I have a daughter driving my car and a 14-year old son starting to flirt with girls.
We look out at life together, eye-to-eye most days: Me, feebly pointing to truth.
But I have a thousand of their toddler moments that I replay in my mind.
Memories of yelling, trying to scoot the two of them out the door.
Memories of yelling, trying to scoot the two of them out the door.
I thought they needed monogrammed gingham and saddle shoes.
What we all really needed was to bring our messiest-self to Jesus.
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Stuck in toddlerdom? I see you. I was there, 10+ years ago.
I was the one trying to squish her feet into shoes I paid good money for last spring because they “went” with her dress.
She really wants to wear her red cowboy boots.
And she wanted to wear them every day. For 6 straight weeks.
I lean over to you and whisper: “Let her wear the boots.”
Let her practice decision-making on red cowboy boots.
Down a road that you can’t even fathom yet she will make enormous, life-changing choices.
Let it go. Let her choose now.
I promise that other moms and her teacher will give you a knowing smile today.
Down a road that you can’t even fathom yet she will make enormous, life-changing choices.
Let it go. Let her choose now.
I promise that other moms and her teacher will give you a knowing smile today.
And every day for 6 weeks if necessary.
A girl’s freedom to choose what shoes to wear is a universal language.
Here is my list of 5 things for Moms of toddlers to keep straight.
I wrote them, not because I followed even SOME of these.
I wrote them because I have heart-regrets that are only noticed in retrospect.
(If you ever for a second think about me as a great parent, I have 8-10 soul-sisters that can chronicle and alphabetize my mommy mistakes, neurotic tendencies, and the 101 ways that this Blue-Jean Girl blew it. At every stage of this parenting journey. And I’m not even nearly done.)
Dear Exhausted Mothers of Small Children,
1. I know it’s physically hard. But emotionally you have not scratched the surface. Yes- even those of you in the terrible two or three year-old antics of ” I want to wear this” and “You are a mean mommy” arrow-to-the-heart toddler talk. What I know now? None of it will break you more than your teenage girl opening up to a 16-year old lankly insecure boy. She is convinced she is in love and cannot leave bed for the angst. Oh, and she just discovered a fresh pimple. Stock up on moose tracks ice cream and thin mints now.
2. The sooner and more often you say “I don’t know” the better. With all their questions of “why is the sky blue” and “why did God make the grass green” and “what happened to your friend’s other husband?” It’s rough, I know. It will get only get trickier. Don’t set your children up to look to you for all the answers. Empower them to find their own. Shake your head and wonder with them. Throw your arms up and surrender. It’s ok. Point these little ones to the one who DOES know. A lot.
3. Cry. And sometimes be overwhelmed. ( I know, you are always overwhelmed…but let them SEE that.) Own it. Wallow in it once in while. Little ones need to witness tears and bruises and scrapes on YOU to know that they are not the only one who feels and hurts. Somewhere along the way we bigger ones suppress all that and call it courage. It’s a dangerous thing.
4. The little things are the big things. Someday you really will grieve that they don’t call your name in the middle of the night. Right now it’s just downright annoying Remember this: One day they will sleep til noon and breeze past you grumbling that you have not procured any good cereal or snacks in a month. It’ll hurt. You’ll miss being tired and their middle-of-the-night and early-morning antics. You can’t see it now, but it will creep in and you’ll wonder what happened to them needing you.
5. Collect rainwater in buckets. Dance in the kitchen. Go camping. Make forts out of blankets and pile pillows at the bottom of the stairs and slide down. This is what they will remember. Chicken cordon bleu for dinner and carving beautiful radish roses to present on their plate next a sippy-cup is wasted time. Open a jar of spaghetti sauce and get over your Marths-Stewart-ness. They don’t really care. When they are teenagers food will be one of the best mediums to get to their heart. And an excuse to be in the same space and talk. But not yet. If you’re going to go gourmet~ bring them into the floury mess of making homemade biscuits with you. Take pictures and laugh.
But most importantly, let them wear boots. Or wash the same t-shirt night-after-night if he wants to wear it every day to preschool. Their voices are developing. They are learning what they love and how to choose. Stand beside them. Battle for bigger things. There will be many.
Love, A Blue Jean Girl (aka A Mom of Teens that is just a bit farther down the road…)
P.S. :
Dear Empty-Nesters and Moms of High School Graduates~
Could you write one of these for me?
I am knee-deep in laundry. I serve as a “Momager” for drama carpool clan only to change into my yoga pants to cheer my son at tennis tryouts. I can’t find time for an exercise class. My crockpot is one of my dearest friends. Don’t get me started on my calendar. Though color-coded and virtually synched to 3 family smart phones, it still overwhelms me. I live in constant fear that I have forgotten a monumental deadline that will: A. affect my children’s chances at a college education or B. fling them directly into therapy post-high school. Thank God I have some friends that keep me straight, and for that I am grateful. K-ron and Sister Mary Kay~ you know who you are to me. It takes a village.
This post is linked up with Jennifer.
My parents always tell the story of black shoes I wore as a child and apparently NEVER wanted to take them off. They finally gave in and just let me keep them on. I even slept in them. 🙂
Great encouragement, friend. Sending love and encouragement your way to let you know there is great JOY coming. Never did I imagine how much I’d love being a mom to two adult boys. We survived those high-school years with many stories to talk about. And so will you.
Much love.
xoxo
Love this, Amy! Thank you for writing it! Letting them see me cry – wow, that takes courage. And yes, the little things are many times the most memorable. 🙂