Parenting Beyond the Playground

The hard part of parenting is beginning.

I've enjoyed parenting small children. 

I've been able to guide, distract, direct, and spanky-spoon my kids into proper behavior. They aren't perfect kids by any means, but parenting seems more black and white when children are younger.

"Don't hit the kid with the stick."

"Pick up your toys or you'll go to time-out."

"If you do that again, you will not get ice cream."

I consider that "playground parenting", which is highly important and necessary. Don't underestimate laying the foundation for good behavior when your kids are little.

But now, parenting has taken on a whole new meaning. 

Opie has dealt with a lot the past few years: moving multiple times far away from friends and family, dealing with a traveling Father, and lately, his unidentified sickness.

I knew it had taken a toll on him. Tonight he shared his thoughts.

And I was humbled.

I have never felt so unable. 

I felt so inadequate listening to him. Trying to comfort him. Trying to make sense of his heart's precious words. 

How could I expect to impart wisdom to a nine year old things that I am still struggling with myself?!?!

But, I was reminded in my heart that I can't focus on myself. In fact, I told him, "I will let you down. Because I am human. I will not handle this all perfectly. God is the only one who will never do you wrong, even when you think otherwise."

Opie and I. High Point State Park, NJ. June 2013

Can I just say, booooy, do I want to "fix" Opie. I want to take it all away. His fears and anxiety. His worry. His troubles. 

But, I can't.

I can continue to seek God, though. And to ask Him to lead me. To change me. To teach me to lean on Him for my strength.

And encourage Opie to do the same.

I will continue to be there for my son. 

I will listen.

And love.

And cuddle with him as he drifts off to sleep. 

Yes, this is the tough side of parenting that I wasn't prepared for. 

But, then again, none of us are. We are each flawed people, full of backgrounds and plenty of our own internal "junk." 

The good news is: God can take my weak, fragile heart and through the Spirit of Jesus, grant me the grace, humility and power to lead my precious Opie through this storm of life.

And by golly, I am his Mom. So I WILL accept that challenge. 

Opie and I. High Point State Park, NJ. June 2013.

Lord, lead me. Minute by minute. Take Opie's mind and fill it with your peace. Your strength. Your hope. Help me to be radically changed by your Spirit so that I may have the ability to be the Mom I need to be for Him. I can not do it without you, Lord. I will fail miserably if it is by my strength. You are in control. May I be the hands and feet and words of Jesus to my children. Teach me Lord. I am willing to learn. May Opie come to know your tenderness and love in the depths of his heart. May he lay his worries at your feet and live a life full of your Presence. Please help me model what that looks like right in front of him. 

My Birthday Boy

May 16, 2004. 10:17 am. An angel arrived. 
8 lb. 10 oz. 21"

Goodness personified. 

Today my first born turned nine.

Opie is a gift from God.

He is my obedient, tender-hearted child.

He wishes so badly to please others and to excel at all he does.

He is thoughtful, considerate and kind.

He is a dreamer and I love that about him.

More than anything, he is full of life. His laughter and ability to make others laugh is one of his many gifts.

He is special. I mean, special.

I think I take him for granted sometimes, since he is such an easy-going kid.

He has a bright future ahead of him.

Bright like his hair.

The hair that I still hold the first cut locks of.

This boy has been a joy to raise.

A sheer joy.

Age 3: Greenville, SC. At the park by the zoo. He loved that playground.

Age 3: Visiting cousins in Atlanta, GA.
I wish I could have made time stand still in this moment. He was giggling on the trampoline.
I remember not being able to take my eyes off of him. 

Age 3: The house he was first raised in. He used to climb up inside this chest of drawers/armoire on top of my clothes. I remember thinking at the time, "One day, I'll look back at this when he's too big to fit inside and realize what a precious moment this was." I was right.
Time, why must you hurry so?

Age 3: Greenville, SC. Near Reedy River Falls. A day of perfection. Look at that innocence and joy on his face. Oh, to be a child again. 

Age 4: Birmingham, AL. Our apartment at the Summit. I heard, "Mom! Come look!" And this is what I rounded the corner to. I grabbed my camera and laughed hysterically. What a silly boy!

Age 4. Birmingham Botanical Gardens. He was a ham for the camera. I remember feeling such a sense of fulfillment to see my first born growing into such a good, funny boy.
I was enthralled by this guy. Still am. 

Age 4. Visiting friends at Margeo land. He got to shoot his Daddy's B.B. gun and go four-wheeling and camping in a cabin. He still loves this kind of stuff. ALL boy.

Fifth Birthday at Crossbridge Church. He had a dinosaur decorated party in the gym with a bouncy house. It was the easiest and best party he'd had so far. 

Age 5. Gardendale, AL. Our little Alabama home. And our first snow there. It was fantastic. 

Age 6. Finally got the little brother he'd prayed for.
And what an amazing big brother he has been ever since.

Age 6. New Jersey. Celebrating his favorite holiday at the time: St. Patrick''s Day. However, after finding out that leprechauns weren't real, he was devastated and the holiday has never been the same. 

Turning 8 last year in Jersey. His Miami Heat basketball party. His favorite party of all time. 

Age 8. Christmas 2012. Made this gingerbread house with Mommy. Love those moments with him.

Age 8. NYC March 2013. Visited the Intrepid while Maw-Maw was in town. He loved the planes, but he does NOT love NYC. :)

Age 8. November 2012. Still a ham for the camera. And what a future this kid has....

Celebrating turning nine at Chuck E. Cheese. What a blessed day.

You make my heart full, Opie.

My tears over your growing up are comforted by the fact 

that I know you will grow into a man of God and do great things. 

I love you, son.

Remember to be patient with yourself, as you have your whole life ahead of you to become the man I know you will become. Laugh more. Worry less. And never forget that God created you for a specific purpose. A purpose that you are fulfilling every day. 
I love you more than life. 

Miniature People Prayers

I must admit I have a love-hate relationship with putting my kids to bed.  

After the whole bath, toothbrush, "Get-in-here-and-don't-make-me-say-it-again" routine, I kind of lose my nicey-nicey-ness.

There's an internal Mommy-dialogue going on inside my brain. I teeter-totter between cherishing these fleeting, precious moments and trying to maintain my composure and not scream "Be still and hush-up because Mommy is mentally ready to shut off for the day!"

But, even in my frustration, there is one thing that seems to make time stand still and make all my icky feelings go away.

When my kids pray.

After singing our little Bible songs, (and Peanut closes Jesus loves me with "the Bible tells me soap") my boys say their prayers. 

Well, Opie says his prayers. Peanut has not wanted to say prayers for a while. 

He used to do the "God Our Father" prayer-song at dinner. But once he hit the ripe old age of two, he took a vow of silence in the prayer department.

The past week, however, He has started praying again. And they are the typical sweet prayers that most kids pray. He prays for everything and I mean, everything.

Opie always liked praying, but he was more of a routine prayer. He prayed for the same things every night and never got much into the "Thank you for the sky, trees, butterflies, etc" kind of mantra. But that is his personality. He is still my careful, thoughtful little man.

Opie. 8 years old. March 2013

Peanut, on the other hand, is a loose canon. The opposite of Opie. 

Peanut. Talking to himself. And having a grand time doing so. March 2013

I must say, though, I do enjoy hearing his prayers. He is so perceptive and his prayers change daily, reflecting on moments that made an impression on him. That is amazing to me. He covers his eyes with his chubby little hands, and with a small hushed voice he prays. 

Here are my favorites since he returned to his holy dialogue:

Saturday, after having chicken for dinner and watching my husband filet a live fish Opie caught, this was his prayer:

"Tank you God for chicken, chicken wegs, dat fish, and gettin' to see dat fish's mowf (mouth)."

Wednesday, after playing in the woods at a new friend's house, he prayed this:

"Tank you for my brudder, for pway-doh, sticks, acorns and Kyleigh's house." 

And tonight, his prayer reflected the book on body parts we read before naptime:

"Tank you for dis day, and eyes, and ears, and head, and elbows, and knees, and toes, and body, and wegs, and mowf, and buttcheeks..."

Buttcheeks? That was not in our book. But, hey, ain't it great to be thankful for it all?!?!

One thing's for certain. The days are long with small children. But, moments like prayer at bedtime with my munchkins make it all worthwhile. 

And I am well aware that one day I would pay any amount of money just to have one more night with chubby little hands and a red-head giggling at his baby brother's prayers.

Thank you, God, for my boys. For using them to teach me that laughter is great. To be thankful for it all. To see You throughout the day. And that life is short. Help me to be still and soak. this. IN. 

November 2012

Spring 2012. Central Park. NYC.

Roseline's for a Delicious Farm Breakfast. March 2013.

At the Pet Store. Begging for a bunny since it was Easter. March 2013.

My Brain Still Works...Sort Of

I think I had a few more brain cells in this picture before Peanut was born... circa 2009.

I'm not sure if it's just me, but sometimes I wonder if my brain has disintegrated.

I have locked myself out of my car only to realize later that I had my keys all along.

My husband will ask me if I "remember the time..." and I don't remember it in the slightest.

I shave only one leg and never realize it until I am out of the shower and dried off. (Then I have to get all back in the shower, shave the neglected leg and towel-dry off all over again...Ain't Nobody Got Time for Dat!)

But, today I saw signs of life in the old noggin... 

Opie used to have two aquatic frogs when he was little. And, at age four, Opie named all his pets...how you saaaaay...random-on-the-spot-and-off-the-top-of-his-head. 

Opie, at Age Four. 2009

For instance, Frog #1 he named "Best-Friend." 

For two years, though, the cooky name of Frog #2 has eluded me. It's been stuck somewhere in the back of my mind between my mental grocery list and a New Kids on the Block Christmas song.

Yet, I'd like to report that this evening around 6:38 pm Eastern Standard Time, a memory nerve in my brain must have been fighting for it's last breath. While speaking about tadpoles to Opie, all of a sudden Frog #2's identity was shoved to the tip of my tongue in true 'before-I-had-kids-that-drained-every-bit-of-brain-juice-dry' fashion.

"CARE-THICK!!!", I yelled out at Opie. "You're second frog's name was Care-thick!" 

Hallelujah!!! 

I had actually remembered the most random pet-name ever created.

And, ladies and gentlemen, THAT was the highlight of my day. 

This kid, however,  is a highlight of my life. Look at little he was here at age five!

A Big Decision

Opie was baptized a few weeks ago.

He'd been throwing all kinds of questions at us for a while. Then, he started saying, "Mom, I really want to know more about God."

So, we talked. A lot.

At one point he said, "Mom, I feel like the more answers I get, the more questions I have."

Welcome to life.

"Son, it will always be that way," I told Him. "And that's okay. Just remember, that committing your life to follow Christ doesn't mean you will have all of the answers. It just means that no matter what your questions are, you choose to always put your trust in Jesus."

I was then able (with a lump in my throat) to share the true beauty of following Christ. How He has (despite my wondering heart) continued to pursue me and fill me with hope, love and peace. 

April 14, 2013. Jayden's baptism and first communion. 

As I watch my oldest son grow and mature into an amazing little man, my heart is humbled.

Because I know ME.

But, the beauty is that God has still used this selfish, sometimes-grumpy Momma to lead her child towards the only One who can bring true wholeness to His life. 

And my heart is full. Beyond what I could ever have asked or imagined. 

Lord, continue to use me to point my boys to You, the Creator and Perfecter of my faith. May I only boast in my weaknesses, because when I am weak, You are strong. Change me to be like Jesus. And may my boys seek after the very Heart that brought theirs to life. 

Rising Above the Vomit

Crazy month.

I'll summarize it:

Car wreck. ER trip (not related to car wreck). Vomit. Diarrhea. Vomit. Diarrhea. ER trip. Fever. Chills. Endoscopy (see pic above). Heartburn. Diarrhea. Strep Throat. More Diarrhea. Spend Small Fortune on Probiotics. More Strep Throat. 

And that's just the highlights. (There have been a few days of rest in there.)

Can I say something, though?

The old me would have repeated, "Why me?" over and over in my head. I would have wanted to run for the hills, wordy-dirds flying all the way. (Ok, I might have mumbled a few wordy-dirds. Hey, I ain't perfect."

Not that I haven't had my moments of, "Seriously? Does someone have a voodoo doll character set for my family?"

But, in the midst of it all, God has whispered the true summary of the past month to my heart.

"Blessed. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed, Blessed. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed."

My circumstances didn't get better, but by standing firm in the belief that God is good in the midst of the chaos, my attitude changed. 

God's goodness seems questionable at times. That is just how our human minds think. We only see the here and now.

But God isn't human. Thank goodness. 

Trust in His goodness, even when things aren't "good."

That is when He changes us to be more like Christ. 

Ask God to help you rise above your circumstances this week, as I continue to do the same! 

(And, while you're at it, ask Him to cut me a little break on the ER trips.)

The Lord is good to all;

    he has compassion on all he has made. 

Psalm 145:9

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

Ephesians 4:22-25

Blessed Indeed.

Confessions of a Mommy

Opie, age 8 & Peanut, age 2

I think I am a good Mom.

But, there's always this nagging thought in the back of my mind, "Am I a good enough Mom?" 

I could list you ten things right off the top of my head that make me question my abilities. And, after a heart to heart with my tearful, overwhelmed third-grader last night, my suspicions were confirmed.

I am not the mom that I want to be.

Opie was overwhelmed with school and my high expectations on him. He also admitted that he was angry and hurt because many times I don't follow through on my word.

My heart broke. In all of my striving to be so good, I had still failed. 

I apologized, thanked him for sharing his feelings and we hugged it out. I assured him that I would try to be better at sticking to my word and being consistent. I told him that God was showing me ways I needed to change. It was a much-needed conversation. 

After he went to bed, I shared with my husband how disappointed I was with myself.

"Brianne," he said, "he knows you are sorry and that you love him. You are more fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants and that's okay. There are moms who are better organized, but there's even a down-side to that. There are pros and cons to both. Kids can thrive in both circumstances. But, everyone makes mistakes."

"But, I don't want to make mistakes!" I told him.

"Good luck with that," he said. "Every kid will look back and see the mistakes their parents made. But, love covers a multitude of sins."

I thought about what he said. I have all day. This expectation of making no mistakes is totally unrealistic. It's actually prideful. I mean, I don't really expect to be "perfect", but I'd like to be pretty darn close.  

But, is perfection what good parenting is about? 

More craft time? 

Fancier dinners? 

Better organization?

I'm beginning to think not.

Maybe...

...it's about accepting our imperfections, yet in that acceptance, asking God to change us into a better version of ourselves. 

...by living this out in front of my kids, they will better understand the grace of God and not live under the pressure of perfection.

...even my mistakes are a chance for me to point my boys to the only One who will never let them down.


Now, I will continue to strive to be a better Mommy. After all, my word is important and I want my boys to be able to count on me. However, I am only human. 

My ultimate goal should not be perfection as a Mom. There's no good in that. 

It should be my goal to be a mother who constantly points them to the God who takes imperfections and turns them around into His glory!

Lord, make me that mother! And let my strivings for perfection and other's approval not interfere with my ability to mother these two precious souls you have given me. Let me love them as you would. Whatever that looks like...

Perfection is Over-Rated

Some days I get it "perfect."

I wake up happy.
I cook a healthy breakfast and remember to take my vitamins. :)
I workout at the gym.
I play with my boys, without a looming to-do list in the back of my mind.
I read my Bible.
I don't check Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest umpteen times.
I get laundry caught up.
I actually clean the kitchen.
I kiss my husband when he walks in the door.
We eat a home-cooked dinner together.
We share a Bible story and pray together as a family before bedtime.
The kids go to bed with one of my make-up-as-I-go shadow puppet shows.
My husband and I enjoy the last minutes before shut-eye chatting over a cup of tea.

Those are the days I feel great. Like I've got it together. I mean, I deserve a Suzy-homemaker ribbon, right? I can close my eyes and mentally pat myself on the back, because I did it.

But, then, day two begins.

I wake up exhausted.
I'm too tired to cook and do those dang dishes, so I whip out the cereal and milk.
I skip the gym and kick myself for doing so later.
I'm with my boys, but mentally thinking of the oodles of things I should be doing.
I notice my Bible.
I Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest while the laundry beckons.
I think of the dust on top of the fridge and mentally want to shut down.
I verbally and emotionally unload on my husband the moment he walks in the door.
We order pizza. (which makes my earlier gym decision all the more regretful)
The kids run around like wild stallions.
We do a quick family "fill-your-quota" kind of prayer.
I basically threaten the children's existence if they even think about calling my name or getting up out of the bed, because Mommy. Is. Done.
My husband flips on the TV and prays to himself that I will just go to bed for the love of all that is good in this world.
No tea.

Those are the days I don't talk about. The days where inside, I am literally crying out to God, "Why can't I get it together? What is wrong with me?"

Those days are rough.

And, I've tried muscling through it. Praying through it. Reading scripture through it. Positively talking to myself through it. Making lists. Following schedules. Trying the next big thing to get my act together.

But, the truth is. I can't do anything. Sure, I still plug away at willing myself to change. But, my sheer will and human nature will fail me every time.

It is He who must work. It is on those "perfect" days where, though grateful as I may be, I seem to rely on Him a little less. After all, I did it pretty well on my own, thank-you-very-much.

But, those days when it all falls apart, physically and emotionally, I am forced to look beyond myself and see my need for help. For a Savior.

I could have a perfect day each day. Where my house is totally spic'n span. Where my verbal outbursts are nonexistent. Where my self-discipline allows me to follow my set schedule down to the letter. But, it is not on those days where I am forced to come to grips with how much I need His help.

I'm a mess. 

But, the good exciting amazing news is, He is changing me.

The daily imperfections of life and ourselves are the very thing that should cause us to fall on our knees and be thankful that He came. So, that in the ashes, we can take confidence that it isn't in our ability that beauty will rise. It is in His alone.

So, let you and I take heart.

We don't have to have it all together. He is our perfection and in that we have hope.

My "perfect" days are few and far between. And for that, I am learning to be thankful.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9

Operation: Invest in Myself

So, it's no surprise that I haven't felt quite like myself since hip surgery. Being unable to exercise for months on end does things to your body. So does being depressed and eating a bag of Oreo's, but that's neither here nor there...

Whether it's junk food or lack of movement, my body has been in dire need of some TLC.

So, since starting my new Bible Study, Take Back Your Temple (I highly recommend it.), and actually incorporating exercises into my physical therapy regime, I can tell a difference in how I look. But, more importantly, I see a big improvement in how I feel.

I've also been making myself straighten my hair...every three days. (Day 1: Wash, Straighten. Down and Gaw'-geous, Day 2: Headband Day, 3: Ponytail Momma, Day 4: Repeat) My husband loves it and it makes me feel 100% better about myself. I have also been applying actual make-up before I go anywhere, even to physical therapy. I am seeing a huge difference in how I view myself when I am all "gussied up."

Gone are the days when I could skip make-up without drawing a few stares of pity. Now, my husband will actually offer to turn the car around if we are running late and I forget to grab my make-up.

Wow. The honeymoon is O-V-E-R.

Oh well, I guess that's part of getting older.

Well, I ain't going down without a fight! So, I am busting my tail to feel like a million bucks again. It may sound shallow, but I like feeling pretty. And the way I see it, that 'shore doesn't make my husband unhappy.

So, I started "Operation Invest in Myself."

Yeah, I named it. And my hubby and kids know about it.

It's my Mission. Spiritually, physically, mentally. Anything that makes me stronger, better, happier, healthier (within reason people), those are the things I choose to do.

Mama put herself back on the Need's List! Can I get a wooh-wooh?!!

I'm not talking about putting yourself in front of taking care of your kids. ("Sorry there are no groceries, children. Mommy really needed to expand her fall wardrobe.") I'm just saying that some Moms (myself included) tend to start believing we aren't worth the time or the money, so we just keep putting ourselves last. And pretty soon, we view wearing ponytails and pajama-pants to the grocery store *gasp* as the norm.

This Operation Invest in Myself is quite time-consuming. I forgot how much work goes in to making yourself fabulous. (I wonder how much time Kim Kardashian takes to get ready...) But, it is so worth it. My kids and my husband are reaping the benefits of this Mama feeling good about herself again.

But, don't be hatin' if you see me at the grocery in my PJ's. Cuz' some days, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Mommy Guilt

Mommy guilt.

It's one of the things I never anticipated after having kids.

Here's a list of some of those things that trigger my deep-down feeling of "What Kind of a Mother Are You?"

1. Feeding My Kids McDonald's

I mean, really. There's so much hype on organic and natural, you feel shameful if your child eats a flippin' happy meal. I grew up with Ronald McDonald and those days were some of my fondest memories. Now, we are literally made to feel like rat poison and McDonalds are one and the same. I'm not pushing that a happy meal a day keeps the doctor away, but some times I wish we could go back to the days when we didn't have all of this information. For some, it's just another weapon in their "I'm a better mommy than you" arsenal. Well, judge all you want. When I'm in the drive-thru line, I'll ask them to add a little extra pesticide on your behalf.

2. Rocking or Patting My Babies to Sleep

I read Baby Whisperer. Made me neurotic. I tried Baby Wise. Too strict for me. That's probably why my firstborn didn't sleep through the night until he could tie his shoes. With my first, I dreaded bedtime, not only because it took so long, but because of the shame and guilt I felt from rocking or nursing him to sleep. And then when my second proved to be a sleep struggler, I re-lived it all over again. Eventually, I did sleep. And now that my youngest is almost two, my favorite time is lying him down with his teddy, and patting his bottom while I hum softly. My oldest is eight now. And honestly? I'd rock that baby to sleep all over again...only this time, guilt-free.

3. Letting My Kids Watch TV So I Can Relax on the Couch Get Chores Done

Stick them in front of the tube for thirty minutes and I'm fine. But, when I use my television to distract my kids so I can chillax for a little bit, that gut-guilt ain't far behind. Now, I do play with my kids and most days I feel at least some-what on top of things, but somedays it's a "do-whatever-it-takes-to-just-sit-for-longer-than-two-seconds" kind o' day. Everyone deserves a little break. Why should I feel guilty about that?

4. Buying Plastic Sippy Cups

Again, it's that whole "save the earth" thing. Now, I'm all for going green, but when people start pushing that we are only to buy wooden toys and metal sippy cups, I just shake my head. As if I wasn't already feeling guilty enough about letting my kids drink chocolate cows milk each morning, now I am poisoning them with the very cup with which I'm feeding them? Does it ever end? Well, apparently, that guilt ain't going anywhere. My Jersey budget won't allow me to purchase new twenty-dollar stainless steel zippy cups every time I toss one out after finding it shoved underneath the couch full of three-day-old chocolate milk! (whew) At least with the plastic ones, I can do that guilt-free.

Now, I can see how silly that all sounds. But, every mom has had that feeling of mommy guilt at some point. It's the combination of putting too many high expectations on ourselves and comparing ourselves to the other moms that seem to be doing it all perfectly.

It's a lie. No mom gets it all right. Just because something works for someone else doesn't mean I have to do it that way. What one mom determines necessary, I might find ridiculous. And that's okay...as long as I don't make her feel like less of a mom for it. Instead of judging each other, we should support each other, realizing that we are all doing the very best we can.


I declare a Mommy Wars truce. And let's kick that mommy guilt to the curb while we are at it.