Clean It Up

Company is coming from far away.
Mom says, "Let's clean up this house!"
Everyone scatters their separate ways,
The kids are suddenly quiet as a mouse.

There's 10 pairs of shoes in the living room,
And the legos are covering the floor.
Someone please help this tired momma,
I can't take this mess anymore!

The big kid's room was not so bad,
Now that the trap set takes up all his space.
He was done in a mere twenty minutes,
And then flaunted it right in his brother's face.

The little guy, on the other hand,
Is a little less clean when he plays.
If I made him stay until he was finished,
He wouldn't have come out for over 5 days.

The floor needs mopped, and the toilet needs scrubbing.
The kids really aren't volunteering.
I understand, I was a kid once too,
But is that really fighting I am hearing?

Time for mom to get a bit creative,
And initiate a fun little plan.
Every negative word equals a cupboard to clean.
Neither of the boys were really a fan.

But the boys began to change their attitudes,
And became a little less mean.
So either we will have polite behavior,
Or my kitchen will be very clean!

Boys

I have been told that raising boys is easier than raising girls.

Cheaper too.

So far, I can't argue with cheaper. My boys don't need or want 50 pairs of shoes.  Haircuts are cheaper. Clothes are not a major issue with them. No headbands, hair bows, make up, or purses. Anything we have spent on the boys up to this point, we could have just as easily spent on a girl.

It's the "easier" part that I am not so sure about.

Just now I asked the boys what they were doing.

Them:  "We are playing a way better version of Rock, Paper, Scissors."

Me: "Oh yeah?  What is it?"

Them: "It's called Sword, Fist, Gun."

Awesome.

That pretty much sums up one category of raising boys.  A peanut butter sandwich is formed into a gun.  A stick becomes a sword. Popsicle sticks for "craft time" are taped together to become a knife.

{Sigh.}


Earlier this morning, I was cleaning out the coat closet by our front door.  Sometimes I find very interesting treasures in places such as these.  Today's treasure? Dirty underwear.  In the coat closet.  I.do.not.want.to.know.why.


Yesterday I found this.

  

There have been many moments when I would have thought my son grew up watching Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor on Home Improvement (More Power!).  Here's proof.  That is one seriously amazing turbo booster.  He is now able to fly to the moon in that shirt. 

He has a blue shirt just like this with a super hero cape (an old towel) attached with velcro.

I wish I were kidding.

Helpful hint: Velcro does not come off once it is stuck to the writing on a t-shirt.

The past two days my youngest has been outside for many hours playing with a snake.  

Yesterday he walked into the house to ask for a drink of water and was HOLDING THE SNAKE IN HIS HAND.

I am not exactly sure what my response was, but I think the neighbors might be able to tell me.  It may have gone something like, "GET.THAT.THING.OUT.OF.HERE.RIGHT.NOW!"

I do realize that I cannot claim all of these things as only "boy issues".  I know a pretty amazing girl who could out-snake-charm my son any day.

I still hold strong to my claim: Raising boys is not easy.  They answer deep, conversational questions with words like "fine" or "good" or "I don't know".  They never want to shower or brush their teeth. They want to wear the same clothes four days in a row.

I do not understand these things.

But, I can deal with them. And if I'm really honest, I would much rather throw a football around the yard than play with dolls, and shooting baskets in the driveway is much more appealing than playing dress-up.  There is probably a good reason God gave me boys.

A recent conversation with a friend made me realize that there is something about raising boys that terrifies me more than snakes, dirty laundry, and smelly bedrooms.  It is the fact that the world desperately needs more honorable, respectable, godly men. This world needs men who will cherish their families, stand up for what is right, and spend time with their children; men who will be leaders in their churches, their homes, and their workplaces. 

This is not a slam on males in any way.  It is also not an excuse for women to sit idly by and expect a guy to do everything.

But the role of a man...of a husband...a father...a grandfather...is so, so important.

Anyone can raise a "boy".

My prayer is to raise godly men.  

And, in the mean time, to keep my house snake-free.

Entitled

The other day I read an article about youth sports, which sparked a blog post about MAYB basketball.  Yesterday I read "9 Things We Should Get Rid of to Help Our Kids", which got me thinking about entitlement.

en·ti·tle·ment
noun \-ˈtī-t^əl-mənt\ : the condition of having a right to have, do, or get something
: the feeling or belief that you deserve to be given something (such as special privileges)


I have struggled with this topic for many years...at least eleven years, seven months, and twenty-four days...which is when my first child was born.

Granted, my baby did not arrive with an attitude of entitlement, per se.  Complete dependency, yes.  Entitlement, no.

But it sure didn't take long. No one sets out to teach kids to be selfish; that seems to come on its own in their individual little sin natures. However, I do have to wonder if we as parents play a fairly large role in creating this sense of entitlement.  How is it that children think the world revolves around them if we have not done something to create that environment for them? I know when I look at our schedules and the responsibilities our children have (or do not have), things have not turned out quite as I had originally envisioned. They may not admit it or realize it, but they definitely feel a sense of entitlement in certain areas of their lives.

And then I realized it's not just the kids.

Today is my birthday.

Last night I was thinking about how my birthday was just going to be another regular day. Harvest is in full swing, there is a combine to fix (I, of course, will not be doing that!), and that there will be no real "birthday feel" to the day.

Then at  3:22 this morning, my son came upstairs feeling like he was going to be sick.  My first thought was, "Seriously? Happy birthday to me..."

And then it hit me.

Entitlement.

There is someone having a birthday today who does not have enough food to eat.
I have more than enough.

There is someone having a birthday today who has no place to live.
I have a house bigger than I really need.

There is someone having a birthday today who is sitting in a hospital right now hoping their child will survive.
I have two wonderful, relatively healthy children.

There is someone having a birthday today who longs to be loved by someone special.
I have an amazing husband.

There is someone having a birthday today who is grieving the loss of a parent, a sibling, or a close friend.
I have lost none of these.

And I had the nerve to sit there and be concerned about the fact that the day would have no "birthday feel" to it?

Frankly, we are entitled to nothing.

We have been given life by God to share with one another, to care for each other, and to have relationship with Him. He offered the greatest sacrifice and the greatest gift on the cross that anyone could ever offer.

I am not entitled.

I am forgiven, I am loved, I am blessed.

And as hard as it would be at the time, I would still be these things if we were faced with great crisis, as many people are on a daily basis.

May we continually think less of ourselves, more about others, and most about the One who gave us life in the first place.

Movin' On Up

We've progressed.

Not in the area of picking up dirty laundry, turning off the light when we leave a room, or cleaning off the table without being asked.

Oh no, none of those things.

We've progressed from this....

 

To this.

 

It is loud.

Well, that is not true.

It sits silently minding its own business until my son enters the room.  

Then the house shakes.

I love music, but I have never quite understood the need for ALL those cymbals.  Even the guy we bought the set from said he didn't use them all.  The one on the left of the picture that is shaped differently underneath? That one sounds like a gong.  My sons have invented their own version of The Gong Show, which they have never seen in their lifetime.

It is delightful.

We told our son that if we bought this, that we expected participation in the school band, the praise team, church services, and a college scholarship out of the deal.

He thought we were serious.

We had a good laugh over the whole thing.

In reality, what we should have done is made him sign a contract to provide hearing aids for us for the rest of our living days to compensate for the hearing loss he is causing. 

In spite of all the noise, I still prefer this to any other instrument. A wrong "note" (beat) when practicing drums is so much better than a squeaky clarinet or a blaring trumpet.

Even if it does take up half the house.

 

MAYB? Maybe....

I just read an article this morning about youth sports in today's culture, the possible overcommitment of kids to athletic programs, and the fact that we may be robbing our children of their childhoods by filling their every moment with athletics.

We have always tried to watch that... we have not sought out traveling teams, we've been hesitant to commit every weekend to a sport, have not wanted to have to miss church for ball games, and on and on.  

Don't get me wrong.  We love sports.  We encourage our boys to play at least a season or two a year, and we have even been known to force the issue when needed.  There was a time when we knew our child would never choose to do anything on his own, but that he really needed to step out and try something or he would watch his entire life pass him by while he stood on the sidelines (not just athletically).

Those were hard moments, but not ones we regret.  He grew a ton mentally, physically, and emotionally through those experiences.

But, in the process, we may have created a basketball-loving monster.

Really, we have had it pretty easy.  Our son is now going into 6th grade, and up to this point, we have stuck mainly with rec ball. It's not like we've had coaches beating down our door, so the decision-making has been pretty easy.

This summer the first MAYB opportunity presented itself. He really wanted to try it.  We discussed the financial commitment, the time commitment...(did I mention the financial commitment?)...and decided it was a good time to give it a try. 

So far he has loved it. 

We've spent two weekends hanging out in the big cities of Kansas, cheering on the boys.

They've won some.

They've lost some.

See that coach's arms straight up in the air?  Even that guy knows that his boys are mauling my son. 

The team is a fun mix of kids.  They come together from three different school districts and two different towns, yet are all intertwined in some way.  Two of the players go to my son's school.  One is in his youth group. One is a life-long family friend.  One he went to preschool with.  Two he has played baseball with.

And these boys love their coaches.  They are a great mix of intensity, fun, competitiveness, and encouragement.  One is a player's dad.  Two are young men who are volunteering out of the kindness of their hearts.  All three are giving up significant personal time to make a difference in these boys' lives.

Two tournaments.

Two medals.

And a whole lot of craziness.

My cautious, timid, introverted 11 year old needs a little more of this in his life.

And me?

I now wash jerseys, Under Armour, and shooting shirts three times a week...typically at 11:00 at night.

And I am funding my chiropractor's family vacations for the next ten years from all this bleacher sitting.

I am officially a basketball mom.