I want my friends and family members who are gay to understand that I am not attacking YOU...

One of the magazines I follow posted a link on their Facebook page this week about some awesome beauty products you can purchase at Target. I made a comment on the post that said: “Are these products available anywhere else? I won’t be shopping at Target until they put the safety of children above being ‘politically correct.”

Within minutes of posting the comment I had people bashing me for being “hateful” and a “bigot”.

I’d like to clear a few things up.

I prefer not to shop in a store that allows men to enter the women’s restroom. That does not make me hateful. It does not make me a “bigot”. It makes me a concerned mother who will put the safety of her children first.

I do not hate people in the LGBT community. I have friends who are gay, and friends who are transgender. I do not agree with, or support that lifestyle, but that does not mean I hate those people. On the contrary, I love those people as much as any of my other friends. I have close friends who party and get drunk on the weekends. I do not support that, but I love those friends. I have friends who sleep around with anyone they can. I do not agree with that, but I still love those friends. I have friends who do not like the way I live my life and raise my children, but they still love ME. We do not all have to agree on everything to be friends, or at least be civil to one another.

My boycott of Target is not because they want to allow men who think they are women to use the women’s restroom/fitting room. My problem is that they just made it incredibly easy for perverts and pedophiles to gain access to my daughters in their most vulnerable and private moments.

We live in a world where women and children are being kidnapped and sold into prostitution on a daily basis. We live in a world where people are being spied upon, video-taped, or raped at every turn. And, unfortunately, we live in a world where anyone who stands against that for any reason is called a hateful bigot.

For me, this is no different than the Syrian refugees who are trying to enter our country. My problem is not with the refugees who are looking for a better life. My problem is the countless number of terrorists who are taking advantage of the situation by sneaking in with the refugees, with the sole purpose of destroying my country, family and friends. I’m not willing to take that gamble with the life of my children.

I’m posting this for two reasons:

First, I want to share my reasons for boycotting Target (and other stores who take on this policy) to help spread the word to anyone who may be struggling to make a decision in this matter. I don’t expect you all to agree with me (in fact, I’m fully prepared for a great number of you to disagree with me, either politely or otherwise. Bring it on.)

This is about the well-being and safety of my children as well as millions of other children in our country. Target could have taken MANY different approaches to this. There are many other (better) options.

Secondly, I want my friends and family members who are gay to understand that I am not attacking YOU. I do NOT hate you in any way. I’m just standing up for my children the best way I know how. I pray that you will not be offended by my actions and will know that you are loved. I know that many of you are just as concerned as I am, and I want to thank those of you who understand for thinking of my children.

I sincerely hope this Target boycott will make a difference. But, even if they don’t back down, I want them to know, neither will I. Call me names, trash me out, I don’t care. Every time you do it just strengthens my resolve to stand firm in my decision and protect my children.

 

I initially throw a fit like Katie did. Pounding on the door, trying to get back in...

I was in the kitchen working on dinner when I heard it. Katie was crying. I really couldn’t tell if it was a “hurt cry” or a “mad cry” so I decided to check it out. What followed stuck in the back of my mind all day.

I found Rachel pulling Katie out of the bathroom and closing the door so that she couldn’t get back in. Katie wasn’t happy. She was crying, hitting the door and trying her best to reenter the room.

When I asked Rachel what had happened, she impressed me with her answer.

“Katie was in the bathroom playing with the toilet paper. I was going to come get you, but then I saw your hair straightener on the counter. Katie doesn’t know that it is hot, and since she doesn’t know it might hurt her, I was afraid she would touch it. So I got her out of the bathroom.”

The concern for her little sister touched me….but that wasn’t the end of it. She went on:

“It’s kinda like when you make me stop doing something because I don’t know that I might get hurt. I did the same thing for Katie.”

Wow.

The insight of this little girl amazes me sometimes.

Something I try to do often is to pull my kids back and point out what could have just happened. A few weeks ago I found Rachel standing on arm of the rocking chair trying to get a book off of the top shelf. I told her to get down, step back and look at the situation. After explaining that the chair was not sturdy, and that if she had fallen while holding onto the shelf, it might have come down on top of her (even though it is secured to the wall, I was making a point) I asked her what she should have done instead.

“Ask you to get the book for me.”

I do this often with the kids. Kids can’t always see the “bigger picture”.  Rather than just making them stop doing something dangerous, I want them to understand the entire situation and be aware of those dangers in the future. But, before I can show them the “bigger picture”, they have to STOP what they are doing and BACK UP.

Rachel saw the straightener and wanted to keep Katie from getting hurt. I saw the rocking chair and wanted to keep Rachel from getting hurt. I started to think of all the times God has closed a door that I wasn't happy about...only to later find out that I had just been spared from something that wouldn't have been good for me. I initially throw a fit like Katie did. Pounding on the door, trying to get back in. But, once everything is revealed, I'm so grateful to have avoided the mess. 

I'm in one of those situations right now. We were hoping to be able to stay here for another year but the Army had other plans. As we are preparing to move I often find myself pouting. I love my house. I love my neighbors. I love my church family, my friends, and my close proximity to family. I don't want to move. So, I pout. 

But, maybe God wants us in IL. Maybe there is something amazing waiting for us there? Or maybe He is sparing us from something not so great that would happen here if we stayed? I don't know. And I don't have to know. I just have to stop pouting, listen to His plan and obey. 

Rachel’s words have played in my mind over and over again since that event. She doesn't want Katie to get hurt, even if that means dragging her out of that area kicking and screaming. God doesn't want His children to hurt either.

Sometimes you just have to STOP. Not easy to do when you are busy all the time. It’s easy to miss the cues to “stop”, “slow down”, back up”.

My goal this week is to do just that.

Stop. Back up. Breathe. Think. Pray. Process.

What is God trying to tell me? What bigger picture could I be missing right now?

I’ll never know if I don’t top and listen. 

Why I Demand Immediate Obedience from my Kids

I posted a “rant” last week about not letting kids control their parents. (Click HERE if you'd like to read it.) Since then I’ve received a ridiculous number of messages from people asking me how and why I do certain things when it comes to raising my kids. The main question being “Why did you make such a big deal about such a minor event?”

It’s true that, my 14 month old not wanting to let me feed her is not a “life or death” event. Her throwing a fit  and falling down on the floor because I wouldn’t give her a piece of chicken and let her feed herself will not make THAT big of a difference in the long run. Or will it?

People have asked me why I demand immediate obedience from my kids. Even with the “minor things”.

I’m posting this mainly because I’m tired of typing it over and over again in messages =)

Here we go….

When Jeremiah was born I realized that I was going to have to be a little bit tougher in my parenting. Rachel was a “pretty good kid” but she was stubborn. She liked to test boundaries and push limits. She was definitely the one who “walked the line”.

She was 2 ½ when we brought Jeremiah home. I was exhausted and she was taking advantage of that exhaustion. The worst part was that I was fully aware of what she was doing, and of the fact that I was letting her. But I was tired and just plain lazy. I let her walk all over me.

After Jeremiah was a few weeks old I attempted my first grocery trip with just the 3 of us. As we were leaving the store I took her out of the grocery cart….because she was whining and begging me to let her walk. I gave in. And she took off!

I watched as she darted across the parking lot toward the cars. I yelled for her to stop. She turned and looked at me…then turned back around and kept running.

I had a sleeping infant in the cart that I couldn’t just leave. I started running after her with the cart  and I watched as she headed straight for a car that was backing up. My worst nightmare was about to come true… Until a woman grabbed her in the nick of time and held her til I got there. That woman could have literally saved Rachel’s life that day. That situation could have ended horribly. And it was entirely my fault.

My fault for letting her whining get the best of me. My fault for taking her out of the cart instead of keeping her safely inside like I knew I should have. And My fault for not instilling in her that obeying Mommy is an absolute must.

I thanked the woman profusely, then loaded up my kids, got in my car and just sat there shaking.

I promised myself that things would change. My kids would know that when I say “stop”, I mean STOP. NOW. IMMEDIATELY.

After that day, I didn’t let her walk all over me anymore. It took a LONG TIME, a lot of prayer, diligence and a LOT of patience, but she learned to obey immediately. And she helped to teach that to Jeremiah when he was older, and now they are both teaching Katie.

We do “drills” with the kids now and then to reinforce the immediate response to our commands. We practice running down the hallway and stopping as soon as I say “stop”. It’s a game…a game that can save a life someday.

So, no, the chicken was not a “life or death” situation. But I could very well be in one again someday. And with more than one child, there is no way I could run after all of them. My kids know that when I speak, they listen. And they do so immediately. If I let them get away with not listening in the “little things” like the chicken it can make it hard to get them to listen in the times when it really matters.

You may or may not agree with me, and that’s ok. But I came very close to losing my little girl because I was being a lazy parent. Never again. My job is not to be their friend. It’s to keep them safe. There is no place for laziness in my job. The consequences aren’t worth it.

I kind of just stood there for a minute, knowing that it was a snake but not wanting to believe it.

We were renting a small house just a few streets away from where we live now. We had found that there was a nest of copperheads in our back yard and under the house. We thought we had taken care of it, but one day I was folding laundry on the couch while the kids napped. I got up to get a snack and saw something long and dark under the dining room table. I had just cleaned the house so I knew there shouldn’t be any toys or anything under there.

I kind of just stood there for a minute, knowing that it was a snake but not wanting to believe it.

Just to be sure, I grabbed a washcloth that I had just folded and kind of tossed it in the general direction of the table. The snake recoiled. I screamed.

At first I wasn’t sure what to do. If my kids had not been sleeping in the house I would have run out and waited for my husband to come home and take care of it. But my kids WERE at home. And the snake was between them and me. I knew I had to take care of it before they woke up and came trotting down the hall. I grabbed my phone and tried to call my husband at work. He didn’t answer. I called again and again with no answer.

I knew I couldn’t let it out of my sight so I had to work with what was nearby. I kept thinking about the Bible verse that says "And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." My thoughts: there is NO WAY I'm letting that thing "bruise my heel"! I saw a pair of my husband’s combat boots by the door and put them on, tucking my pant legs inside. I scanned the room to see what I could use. Nothing. I glanced into the kitchen and found a few things that would have to do.

Armed with an oven mitt, a clear plastic container, a pair of tongs and a pair of scissors I set out to capture the creep.

I was shaking and definitely not thinking clearly. The plan was to catch it under the container, then use the tongs to pick it up and toss it outside. I managed to get the container on top of it before I stupidly continued with my (not so) awesome plan. I put the oven mitt on my left hand and began lifting the container with my right. The snake “attacked” and bit the oven mitt. STUPID. I screamed, pulled my hand out of the mitt and slammed the container back over the snake. It was mad now and trying desperately to get out. I put my foot on top of the container to make sure it didn’t slide out, but then noticed just how badly my legs were shaking. I was definitely NOT helping to keep the container steady!

I took a step back, caught my breath and reevaluated The Plan. I didn’t want the snake out of the container at all. Glancing around the room again, I came up with a better plan. I got a piece of computer paper and slid it under the container so that the snake was on top of the paper. Then I got a hardback book and slid that under the paper. I opened the front door, then carried the whole thing outside to the front yard.

The snake was still mad and was kind of “thrashing” around under the container. When the container moved I screamed again and just tossed everything out into the yard (again, not too smart).

The snake started “running” and digging into the ground. At this point my adrenaline was racing and all I could think about was making sure that thing never got back into my house again. His head was a good ways underground so I did something else that probably wasn’t so smart. I used the tongs to “grab” it somewhere in the middle and pulled it out just a bit. It was pulling away from me trying to get back underground. Holding it still with the tongs, I pulled the scissors out of my pocket and just started cutting.

I cut his head off with scissors and it was the nastiest thing I’ve ever done! I still dream about it sometimes. *Shudders*

I took a deep breath and gathered up all of my “tools”.  The container, paper, oven mitt, tongs and scissors went straight to the trash. I debated tossing the book too, but it was one of my kids’ favorites so I kept it. And even though the snake never actually touched the book, it got some serious sterilization before returning to its place on the shelf.

When my husband FINALLY returned my call and heard the story he had the nerve to laugh. He was shocked, He told me he was impressed that I took care of it (he hadn’t heard the whole stupid plan I started with yet), but he still laughed.

When he came home and heard the whole story he laughed again! Not in a mean way at all. It was just an “I can’t believe that actually happened” laugh. But I still wasn’t finding his laughter funny in any way.

That night after we all went to bed my husband made his way to the kitchen in the dark to get a drink. Apparently our daughter had left one of her plastic bead necklaces on the kitchen floor. My husband stepped on it. And screamed!

Now I was laughing =)

A little Mom rant...

I was “tagged” on facebook for the hundredth time. Seems like every week someone is posting it again.

“I’m not just a stay at home mom. I’m a nurse, a chef, a janitor, and chauffer…” blah, blah, blah…

Or the other one; the one directed to the husbands…

“Thank your wives today. Think of everything they do…cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, keeping the kids alive…now think of how much money it would cost you if you had to pay a chef, a nurse, a chauffer, a personal shopper…”

You get the point. Your stay at home wife is saving you a ton of money by working nonstop and doing every job under the sun.

I get why people keep tagging me or posting it to my facebook wall. They are trying to let me know that my work is not going unnoticed. They are trying to get the world to appreciate stay at home mothers. I get it. And I appreciate their thoughts. But it’s getting old.

Yes, I cook, I clean, I buy groceries, I teach the 5 year old, potty train the 2 year old and nurse the 11 week old every day. But right now, I’m sitting on my couch, drinking my coffee and writing this post while my crock pot cooks the chicken for dinner, my dish washer washes the dishes, my clothes washer is washing the clothes and all three of my kiddos are taking naps.

Back in “the old days” laundry day meant hauling all of your clothes to the creek, scrubbing by hand, wringing it all out, hanging them on the line and waiting for them to dry while you hand wash the rest of the clothes. Then you take them down, fold them, carry them back to the house and start again the following week. It was literally a laundry DAY.

If you wanted chicken for dinner, you had to catch it, kill it, pluck it, skin it, trim it, and THEN cook it.

Every dish had to be washed by hand.

Stay at home moms today have it so easy. Yeah, I said it.

No, we don’t get to “clock out”. We don’t get sick days, or extra pay for overtime. But why are we all so caught up in proving to everyone that we are “tougher” than working moms? Or that we should be considered  “working moms” ourselves?

I don’t care if society looks down on me for staying at home with my kids. I don’t feel the need to shove every single daily task I do in someone’s face so they will appreciate me or praise me.

My kids thank me every day for reading to them, feeding them, and tucking them in at night.

My husband thanks me for cleaning the house, and for making the meals and (the one that actually made me tear up) for giving him three amazing children.

So, forgive me if I refuse to repost your Moms-Are-Awesome status. Forgive me for un-tagging myself to get it off of my page. I appreciate the thought, but I don’t need society’s approval.

I have all the approval I need at home.

Rant over.

The JOY of laundry

I absolutely detest doing laundry (and dishes, and sweeping, and mopping, and cleaning bathrooms....but that's not the point right now). Laundry may be my least favorite chore. Mainly because it takes forever to fold and put everything away.

I'm very grateful to have a husband who does almost all of the sorting, washing and drying for me. The only part I'm tasked with is folding and putting away. But I hate it. A lot.

I have been trying to work on my attitude toward housework lately. I have never really been one to whine about it out loud, but I definitely don't do it with a good attitude.

This morning I tackled the pile of laundry that my husband left for me on the couch last night.
It started out just like any other pile I've folded. Start with Josh's clothes to get the bigger items out of the way. Then I move on to my clothes. Once those are done I start a pile for Rachel and a pile for Jeremiah. But this morning I had to add a third pile. One pile for Katie.

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh, realizing that I'll be folding even MORE laundry from now on. I kept working until the job was done then, took a step back and looked at the three piles of clothes neatly folded and sitting on the couch.

Then it hit me: Three piles of clothes. THREE piles. I have THREE kids! Three amazing, bundles of JOY that make every chore, every piece of laundry I fold, completely worth it.
Three tweet, tiny bodies that look up to me. Three gifts from God.

I'm so blessed with these little people. I'm going to make more of an effort to wash their dirty dishes and fold their laundry with an attitude that tells God just how thankful I am for them.

Little Eyes.

We were leaving the library the other day. We had just reached the car, about to load up when we heard the roar of a Harley behind us. The man was slowing down to drop some books in the book drop, which was right in front of where we had parked. 

Jeremiah has recently found a love for all things with motors, but especially with "motor bicycles" as he calls them. He stood frozen beside me, watching the man on the bike as he drove closer and closer.
The man slowed down even more, looked right at Jeremiah and waved. 

You should have seen the look of joy in my little boy's eyes at that moment. Big smile. Wave back. And a solid hour of talking about that "motor bicycle man" afterwards. 

We came home, had dinner, went to bed, and life went on. I forgot all about the ordeal. Jeremiah, however, did not.

Tonight at dinner Rachel asked me if she could be an artist when she grows up. We have these conversations often, and they pretty much always go down the same way.

Rachel: Mommy, can I be an artist (or dancer, or singer) when I grow up?
Mommy: If that's what you want to be, and you work really hard, you can be an artist.
Rachel: I DO want to be an artist!
Jeremiah: I want to be an artist too!

Every time it's the same. Jeremiah always plays "Me Too" in the conversation.

Tonight was differnet.

Rachel wants to be an artist. I tell her to go for it. Jeremiah sits quiestly, almost as if he is deep in thought.

Rachel breaks the silence by asking "Jeremiah, do you want to be an artist too?"

Jeremiah answers her in his typical run on sentence with his sweet little two-year-old voice:
"No, I want to be a motor bicycle man and  drive the loud motor bicycle down the road with all the books and go slowly and wave at the little boys. I will wave at baby Marshall. I think that would be fun and nice and the little boys will wave back at me."

It amazes me how such a small, insignificant detail can be such a big deal to children. That man took a second to wave at my son, and that single act made a big impact on Jeremiah.

I was reminded of my niece, Emma, who told me last time I saw her that she had fun that time I came to her house and we square danced together in the living room....almost 2 years ago.

Kids are very impressionable. They have incredible memories. They will remember your actions better than you will sometimes. They remember if you go the extra step for them. If you build a fort with them, take them out for ice cream, or tell them "Not now, I'm busy". It doesn't just roll off their little minds...they remember. Your actions are making an impact on their lives whether you know it or not. Even a simple wave can make a difference. Please don't forget that.