~ Why We Allow Name Calling

I came home with a trunk full of groceries the other night. I was tired from all the day's activities, and it was almost bedtime. I probably wasn't in the best mood.

I'm just sayin'!

My children came spilling out the door to help unload the car, and one of them, the funny middle child, exclaimed with hand to forehead in a respectful (or maybe it was disrespectful) salute, "Joboaidanson reporting for duty, sir!"

I almost doubled over laughing.

Let me explain.

I grew up, a product of a mother who had too many children to call us by the correct name. (Well, it's true mom!) I can't remember how many times she called me Keith. Then there were the times she had to go through the whole list, and since I was last in line, I got called by everyone's name (or at least by the first sound of everyone's name).

I could never really understand. There were only four of us. Is it that hard to remember the names of the children to whom you gave life? To whom you carried and nurtured for nine months?

I'm grown up now.

I UNDERSTAND!

So recently, after going through the list of the four names of my own children to get to the correct one my brain was searching for, I had a brilliant idea.

Why not just come up with one name that would cover all of them!

That night at dinner, we had many good chuckles as we each came up with what we thought was the best name for the four of them.

And "Joboaidanson" was born!

Jo - for Josiah

Bo - for Bennett or any of the hundred nicknames we call him (Benny BoBo)

Aidan - for Aidan (of course)

Son - for Ellison

See! They're all covered.

So when my middle child reported for duty at the car the other night, I had visions of my husband standing in the kitchen yelling, "Joboaidanson, go help your mother unload the groceries."

Apparently, it really does work because all four of them came to my rescue.

If mom had just had a similar name, maybe I could have been spared all the pain and struggle that goes with poor self-esteem and feeling unloved. (Just kidding mom!) Allow me to suggest a couple that I think would have worked wonderfully (my siblings were Mark, Keith, Lori and Karen):

Meithiren

Marthrika

Makloren (my personal favorite)

For those moments when you just can't seem to get the right name from your brain to your lips, I highly recommend using one name. Ours is serving us well!

~ I Can Do All Things (Through Him)

A Brief Interaction at our House

Ellis: Mom, can you pull this guy's head off? (referring to a lego man) It's too hard. It's hurting my thumb.

Mom: Sure, honey.

Ellis (after I flicked his head off): Was that easy?

Mom: Yep.

Ellis: Oh.

Several Hours Later

Ellis: Mom, can you get this flat piece of lego off? I just can't get it.

Mom: Sure

Ellis (after I flicked the piece off - looking rather bewildered): Was that easy?

Mom: Yep.

Ellis: Oh.

Ellis (overheard at the top of the stairs a moment later): Hey Aidan, Mom can do anything!

How my heart melted.

(He apparently forgot about all the times I've had to ask my 12-year-old to open a jar for me.)

Oh, how I wish it were true.

I only wish I could do all the things I want to do. I wish I could make myself stop doing the things I don't want to do.

Somehow, I am unable to conquer this nasty habit of yelling, not to mention staying up too late, spending too much money, giving in to that desire to just be a hermit, or going too long without sinking my roots deep and drinking from the Source of all strength.

Oh, how I wish I could do anything!

It's true, for a while, I can rely on skill and talent and smarts to get things done. But when it comes to the hard stuff, the life-changing, transformational, look-like-Him stuff, my abilities and attempts usually fall way short.

Like my eight-year-old, I find myself saying, "It's too hard; it hurts" or "I just can't get it."

That's when I usually cry out, "God, I can't do this on my own."

And that's usually when He reminds me, "I didn't ask you to."

For now, I think I'll just let Ellis believe I can do anything. He'll figure it out sooner or later.

We've Re-written the Creation Story

We've had sickness, lots and lots of sickness

Doctor's appointments

Strep Tests

Fever, lots and lots of fever

Antibiotics

We've had sports, lots and lots of sports.

We've had end of the year activities.

I am losing my mind.

I fall into bed dead tired.

Two-and-a-half more days of school.

Can I get us all through it?

Hopefully we can settle into that wonderful, comfortably lazy new summer schedule soon. (I promise I'll post more when we do.)

Here's a little conversation that made me smile.

Actually, it made us all laugh out loud.

We needed the laughter.

Aidan: (pulling this question out of thin air) Mom, what day was it on the first day?

Mom: What do you mean? Do you mean the very first day ever?

Ellis: (attempting to clarify for Aidan as he usually does) You know when Adam and that other person were there.

Mom: (aghast that my child couldn't seem to come up with the name of the second person ever created) Who was that other person, Ellis? Adam and ....?

Ellis: (said just as confidently and seriously as he could) DAVE!

Mom: (not one to normally speak sarcastically to my children) Yep! That's it, Adam and Dave.

Everyone: (loud laughter)

Ellis: Well, I knew it started with "ave".

Even when he's not trying, he makes us laugh out loud!

I love that about him.

(Just a side note: He's the only one who hasn't been sick all week.)

~ Just for Laughs

God bless this woman, and God bless big ol' sweet iced tea. At least someone understands!

Thank you, Anita!

Music to my ears...

Every mom of boys has those moments when you wonder if, left to themselves, your children just might kill each other. (Or is that just me?) I am so grateful that in addition to the arguing, the tattling, the threats and the screaming, sometimes what I hear is this...

...an older brother telling a younger brother how much he will miss him when he goes to school today - a simple lovesong.

...the older brothers saying, each in his own time, "But mom, I just want to protect him" or "I was trying to keep him safe so he wouldn't get smashed," or "Mom, I brought him down so he wouldn't get hurt." Their watchfulness makes me proud - a hymn of security.

...a younger brother telling an older brother who doesn't have much money saved that he'll help him buy something he's been wanting - a sacrificial melody.

...a younger brother asking 50 times a day where his older brothers are - a song of anticipation.

...an older brother saying, "Let's play hide and seek," and the chaos that follows - the music of laughter.

...a brother saying to his twin after hearing him say he doesn't understand his homework, "Mom, I can help him" - a chorus of caring.

...the oldest saying to his very sad younger brother in the car, "Do you want to hold my hand?" - a sweet song of connection.

Together, these become a symphony of hope - that God is weaving their hearts together, each one an aria of their learning to put the other first. As I remember the tunes, I savor and commit them to memory as their rhythms join the tempo of spring's sweet song today...

...the birds singing and mud puddle splashes.

Before the music reaches it's best moment in my head, I hear one boy say to his brother, "Come here, you flea-ridden varment," and suddenly the timbre of what was a bright melody only moments before, suddenly becomes the white noise of my day.

A Little Bit of Humor

After breakfast this morning and after reading my last post, my husband and I had a brief conversation in the kitchen. (He said I could share.)

Ken: Hey, thanks for saying such nice things about me in your post.

Me: You're welcome. You're the glue, baby, the mortar, the nails (and I proceeded to come up with all sorts of construction related words to make my point). You hold it all together!

Ken: (without missing a beat) And you're a brick house!

You gotta love a man who sees you as you are and loves you as you wish you were!

Thanks babe!