I know my baby.

As we were driving home from church a few weeks ago, my son said from the backseat, “Hey MomMom. I was crying in nursery. Can you say why?” The first thing I thought was, Ok, that was a very mature sentence for a two-year-old. Then I answered back to him, “Why Bub?” He paused then said, “I was crying about you.” …My heart dropped and I flashed back to the tear-streaked moment when I dropped him off in the nursery that morning. I tried to sound totally calm (and not choked up) as I replied, “Oh… because I left you in the nursery?” He answered back matter-of-factly ‘Yeah. You leave and I crying…Sorry MomMom.”

I had to figure this out. We had just spent the last three weeks with me having to stay in the nursery the entire service because he was too scared to be left in there on his own. I figured he just needed to get familiar with the room, so if I had to stay in there a few times, that wasn’t the end of the world. However, I prayed the day would come when I would get to once again resume sitting through a church service without my child crying for me to come save him. The day when he apologized to me for crying was the day I had tried the “ditch and run” in a desperate attempt to get him to see that the nursery was a totally fun place even when mommy wasn’t there. As you know from my previous paragraph, it didn't go so well. 

A week went by and and inevitably, it was Sunday again. This time I tried prepping him a bit more during breakfast. I asked him questions about the nursery and talked about the helpers who are his “friends”. I even pulled up an episode of Daniel Tiger singing the “Grownups Come Back” song. We sang it together and as he nodded his head along to the tune I thought, Oh I hope he is getting this. I so hope he is getting this. 

We walked into church with his hand in mine, and as soon as we neared the corner for the nursery he threw himself behind my legs and began crying. I could tell this was not a show he was putting on. This was not a fake cry. He was committed and he wasn’t going to give up. I smiled at the nursery staff and quietly walked in with him. As we slowly strolled around looking at the toys, I kept trying to peel him off me and get him interested in playing with something. After a few minutes, one of the volunteers came over to me and very kindly said, “Would you like me to just scoop him up so you can leave?” It was a very sweet gesture, and as I smiled at her I said, “Thank you for offering, but I think it will work best for him if I just take it slow and let him ease into it.”

It ended up taking about 20 minutes before he finally started to venture a few feet away from me. Every time he took a step away from me I took a step closer to the door. I made eye contact with one of the volunteers and mouthed “If he cries for more than five minutes you can page me”. I then followed with a thumbs up and made my great escape out the door. I told myself I had to walk away and go sit in the service. He would be fine. They would page me if he needed me. 

Minutes passed and I slowly started to relax in my seat. As the final song wrapped up, I couldn’t deny that I was excited to be reunited with my boy. When the check-in volunteer brought him out to me, his face lit up and I swear I even saw pride in his eyes. He had made it through and he knew it. The second he was close enough to me, he launched himself into my arms and began babbling about what he had played with and who he had talked to. As we turned to leave, the woman who had offered to help scoop him up pointed at me and said, “Now that’s a mom who knows her son.” I froze for a second and then flashed her a huge smile. For the next few hours her words kept resonating in my mind. I couldn’t quite figure out why it had made me feel so happy. As I continued to reflect on her words of affirmation I finally realized…it was touching me so much because it was one of the best compliments I've ever received. 

To know someone, truly know them, is a beautiful thing. From the moment my babies were born, I have given everything I am to learn who they are. God has created two completely different children for me to raise. I want to know what makes them laugh so I can delight in their giggles. I want to learn what makes them feel safe so I can provide security for them. 

I want to know them so I can be the mom they need me to be. My daughter ran into the nursery on her own the very first day and didn’t even say goodbye to me. She didn’t need me in that way. Emmett did. 

But most importantly, above all else, I want to know them so that I can teach them about God in a way that will connect with their own extraordinary heart. Because that, right there, is everything. They will each have unique ways in which they feel God’s presence and they will have their own individual passions that God has given them. I want to know my children so I can connect with their heart. For this woman to spend 20 minutes with me and Emmett and walk away from that saying, “That’s a mom who knows her son,” …that’s everything to me. 

Everything I have been trying to do from the moment he was born…is know him. 

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Have you had a child who struggled with separation anxiety? Got any tips for me because I'm sure this won't be the last time he has a cryfest about me leaving him somewhere haha! 

Respond using the comment section below OR find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic and comment there!

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Blessings,

Shantastic

My Babies Have a Pet Alligator

So…I totally lied to my kids (by accident).

We moved into a new house back in September and our yard now backs up to a very small pond. When people have come over to see our new house, the very first question they ask is, “Doesn’t the pond make you a little nervous with the kids?” 

Of course, it does a little. But, they are still so young that we NEVER let them go outside by themselves. Even when we lived in the middle of a neighborhood, if we were playing outside and one person needed to pee, we all went to go pee. Plus, the pond has about a five foot wide layer of thick and spiky weeds, wildflowers, and thistles surrounding it. We knew that the owie-inducing brush would for sure help to be a deterrent and keep them from wanting to explore the pond ‘where the duckies live’. 

But then, as fall approached and the foliage everywhere began dying and wasting away, we realized that the secure layer of “pokey thingies” no longer existed. As I was playing outside with the kids on one of these brisk fall afternoons, I noticed they were getting a little more brave about stepping across the weed/wildflower threshold. I not only wanted them to listen and respect my instructions about not going near the water, but I hate to admit, I did want them to be just a teeny, tiny bit afraid of it. A little healthy fear never hurt anyone right?? (Please tell me I’m right because here comes the part where I turned into a liar with her pants on fire.) 

Really, I blame my daughter. My firstborn who came into this world with a firecracker sizzle would rather give the general concept of authority a big kick in the gut. She wasn’t being swayed by my steady warnings about staying on the grassy side of the yard. I knew that if I really put my foot down and we went through the whole consequences song and dance that we would achieve the same goal, but I was just. so. over it. As she stared me down and began to lift her foot ever so slowly up and over the weed barrier, I quickly blurted out, “Be careful baby. You don’t want to wake up Larry.” She immediately froze with her foot in the air and her eyes grew wide. “Who’s Larry??” she asked with a flash of worry on her face. “Oh hun, he’s the alligator who lives in our pond. He’s pretty cranky so you don't want to get too close to the water and make him mad.” After the words left my mouth I thought, ok, she totally knows I’m kidding right..? This is like that time when she said there was an elephant sitting with us at the dinner table and we all pretended to serve him dinner…Right? 

She slowly lowered her foot back onto the grass/safe side of the yard and then began grilling me with questions about Larry. 

How did he get here? The ducks pick him up and carry him here every spring and then in the fall they bring him down to Florida for the winter

What does he eat? All the food that Emmett wastes (He's a picky eater=lots of wasted food)

Who feeds him? (At night mommy carefully walks down to the pond and sets the food out for him. Larry only likes mommy but even mommy has to be careful because he’s such a cranky alligator) 

After about ten minutes of chatting about Larry I realized, oh my gosh, she totally 100% believes me. So, I decided I would just let it go and assumed that after a few days of not mentioning Larry, he would be lost and gone forever in her little mind. 

Over a week later when Grandma and Grandpa came to visit, Gracie started rambling on about everything that had been happening to her recently. Without any warning, she began reciting EVERYTHING about the alligator who lives in our pond. Even Emmett chimed in with important little details about him. My parents kept glancing at me trying to figure out what in the world she was talking about. I finally just threw my hands up in the air and sheepishly said, “Well..atleast I know they’re scared to go in the water…??” 

Now, months have gone by, Larry went to live in Florida for the winter, and my kids keep asking if the ducks have brought him back home yet. I keep saying, ‘No, not yet.” because I’m trying to decide if he will. Maybe he’ll stay south for the rest of their childhood and instead of using a fake alligator to keep them safe we’ll put up a fence.

Or maybe…I’ll buy a “Beware of Alligator” sign for our backyard.

Have you ever lied to your kids (by accident, of course) ? 

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It’s been exactly one month since I started up the blog again! If you’re here with me, thank you. Starting to write again has been very life-giving (and maybe just a little scary). Sometimes I write about deep and personal revelations I feel God has given me about motherhood, and sometimes I talk about the fake alligator I lied to my kids about. Either way, my brain feels less cluttered by having a place to let my inner-monologue run wild. Thank you for listening. And please don’t underestimate how much I enjoy hearing from you. I don't have to be the one doing all the talking :) 

New: FOLLOW BY EMAIL option on the top right of the page! Just type in your email address. That’s it! It’s super simple to unsubscribe at any point if you change your mind.

Also sort of new: I finally got with the times and joined Instagram! You can find me @TotallyShantastic 

Hugs, love, and onward,

Shantastic 

My Baby is totally a control freak

Date day. That positively glorious moment in time where someone else watches your children so you can have an uninterrupted conversation with your spouse. It’s simply… beautiful. 

A few weeks ago, Seth and I were enjoying one of these miracle days. And to top it off we were doing one my favorite things in the world. Exploring. We had just gotten coffee from a place I had never heard of and as we casually strolled the busy blocks to our next destination, we got to talk to each other. Like actually have an intelligent conversation talk. Sure, we try talking to each other all the time but our two little beings like to make it nearly impossible. Many times our more important conversations have to wait until the kids are in bed for the night. My anecdotes and bits that I think are super clever get interrupted so many times that it’s no longer amusing anymore at all. (Or maybe they were never amusing to begin with…either way, there’s interruption. And that’s annoying) So on this particular date, we got to talk in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY. <magical birds begin chirping and light piano music plays softly in the background>

As we walked and sipped, I can’t remember exactly what I was saying but I was telling some funny story (probably hilarious) about how my daughter is EXACTLY like my husband. Their similarities are so loud and obvious that it’s easy to point them out. He always chuckles and shakes his head because he knows he can’t deny my accusations. 

When I thought about having kids, I naively assumed they would be like me. Even though I know how DNA works, I somehow completely forgot to include my husband into this equation. I think that was partially why I was so surprised by my firstborn aka the most extroverted person I’ve ever met. No, I do not want to talk to every single stranger in the grocery store about your birthday party from FIVE months ago. Seriously, how are you my kid? Grocery stores are for staring at your list and NOT talking to complete strangers. 

But then, right as I thought my jokes to my husband were going to go without rebuttal, he teasingly turned his head toward me and said with a smirk, “You know, you’re always joking about how Grace is exactly like me…but I’m not stubborn, and she is. So where could she have gotten that from, hmm?” I froze in mid-stride in the middle of the sidewalk and just gawked at him with complete surprise. But, as the realization that he was right began to formulate in my brain, my face morphed into a scoffing display of “Well…uhhh. Yeah SO!” After a few more seconds I was able to produce a sentence that said something like, “Well… I can’t really deny that statement because then it will just prove your point that I AM stubborn.” I can’t be stubborn about admitting the fact that I’m stubborn. Dang it. 

After my husband knew he had gotten me, he continued to laugh and said, “You two are more alike than you realize.” I tilted my head as I let that idea slosh around in my brain. Wait a second. Is that why we are always butting heads on everything?? I thought it was because she’s just SO darn particular about EVERY little thing that it drove me nuts. But maybe it drives me nutballs because I too, am particular…about everything. 

Cue the moment when the control freak realizes she has spawned a control freak.

Once this preverbal light bulb went off in my brain it finally shed some light on why we had such a hard time during her toddler years. (See the post about that here --->) She is such a perfectly mixed concoction of my husband and me, but because she is still a child, her traits are unrefined and wild. I’ve learned over the years to tame my controlling tendencies and am now perfect and completely easy to live with. (You know I’m kidding right?) But you get the point. My husband and I have had our whole lives to practice self regulation, self discipline, and learning to let little things go. She, has not. 

I remember once she got so upset with me because I wouldn’t let her bring 5,000 of her toys over to grandma and grandpa’s house. Exaggeration? Maybe. But she really did try climbing into the car with two purses, 3 stuffed animals, a pair of sunglasses, toy phone, toy camera and princess high heels. In a fit of exasperation I told her that she simply could NOT bring that much stuff with her. It was ridiculous. 

However, after Seth very gingerly pointed out that Grace and I have our own similarities too, I caught myself leaving for a family dinner at my in-laws house with my giant owl purse, water bottle, coffee thermos, kindle, crochet needles, yarn, and slippers…crap. All that stuff was important to me to have. Perhaps all her toys were just as important to her. My experience had taught me to simply throw all my things in a large shoulder bag, whereas she was trying to carry everything (and therefore drop everything) with her hands. 

I love her for the things we have in common and for the areas that make me use the scary angry voice in my head. And next time, since I know it’s important to her, I might just have to let her bring all that silly stuff (aka priceless treasures) over to grandma’s. I’ll just be sure to give her a bag first.

Do you have any strangely similar traits with your kid too? Does it make you laugh..or drive you totally crazy?  I started an Instagram account @TotallyShantastic so please connect with me over there or leave a comment below! :) 

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby Doesn't Need a Yacket

Last fall there was one evening where my kids were going absolutely crazy (and so was I). They had been cooped up for too long and their itty bitty bodies just needed openness and fresh air. The weather had abruptly made it’s inevitable transition from brisk to just a bit too chilly for a long-sleeved t-shirt. We had recently moved into a new home so I was frantically running around trying to find their jackets before we ventured outside. I was trying to hurry because these kids needed to get outside. Bad. I found my daughter’s coat fairly quickly (because she has like seventeen of them) and as I handed it to her she said, “Thanks Mom!” and immediately started zipping it up. I stood there for a second and thought, Yes! She’s finally there. We no longer have to fight about her putting on her coat. I hand her the jacket. She puts it on. Yes. This is awesome.

I then turned back to the closet and began to dig a bit more for my son’s coat. Their excited energy about this new outdoor venture was amping up their behavior even more and I could not wait to get them to a space without four walls. Finally, I found his coat and started walking towards him to help him put it on. As soon as he saw me coming he took off running in the opposite direction screaming, “NO! NO Yacket!! No Yaaaaaackeeeeeeet!!” I stayed very calm and collected as I explained, “Sweetie, it’s cold outside so you need to wear a jacket. You don’t want to be cold do you??” I mean, duh, my logic was brilliant. cold=Jacket. But of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. He continued to run away from me and dodge my advances. I finally got ahold of him and pretended to give him a big bear hug. I thought this would lighten his mood and he would then relax into my arms. I seriously underestimated my “go with the flow” son’s ability to stay headstrong about not wearing his jacket. But, I was not going to give up. I have to be a good mom and make my kid wear a jacket, right?? As he began pulling away from my hug I tried to wrangle his arm into one of the sleeves. Surely I thought by this point he would be tired of fighting me on this and just put it on. But no, of course not. He instead elevated his emotions from simple defiance to full on tears. He was definitely upset about this whole jacket thing. I remember vividly he started to get away from my grasp so I shifted my weight just enough to the side and tried to pull him back over. Instead of success, I completely lost my balance and fell over onto the floor. As he took off running down the hallway I just laid there staring at the ceiling, totally out of breath and starting to sweat.

Now, if this had been my firstborn, I would have most definitely gone chasing after her with threats of staying inside for the rest of her life if she didn’t put on her jacket. I would not be disrespected like this!! I would be a good mom and MAKE her wear a jacket!!! She would have started throwing a tantrum and we would have ended the evening with a timeout in her room instead of going outside. So as I laid there on the floor, breathing heavily from my exertion, I yelled out to my husband, “Hey sweetie?! Emmett’s going to go outside without a jacket.” He paused for a second and answered back with a very confused sound in his voice, “…Ok…ummm…why??” I let out an exasperated sigh and exclaimed, “Because, I just realized I’ve been having this same exact fight for two years. I finally got Grace to put on her jacket. Now this one starts giving me grief. I’m out man.”

And you know what I learned? He survived. He was a little chilly but he didn’t really care. And me giving into the jacket fiasco didn’t ruin my position as co-grand master authority figure. It was all fine.  

As I’m learning that the world will not end if I start implementing the whole “choose your battles” philosophy with my son, I’m also noticing that I just straight up want to give in to him more than I did with my daughter. (Yikes, that level of honesty is a bit hard to admit).  Emmett is just a more easy-going, go-with-the-flow kind of person than my daughter. With her, I felt like I couldn’t ever give in because if I did, she would take that and run and never stop. With Emmett he doesn’t fight me as much on ideas and plans, so if he really does dig his heels in about something (that I've already had to deal with for two years) I have a stronger tendency to want to be like, you know what, peace out. Don’t wear your jacket and let’s go play. Also, add in the fact that he’s my answer to a life-long prayer of having a cuddly kid (as I described here "My baby doesn't let go") and I’m just really being hit with a lot here.

I think what it all comes down to though is that I’m simply learning from my previous experience with child number one and applying that to child number two. Do we really NEED to fight for 20 minutes about wearing a jacket? Or can we just go play with chalk and blow bubbles. I’ll be all nice and warm in my sweater cardigan with the fur lining and you’ll be feeling the chilly wind nip your ears. But, life will go on. And maybe next time, you’ll wear your yacket.

Do you find yourself having the same fight but with a different kid? Does it feel never-ending to you too? :) Tell me about in the comments below! I would love to hear it :) (If you don’t have a G+ account just choose the “anonymous” option!)

Blessings,

Shantastic