The Sandwich

I don’t know who coined the term sandwich generation, but it’s a very appropriate description for Alan in this stage of his life. As a late-in-life Daddy, he is busy raising little ones while at the same time caring for his 96-year-old father. Paul, my father-in-law, doesn’t live with us. He lives in an assisted living center in a neighboring town. However, he does require care from his family that he obviously didn’t have to rely on 20 years ago. For 96, he is doing very well. He is still mildly mobile, and somewhat cognitive, but the years are quickly taking their toll. Last week Alan met his Dad at our local VA facility to walk him through his annual physical and help take care of things that needed special attention. I watched Alan as he juggled his toddler son and his aging father. The similarities between grandfather and grandson are startling. Both require and want lots of Alan’s attention. Each is focused on his independence, one retaining and the other gaining. Both get frustrated easily, and each, in his own way, can have a tantrum. Alan managed both generations with patience and grace. If I had to pick a type of sandwich to describe Alan, it would be peanut butter...he is what holds his family together.

"Watch This"

“Watch this,” a phrase that strikes fear into a Mom’s heart, especially when it comes from the mouth of a toddler who knows no fear. I suppose we should be relieved when we hear “watch this.” Sometimes it’s the only warning we get before Nathan launches himself through the air and into our arms. A miniature Superman in the making. From the edge of playground equipment or straight from the ground in an attempt to land on top of the “puppy pile” of bodies playing on the nursery room floor; either way it’s arms outstretched, smile plastered on his face, soul and imagination soaring! It’s one of his favorite ways to play with us. An unabashed way of telling me and Daddy that he has absolute faith that we will catch him, no matter what. He has definitely sharpened our reflexes.

We all need someone who can catch us when we find out we are not Superman. That person who gives us a soft spot to land when we’ve overestimated our abilities. Someone in whom we have absolute faith will be there when we need them. God has entrusted three little souls into our family, as well as each other as Mommy and Daddy. Only He can grant us the ability to catch each other and give these little ones both the security to stretch their wings and a soft place to land. One day they will fly on mighty wings…one day, probably too soon for us. But if we do our parenting right, they will soar to great heights knowing that we will always catch them when they need a soft place to fall. All the while calling out “watch this!”

For The Love Of A Soccer Ball

I remember when Zac was a very active and physically precocious 1 year old. He and I were browsing through the sporting goods section at a Wal-Mart one spring morning in Las Vegas. As natural as any boy, he was very taken with the variety of balls available. We talked about what sports were played with each different kind of ball, and Zac longingly touched each one. I think most mothers with 1 year olds would have left the store with one of the non-descript kickball-size rubber balls, but not us. We picked out a red and white soccer ball. Not a full size regulation scrimmage ball, but a small one that was just perfect for a budding soccer player. I didn’t realize until that day that soccer balls came in different sizes, which makes sense when one considers that children come in different sizes. Anyway, the clerk at checkout recognized the love of that soccer ball, and she returned it to its new owner as soon as she scanned it. Zac was quiet a picture as he quietly sat in his car seat holding that ball in his chubby baby hands all the way home. He proudly showed it to Daddy that night. The two took the ball with them on their evening excursion. I thought the ball was going to become the new crib companion at bedtime, but at last Zac was willing to part with it only to find it as soon as he awoke the next morning. Zac did become very good with the ball. He delighted in games of keep away with Mommy and Daddy. On the rare occasion when Daddy was out of town, I’d take Zac, his new baby brother, and the ball to the local baseball field where he’d run for hours chasing and kicking that ball with me. There is nothing like fresh air, exercise, and a boy with his favorite ball to raise one’s spirits.

This week we carried on the ball tradition with our second son. It seems Nathan has taken a liking to Zac’s old faithful red and white soccer ball. Zac isn’t ready to pass down his favorite ball to his brother, so, to minimize the strife, we made a sojourn to Wal-Mart in Sioux Falls. There in the surplus ball bin of the sporting goods section was a beautiful, small blue and white soccer ball. Nathan wrapped his arms around it, declared it as his, and only let go long enough for the clerk at check out to scan it and hand it right back to him. It seems like we have the soccer ball love affair repeating itself.

Colors of the Trains

As most Moms with boys know, Thomas the Tank Engine is a big deal. For the few people that have no idea what I’m referencing, Thomas is an animated train engine with a group of friends. Each engine has a name, signature color, and personality. The engines teach children the value of manners, being careful, and consideration of others. Zac was the first one in our family who really got into Thomas as an adjunct to his infatuation with trains. Nathan has taken the love of Thomas to a new level. He can sing the songs at least as well as Zac, and he knows every engine and each engines’ color. “Thomas” was one of the first really clear words he could say.

About a year ago someone gifted the boys a Thomas the Tank Engine bath tub paint set. It has colored paint/soap for each of the primary colors, as well as green, and several painting implements. Yesterday was one of the numerous cold, windy afternoons that seem to drag on when the children are confined to the house. We turned it into a warm event by heading to the bath tub for a little painting session. While Nathan was busy pointing out that his spots of paint were “blue Thomas, red James, green Percy, and yellow Ben,” Zac was learning about mixing colors to make new ones. What a fun way to learn colors and clean up at the same time. Hey, I even talked the boys into cleaning the bath tub while they were wiping away their masterpieces!

Roll Over

Bethany is our third baby, and I’m still amazed and awed at how much development takes place in such a short period of time. Today, at just past 3 months old, our little girl rolled over. I had put her in the floor of the nursery with one of her favorite toys for some tummy time and walked around the corner into the kitchen to clean up something. I felt an urging to go back and check on Bethany with the thought that I’ve never missed one of my children rolling over for the first time. Thank you God for that angel. Just as I rounded the corner, she rolled from front to back. Just a casual roll that looked like she had always known how to do it. Now I know that seems like such an insignificant development to most, but think about it. Before babies can roll over, they have to be able to hold up their heads, which are HUGE and HEAVY compared to the rest of their bodies. Then babies have to be able to tuck a shoulder, flip their hip, and rotate a leg just to maneuver into position to roll. When one has only been able to hold one’s head up for just a matter of weeks, rolling over is a big step. Not to mention that rolling over is a precursor to bigger and better things like crawling. Oh no, crawling! Oh well, for now I’ll enjoy the time that Bethany can still be found relatively in the same location where I put her down.

Just as amazing to watch is Bethany has started to grab and rake objects with her hands to bring them in for a closer look. Finally, the development that is absolutely awe inspiring…she is signing to us. Most of our friends and family know that the boys know sign language. Alan and I have continued the legacy by signing to Bethany almost since we brought her home. We’ve only really worked on two signs diligently…Mommy and Daddy. A few weeks ago she surprised us by signing both to us, appropriately. She signed “Mommy” when she was playing with me and “Daddy” when Alan walked into the room.

I know I just sound like a proud Mommy crowing about another one of her smart babies. Look with me, if you will, through another set of eyes. The ones that see how beautifully and fearfully God made us. It is only a glimpse of the joy of His Creation through small steps and little feats.

Lessons From Four Decades

It’s almost hard to believe that I’m celebrating the end of my first four decades on this earth. I certainly don’t think 40 is old, and maybe not even the half way point of my life, but as with most things, age is relative. While we were walking to the grocery store the other day, my preschooler asked me if I’d be 4 on my next birthday. I said “well, 4 with a 0 behind it. That’s about 10 times your age buddy.” He looked at me and said “31 is old.” It was so cute and said with so much love that I couldn’t possibly be offended. I know he can count to 40, but it probably never occurred to him that 31 comes before 40. Ah, the logic of a preschooler.

I get a little tickled at the people that live in our small town. For the most part they marry young, and they stay married. By the time many of them are in their 40’s they become grandparents, and they look forward to holding their grandbabies. Here I am at 40 and Alan in his mid 50’s, and we are holding our own infant daughter and toddler and preschooler sons. There is something to be said for children keeping one young. I suspect we are a bit of an enigma to some of the people in this town. I had one older woman stop me on the street last summer when she realized I was pregnant, and she asked me if we did this on purpose. I just smiled and said oh yes, and we’re looking forward to this baby.

I have always believed that birthdays beyond childhood are not just a commemoration of the day one was born; they are a celebration of the person’s life and what that individual has accomplished thus far. So what have I learned in 40 years and what do I want to pass on to my children? Here is the short list.

We are responsible for our happiness. No one can make us happy (or angry, or sad, or disappointed). We control our feelings and choose our emotions.

Joy is what we are not what we have. True joy comes from self satisfaction…a peace about who one is. Joy is what endures; it is what is left after the happiness fades.

Life is a precious gift, and so are the lives God has entrusted to our care.

Living by God’s principles is a fulfilling, peaceful way to conduct one’s life. People who do, sleep better at night.

A kiss and a hug, a simple show of love, can heal lots of wounds.

Praise, compliments, and affirmations are more productive and accepted than criticism and judgment.

Opinions vary, and everyone has one. Ask questions, listen, evaluate, and make an informed decision. Then move forward with resolve and determination.

Follow your passion. Your world will be a better place for your efforts.

I suspect this list of realizations will only grow during the coming years. After all, God isn’t finished with me yet.

Reflections in the Ornament (Christmas 2008)

I’ve always believed that Christmas is more than what happens on the 25th of December. Christmas is truly a season. A season that begins with Thanksgiving and ends with the transition into a new year, and along the way we have a birthday party for Jesus. Seems to me like a good way to end the year.

Alan and I have talked a lot this year about family traditions. What our families did when we were growing up and what we want to do with our children. It seems that every year we change things up a little, so this year I asked him why 10 years into our marriage we are still trying to establish our traditions. Alan chuckled and said probably because we keep adding children to our family.

There are some things to me that define Christmas like decorating the house, the smell of fresh pine (even if it’s from a candle), Christmas cookies, pecan pie, finding that special gift for each person on your list, and discovering the secrets buried deep in a stuffed stocking. I have favorite growing-up memories of Christmas like hanging ornaments on the tree, making cookies with Mom, the lighting of candles at a Christmas Eve church service, caroling with my friends, a visit with Santa, and driving through neighborhoods to see Christmas lights.

Living in small town South Dakota during Christmas is fun. Not only can we walk down the street and hear Christmas music playing on the outside speakers of the local hardware store, we can do so on a snowy evening on our way to the grocery store where we put Zac and Nathan’s letter to Santa in the collection box. The boys received a response from Santa in our mailbox a few weeks before Christmas. This was the first year Zac was brave enough to sit on Santa’s lap, and he did so the night of our town’s Christmas celebration. Santa arrived at the end of the light parade and made his way to City Hall where he happily and patiently listened to every child who would talk to him. Of course because Zac was willing to talk to Santa, Nathan wasn’t about to be left out, so he climbed right up on Santa’s knee. Between the two of them, I think they talked Santa’s ear off. After visiting with the jolly old elf, Zac really got into the swing of Christmas. He wanted to know why we had not decorated yet, so Alan put up a string of lights on our patio railing, and I dug out what decorations I could find quickly and easily. One evening Alan bundled the boys in their snowsuits and took them out on their toboggans to look at the Christmas lights. This year we adopted an elf. He was named Occo, and he reported the boy’s behavior to Santa each night. Every morning the boys scouted around until they found where Occo was perched for the day. On Christmas Eve Occo hitched a ride to the North Pole with Santa where he will stay until the Christmas season starts again. During a few snowy afternoons, Zac and I made Christmas cookies. It’s not an easy task to pull off with a infant that wants to stay attached to me all the time, but at least we made enough cookies to put some out for Santa Christmas Eve. Zac had fun wearing his apron while he helped mix the ingredients, and the boys and I danced to Christmas music in the warm kitchen while the cookies baked.

Alan and I have some traditions of our own. I have a great recipe for egg nog (the real thing with eggs, cream, and brandy topped off with a sprinkle of nutmeg). A few cold December evenings, after the children went to bed, Alan and I sat in the glow of the Christmas lights in the living room with holiday glasses of egg nog and tried to reconnect with each other. Christmas Eve we did what so many parents do, we stayed up late and helped Santa with toy assembly. On Christmas day we unwrapped our presents and the baby’s while the boys napped.

Christmas Day was filled with giggles and laughter over the discovery of toys, plenty of good food, and Christmas music playing on the stereo all day. What I will remember most about this Christmas is the glow of Christmas lights reflecting on my children’s faces, silly boys dancing to “cowboy” Christmas music (as Zac put it) in the kitchen, and a newborn baby in my arms who served as a reminder to everyone in our family of what we celebrate this time of year, the birth of our Savior. Only time will tell what our children will remember most about Christmas. What I hope they keep in their hearts is the joy, peace, and love of the season.