Why Teach Sunday School?

A couple of years ago, I decided to teach Sunday school. I could
kill two birds with one stone and spend quality time with the kids on
the weekend while exerting Spiritual Mommy’s much-needed moral
authority. Maybe I could even reverse some of the brain injury from
all that TV.

Given my schedule during the week, my husband and most of my
friends thought I was downright crazy for taking on another weekend
responsibility. “Suz, just what you need, another thing to add to
your schedule. Haven’t you ever heard of the word ‘no’?”

Actually, since I became a mother, ‘no’ has almost evaporated
from my vocabulary. I reserve it for when I really need it—like when
I’m asked to make cupcakes for the bake sale, organize the parent
phone tree, or volunteer to be the lunch monitor during lunch
bunch. After all, I can’t do everything, right? But when it comes to the
spiritual development of my children, Devoted Mommy reminds me
that, unlike baking cookies or being a lunch monitor, I really can’t
delegate that one very easily.

To my pleasant surprise, Sunday school became my favorite hour
of the week. I wear casual clothes and comfortable shoes, sing silly
songs, play duck-duck-goose, and sit on the floor with the children
while teaching them that God is your friend, even when you can’t
see Him.

I remember my own Sunday school days vividly like they were yesterday.
I’ll never forget that poster in my classroom of Jesus knocking
on the door to your heart. Of course there’s no door handle because
the door can be opened only from the inside. It was during that
Sunday school class that I asked Jesus to come into my heart.
Some people say that young children can’t understand spiritual things, but
I beg to differ. Life has become much too complicated. Sometimes I
want to go back to the simple faith of my childhood, but I can’t. So I
do the next best thing. I teach Sunday School.

What’s your Sunday School experience?  

**excerpt from Chasing Superwoman, pp. 23-24

There’s Just Something About A Boy

Mothers of boys, what are the moments you treasure most?  Do you ever wish you could stop time and keep your son little forever?

You can’t.

But you can treasure each moment.

• I wept when my son was born. 
• I cried (hard!) at his first haircut. 
• I trembled with fear his first day of kindergarten.
• I cheered with pride when he slid into home plate.
• No, I’m not yet ready for a teenager.
• Don’t even talk to me about his first date!

Each stage comes with its own hopes, dreams, and fears.  And each stage is beautifully remembered and illustrated in There’s Just Something About A Boy, by Jenny Lee Sulpizio.

In this newly-released children’s book, Jenny Lee Sulpizio captures the hearts and minds of every mother who looks forward to watching her son grow, all the while wishing she could freeze time and keep him little forever.  From conception until adulthood, there’s something magical about watching a son get older – and reading about it along the way.  

There’s Just Something About A Boy is the perfect gift for new moms; it’s also a keepsake book for mothers and sons for years to come.  In fact, I’d love to send you a copy.  Just leave me a comment before Monday to enter a drawing!

Remember, he can’t stay little forever.

I asked the LORD to give me this boy, and he has granted my request. 1 Samuel 1:27 (NLT)

Does TV Feed Your Children Swear Words?

My husband, Doug, and then seven-year-old Nick were watching The Bad News Bears. I was appalled. The language was filthy. These snotty-nosed kids and their recalcitrant coach had no respect for authority or each other, and Nick would soon be talking like a potty mouth if we continued to let this trash into our living room. Suddenly, Devoted Mommy transformed into Fundamentalist Mommy.

“I don’t want to hear that language in our house ever again, and I want that filthy show turned off.” Doug and Nick just looked at me.

I continued, “TV is straight from the pit of hell and I can’t sit by and watch you fill your brain with this garbage.”

Doug may be incorrigible, but I still have to exercise some moral authority over my children. I learned that from my own mother. We had knock-down, dragout fights over Three’s Company and Charlie’s Angels. I would sneak downstairs and watch these shows with my older sisters over my mother’s deep disapproval. (Which was worse, Jack and Chrissy living in sin, or Farrah Fawcett showing her cleavage? I never got an answer, I just knew they were both bad.)

What kind of mother would I be if I let The Bad News Bears ruin Nick’s innocence and lead him down a path of destruction?

So later that night, after I put the girls to bed, I told Nick that we needed to talk. We sat in his bed before prayers, as we do every night, and I explained to him that some things on TV are wrong, and the Bad News Bears really shouldn’t say bad words.

“Did you hear bad words in the movie today?”

Nick responded, “I’m not sure. I know stupid is a bad word.”

Nick is a smart kid, so he saw this as an opportunity to ask me, point-blank, what the other bad words were that had caused me so much concern. Now I was stuck. Fundamentalist Mommy was going to have to feed her own son swear words. So we talked about how “hell” is a bad word, and why you wouldn’t want to tell someone to “go to hell,” because that’s where Satan lives.

Nick asked, “Is it still okay to say ‘for heaven’s sake’?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s still okay.”

I was thankful he still had some innocence left. And I didn’t have the heart to tell him the other bad words in the show. We’ll save that for another day.

How do you deal with the impact of TV on your children?  Is TV a necessary evil, or just plain evil? Or am I overreacting?

**excerpt from Chasing Superwoman, pp. 21-23

Why I’m A Bible Study “Drop Out”

I haven’t been part of a women’s Bible study in years.  And I really miss it.  Which is why I told my husband, “This year, things are going to be different.  I’m going to make it a priority.  I want to do this.  I need to do this.”

So I signed up for a Tuesday night study and faithfully attended the first week.  I even had to sign a “commitment” sheet and declared I would do my best to achieve regular attendance.

The second week, I was out of town on business.

The third week, I looked at the evening calendar and quickly realized I would have to hire a babysitter or clone myself in order to get three kids to three different evening events. 

So I said to my husband,  “I think I’m going to drop out of Bible study, what do you think?”

Part of me wanted him to tell me I had to quit.  That signing up for another evening event is stupid.  That hiring a babysitter to run the kids around in the evenings is a foolish use of our resources.  And that being with the kids right now is the better use of my time.

But he didn’t.

He responded, “Do whatever you think is best.”  (It’s called reverse psychology -- and it gets me every time.)

Great, I actually have to make this decision myself.  I can’t blame him for holding me back.


I didn’t want to drop out.  I’m not a quitter, but I just can’t justify the evenings away from my family during this busy season of motherhood.  Can anyone relate?

Maybe next year. 

Does this season of life have you making some hard personal choices?

What Makes Your Day?

A couple of weeks ago, my cell phone died an unexpected death and I asked, What Ruins Your Day?  Well, since then, I’ve had a bit of an attitude adjustment, and I’d like to ask a different question.

What makes your day? 

Is it the big things?  The little things?  The expected?  The unexpected?

Here’s an unexpected dose of grace that made my Friday.

To the gratest mom in the world!

From you dater Anna.

Dear mom,

I love you with my holl hart! Anyway, I’m so ecited that its Friyday, and I get to spend time with you!  When Nicks gone at his sleepover, and were here, we should think of something fun! Like having girls night out, or watch a movie.  Something like that!

Love,

Anna
************

What makes your day?  Just as important, what can we do today to make somebody else’s day? 

Need A Radical Sabbatical?

If you’re a working mom (or dad) you may have noticed that “The Schedule” is slightly out of control.  That’s putting it mildly, isn’t it?  If your schedule is like mine, it’s a freight train without brakes.

The train has left the station and there’s no stopping it now.

Right?

Maybe not.  Just wait a minute.  There’s someone out there who has activated the emergency brake.  Yes, I’m hear to tell you that it’s possible (even beneficial) to step back and take a radical sabbatical.

Meet Joanne Kraft.

This brave (slightly crazy?) working mother of four decided to pull the plug for an entire year on all extra-curricular activities.  And she lived through it, became a better mother and wife, and decided to write a book about it:  Just Too Busy – Taking Your Family On A Radical Sabbatical.

I know what you’re thinking.  I’m not that radical.  I could never do it.  My family would hate me.  Our lives revolve around The Schedule.

Don’t worry, I was thinking the same thing.  In fact, I’m not here to suggest that every family should drop out of activities for a year.  And Joanne Kraft doesn’t suggest that either.  Your radical sabbatical will probably look different than mine or hers.

In my case, after reading Just Too Busy, my family took a much-needed 2-week vacation with no TV and internet.  And let me tell you, that was a big step for my ever-loving media addicts (hubby included!).  For me, it’s about taking small steps.  And Just Too Busy gave me the inspiration I needed, plus plenty of ideas to chew on.

I don’t want to give the book away because I want you to buy it on Amazon.  What I will say is that Just Too Busy game me some serious perspective.  In fact, I’d love to give you my copy – just leave me a comment to enter a drawing.

Do you need some perspective?  Do you feel like the train has left the station and you can’t find the emergency brake?  Are you ready for a radical sabbatical?  What are you waiting for?

Have The Sunday Night Blues?

Do you get the Sunday night blues?  The weekend is over.  The laundry still isn't done.  The alarm clock will be screaming tomorrow at an hour too early.

This Sunday, I was starting to feel pretty sorry for myself.  I had just come off a funeral and the tenth anniversary of 9/11 haunted me all day.  Especially since I’m heading to New York in the morning.

The last thing I want to do is jump on a flight, Lord. 
 
As I put the girls to bed, they hugged me extra tight.

“Why do you have to leave in the morning?  Why can’t you stay home with us?”

I just need more time with them, Lord.  It’s so hard to leave.

I fought back tears as we opened our devotional together. 

And God spoke.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  Matthew 6:34

The words cut to my heart. 

Sometimes, God does that.  He speaks to me loud and clear.  His words are like healing balm to my fresh wounds, and I’m thankful for today.  For tonight.  For this moment.  And this moment is so lovely that I have to stop and catch my breath.

In the midst of my revelation my 5-year-old bellowed, "You're going to be alright, Mom.  You've got to face your fears!"

Where the heck did that come from?

It's all part of the grace of this moment.

Tomorrow?  Well, as Mark Twain once said, “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.” 

Do you find yourself preoccupied with tomorrow instead of embracing this moment?

Too Busy (Not!) To Read With Your Kids

Let’s face it, we have to work hard (and use some creativity) to maintain strong relationships with our children.  Especially as they grow older.  What was “cool” last year might not maintain their interests this year.

And here’s our greatest challenge.  Time.  If you’re like me, you have plenty of ideas, but you’re weak on execution.  You have plenty of distractions.  Plenty of excuses.  Many of these excuses are even legitimate (like your day job!).

One answer to this dilemma?  Books.

Nick (my 10-year-old son) and I both love to read.  So I told him to pick out some books for me this summer.  His choice.

Now, before you give me the “I don’t have time” lecture, please save it.  You have time to read.  Really.  You can read when your kids are sleeping, when you can’t sleep, when the rest of your family is zoned out in front of the TV, or even in the bathroom.  Been there. Done that.  It’s doable. 

This summer, I started with Gregor the Overlander (one of Nick’s favorites) and was quite taken with Suzanne Collins so I wanted to see what The Hunger Games was all about.  (I loved it, by the way, but decided Nick can wait to read it until he’s a bit older.)

Then, following Nick’s lead, I read The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring.  Little did I know, I would become a J.R.R. Tolkien groupie (I’m waiting to read The Two Towers as soon as Nick finishes).

The good news?  Nick and I have uniquely bonded.  (So what if the rest of the family thinks we’re crazy when we talk about magic rings, hobbits, elves, and journeys to Mordor.) 

It’s about establishing a new connection.  Getting in their world.  Starting a dialogue. 

How do you nurture that connection with your growing children while a million other things are competing for your time and energy?

Have you tried reading lately?

Follow Your Instincts Moms!

Nick smacked a double into left field, and I was on my feet screaming.  "Slide, Nick, Slide!"  He slid into second base, but didn't get up.  In fact, he stayed in a ball lying next to the base.

Being the sensitive mom that I am (who loves to win baseball games) I continued to scream, "Get on the base, Nick, or he's going to tag you out!  GET ON THE BASE!"

Nick didn't move, and the ump shouted, "He's out!"

What a bummer!

Was Nick really hurt?  I couldn't tell as he limped off the field.

Enter Daddy Coach.  (Former baseball superstar, and all-around tough guy.)

"He'll be fine.  Nick, you just need to walk on it.  Walk up and down the side of the field and shake it out."

Nick continued to limp.  He'd have to sit out the rest of the game.

The next morning, Nick was still struggling.  Daddy Coach continued to insist that he'd be "fine" -- "after all, if he's going to play sports, he's going to have to toughen up!"

So I sent Nick off to school.  But I had this nagging feeling in my stomach.  I wonder if it's more serious than we think.  But then again, he can walk on it.  I'm sure it's nothing that a little ice and motrin can't cure.  Right?


Wrong.

If I've learned anything on this journey called motherhood, it's to follow your instincts.

After another day of swelling and a trip to the ER the next evening (I took him, of course!) we learned that Nick had fractured his ankle.  According to the doctors, "The worst thing he can do is walk on it!"

So much for shaking it out.

No disrespect guys, but there's a reason God created mothers!

Why Moms Need Second Chances

We were sitting at the dinner table when my husband asked me, “You read to Anna’s class today, right?”

I almost choked on my meatball.  I had completely forgotten to show up and read to the second graders.  And I had let Anna down.

Anna hadn’t mentioned it when I got home from work.  She hadn’t even acted like anything was bothering her.  She just looked up from her pasta and replied, “Well, my teacher wondered if you were coming.  I told her I didn’t know.”

Frankly, I didn’t have a good excuse.  I wasn’t out of town.  I didn’t have a client emergency.  It was even on my calendar.  Worse yet, Doug had reminded me about it the day before.   I can still hear him, “Don’t forget to show up Suz!”

I had simply forgot.

Before I could apologize, my 10-year-old, Nick, interrupted.  “Mom, not to be critical, but you never volunteer in my class anymore.  It seems like you’re always going to Anna’s class.”

“Nick, remember, I didn’t even show up to Anna’s class today!  Look guys, I’m doing my best.  You know how busy I am, and I’m really sorry.”

Anna didn’t yell at me.  She didn’t whine or complain.  She simply finished her dinner and said, “It’s ok Mom.”  

Later that night, I was putting Anna to bed, waiting for her to finish her usual prayers for world poverty, injustice, and the forgiveness of sins for all people.  Right after she prayed for Haiti and Japan, she slipped in a new line that caught me off guard. 

“And dear God, please help my teacher to give Mom a second chance.”

I couldn’t say “Amen” fast enough.

When Boys Pray

Nick’s 10th birthday party was in full swing when when a minor crisis ensued.  In the midst of an intense dart gun game that spanned half the neighborhood, Nick’s friend Dillon lost his glasses.  I could see the panic on his face.

“These glasses cost $300!  My mom is going to kill me.  They fell right out of my pocket.”

The game stopped.  The party stopped.  And we looked everywhere.

Doug and I helped the boys comb the nearby yards inch by inch.  We looked in the street.  In the bushes.  Even in Dillon’s pocket.  But the glasses were no where to be found.

I could feel God nudging me. [Note to readers:  I did not hear God speak out loud.  There have been only a handful of times in my life when I think he is speaking to my heart.  This was one of them.  I am not crazy.]

God:  Susan, gather these boys together and pray out loud.  Let them experience the power of prayer.  Give faith a chance.

Susan:  [Intentionally ignores God.]

God:  Susan, I’m talking to you. 

Susan:  I hear you.  But what if we don’t find them.  Besides, I don’t even know some of these boys.  I’m going to embarrass Nick and his friends are going to think his mom is a whack job.

[God is silent, and Susan’s heart continues to burn.]

Susan:  Ok God, you win.  But don’t blame me if we don’t find these glasses.

Before I could change my mind I blurted out, “Ok boys, gather around.  We’re going to find these glasses.  For those of you who are comfortable, I want you to agree with me in prayer.  Watch and see what God can do.”

[Susan: Ok God, there’s no turning back now.  And why did you let me add that last line in?  I sound like a religious fanatic!]

A couple of boys bowed their heads.  A few snickered.  One of them said under his breath, “I can’t believe we are doing this.”

I continued rather loudly. After all, since I had pulled the trigger, I might as well go for the gusto. “God, we don’t know where these glasses are.  We’ve looked and we can’t find them.  You know where they are God.  Open our eyes.  Show us.  In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

Less than 30 seconds passed when Nick’s cousin Peter shouted out, “I found them.  The glasses are right here!”

I watched Dillon smile.  Another boy exclaimed, “It’s a miracle!”

I bet God smiled even bigger.

Should Kids Engage In Social Media?

There’s much discussion over Michelle Obama’s decision not to let her daughters on Facebook.

And she’s not the only parent wrestling with this decision.  Well before our children will encounter other milestones – like driving, dating, and staying out late with friends -- we have to make some serious decisions about their use of technology and the internet.

I for one believe these are difficult decisions.  Writers like Amy Sullivan remind us our teens are spending almost 8 hours a day online!   But social media isn’t all bad for our youth. For example, social media has actually engaged Generation Y in politics (a good thing, in my opinion). 

But my kids are still too young to take the plunge.

My son, Nick, is almost 10, and he’s already bugging me for an email account.  I’m just not ready to go there.  (And, no, he doesn’t have his own cell phone yet.)  Yet other parents tell me that mobile phones help them communicate with their kids and even track them with GPS! 

Right now, I just tell Nick that we’ll revisit the issue when he’s a bit older.  I also give him access to my personal email account to communicate with out-of-town family members and friends. And he’s known to read my blog and hang over my shoulder when I’m Tweeting. By some parents’ standards, I’m already giving him too much access to the complicated world of social media.

So what’s a parent to do?  I’ve found that most parents fall into some combination of the following three categories.

1)  Don’t ask don’t tell. 

Some parents simply don’t want to know.

Kids will be kids.  There’s nothing I can do to, so why bother to get involved. 

Others would rather engage in denial.

My kids will never abuse technology.  They know better than that!

These parents shudder to find out – after the fact – that their daughter has been posting inappropriate photos on MySpace or their minor son has an online (older) girlfriend.

2)  Social media is the Devil.

Other parents simply ban social media all together.  They cut off access at home.  They spend money on blocking devices. They caution their kids about the dangers of the online world.  Even though the minimum age for Facebook is 13 years old, they insist that their children are 18 (or older) before maintaining any type of internet profile. 

While these parents appear extreme, the rest of us can understand their fears, particularly with the threat of child pornography and unhealthy online relationships.

3)  Get involved and stay involved. 

Still other parents – like me – plan to strike a balance.  We’re not exactly pushing our kids to join start Tweeting at age 13 (I’m not sure any 13-year-old has the judgment for Twitter -- some days I’m not even sure I do!) but we’re going to expose our kids to the online world on our terms, which means we have to get involved.

The parents I know who successfully strike this balance tend to share passwords (and friends) with their kids, implement privacy settings, and visit their children’s social media sites at least once a day. 

There are no easy answers. And, as a parent, I know I need to stop worrying about what everyone else is doing and try to do what’s best for my family.  (And, if I were in Michelle Obama’s shoes, I don’t think I’d let my daughters on Facebook either!)

What’s your social media strategy for your children?

Do Small Children Bug You In Church?

It’s really hard to focus during the sermon when my four-year-old Abby is hanging on me, dropping crayons, or complaining that she wants a drink of water.  How are parents of young children supposed to engage in worship?  And what about the people sitting next to us?

Today, I’m linking up with Michelle DeRusha at Graceful for “Hear It On Sunday, Use it On Monday.”
I was going to link up last Monday for the kick-off, but I got a little distracted during the sermon, and I couldn’t pull my thoughts together for a blog post. It was one of those weeks where Mom Abby was particularly impatient. She kept getting out of her seat to go to the bathroom (she claimed she had a stomach ache) and when the pastor said “Amen” and the church was stone quiet, she blurted out rather loudly, “Is it over yet?”

Why do we drag her to church?  Why make a 4-year-old sit through a boring worship service when her older siblings are in Sunday School?   

To start, I for one believe that small children benefit from worship.  Abby knew the Lord’s Prayer before her ABC’s, and she bellows her words loudly and claps her hands and sways her hips to the music. I’ve been in some churches where this wouldn’t be acceptable, but our church in infested with children.  Lots of them.  (Heck, my Pastor Eric has 5 little ones of his own!)  Besides, we usually sit toward the back.

So why isn’t she in the 4-year-old Sunday School class that meets during worship?  The answer is simple.  Yours truly is her Sunday School teacher at the next service, so after worship we’re off to Sunday School.  Together.

What did I learn from the sermon this week?  Lots.  So much that I’ll have to save it for another post.  Instead of worrying about Abby, I adjusted my attitude and expectations.  I decided that for this season of my life, I’m going to enjoy the warmth of a sweaty 4-year-old on my lap who has to go to the bathroom.  And when she prays the Lord’s Prayer at the top of her lungs, I’m going to savor every word. The next time she gets antsy, I might even let her out early to get a drink.

Now, I’m headed over to Graceful.  For those of you who haven’t met Michelle DeRusha, she’s a rocking (not shopping) mom who works at NPR, has her own newspaper column, and blogs like an angel.  And she’s not buying herself clothes for a year!  Sounds like someone I can learn from!  (She’s also newly represented by the extraordinary Rachelle Gardner, and I really can’t wait to read Michelle’s memoir once it’s in print.)

Does God Care About Trick-or-Treat?

Does God care about Trick-or-Treat?

I happen to think he does.

No, this isn’t a post about whether Halloween is evil or whether God approves of Trick-or-Treat (I’ll save that for next year).

This post is about prayer.

I told my kids about a month ago that I would be gone for Trick-or-Treat.

“I’m so sorry guys, but Mom will be out of town for work.  I’ll try to plan around it next year.  Dad will take you around, and you’ll still have fun.”

They weren’t happy. (About this same time Nick announced that he was never going to be a lawyer – that he’d rather be a “stay-at-home dad, like Dad.”)

So Anna started to pray.  Every night, at bedtime, she would finish, “And please God, we pray that Mom will be at Trick-or-Treat.”

Talk about a guilt trip. 

I almost told her to stop praying about it.  The meeting had been scheduled for months.  It would never be cancelled.  Besides, there are more important things to be praying about.

Then, it happened.  For reasons completely outside of my control, my schedule changed.  And I found myself home for Trick-or-Treat last night.

I think I had more fun than the kids.  Our whole street lit up, and the evening turned into a block party.  We stayed up too late and ate too much candy. 

But my favorite thing about Trick-or-Treat wasn’t the neighbors, the fun, or the candy.

It was answered prayer.  

Who says God doesn't care about Trick-or-Treat?

Cookies For Kids

Before bed, my 4-year-old Abby prays, “Dear God, help all the kids in the world to have food, water, and cookies.”

Her older sister, Anna, interrupts her.

“Abby, you can’t pray for cookies.  All the kids in the world don’t have toothbrushes.  They’re going to get cavities!”

Abby is quick to respond.

“Dear God, I pray that all the kids in the world would have toothbrushes.”

I try not to laugh.  I can almost see God smiling.

Have you ever been reluctant to ask God for something big, just because you think he can’t provide something little?

I think about this for awhile after I put Abby to bed.

Sometimes, I assume God won’t answer my prayers.  So I don’t even ask.  Or I ask for something that I know is within reach.  I make sure my prayers are “logical.”

But then I wonder, is faith really supposed to be logical?  Are we limiting God by settling for crumbs when he really wants to give us cookies?

So I picture all the children of the world eating cookies.  And it’s beautiful. 

You don't have enough faith," Jesus told them. "I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible.  Matt 17:20 (NLT)

Top Ten Reasons To Read I’m Outnumbered! (Plus, A Give-Away)

Today, on Working Mommy Wednesday, we’re sharing top ten lists.  And I couldn’t think of a better place to share the top ten reasons to read I’m Outnumbered! One Mom’s Lessons in the Lively Art of Raising Boys, by Laura Lee Groves.

1.  Laura is a fellow working mom.  As an English teacher and mother of four boys (that’s right four boys), Laura is a kindred spirit to busy, overworked mothers.
2.  The tone is spiritual yet realistic. I’m Outnumbered is written from a biblical perspective.  But I also didn’t find it to be overly preachy or unrealistic.  Laura acknowledges that no parents are perfect, and we all need God’s grace to get us through the journey. 
3.  Laura speaks from the heart.  In fact, Laura is pretty transparent and vulnerable about her own journey – including lessons learns and teachable moments.
4.  Nothing beats experience.  I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand getting parenting advice from people who haven’t been in the trenches.  (Like, “Gee, I read that you should ignore your child when he has a tantrum.”)  Laura speaks from a wealth of experience. 
5.  Laura offers lots of practical tips.  I’m Outnumbered doesn’t just give advice – it gives examples, resources, and creative parenting ideas.  (Yeah, it’s also a nice compliment to Chasing Superwoman, which by my own admission is more of a rant than an instruction manual.)
6.  Finally, a female voice about boys!  A handful of books have already been written about raising boys.  But few if any are from a female perspective.  (As someone who grew up with all sisters, I really need that female perspective!)
7.  Her sons actually contribute to the book.  One of my favorite parts of the book is where Laura’s sons provide first-hand insight.  (See Chapter 10 – A Word From The Boys.)  It’s one thing to talk about raising boys – but it’s another thing to actually hear from them directly!
8.  Help promote a new author.  This is Laura’s first book.  And first-time authors are always looking for creative ways to get the word out.  Once you read I’m Outnumbered, please consider passing it along to a friend or doing your own book review.
9.  We all need mentors.  I’m always looking for mentors on my parenting journey.  And I love connecting with moms I respect – especially when they’re a couple of steps ahead of me.  Laura is one of those moms!  Her blog is also a great source of encouragement. 
10.  I’ll send you a copy!  Last but certainly not least, I’d love to send you a copy.  By posting a comment on my blog before 5:00 p.m. Sunday, you can enter a drawing to win a free copy.  (Winners win be announced in the comment section of this post Sunday evening.)

Happy Wednesday, and thanks Laura for writing I’m Outnumbered!

Should Bedtime Prayers Be Serious?

My favorite time of day is bedtime prayers.  I love to spend time with my kids, talk about our days, and hear their thoughts and concerns.

The only problem?

We can’t seem to get serious.  And it’s getting worse.

On a school night, we try to head to bed by 8:30 p.m.  I always start with Anna and Abby, since they usually sleep together.  We read a few books, and by about 8:50 p.m. it’s time to say prayers.

I start off praying and try to be spiritual.  But Abby is known to interrupt me.

“Dear God, I pray that Anna’s breath won’t smell.”

My girls start laughing hysterically.  Nick hears them, and he comes in to join us.  I yell at everyone and say,

“We’re talking to God.  This is important!  Let’s get serious!”

Abby gets defensive and exclaims, “It’s Anna’s fault.  She was touching my armpits!”

They start laughing hysterically again.  Nick is laughing so hard that I think he’s going to pee his pants, and I think to myself, When am I ever going to get these kids to sleep!


Usually, when I’m almost ready to give up, I can count on Anna to wrap us up with some substance.
 
“God, please heal Grandpap.  Help Haiti and Chile to feel better.  Help everyone in the world to find food and water and all the children to find moms and dads.  And wash away the sin from our hearts.”

At least someone has been paying attention.
 
Some nights, I feel like just letting them laugh.  I wonder if God enjoys their laughter.  Does He expect them to be serious when they pray?  Should I?

My Firstborn, Plus A Give-Away!

 
Do you remember the birth of your firstborn?  If you’re a parent (or even if you’re not), do you have any fun birthing stories to share?  That’s the question posed today for Working Mom Wednesday.

In response to the question, I thought to myself, I’ve written about this before!  So I decided to post an excerpt from my book, Chasing Superwoman:

I decided to walk, a fifteen-minute stroll from my office, to what I thought would be an uneventful checkup. If I was lucky, maybe I would be dilated. All of my sisters agreed I shouldn’t get too anxious with my first delivery, so I was playing it cool. To my surprise, after a quick exam, the doctor immediately recommended that I proceed with a C-section. Nick’s position had shifted, and labor could be high risk. I went back to the office and started crying. I wasn’t ready to deliver a baby. I hadn’t even cleaned off my desk. So I proceeded to do what most expectant mothers do twenty-four hours before delivering their firstborn: I put on my best poker face and went to take a deposition.
I was in the midst of contentious litigation. Opposing counsel, a Jerk Lawyer, looked at me straight in the eye prior to the deposition and said, “When’s the baby coming?”

I lied, “In a couple of weeks.” I couldn’t let him see that I was weak and vulnerable. I could cry later. Now, it was time for Lady Lawyer to take care of business. For Lady Lawyer, there are certain advantages to being pregnant. I find that most witnesses are eager to spill their guts and make damaging admissions to a pregnant woman. I appear sweet, innocent, and harmless. All I want is the truth. A pregnant lawyer is a sheep among wolves. My motto? “Be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.” (Matt 10:16)

By the time I finished the deposition, I had regained my composure and hadn’t let my guard down. I couldn’t give Jerk Lawyer that satisfaction. But I was still unprepared. And scared. Even though I had the advice of my older sisters, I wished I hadn’t skipped all those birthing classes. Besides, I had gotten comfortable wearing my lawyer cape. Would a mommy cape even fit?

Chapter 3, pp. 50-51.

For the rest of the story, you’ll have to read the book.  Here’s the good news:  there’s a give-away TODAY at one of my favorite blog sites, All in a Day’s Thought.  Thanks much to author Wendy Paine Miller for her friendship and thoughtful review.

So, do you have any interesting birthing stories?

Were you calm and prepared?

Or, like me, were you completely unprepared and terrified?

(By the way, Nick is now 9 years old, but the photo above was taken just hours after his birth!  Isn’t he gorgeous? Just looking at this picture makes me want number 4!)

It’s Just A Sprain (Not!)

Last week, my 9-year-old Nick came home early from a sleepover at 10:00 p.m., holding his arm in pain.  I could tell the way he was acting that something was really wrong.

My first instinct was to rush him to the hospital.  My husband, Doug, didn’t exactly agree.

“He’ll be fine.  He just needs to straighten his arm out.  It’s not broken.”

Nick continued  to moan in pain.  Doug took hold of his arm and gently tried to straighten it.  Nick started to cry, so I intervened.

“I really think we should take him to the hospital.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight.  It could be broken.”

Doug continued to insist everything was “fine” and I continued to insist something was really wrong.  My maternal instincts flipped into high gear, and Nick and I rushed to the emergency room.

Yep, a broken arm.

Thank God for over-protective mothers!  Sometimes, we just need to follow our gut.  No, my maternal instincts aren’t always right, but when it comes to my children, I’m usually dead on.  Can anyone relate?

Have a good weekend!

Cathy Career Or Susie Stay-At-Home?

Cathy Career is selfish. She’s careful not to have more than two children because they might interfere with her success. She doesn’t have time to bake cookies or pack her children nutritious lunches, so her family is always eating junk and picking up fast food. She doesn’t have time to volunteer at church (or get involved in a church for that matter).

She’s intimidated by stay-at-home moms because she assumes they think she’s a bad mother -- that she’s putting herself or her job before her family. After all, what’s more important, your family or a paycheck? Her identity rests on what she does outside the home.

Susie Stay-At-Home is obsessed with her children. She takes her kids to “Mommy and Me” classes and spends her spare time making homemade jam and elaborate family scrapbooks. She never buys any new clothes, spends most of her time cooking and cleaning, and she barely gets out of the house -- except when she is volunteering at church or school.

She’s intimidated by career women because she assumes they think she doesn’t have ambition -- or worse, that she doesn’t have a brain just because she’s with her children all day. Her identity rests on what she does inside the home.

Do these stereotypes sound familiar? While I’ve never met Cathy Career or Susie Stay-At-Home, it didn’t take much imagination on my part to write about these two fictional women. Yet, in reality, these stereotypes hold little value. I would go one step further and argue that these stereotypes even hurt us, especially inside the church.

Why drive an artificial wedge between women of faith who desperately need one another?