As A Homeschooler...

I've been watching my kids learn about their world and their place in it. Answering their questions about current events like the marriage equality ruling and "Mom, why would anyone think that's bad?" Talking about American racial tensions and what Black Lives Matter means and how we got here. About why a woman being the presidential nominee is so phenomenal and what it means for our culture. Listening to them talk derisively about Donald Trump and how they're scared for their friends from other countries and "Mom, how could anyone vote for stupid a racist?" Explaining why the man in the museum was being rude and loudly proclaiming that everything there was wrong because his god says so. Me, struggling to explain complex cultural issues to grade school children in ways that honor the complexity and don't create dogma in their heads.

And I remember......

As a homeschooler, I was taught that the Civil War should instead be called "the War for Southern Independence". Or sometimes "Lincoln's War". Occasionally, "the War Between the States". The south was right in succeeding, after all, from the overstepping tyranny that was Lincoln's America. Slavery had nothing to do with it and most slaves were happy with their owners, even though I was taught that obviously slavery was not desirable and we were glad it didn't exist anymore.

As a homeschooler, the only thing I was taught about the Civil Rights movement was that Martin Luther King Jr. was an adulterer and a liberal who stirred up division and not a Christian. My birthday often fell on his day on the calendar, and I remember asking who he was and receiving the above answer. In my child-mind, he was not a good man and "we don't celebrate that day". I didn't know about segregation and Jim Crow until I was an adult.

As a homeschooler, I read biographies of the great Southern leaders, Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. I read how they were good slave owners who treated their slaves well, how they fought against the evil that was President Lincoln who wanted to take away the state's rights to rule themselves. How the War for Southern Independence had nothing to do with slavery and only godless liberals say it does. Even as an newly-made adult I boasted about being a Southern sympathizer. I was taught they were the heroes for standing up for what they believed in. I read "The Real Lincoln" and learned that President Lincoln was a liberal liar and an evil man that was out to destroy America and family values.

As a homeschooler, I was not taught about the Suffragette movement. I only learned that women couldn't vote, but then they could because some women protested. Also that feminism was bad and once women could vote, feminism took over and destroyed the nation. My A Beka history book glossed over the entire thing, painting the Suffragettes as rebellious women who might have done some good but really should have let God work it out while they stayed home in their place. I didn't know who Susan B. Anthony was until I was a mother of 2.

As a homeschooler, I was taught that history was "His-Story" and only to be viewed through the lens of what God was doing with the nations of earth, else we wouldn't understand it. Strangely, he mostly only did things with the nation of Israel, the countries of Europe, and the U.S.A. I guess the rest of the world didn't matter so much to God. We were taught that America was God's shining light on a hill to the world and He had a special plan for us in His Story. Manifest Destiny was the name of the game, for God's will, Amen.

As a homeschooler, I learned nothing of the history of Africa, Asia, Indonesia, Australia, or South America. I knew nothing of them or their culture or their people. Beyond being told they were dark places of ungodly people who needed us white Americans and Europeans to take the gospel to them and save them from hell.

As a homeschooler, I learned nothing of current events. I grew up in the 80's and 90's and knew nothing about anything that happened during that time, even in my own country. I knew nothing of pop culture. I learned about the Victorians, the pioneers, the Scandinavian immigrants, the plantations of the South, and the Revolutionists of 1776. I knew nothing about what was going on outside my own door, in what is now my history. I am learning it after the fact.

As a homeschooler, I was taught that science was deceptive. That we were enlightened and knew what was really going on in the world, how the world really came to be. We couldn't believe the "evolutionists" and all new scientific discoveries that did not fit Young Earth Creationism and Flood Geology were wrong. I was taught that the earth was 6,000-8,000 years old, that carbon dating was inaccurate, that fossils were made by Noah's flood, that dinosaurs were on the Ark then died because of the harsh post-flood world, that there was a canopy of water above the earth that made the entire earth a greenhouse and came crashing down at the Flood and we didn't have poles before the flood. That there are still dinosaurs in remote areas of Africa and Loch Ness today, thus disproving evolution. And that anyone that says otherwise were deceived by Satan. Everything had to be filtered through the lens of the Bible or it was discarded. I didn't understand evolutionary biology until I was 28. I never knew what plate tectonics were until I was 30. I knew nothing about rock formation, biology, astronomy, hydrology, climatology, or any other -ology until I was a grown woman with 4 kids and hungry to understand the world I lived in.

As a homeschooler, we were taught that the world needed us to show them the truth about Creationism. We were drilled on how to argue with "evolutionists", point by point. How doing so would be showing them God and the light of the gospel and would save them. Now when young Creationists to that to me, I cringe. I was them once. They have no idea.

As a homeschooler, our "social studies" books were from Rod and Staff, a conservative Mennonite curriculum company. All the women in the pictures wore head coverings and long dresses and were homemakers. Everything was American-and-European-centric. There wasn't much social studies going on in those books, other than the study of the Christian culture that we were being raised in.

As a homeschooler, I was not taught any sex ed. At 13 my mom told me the basics of how babies were made. I was horrified. I was told only married people can do this and if you do it outside of marriage it's No Good Very Bad and could result in diseases and pregnancy. Then they started pushing the courtship books and tapes. I was taught that dating was worldly and that we were not to be friends with boys because boys and girls can't be friends. That having a crush on a boy was emotional fornication and would take a little piece of my heart that I would never get back. At 14, I solemnly promised to commit to courtship and the authority of my parents to oversee it, thus ensuring my purity and the protection of my heart. I never heard or knew words like "penis" or "vagina" until I was 18 and in community college. I knew nothing at all about sex until I started experimenting with my boyfriend as an adult and getting advice from my friends in school and looking up books myself. I didn't know what homosexuality was until I was 19 and someone told me a friend was "gay" and I looked it up in the dictionary.

As a homeschooler, I was taught things like "character". Character mattered more than anything else. You could be intelligent but have no good character traits and that made your intelligence nothing. Who cares if you can read and write well if you're not nice to your siblings? Character included obedience to authority, cheerfulness, joyfulness, attentiveness, submission (if you were a woman), peacefulness, all the fruits of the spirit translated in such a way to create a power dynamic of happy, obedience children with parents ruling over them benevolently. 

As a homeschooler, I was taught strict gender roles. I sat through women's Bible studies where they argued whether a woman could work outside the home. I was taught that working was OK in some instances, but being a wife/mother/homemaker was God's best plan for women. That we had to submit to our husband's desires in this. That as a woman, I needed to learn skill like cooking, cleaning, sewing, and childcare to prepare me for my life's calling.

As a homeschooler, I was taught that we were the salt and light of the world. That we were the cream of the crop, smarter, kinder, more godly, more pure, better in every way than our public schooled peers. That the world would see us and glorify our Father in heaven. That the world was a dark place and we were to be in it but not of it. That meant dressing differently, smiling and being joyful (because the world was sad and we were to be different), talking differently, choosing different activities that reflected Christ, knowing our Bibles well, and being obedient to parents. Our long, shapeless skirts and long hair and submissive attitudes were a light to a world that didn't know what purity was. We were pure. It was our badge of honor. We were not to spoil that.

As a homeschooler, my world was small and scared and black and white. Nothing came into my world that didn't fit the worldview of the ones in charge. Everything outside was a threat. Friends were a threat. Books were a threat and heavily censored. TV was a threat. Current events were a threat. Shopping in certain sections of the store was a threat. The world was out to destroy us and we must stay pure, in knowledge and action. Renewed by the transforming of our minds, away from the thinking of the world.

We were The Village, and there were monsters in the woods. No one bothered to tell us the monsters weren't real. Even fake monsters serve their purpose. The difference was that the creators of those monsters actually believed in them.

I come jolting back to reality with yet another question from a searching mind. Where my kids aren't being raised in The Village, but in the world. In it AND of it and proudly. And they will understand it and learn to navigate it and make it their own. Even as their mother still quietly struggles and remembers.

Of Libraries, Flashbacks, and Alternate Realities

I will probably never be free from the memories. No situation or activity is safe from the flashbacks, the comparisons, and the wonder that things were ever so dysfunctional for child-me and that they're so normal for my own kids.

Yesterday we went to the library for a presentation on Mt. Everest. The local university took an expedition to the top in 2012, and they put together a great video presentation for kids on geology, culture, and the amazing feat of scaling the world's tallest mountain.

In the middle of it, somewhere between talking about tectonic activity creating the Himalayans and the sacred ceremony and prayer flags the monks performed for the climbers, I had one of those weird disconnecting flashbacks that happen every so often. Like I'm suddenly an observer of an activity I remember taking part in in the past, and the one I'm taking part in in the present, watching from the outside.

I suddenly remembered being a child and going to presentations at the library. Or the IMAX. Or the Science Center in Seattle. Or a museum. We often went to such educational things. My mom thought we would learn best by experience and exposed us to more than a few really cool educational experiences.

I remembered being uncomfortable as a child every time something science-y was brought up. The words "millions of years ago" would produce an instant disconnect in my young mind. We were trained to hear those words and disregard them from a very young age. We'd usually get a talk in the car on the way home about how "the world" thinks that the earth is millions of years, but we know better and Everest has marine fossils on the top of it because of the Flood, not because of tectonic uplift (which we were told was made up by "evolutionists" who deny the Bible). Geology talks were a waste of our time and I learned to shut them out, as if the words themselves had power to deceive and I needed to be on the alert. 

"Multi-culturalism" was always portrayed as a bad thing. Or joked about as ridiculous. I can't remember anytime in my childhood those words were spoken of in a positive way. Adding other religions and their practices to the conversation only made the speaker more our enemy. As a child, talks of prayer flags and Tibetan monks offering sacrifices to the mountain was very uncomfortable. Not just while sitting there, but also nervously anticipating the talk my parent(s) would give later about how we don't accept that and how wrong it was and how I needed to be sure to respond correctly so they knew I didn't believe a word of it.

And I came back out of those flashbacks as I sat there, an adult, in our library, listening to the person teaching my kids about tectonic activity, geology, and Buddhist ceremonies and so many emotions flooded over me.

Relief. Because my children will never know what it's like to be so foreign to the world they live in. They sat there, soaking up the information, never once worrying that they were being deceived by Satan and the world, never worrying I was going to lecture them about the truth, never scared that they have questions they're not supposed to ask, never feeling like an outsider with an alternate narrative of reality, unable to engage in their world because they're not a part of it.

Frustration. Because child Darcy deserved better. Because I'm 32 years old, in charge of my own life, yet the scars of my past will always be there, showing up in the strangest, most unexpected places. The childhood that formed me, formed me thoroughly and I cannot shake it because it is who I am. Frustration because there are children still being raised with this kind of psychological and spiritual abuse who will one day be adults unable to attend a kid's library presentation without their past smacking them in the face.

Hopelessness. Because my parents will never understand the depth and severity of what they did. The consequences of the choices they made. What was a phase for them was my entire childhood, my most formative years spent in one of the most toxic environments on earth. The lasting effects indelibly imprinted on every cell in my body. They call me bitter and unforgiving. They excuse themselves with "we had good intentions". They say I'm making a big deal out of nothing and need to move on. But they don't sit in a library and have flashbacks. The fact they can call all of this, all of what made me, all of what I deal with on a daily basis because of their choices "nothing" says a lot. I think we will never be able to connect because of this. Even outsiders don't understand. The only ones that get it are the ones like me. The walking broken, the walking lost, the homeschooled impostors who struggle to find normalcy and belonging and peace.

And yet, also hope. Happiness. Thankfulness. Amazement. Because my kids are being raised so.....normal. They'll have a solid foundation from which to choose whatever life they want. If they want to be weird and different in any way, they will be able to freely choose that. They'll know what it's like to be part of the community and world that they live in. To not be an outsider because they're supposed to reject everything about "the world" and own a different reality. To not have a different history, science, and social narrative than everyone else around them and the insecurity that comes with it.

I hope they someday sit in a library with their kids and only remember with fondness the awesome time they had learning about Mt. Everest.

You're Gonna Hear Me Roar

Today my 10-yr-old daughter got up on stage in front of about 500 people, 400 of her classmates, and sang Katy Perry's "Roar". 

And I cried like a baby.

Because there was my tiny daughter, in a tiger dress, dancing and singing the words "You held me down, but I got up, Get ready 'cause I've had enough I see it all, I see it now. I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire, 'Cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roar!".

So I cried because once I was 10 years old and I didn't know what pop music was and I didn't go to school and I was forced to sing hymns for family members at Thanksgiving even though I hated it.

And I wasn't allowed to listen to "rebellious" music, and I didn't have a voice beyond what I was supposed to sing and say. 

Because my voice was a reflection of my parents and not mine at all.

Because I wasn't allowed to express dissatisfaction with my life or overcoming or to be proud of myself because pride was the Devil's sin. 

Because I loved to sing and play the piano and my only outlet for my talent was classical music or special music at church. 

Because when I was 18, I performed "When You Say Nothing at All" at a family party, and my mom told me afterward that she was ashamed because I was singing about sex and it wasn't appropriate for an unmarried, pure girl.

I cried because I'm so proud of the person that my daughter is becoming and the struggles she has faced and will face because of ADHD, and she's singing about being her own person and rebelling against anyone that wants to take her down and make her into something more acceptable. 

Because she does not care what anyone thinks of her, she just sings her soul in a tiger dress. 

Because she's 10 and she has a voice and I love her voice and it has nothing to do with me.

Because she will never know what it feels like to not have her mother as her biggest fan and ally. 

Because I don't understand how any mother could treat their daughter the way my mother treated me. There are no excuses good enough, certainly not the God excuse.

Because I'm 32 and have only recently found my voice and let it roar.

Because as I parent my children, I am exposing, grieving, and healing the broken places in my own heart. And it's painful and it hits me out of nowhere. Even in the middle of a 4th grade talent show. 

You held me down, but I got up

Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground
You held me down, but I got up
Get ready 'cause I've had enough
I see it all, I see it now.
I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire
'Cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roar

~Katy Perry 

Parenting Beyond Religion ~ How Do You Know?

I’m reading an excellent book right now called Parenting Beyond Belief. It’s a collection of essays written by various people on parenting without religion and covers multiple topics related to parenting. One of the chapters stuck me as particularly useful given what my children and I have been discussion lately. The chapter was a letter written my Richard Dawkins to his daughter when she was 10. I found an online copy here and discovered it’s been passed around for a while now.

Dawkins starts by saying “Have you ever wondered how we know the things that we know? How do we know, for instance, that the stars, which look like tiny pinpricks in the sky, are really huge balls of fire like the Sun and very far away? And how do we know that the Earth is a smaller ball whirling round one of those stars, the Sun? The answer to these questions is ‘evidence’.”

He talks about three very wrong reasons for believing anything: tradition, authority, and revelation. I’m not going to talk about those today but I would encourage you to read the article as it is very good and helpful even if you aren’t a parent.

The question of evidence and proof is something I’ve been talking to my kids about lately. How do we know if something that someone tells us is true? Well, we ask for evidence. Tradition is not evidence. Revelation from someone’s god or goddess is not evidence. An authority figure saying so is not evidence. 

So the most important question I am teaching my children to ask when told something is true is “How do you know?”

My 4^th grader came home last week saying a little girl in her class said that the world was going to end on September 27^th because it would be hit by an asteroid. K, my daughter, was a bit concerned but still didn’t think that sounded quite right. So we got to have a great discussion about how to tell whether something is the truth or not. It went like this:

K: “Mom, Sarah said that the world is going to end on the 27^th because of an asteroid.”

Me: “K., did you ask her how she knows this?”

K: “Yes, she said her mom said so.”

Me: “And how did her mom know?”

K: “Because she looked it up on the internet.”

Me: “And is everything on the internet true?”

K: “Well, no.”

Me: “So what should you ask if someone says something like that to you?”

K: “You should ask them to prove it.”

Then the rest of the kids and I talked about The Most Important Question: “How do you know?” And we applied it to all kinds of things, which got interesting when they discovered the Tooth Fairy isn’t real, which I didn’t actually know they didn’t know, but that’s another story.

We talked about how Moms can be wrong, so Sarah’s mom saying it doesn’t mean it’s right. We found a story on the internet about how a man said that God told him the asteroid would hit the earth on the 27^th. I explained how that’s “revelation” and not a good reason to believe anyone and how he has no evidence for this at all. If the man has no evidence, then he could be lying or fooled or crazy. If the only answer to “how do you know?” is “God/Odin/Zeus told me”, that’s not good enough.  

This is a very basic way to explain to children how to ask questions and think through assertions. It empowers them to not only think critically but to not fear every time someone tells them unbelieving people go to hell, Jesus is coming to destroy the earth, or Yellowstone is going to explode. Critical thinking doesn’t have to mean diving into books on Socratic questioning or learning logic equations. It can be as simple and profound as teaching a child to ask “how do you know?” and to demand a good answer. Teaching them from a very young age good and bad reasons for believing something. Be warned: You will have to step up your game. No, you don't have to know everything and it's OK to answer with "I don't know". A good follow-up would be "But let's find out!" Teaching kids to question means being willing to question yourself. Don't worry, it's good for us. 

Can you imagine a world full of kids who are taught to question like this? High-schools full of teens who were raised to demand evidence and thoughtfulness? Colleges full of adults to whom critical thinking skills are daily used and expected? It’s not that religious parents can’t teach this to their children, it’s that they don’t. Because usually these questioning skills are a threat to a dearly held belief system based on tradition, authority, and revelation.

I can’t help but think how many adults need to hear Dawkins’ message and how much better off the world would be if they did. 

I'll end with this quote from Dawkins:

What can we do about all this? It is not easy for you to do anything, because you are only ten. But you could try this. Next time somebody tells you something that sounds important, think to yourself: ‘Is this the kind of thing that people probably know because of evidence? Or is it the kind of thing that people only believe because of tradition, authority or revelation?’ And, next time somebody tells you that something is true, why not say to them: ‘What kind of evidence is there for that?’ And if they can’t give you a good answer, I hope you’ll think very carefully before you believe a word they say.

Parenting Beyond Religion ~How I Answer the Difficult Questions

I have a lot of people ask me these days, "how do you parent without religion? How do you talk to your kids about why we don't go to church anymore? How do you explain your beliefs to them? How do you answer their questions?"

These are interesting questions, usually asked by other ex-Christian parents who are struggling with the idea that all the answers they used to have have been pulled out from under them. "For the Bible tells me so" is no longer the answer to everything from "why is lying bad?" to "what happens when you die?" Suddenly, we're forced to think deeper, to be purposeful, and to challenge ourselves. We don't get to play the God card anymore.

I can't speak for everyone who has been through the deconversion process with their family, but I can explain my own experiences and how I've approached parenting differently these days.

In the beginning of our journey, about 3 years ago, we left a toxic church. This was difficult for my kids, who were very young, because it meant losing their friends and social group. Even though we tried to stay in touch with those whom we were close to, it's just not the same when you don't see them 3 times a week and don't share the beliefs they hold dear. ("Friendship by proximity" is what my friend Sam called these relationships, not implying that they aren't genuine but that they are upheld by proximity, as are many other friendships, such as from a job or other social group). They missed the children's church and the potlucks and the singing and activities. They also missed the routine. They asked a lot of questions about why we don't go to church and why we can't go see some of their friends anymore. I avoided these at first, because I was hurting from betrayal and rejection and seeing my kids' pain and confusion was just another knife in my heart. I also just didn't know how to answer them, to explain that I still believed in God, but had no idea what else I may or may not believe it. That I wasn't sure where I was going on my own spiritual journey. And how do you explain things like triggers and panic attacks due to my past to children? Eventually though I had to be honest and explain as best as I could.

That first conversation, initiated by my daughter, K (who was 7) went like this:

K: "Mom, why don't we go to church anymore? I miss church."

Me: "K., we had to leave that church because we  were no longer welcome because we disagreed with some things they were teaching that we feel are wrong and hurtful. We haven't found another church that doesn't teach these wrong things so we decided to stay home and do fun family things instead."

K: "Like what kind of bad things to they teach, Mom?"

Me: "Well, like that women can't do things just because they are women....."

K, interrupting: "What?! That's stupid. That's an Old Times belief. Girls can do and be whatever they want today, so can boys."

Me, suppressing a smile: "Yes, but the church we left didn't believe that, didn't like that we believed something different, and we didn't want to raise our kids in a church that tells boys and girls who they must be and how they must act because of their gender." 

That was the beginning of a series of conversations that we had about a few beliefs that I didn't think were healthy and that were keeping us from church. I kept it as simple as I could and they haven't asked about church in a long time. Their lives are now full of school and friends and family adventures.

Recently, they've begun to ask deeper questions about God, life, behavior, values, afterlife, science, and philosophy. These have been interesting for me, and, I admit, scary as it is completely new territory. Whereas before I would answer "we don't lie because it is sin", now I have be more thoughtful and pragmatic in presenting my values and ethics to them. *I* have to understand the "why" before I can help them understand.

When asked point-blank whether God exists or not, I have explained various viewpoints, including other gods and goddesses in the list of "what people believe". I am very honest in explaining that we cannot prove that any god exists, but that people chose to have faith in one god or many, for many different reasons. I try to stress the difference between scientific proof/knowledge and faith, and how these things are compatible and how they are not. I often answer with "this is what we know and can prove, this is what we don't, this is what some people believe" and asking them "what do *you* think?" Because someday they're going to choose for themselves what they believe and I have no desire to dictate that to them. Not by conditioning them now while they are young or prejudicing them toward or against one belief system or another. I care only that they are good, strong, ethical people, who are critical thinkers and intelligent, not that they worship Jesus or Odin or no one.

Kids are smart and vastly underestimated. Kids who aren't told what to believe, who aren't scared by hell fire into accepting a system they are too young to understand, and who are taught how to think are really fun to have deep conversations with. They know they can ask me anything and I'll answer them as honestly as I can and have no problem saying "I don't know, what do you think?". I have no agenda to make sure they have The Right beliefs or none at all. They are and will always be free to chose any faith or none, THAT is the gift I want to give them now as I raise them to be free-thinkers. It was not a gift ever given to me as a child. The only thing that would ever disappoint me is if they chose a faith system that devalues them and other humans. And yet, I'm not all that worried. They are strong thinkers, science-minded, emotionally healthy, with hearts full of discovery and empathy. I could be wrong but I can't see them throwing out those instilled and natural values, but rather bringing them into whatever faith they choose.

Raising thinking children means being a thinking parent. It means no cliches, no pad answers, no dismissing. This is really hard, not gonna lie. It goes against everything I once was and once believed. It's meant re-training my habits and reactions and thought-processes in order to be more true to myself and more honest with my kids. It means being fearless in my thoughts and my answers to their questions, being vulnerable, being uncomfortable, admitting wrong, being honest and open. But I find myself at peace with the relationship I have with my own beliefs and with my children. This is a journey, one I'm sure we'll be on for a long time yet. But we're on it together, forging a connection and trust, even if I don't always know how to answer their questions.

And, really, that's the most important thing.

Of Children and Horses and Spirit-Breaking

My husband and I were talking and he mentioned picking up one of the Pearl's child-training books years ago. He read the chapter on teaching a child to come to you. He thought it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever read. He shared this with me about his thoughts on the matter:

"I kept thinking about training horses to come to you. You don't set up the horse to fail then punish it when it does to teach it to come. You make it easy for them to listen and follow, then you continually reinforce the good behavior with positive rewards that could be anything from a scratch on the ear to a sugar cube. Mostly you just reward them. You do this over and over again until they learn to come at just a word because they want to come to you to be with you, to go for a ride, to have fun with you, to get a handful of grain." 

"Some people use punishment and negative situations and even cruelty to train a horse. There was one trainer popular years ago who did this. For example, to teach a horse to neck-rein, he'd tie the horse's head cocked to it's side so it couldn't move, then leave it there for hours. The pressure of the rope would create a reaction and the horse would forever ever turn it's head to the side every time it felt even a small pressure on it's neck from the rein. It was conditioned through negative reinforcement. It works and it takes far less time than using positive means to train a horse. That's why many people found it ideal. I always just thought it was cruel and unnecessary. Why use cruelty when you can train a horse through connection and kindness, making it easy for them to listen and follow you? Well, because it takes a whole lot longer. More time and effort and patience. A lot more. But I think it produces a much better relationship with the horse than using physically negative methods. The negative method does break the horse, but that's all it does....break them." 

I've watched him spend all day just teaching a horse to lift its foot to be cleaned. Or to come, walk forward, or back up. He's about to start breaking our 2-yr-old filly. It's a process I love to watch but lose patience with after a while. I'm in awe of the man who can get such a huge, powerful creature to follow him around like a happy puppy, not by "showing who's boss", but by connection, relationship, setting limits, and upholding them.

The man is only recently familiar with children, but he's known horses most of his life. He has much respect and love for the majestic creatures. His horse was a troubled gelding when we got him, high-strung and out of control. The horse had been through a lot of previous owners who had no idea what to do with him and he had a reputation for bucking people off, not following any directions, and being wild. When my husband got him, there was a quiet determination that dominated the interactions between them; the head-butting sessions where each tried to out-stubborn the other. My husband was firm like a rock and patient like I have never been for anything. He respected and honored the spirit of the horse while teaching him how not to kill someone with that same spirit, setting limits on the creature's behavior that would be profitable for both horse and rider. They were quite the pair when we were teenagers. They won every race down the dirt roads with friends, climbed every mountain in their path, and had a relationship and connection that was undeniable. And when the horse pushed the limits, the man would start all over again, working with him, pushing him, teaching him. I saw the man angry at the horse a few times. But it never came out in his behavior or changed his actions toward the errant horse (though there certainly was some quiet cussing happening under breath a few times). Today, we still have this high-spirited horse. There really is no other human for this horse than my husband. Til death do them part. The horse is almost 20 years old but he doesn't seem to know it. He still follows my man around like a puppy and pushes the limits if he's bored, just to stir up a little fun. A friend once said "Your husband is the only one in the world that loves that crazy horse and the only one that horse respects."

Maybe this is why the man is naturally more patient with our children than I am. Maybe it's just his nature or maybe it's because he understands wild things. Whichever it is, I am overwhelmingly grateful. He's been made fun of for his gentle approach with training horses. He's been mocked for his respectful way of parenting. He's even been put down for having an equal partnership with me, his wife. But he knows something those people don't. He knows the reward of a relationship based on respect and kindness, and the value of honoring the spirit and freedom of another being, be they horse or human.

A Post About Motherhood and Image-Worship

Alright. It's time for a Mommy-post. As a mother to 4 crazy kids 7 and under, mothers have a special place in my heart. We have a really difficult job. No, the "the most blessed job" or "the most difficult job" or whatever other claim all those mommy-blogs you read say. It's just difficult. And blessed. And, well, sometimes feels dang near impossible. So when I come across another article that heaps even more impossibility and judgment on the heads of mothers in the name of Christianity, I have to say something.

I came across this post today, on a well-known Fundy blog that promotes strict gender-roles and much striving for perfection in women of all ages, all in the name of God:

What Kind of Picture Are You Painting?


She starts off like this:

You’ve seen her, that Mom.
Maybe you, like me, have been her: that Mom.
You know, the one in sweat pants and hair that hasn’t been washed in three days who’s pushing a cart with more kids than groceries in the store that keeps all the breakable items at toddler eye-level.
The one with bags under her eyes from too many nights in a row with more work than rest.
The one with the little girl wearing flip-flops, a winter coat, a t-shirt two sizes too large and a skirt that’s…wait, she is wearing a skirt, isn’t she?! I’m sure she had one on when we left!…The one with the little boy who is begging for a snack and clearly in need of a nap.
The one with the gassy baby screaming for someone to take her out of the car seat so she can “let it all out.”
The one with a long trail of animal cracker crumbs left behind her by a toddler who opened a box that wasn’t on the original shopping list.
The one who’s perfected The Glare and is using it liberally.
The one who just let her kids know that they’re going to “get it” at home without saying a word.

Painting a picture of a tired, chaotic mom. Then she contrasts it with this picture:

Maybe you’ve seen the other Mom too. Maybe you’ve been her.
The one who looks like she just stepped out of a Pride and Prejudice movie set with a long, flowing skirt, hair gracefully twisted into an elegant bun, a few wisps purposefully left out and curled to frame her face, perfectly manicured hands pushing a buggy that works – full of children still, but ones that everyone stops to say are adorable.
The one whose well-rested, well-dressed, obedient, happy children remember to smile and say “thank-you” to the lady in the bakery department when she hands them a cookie.
The one with lips laced in kindness and patience as she carefully explains for the tenth time to her inquisitive three-year-old the health benefits of each organic vegetable they pick out together and place in the cart.
The one who people admire and inquire “How do you do it?!”

She then goes on to say that the "picture we paint" of motherhood with how we look when we're in the grocery store is important. I mean, what if a "raging feminist" (her words) looks at us and we look like the worst mother and that "raging feminist" decides right then and there to never have kids? We have just failed Jesus, y'all!!! Everyone that sees us will think terrible things about God and motherhood!! Oh noessssss!!

I can only imagine the picture I "paint" when I go out with all my kids:

Kid #1 always has crazy hair and mismatched clothes. I let her dress herself because it's fun for her and teaches her autonomy. As long as it's weather-appropriate and she's not naked, I consider it a success. And her hair is impossible to keep orderly. I try, honest. I've considered shaving her head but she's not keen on the idea.

Kid #2 is always dressed as Snow White or Raphunzel or a ballerina or a gothic fairy, complete with wings. Because it makes her really happy. She's autistic and I love her creativity. She puts together the wildest outfits but has to have her hair all perfect. And she loves boots. It's so cute. She is so uncaring about what anyone thinks and just dresses how she loves.

Kid #3 usually looks pretty normal, but often is mistaken for a girl because he's beautiful and has gorgeous long, blonde hair. Even though he's also usually wearing camo and super-hero clothing and his shoes are always on the wrong feet. He's convinced they're the right feet and after a few arguments I just drop it.

Kid #4 is just a baby. In this heat he's usually just wearing a onesie. I pack him around on my back in a Beco Gemini. He's usually babbling and playing with my hair and laughing at his siblings. Or crying and screaming because he wants down. Sometimes he smears snot on my back. His face never seems to be clean no matter how many times I wash it.

They're all very loud, all the time. It's like this happy roar wherever we go. Unless it's not happy. Then the fun really starts. Most of the time it's happy...singing, laughing, making weird noises, goofing off, "Mommy can we buy that huge TV for our living room?" and "Mommy that man has a funny face!" and "I hafta go potty!" and "can we look at the fishies?".

As for my appearance.....well.... I try to be clean, and match, but I don't "dress up" to go to Target. I mean, I really rock the shorts and tank and sandals look. Especially if I remembered to shave my legs within the last 5 days. I tried wearing a sundress out once, because I love them, but that didn't turn out so well and I don't like flashing an entire parking lot full of people because one kid just has to see my belly-button RIGHT THEN (we're working on boundaries. It's a difficult concept for a 3-yr-old). Occasionally I might swipe on some mascara, but often because it's taken half the day to just get everyone ready, I'll skip the make-up. My hair is usually in a pony-tail, but always clean. Except those days I just run out of time and I declare a hat day. Sometimes I can keep the smile on my face. Sometimes not. Usually I'm thinking about my list I forgot and mentally comparing prices and trying to plan the next 5 meals in my head while keeping my eye on everyone while trying not to run into other shoppers or accidentally grab someone else's little blonde kid, and while answering the barrage of questions that get flung at me by 3 eager little children who think Costco is the best store ever, full of wonder and delight and samples.

So I guess the picture I'm painting for the world to see is that of a busy mother who has full hands and heart, is a bit of a hippie, has creative, fun, friendly, loud, happy kids, who love our quirky life, who are far from perfect, and none of whom give a damn about what other people think of us. Because that's what this lady is actually saying. "You need to care about what everyone else thinks about you." She's just couching it in spiritual-sounding terms so she can hide her hang-up about what others think behind a spiritual concept and feel better about her need to appear perfect to everyone around her.  Because, as Jesus said, "They will know you are my disciples if you dress and look like you stepped out of a Jane Austen book". Ohhhhh wait........

I honestly feel sorry for her. And her kids. I can't imagine living under that pressure to perform for the world like she does. And how dare she praise that brokenness and heap it as a burden on other moms?! Don't we have enough on our plate without worrying that we're making God look bad because we aren't perfect-looking? What about those of us who have special-needs kids? Try going shopping with an autistic child who is scared to death of public restrooms or has melt-downs in the store because the sensory overload is too much.

This woman is so worried about what "message" she is sending to other people in the store....what about the message she is sending to her own children, and now proclaiming to other moms: That looking perfect is what matters. That "having it all together" is most important. That what other people think about you should rule your choices. This is image-worship, my friends. It is nothing short of idolatry. She is worshiping a certain image and telling other moms if they don't measure up to it, then they didn't plan well or they don't care what other people think about motherhood or Jesus. Golly, just reading what she wrote makes me exhausted. What a sad way to live.

Everywhere I go, people say nice things about my kids and I. Not because we look like we have it all together (we don't). But because we're happy (for the most part) and we're free from pressure to perform, and my kids are friendly (sometimes a little TOO friendly) and respectful (usually). People don't notice how we look (except sometimes my #2 daughter gets told how awesome her princess/fairy/ballerina clothes are). They notice things like happiness and freedom and grace and love. Even on the bad days when I think the latest grocery expedition is a complete fail, someone always smiles and says "you're children look like so much fun!" And it makes me smile, even when I feel like crying and never leaving the house again.

Mothers, just be you. Give your kids the freedom to be themselves. It's OK to not smile all the time. It's OK to not look like Lizzy Bennett with a bunch of smiling, quiet kids tripping in a perfect row behind you. I'm like 99% sure God doesn't care about what you look like. He cares about your heart (oh yeah, I read that in my Bible somewhere). He cares that we show love for each other. He doesn't care if your hair isn't washed or your kids' clothes don't match or you're wearing yoga pants. If you have to carry a screaming kid out of the store, He isn't judging you for making Him look bad. The people making Him "look bad" are the ones using his name to judge and to put other mothers in bondage to image-worship and perfection.

The Rest of the Truth About Motherhood

"Motherhood is wonderful."

"Being a mom is so fulfilling!"

"I wouldn't trade jobs with anyone in the world!"

"Being a stay at home mom is the best/easiest/most fulfilling job there is."

"Motherhood is the highest calling a woman can have."


I think we've all heard these statements and others like them. But how many times have we heard other mothers say these sorts of things:


"Sometimes I think all I do is wipe snotty noses and poopy butts."

"I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"I don't really know who I am anymore."

"I am so tired of being the nanny, cook, and housekeeper!"

"Some days, I want to lock myself in my room and cry."

"I can't even pee by myself!!"

"I'm so scared that I'm going to mess this up."

"I can't do this anymore."

I think that we, as women, have done each other a disservice. We've painted the picture of motherhood with pastels and left out the dark, ugly colors. When we were younger, before having kids, other women told us all the wonderful parts about being a mom and we got the impression that that's all there was. When life showed us that that was only half of the picture, we felt like something must be wrong with us. Like we weren't doing it right. But instead of accepting this as part of the equation, we just kept perpetuating the one-sided perspective that was handed down to us. And the myth of pastel-painted motherhood just kept on going.

Nobody told me I'd go crazy for lack of sleep. Or I'd feel overworked and left out and forgotten. Or that there'd be days I don't want my kids and wish they'd just go away. Or that I'd turn into someone I don't even know. No one talked about how scary it is to be responsible for the life of another human being. How my house would never be clean. How hard being a mom is. How tedious and painful and depressing life can get. All I ever heard was sunshine and roses and high calllings. And if there was anything bad, it was masked in humor and dismissed.

We feel like if we complain, we are selfish brats. That if we even think "what about me?!" we're self-centered and need to gain perspective. We are afraid of even asking other women "is it normal to feel this way?" for fear that what we believe about ourselves will be voiced and proven true: that there is something wrong with us, that we are a bad mother. Or we feel guilty because so many women desire to be mothers and can't and look how much we've been blessed. We feel like we must be missing something because having kids isn't the sunshine trail that other women said it would be. That other women sit around and talk about. Our Facebook statuses are supposed to be all about how wonderful our husband is and how amazing it is to have beautiful kids and how we just adore our life. And we just keep painting in pastels and roses while the darkness builds in our souls because we are ashamed to let those bold, dark colors show on our canvas. Because every other woman's canvases are only pastel and light.

Ladies, we need to be honest with each other. We need to stop giving an unbalanced view of motherhood; stop passing on the myth that motherhood is all rainbows and tell the rest of the truth: that sometimes, often, stormclouds are part of the picture. And they can be nasty. We need to release each other to be sincere, open, and honest with our feelings and struggles about motherhood by being honest ourselves.

So let me be the first. Motherhood sometimes sucks. Really, it does. Sometimes I wonder what in the world I was thinking. I wish for my life back. I wish for my body back. I wish for unlimited time with my husband back. Sometimes I scream at my kids and stomp my feet because one of them smeared poop all over the wall, one wiped spit all over the coffee table, one is pitching a fit, and everyone is crying. Sometimes I can't do anything but cry because I'm so tired and so lonely for adult interaction and so fed up with poop and I haven't eaten anything all day or slept in months or had a shower in days. Sometime I'm jealous of my husband who leaves for work for days and who isn't enslaved to school schedules and meal times and poopy diapers and laundry. I feel like I've lost myself and my life is in shambles and I must be doing everything wrong. And I desperately need to know that there isn't something wrong with only me. That other young mothers go through this too, and they survive and I'll survive. That I'm not the only mother in the world who's put my hands over my ears and yelled "Go away and leave me alone!!" I need someone to tell me "Yes, this sometimes sucks and it's hard when your kids are little. Yes, it's worth it. Yes, I've often felt that way. You're not the only one. You can do this."

Girls, we need each other. We need each other to be real. We need to stop telling one-sided stories and own up to our fears and failures. We need to stop feeling like we don't measure up as mothers because we don't always like being a mom. We need to encourage each other and love each other enough to tell it like it is. I'm guilty. I find myself trying to dress up my kids and my life and look like I have it all together when I know I will be around other people. I catch myself only telling the good parts like I'm trying to impress someone. I'm afraid of admitting my convoluted, confused, unsettled, stormy thoughts. I want to look like the other moms I see who seem to glow and float along gracefully though their mommyhood.

Motherhood is wonderful. But sometimes it's not. It can be amazing and joyful. But sometimes it's awful and sorrowful. Sometimes it's lonely, isolating, and hard. It's beautiful and fun. And sometimes not. It's messy and full of poop and snot and spit-up. But it's also full of color and love and excitement. You're not always, every minute of the day going to enjoy it. You may even hate it at times. You'll miss long showers and peeing by yourself and eating hot food. And that's OK. We need to stop trying to be super-moms and just be normal, human, and imperfect. We need to admit our fears so that other women will feel free to admit theirs and maybe those fears once spoken won't seem so scary and insurmountable. Those tears we cry in secret need to be cried in the open so they can be wiped away by understanding, laughter, comradery, and grace. And maybe, just maybe, the hard things won't be so hard, the ugly things won't seem so ugly, the storm clouds so ominous, and the dark colors will be allowed to mix with the pastels to form an exquisite picture of life.

Confessions of a Free-Spirited Mom

I threw out my "biblical parenting" books a long time ago. When my first baby was born a high-needs child, I threw in the towel, at least in practice. I didn't care if that meant that my baby was manipulating me, going to be spoiled, or in control of our family. As long I got some sleep and was able to take a shower, and my baby was happy, that was all that mattered. Unfortunately, I didn't get rid of all the roots of such teachings, or the inner guilt that I was doing something wrong by not following them, until my second baby was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, when she was 2. The regret that I lived with knowing I had punished my precious daughter for behaviors she couldn't control, all in the name of "biblical parenting" was too much to bear. I now break all the rules that were ever laid down in those stupid books.

There's nothing wrong with child-centered parenting. Why did we ever believe there was? Parenting isn't about the parents, it's about the child. No parent should ever try to force their child to fit into a mold that someone else has designated for them. Children are just little people, and people are all so wildly, amazingly unique. God designed us that way. I think He likes diversity. And I think it took having 3 kids who are out-of-the-box kids to finally put the nail in the coffin of "biblical parenting" ideals. (Personally, I think that all kids would be "out-of-the-box" kids if their parents would just let them. But that's another topic. ;))

I've been "accused" of attachment parenting. (Really? What kind of an "accusation" is that? Is that all ya got?) The more experience I gain at this mothering thing, the more my style of parenting is becoming more natural, more AP-like, if you want to put a label on it. It just fits me and my children. We are more at peace with each other and I'm not trying so hard to fit a style of parenting that causes strife and unhappiness in my family. Contrary to popular conservative belief, co-sleeping didn't ruin my kids' sleep patterns for life, breastfeeding on demand and child-led weaning didn't lessen my "authority" (whatever that means), and baby-wearing didn't make my kids turn into demanding brats. Responding to my child's cries, every time, didn't make them "in control" of me. Instead, it made my kids secure in the knowledge that I loved them, was FOR them, and would take care of their needs. Pretty much every terrible thing that those parenting books said would happen if I didn't follow them, never happened. My babies weren't taught to unnaturally sit still on a blanket so I could get stuff done. Instead, I wore them, or let them get in my way, under my feet, often having to stop what I was doing to chase them around. So what? Having kids is inconvenient. You get used to it.

You should see my home now. It's a mess. Always. Even after I work all day to clean it, it never stays that way. I let my girls draw hop-scotch numbers in the squares on the kitchen floor. I talk to and reason with my 4-yr-old when she doesn't want to do what I ask. When she asks me "why", I tell her why. I have never said "because I say so". That's a stupid cop-out and insulting to the intellegence of a child. I have said, "obey me now, and I will explain it to you afterwards". Sometimes I don't even punish them for disobedience, but instead let natural consequences take their course (as long as it won't kill them) and have a good lesson/talk afterwards. I try to teach them that choices have consequences, so make good choices. I don't punish them for telling me what they think or how they feel. Instead, I try to show them the polite and appropriate way to express those things. (Ex: screaming "No, I don't want to!!" when told to do something isn't appropriate. Quietly telling me afterwards that you didn't want to or didn't like it is fine. I don't expect you to like everything I tell you to do.) I don't feel guilty in the least for not spanking or punishing my kids when others think I should. Or letting them get away with things that others think I shouldn't. I am my children's mother, not anyone else. I will choose which battles to fight and which ones aren't worth it. I feel no need to constantly prove to my kids that I am their "authority" and they are mere children.

I wrote this before, and I think it bears repeating:

Guess what? The Bible never prescribes a parenting method. It just doesn't. So anyone that claims to know "The Biblical Parenting Method"(TM) is full of it. Parenting is a very personal, very individual thing that the Bible really doesn't talk much about. It is multi-faceted and complex and even changes from child to child within the same family. The only principles of parenting that the apostles ever addressed was summed up in two sentences: "Do not discourage and provoke your children to wrath" and "raise them up in the nurture and instruction of the Lord". That's it, folks. He didn't lay out 10 steps of how to do those two things....I think he left that up to us, to use discernment and wisdom and love and knowledge of our children to figure out the best way to "raise them up" and nurture them.

I also think that everything we need to know about parenting, we can get from looking at how God "parents" us. And from following the "one-another" scriptures in regards to our kids. They are people too, after all, and I fail to see how "be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other" doesn't also apply to how we interact with our children. There are no Bible laws that say your kid must obey immediately every single time with a smile on their face. Do you obey God that way every time He asks you to? And isn't God still good and merciful when we complain and stomp our feet? How many times has God extended mercy to you when you didn't obey Him instantly and cheerfully? I'd venture to say more times then most people extend mercy to their own children. So why in the world do we think we should expect more of an immature child then we are able to do ourselves??? If God is loving and gentle and merciful and abounding in loving kindness and patience toward us, how can we not extend that to our children? Don't judge another parent because they are doing things differently than you. Until you have to raise their unique children, you don't know their story and you have no right to tell them they're doing it wrong. And do not feel guilty if others seem to condemn you for your parenting choices. If you are confident that you're doing the best you can to love and raise your kids in the way that THEY need you to, forget others' condemnation. They are not the score-card on your parenting.

This parenting thing is messy.....messy, beautiful, fun, exhasting, nerve-wracking, unpredictable, exciting, fulfilling, wonderful, scary, and so blessed. Don't try to make it something it's not (i.e., perfect and convenient). Don't force yourself to live up to others' standards. This isn't about them. It's about you and your precious children.

I laugh about the whole thing now....now that I feel like I finally know what I'm doing (most of the time...except when I don't), now that I'm not at odds with my kids all the time, now that I'm true to myself and in tune with my kids, now that grace is my default setting, now that I'm not out to prove I'm the boss to my children, now that I'm not out to impress people with perfectly behaved kids, now that I don't care what people think about me or my parenting. It's so freeing.

A funny thing happened when I let go of unrealistic expectations for my kids: I let go of unrealistic expectations for myself. And that has made all the difference in the world.



My out-of-the-box kiddos

Kid Randomness

Did you know that if you mix spit with crayons you can make finger paint?

This is just one of the many interesting things I wouldn't have learned if I didn't have kids.

Kailey decided that she wants to fly helicopters. She also thinks that fairies live in the back yard and is determined to find one and put it in her bug jar. We tried keeping a caterpillar alive in her jar but it died after 2 days. Probably in self-defence. She keeps asking me to find her some pixie dust so she can fly. She thinks the local grocery store carries it. I'm not sure how to tell her the truth, but she probably wouldn't believe it anyways.

Faith apparently knows to cheer at football games. We were at a pizza place last week and a football game was on the TV. She started getting excited and making the sign for "ball". Then she threw her hands up in the air and yelled "yay!!" at the top of her lungs several times during the game, causing everyone in the restraunt to look at us. Oh, for the abandon that children have. Did I mention that we don't watch football, nor have we ever taken her to a game? Also, never give her your cell phone. She can rearrange the icons, change your wall-paper pic, and text someone in 30 seconds flat. Don't ask me how I know.

Joel found out he could stand all by himself yesterday and the look on his face was sheer wonder. I'm in trouble with that one. Whenever Elvis comes on, he starts shaking his little booty and clapping. It's pretty cute. He loves the kitty (though his love in unrequited) and chases bugs around the floor. He wrinkles his nose when he grins at you. I think he's going to be a genious because I'm intuitive like that.

Sky took Kailey with him to run some errands the other day. When they came back, she was chewing gum...a huge no-no in my book. I asked him why he gave her gum and he said "It was the only way to get her to stop talking". Well, yes, the child talks non-stop. My mom says what goes around comes around. Sky says, "Then why do I have suffer for it, too?" I keep claiming that the ADHD comes from his side of the family but he won't have it. Oh look...a squirrel! Wait, what was I saying?

Oh yeah, crayons. So did you know that crayons have more uses than are described on the box? You can chew them up and make multi-colored spit, then use that to finger-paint the table, chairs, fridge, and kitchen floor. Also, canoe paddles make great swords. And work wonderfully for leaning up against the tree, so you can climb them to reach that branch that is just too high to get to.

Give my kids a swimming pool, and they'll have it full of mud in no time. Then they'll put the slide in it and slide into the mud. Occasionally I'll fill it with bubbles for them. Mud and bubbles are a strange combination, let me tell you.

One of the girls' favorite pass-times is wrestling. Sometimes I intervene because I'm not thrilled with their game of trying to beat each other up. It hurts me just watching them. Most of the time I don't watch and if no one is screaming then they must be fine.

Whatever happened to sugar and spice and everything nice?

Kailey keeps walking up to random women and asking them if they're pregnant. She seems to think all women have babies in their tummies. She asked my friend this the other day and my friend replied with a laugh, "No, I'm just fat!" Kailey then turned around and announced to the whole room, "Mommy, she's fat!" *head in hands*

Faith wouldn't eat her dinner the other day. I caught her later, sitting on her swing, happily munching on a bowl of cat food. I'm tempted to try it myself since the kids love it so much. I feel like I'm missing out on something.

Kailey took scissors to her hair, which resulted in her waist-length hair becoming a cute, sholder-length cut. She then chopped off a bunch right in front of her face a week later. When I asked her why she did it again, she replied coolly, "It was in my face, Mom". Like, duh.

Sometimes it is all I can do to keep my kids and the cat alive and in one piece. Somedays I think I will be completely insane by the time I'm 30. If I make it that long. I haven't even told you all about the mud pies in the kitchen, insects in their beds, sliding in boxes down the basement stairs, climbing and jumping out of trees, eating sand, and numerous crises and disasters that happen every single day. And they're only -4 years old. How do mothers keep their children alive and well long enough to graduate?!

Now I know why there are mother of pre-schoolers support groups.

I wish I could say that I always love being a mother and that life is a bed of roses. But I don't and it's not. Oh, I have many moments of joy, usually mixed with moments of "that's it, I'm through! I QUIT!!!!" and there's usually more of the former than the later, thankfully. I love my kids, love their creativity and passion for life. But sometimes I wonder "what they heck were we thinking?!" Then Kailey tells me I'm so cute and Faith gives me a huge kiss and Joel falls asleep all snuggly in my arms and I just want to freeze those moments and keep them that way forever.

People keep telling me that they don't stay little forever. My answer? I certainly hope not! ;) Someday I'll miss the sand in their diapers, mud all over them, and crayon-spit "paint" all over the kitchen.

Then again....maybe not......

Watch out, girls!

This smile is going to be the undoing of many feminine hearts in the years to come.

In Which I Have An Epiphany

We went to a baby shower today. It was a family shower, so there were families there, moms, dads, and kids running around everywhere. In this group of new friends in our new church, we are the only homeschoolers. No one else has ever been exposed to the homeschool subculture. We are novelties to them. I don't mind. I've never felt so at home and so not judged before in my life. I like it. I love the people. They've opened up their hearts and homes to us before they even knew us and the love of Christ is so very evident in their lives.

But as I was sitting in the joyful chaos of that shower, a thought that has been bouncing around in my head for a while suddenly landed with a thud. Did you know that the only people who expect perfect behavior from small children is the ultra-conservative Christian subculture?? And did you know that the rest of the developed world doesn't expect this nor judge you as parents if your children aren't perfect little obedient angels all the time? When my kid throws a fit, no one looks down their nose at me. They just smile and nod knowingly...kids will be kids, after all.

It's so relaxing to realize. The unrealistic expectations of the culture I grew up in are just that: unrealistic.

Probably most of you are thinking, um, yeah? like this is something you've always known and Darcy must be slow. But see, I've never really shared my life intimately with anyone who has not had a similar background as me. I've always hung out with the same crowd and only now am realizing what most of the world has known and taken for granted. That the expectations and standards of the ultra-conservative crowd are unique to them and not indicative of the rest of the world.

Do you know how freeing that is for me? For the first time in my life, I feel like I can let my defenses down. I can be flawed and it's OK. My kids can act like, well, KIDS and no one thinks I'm a slacker parent. These people love me for who I am, not for what I believe or how I perform. They love my kids and accept my family without strings attached. It's amazing.

I think God has me in the place I'm in, sharing my life with these people for a reason. I think He knows I need it. My husband feel it too. It's like a breath of fresh air.

So this is what Grace looks like.

A Lot Like Me

baby I'm afraid you're a lot like me
you can't help feeling everything
I can see you trying to hold it in
I see your eyes and your trembling chin

And for you and myself I will pray
let our weakness become our strength

baby there are some holes you just can't fill
you try and try but you never will
baby I believe a God who can
he loves the boy and he'll love the man

And for you and myself I will pray
let our weakness become our strength

~A Lot Like Me, by Sara Groves

Never Drive While Hormonal

Seriously. I wanted to kill someone. Or at the very least drive them off the road. I couldn't believe how ticked off every other driver on the road was making me today. Like all the idiots conspired together to be on my path all at the same time. It must be hormones.

Or maybe it was the fact that I'd just tried to go to the Goodwill with all my kids while their daddy was getting his wisdom teeth pulled. It sounded like a good idea. I am in desparate need of some clothes. I just can't ever seem to get to the thrift store, or if I do I spend the money on the kids (why can't they invent clothes that grow with the kids??). So since I had to wait around town for 2 hours I thought, hey, I'll just go see what I can find. Maybe come home with a new top or two. *insert sarcastic laughter* Right. I wasn't in there 5 minutes before all three of those little imps, I mean, children, were fussing. Including the baby who is usually more than happy to be toted around in the Baby Bjorn. But I kept on. Through all the dirty looks and sympathetic stares of the other shoppers, and the escalating noise that I pretended wasn't coming from my cart. ("Gee, whose annoying kids are screaming?? You'd think people could keep their kids under control!!" :P)I kept hanging clothes on the handle of the cart to try on since there wasn't room in the cart for them. It wasn't until I had gone through the entire women's section and stopped at the dressing rooms that I noticed that Faith had been UNhanging them and dropping them on the floor. (!!!) Looking back, I noticed the very efficient clerk picking up one of my shirts and hanging it back up. Gaaa!!! Didn't she have anything better to do than follow me around and pick up the clothes I spent precious time picking out?!?!?! Oh well...two cute tops remained on my cart. I pushed the entire cart, screaming kids and all, into the dressing room and tried them on. They didn't fit. They made me look fat. Why can't they make clothes for real people? And why can't they make 15 passenger shopping carts?

Then the phone rang: "Your husband is ready for you...would you like to come pick him up?" (I only briefly thought about saying no. Only briefly.) I drug the cart out of the dressing room, payed for a couple of dresses for the girls, and piled my crying children into the car. Upon arriving at the surgeon's, I found my very loopy husband trying to explain to me that he was fine with a mouth full of gauze. The nurse told him not to talk.

After arriving at home, everything got worse. Faith wouldn't take a nap and kept finding banana peels to put in the most inconvenient places; Kailey filled a cup full of spit and rubbed it in Baby Joel's hair (who then had to have a bath); I made her go outside where she screamed bloody murder until her grandma came running through to woods thinking one of the kids was dying; Sky just laid on the couch and couldn't even get himself a glass of water (yup, shoulda left him) and I kept cleaning only to turn around and find the girls undoing everything I just did. And I'm still ticked at all the stupid drivers.

But I suddenly remembered something. Earlier, after trying on those two shirts at the Goodwill, I put my own shirt back on. Kailey immediately stopped crying and exclaimed happily, "OOOH! Now you're Mommy again!!" :^) And Faith counted clearly to 5 on her fingers today all by herself, several times, without any prompting (a HUGE step!). So I guess my life isn't so bad after all. Crazy, yes...but at least I'm able to eat my chocolate chip cookie. Unlike my husband who almost agreed to my proposition to stick a cookie in the blender for him. Poor man.

One of these days I'm going to have to get myself some new clothes, though......

Awwwww.....

Is there anything in all the world more precious than a sleeping baby?

What Can I Say? She's My Daughter....

*Disclaimer: I did not actually witness this. So I am not responsible for any action or inaction or any lack of responsible child-training. However, when this little episode was reported to me, I laughed my head off.

There are times when, as a mother, I have to decide when to be motherly and instructive, and when to just laugh. Thankfully, I did not actually witness the scene I am about to describe because I'm not sure if I would've recognized which side of "mother" would have been appropriate at the time.

Kailey spent the night with my sister, Lindsay, and her daughter, Melody. Kailey and Melody are the same age (3) and best friends. Lindsay decided to take the girls to McDonalds, a rare treat for my little country girl. (Actually, it was her first time.) Upon seeing all the fun tubes and balls and slides, she went berserk and wasted no time climbing up the platforms to the tubes. Melody, on the other hand, is a bit shorter and not so athletic so she kept being left behind. A little boy, about age 4, decided to be a gentleman and help Melody up the platforms. So he put his hands under her butt and gave her a boost. She promptly turned around, and, like the polite little lady she is, said "Thank you!". Well, the little boy was quite pleased and tured to give Kailey a boost too. As soon as he put his hands on her butt, she, like the little hooligan she is, promptly turned around and slapped him across his face. (!!!)

He was quite shocked and turned to his dad (who was laughing) and said "She-she HIT me!!!"

"Well,", his wise father replied, "I guess that's a lesson you learned early in life, son."

This same little boy then had a grudge against both Kailey and Melody. He went down a slide ahead of them and wouldn't get off but instead blocked it with his body so they couldn't get past. Melody went down the slide, ran into him, and started screaming because he wouldn't move. Then down came Kailey. She assessed the situation and knew exactly what to do. Grabbing the boy by his collar, she pinned him with her scrawny little arms up against the side of the slide so Melody could pass. (Did I mention he was three times her size??) She was very calm and had a look in her eyes that said "You are annoying me, but I know just how to handle this." He was so surprised he just sat there while Lindsay rushed to his rescue. Kailey dusted off her hands and went back to playing with her cousin. Melody wisely chose to stay close to Kailey for the rest of the day.

I told Lindsay that she didn't get that from me. Lindsay said she told Dad all about it, and Dad said "She got that from her mother". I will defer to my older, wiser, father in this matter. However, I do NOT think my husband's assessment of the episode was very fair at all. I believe his words were something to the effect of: "She's your daughter" Right. As if HE had nothing to do with it!!!!

I'm OK, Really....

I used to think I was pretty "all-together" when it came to homemaking and child-raising skills. Until I had kids. I feel so incredibly stretched thin right now and my house is always a mess and sometimes I don't get a shower or real clothes on until the girls go down for a nap at 2 pm. I'm trying not to get frustrated but not always succeeding. I've really got the whole frustrated-but-amused-and-insane laugh down.

Take today: I wanted to run to the grocery store so when Joel fell asleep I set the girls down in front of the TV and jumped in the shower. I was only in there for 5 minutes, I swear, but when I got out, Kailey had dumped an entire cup of juice over Faith's head (so much for "no-spill cups" ). I then had to clean the floor and stick Faith in the bath tub. Then Joel woke up and wanted to nurse. I started breakfast only to turn around and find Kailey standing on a chair and spitting on the floor. I almost burnt the french toast while disciplining and cleaning up after her. (I can't for the life of me figure out what possessed her to do that.) By the time we ate breakfast, it was after 10. I ate while nursing (again!). Then I laid Joel down, and started to get dressed (yes, everything previously written happened in the buff). I got my jeans on, only to stick my head out the door (the girls were waaaaaay too quiet) to find Kailey on the counter helping herself to the sugar bowl and sharing with Faith who was standing on the floor. After breaking up a few more fights ("it's MY toy!!") and nursing a fussy baby a few more times, I still was wearing only jeans and had half of my make-up on when my husband called me to say he was coming home and would go to the store with me. I about cried in relief. How in the world am I ever supposed to take 3 kids shopping when I can't even get out the door with them?!?!?!?

Well, just goes to show ya that 3 kids 3 and under can throw quite the clinker in one's Perfect Homemaker image. But that's OK. They're worth it. At least, that's what "they" tell me. Now excuse me while I go extract Mr. Potato Head from the VCR...