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.

Professional Nose Picker

The bead is out. 

I repeat, the bead is out.

It lay in Peanut's nasal cavity for nine whole days.

For those of you who don't know, my two-year old stuck a bead up his nose last week. Everyone seemed to doubt that it was still up there. 

Everyone but me. 

I knew that yellow bead hadn't made it's way to his digestive tract or any other tract for that matter. I had a feeling it was still tucked away nicely in his nose, perfectly out of sight.

You ask me how I know.

I know, because things aren't done half-way in the Hendrick household.

I know, because I'd already searched through poop for a quarter that Opie had swallowed when he was three. "Stuffing object up nose" was still needing to be checked off of my parent checklist.

The E.N.T. went up and immediately extracted the little booger. 

Not the bead. He literally extracted a little booger that was blocking the view to Peanut's upper nasal cavity.

Then he saw it. The bead. Snuggled deep inside Peanut's nose. 

Who knew doctors could stick instruments so far up noses?

Who knew a twenty-five pound Peanut could be so strong when you start putting those instruments up there? 

For now, the bead fiasco is over. Peanut is safe. And the antibiotics will begin tonight. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to rid my home of anything smaller than a basketball...lest I have to check anything else off of my parent checklist.