Question: Are you the fun parent?
I am not.
Question: Are you the fun parent?
I am not.
I confess delaying on this post a bit because I never know how to talk about stuff like this. Like, ever.
But yes, this past month, I was on the podcast/radio broadcast of Focus on the Family to talk about my book with Harvest House, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids’ Hearts.
Despite my severe imposter’s syndrome, it was a cool life experience, guys. (If you like this kind of stuff, you might like this post from my FamilyLife Today interviews.)
A few weeks ago, I needed to take my son in to have a couple of teeth extracted.
Can I just say this is not my favorite mom-job?
One (just one) of the problems with writing a parenting book is the whisper spitting in my ear sometimes as I parent my oh-so-real-life teens. Like the one who yelled at me across the lawn this morning. (See? I’m wondering if I should have let you know that.)
Enter the Whisper: And you wrote a parenting book?
This morning my teenagers are peeling themselves out of bed for that oh-so-exciting first school day after Spring Break. And for all us types with less liturgy in our lives, it might actually be easy to let Holy Week slide into that sludgy pile of Great Things I Really Meant to Focus On.
So I’m tossing both of us a low ball here.
If someone ever asked me what surprised me about living in Africa, I’d have a million answers. Nearly every day held in its ebony hands something to learn or figure out or shake my head over: a motorcycle carrying a coffin. A girl made to sell banana pancakes for a dime in a dangerous neighborhood rather than go to school. Birds the color of the sky.
But I could never have known how working and living among and helping the powerless would change me–to the point it’s now a vital spiritual discipline in my book–and quite arguably, in God’s.
As I’ve mentioned, oh, 76 or so times, I have four teenagers in the house. Which means we have very little of some things (leftovers, tranquility, time, clean laundry), and a lot of other things (drama, chips and salsa, deodorant, hormones).
And as the culture around them accelerates to 5G-speed–despite my kids’ lack of a fully-developed frontal lobe–my husband and I are working hard to keep communication open.
A few months ago around the dinner table, the topic of conversation landed on what Disney character best described each of us.
My husband was Mufasa from the Lion King; my oldest has always born a resemblance to Cars’ Lightning McQueen, while my second son makes us laugh like Tow Mater (and happens to be going through a Duck Dynasty phase? I digress.) I may have had some references to Mary Poppins, or Ms. Potts from Beauty and the Beast. (Sigh.) The jury’s still out on my daughter (maybe Belle, maybe Lilo).
But my youngest son is a whole lot like Dash from The Incredibles–often seen merely in a blur. Friends have likened him to a cartoon character before, so this isn’t new. He’s also my two-sports-at-a-time kid nearly every season.
So it’s summer, which means family rhythms tend to find their way down the Slip ‘n’ Slide,* right? Between hauling my kids to VBS and a new puppy who’s, like, 72% adorable and 28% pain in the neck (as so many puppies and toddlers are, by God’s design), some of my morning quiet times have done what frozen things do in summer.
But the thing is, when it doesn’t happen I really miss it. And I feel my need for it as I haul my day up by the bootstraps.
Let’s get real. You may be even a little too busy to read this post.
Or maybe you’re tired of picking up things with a lot of pieces. Or trying to find the owner of the toenail clipping on the table. (These have all been me.)
© 2024 THE AWKWARD MOM
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑