talked about with Santa. It’s up to the parents to tell their child about Santa not being real.”

Following this short conversation, I left with Sprite for our AHG movie adventure.

Upon our return I inquired about her party.

“I had a great time. We sang songs, decorated a cookie, put together an ornament. It was fun. Oh, and, Mom, all the other girls believed in Santa. But, I didn’t tell them he wasn’t real!”

*inner chuckling* “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Now, if I could just keep her opinions from showing on her face, I’d be good to go.

I had the opportunity to take my oldest, Sprite, to the movies with her American Heritage Girls troop this past week.

It has been over a year since we ventured to the movie theater.

So, to make this outing extra special, Sprite requested we wear matching pajamas.

I was immediately down for this set-up.

Unfortunately, the only matching set we had were Christmas ones we purchased a couple of years ago.

These particular pajamas are tied to the memories of my Dad’s last Christmas.

Just the thought of searching for these clothes made me think about him, but what I didn’t expect was the heavy sadness that accompanied merely getting ready.

I finally located them in the bottom of my pajama basket (I have these instead of drawers), and I was immediately flooded with vivid memories of my Dad.

I remember him wearing his complementary set – the Men’s style was a Navy shirt with the same colorful pajama pants.

I remember all the inside jokes we tossed back and forth Christmas morning.

I remember Christmas was one of the last times I really saw him smile.

I remember his declining health in the days following.

And, I remember holding his hand as he passed.

All of those memories and more, just from a seemingly silly pair of Christmas pajamas.

Even as the sadness washed over me, I put on the pajamas.

I put them on because it mattered to my kiddo.

Making new memories in these pajamas was important.

Normalizing the display of grief in every day life is essential.

So, I did.

My sadness didn’t disappear, but, now I have a new memory attached to the them.

One where for just a little bit, I didn’t have a care in the world and my only focus was enjoying a kids movie with my daughter.

Tempest’s birthday is this month, but due to COVID, we decided a normal birthday gathering wasn’t a great idea, instead we chose a smaller celebration.

A sleepover.

This opportunity shed light on a few things.

For one, I am apparantly a kill joy mother.

Example:

Tempest’s friend, Uma will be her name, brought her a present.

She opened it.

It was a kinetic sand kit.

She was stoked.

She immediately exclaimed, “My mom never lets me have this!”

There it is.

Killjoy mom. *pointing to self* Right here.

Second thing: kids talk about the weirdest things.

Example:

Out of nowhere, “Have you ever been constipated?” Tempest asks Uma.

“Yeah, I am all the time!” Uma responds.

“You’re constipated right now?”

“Yeah, and I’ve had medicine put up my butt lots of times!”

*Tempest snickers*

“It’s not funny! It really hurts!”

“Oh, I was constipated when I was a baby. Right mom?!”

“Yep!” I reply.

Not exactly a topic I anticipated for this evening.

Continuous conversation about constipation ensues, and even revisited later on that evening.

Three: Sisters can bring some extra fun.

Example:

While Tempest and her friend were changing into pajamas, Banshee walked by their room and yelled, “You’re naked! I can see your boobies!”

“I don’t have boobies!” Uma proclaims. “I’m not old enough for those yet.”

Holy moly.

I can’t even.

Four: sleepwalking is an equal opportunity surprise guest.

Example:

Roughly, 11:30pm, Tempest walks out of her room, in true sleepwalking, zombie-like fashion.

I, of course, was asleep at this point, but was informed in the morning by my husband.

She made her way to the front door where Brent caught her.

She shook her head yes when asked if she needed to use the potty.

He guided her to the bathroom, and noticed she was only wearing a t-shirt.

That’s it.

Where on earth are her pants and underwear?

So, while she used the potty, he went in search of her missing clothes.

Found.

They were in the middle of her bedroom floor, underwear still attached to the pants themselves.

She must have literally woke up, and depantsed herself then went in search of the bathroom.

Once she was finished, Brent tucked her back in and she was fine.

Constipation, fingernail painting, movie, popcorn, mud masks, and sleepwalking…

I’d call this a successful celebratory birthday sleepover.

My second oldest, Tempest, has recently displayed tendencies towards sleepwalking.

Usually this occurs when she’s overly tired, or awakened by her roommate, Sprite.

A few days ago was no exception.

And its occurrence was of the utmost hilarity.

It’s roughly 11 PM, Sprite is moping in her bed about something, who knows what, and unfortunately awakened the sleepwalker.

I am standing at the opening of the bedroom hallway talking with Brent, and out she comes.

She barely looks around, and begins heading for the front door.

I catch her and guide her back to bed, “No, no, it’s bedtime. Your bed is this way.”

She abides, but piqued my interest when she returned to her room and closed the door.

Our girls do not want their door closed when their falling asleep.

Brent and I begin giggling, then he says, “I wonder if she thinks she’s in the bathroom.”

Nah, I thought.

Then a moment passes, and concern gets me flying down the hallway.

I opened the door and scan the room – not because its huge (it’s not), but because it’s so dark that I can’t see anything.

I finally catch a glimpse of a shadow to my left.

She’s standing in front of her clothes hamper.

I think, what on earth is she doing?

I walk over, put my hand on her arm and notice its position.

Her elbow was bent because she was literally trying to hoist herself up onto her dirty clothes.

I immediately say, “no, no, this isn’t the bathroom!”

I then guide her out of the room, one hand holding hers and the other on her back.

It was then I noticed her underwear were missing.

They were down around her ankles, so she was shuffling her feet to accommodate the restriction.

I am stifling all the laughter.

We make it to the bathroom and she just stands there.

I literally have to pick up 60lbs of dead, sleepwalking weight, and place it on the toilet seat.

She proceeds to potty.

I hand her toilet paper – and she just stares at it.

I reply, “clean yourself.”

She complies.

She stands up and about falls into the bathtub, luckily I catch her arm and re-steady her.

I guide her back to her bed and tell her to find her spot and I would tuck her in.

Ok, have you ever seen the clocks painting?

That’s what she looked like.

She literally just hung half off her bed.

I had to pick her up and just shy of toss her into her spot (the girls have bunk beds, so I was trying to keep from giving myself a concussion).

Finally, she was tucked back in.

I walked out of her room, looked at Brent and doubled over laughing.

It’s crazy over here at bedtime.

Absolutely insane.

Also, the following morning, she not absolutely no recollection of this event.

None, whatsoever.

My oldest started in American Heritage Girls when she was 6 years old.

She began her journey as a Tenderheart and is moving up to an Explorer.

Before she moves up completely, she has the opportunity to earn one last badge that will then be applied to her new Explorer vest.

The Sacagawea Award.

It can only be earned as a Tenderheart.

Sprite has worked hard to earn and learn and wanted to share a few things with you.

She isn’t one who enjoys being videoed, so don’t misinterpret her lack of enthusiasm.

She thoroughly enjoys being an American Heritage Girl and is excited to move up and expand her knowledge and experience.

We attend a local homeschool community called Classical Conversations.

This program begins at the age of 4 with Foundations, then moves into the grammar stage when your child reaches the age of 9.

In this stage they begin studying and implementing the proper styles and techniques of writing.

What I didn’t expect, is between papers, sentence diagramming, chart copying, and more, an enjoyment and confidence in writing would emerge.

On her own, she’s written multiple shorts and created some amazing story ideas.

The following is one she wrote while winding down for bed.

No toilet paper

It’s covid-19

the toilet is clogged

my bottom is dirty

my underwear is itchy

why why why why are all the stores closed?

Mom yells from the bathroom, “why is there no toilet paper?!”

Finally, Daddy comes with some rolls

We are so glad because Daddy remembered

But, we ran out of it again

Now, everyone is yelling from the bathroom

Apparently, lack of toilet paper is a common enough occurrence in our house that it can easily become a quick writing topic.

So, this just might be based on real-life…