Category: Mara Joy

My American Dream

Posted on by Becky

Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m cut out for life with toddlers. Especially when the toddlers randomly ask questions like, “What is the ‘American dream’?”

How would you explain that (on a three-year-old level)?

So I begin rambling, hoping something I say will make sense to her on some level and hoping that whatever makes sense to her actually relates to the American Dream.

“Well, first of all, in America you get to choose. You can decide if you want to be a doctor . . .  or a trashman . . . or work on computers . . .” I’m trying to think of professions she can relate to here.

“In some countries you don’t get to choose,” I told her. “They just tell you what you’re going to be. They will say, ‘Mara, you’re going to be a trashman.'” I was hoping that was not the profession she had in mind. “But!–in America, you get to choose. . . ”

Although that was not the end of my American Dream explanation, I stopped, because all of sudden, her whole face lit up.

I thought for sure she had decided to be a princess–or Emily Elizabeth–or Tosta or Donna Eiseland (her imaginary sisters).

But she surprised me: “I get to choose being a mother!” she exclaimed. “I just . . . want to be a mother.”

My heart melted. I wanted to capture for all time this memory: the softness of her sparkling eyes at that moment, her voice full of meaning, and her smile–the sweetest smile. Ever.

I was about to cry, but I held the tears back. (She’s asked me to explain the “happy tears” concept before too.–She doesn’t get it.)

So I just kissed her on the forehead and said, “You made my day, Mara!”

Then she exclaimed again, “Tomorrow I’m going to make Daddy’s day if I tell him that I want to be a mother. I would just LOVE to be a mother! . . . Annnd if you choose to be a trashman? that will make MY day! . . . ” This left me wondering what on earth she thought of my mothering skills, until she changed her mind: “I would like Micah to be the trashman. Micah, do you choose to be a trashman?”

Thankfully he didn’t. He just stared at her blankly, and characteristicly Mara continued, “I would love to be a food-er mom!”

“What’s a food-er mom?” I asked.

“Youuuu know! I would give us food.” She looked a little sheepish because I was laughing. “I would serve us food for dinner! I would be a server-mom!” she kept trying to explain.

By this point I was laughing pretty hard.

————

“I get to choose being a mother! I just want to be a mother.”

Me too, sweetheart. Me too.

And in that moment, I realized–I’m living my American Dream.

The Flower Girl

Posted on by Becky

I’ll apologize in advance. I planned my “Wordless” Wednesday pictures, but then somehow, I had to journal a little bit . . .

We were in my sister’s wedding together–Mara and I. I was the matron of honor. She, the flower girl. For days afterwards, she referred to me as “The Maid of Honor.”

“I would like to sit by The Maid of Honor,” she would say, as if I were The Queen of England. She told everyone she saw–from three-year-old friends to our retired neighbors next door to the pediatrician–that she was “The Flower Girl,” insinuating that she was The One and Only Flower-Girl-Princess, Most Beautiful.

It was the highlight of her little life!

She walked down the aisle with the handsome ringbearer, Connor–who, yes, is precisely airborne in the picture. (Being in the bridal party–and a mother of three preschoolers related to the bride–limited my ability to capture these moments the way I would have liked. I missed a lot of good pictures that day!)

But I wanted to share my few snapshots of The Flower Girl. Special thanks to Grandpa (my dad) for the final snapshot in this sequence!

During the couple’s first dance at the reception, my dad looked at his daughter, the bride. His eyes brimming with tears, he said to me, “She’s all grown up now, isn’t she?”

I nodded, and as I looked down at my little girl, I couldn’t help fast-forwarding 20 years . . .

A Glimpse of the Future? Little Disciples Multiplying?

Posted on by Becky

My daughter Mara Joy has always been quite the conversationalist. And as the oldest child, she and I have always talked about everything.

So early on, I talked to her about God’s love for her and told her that Jesus died for her on the cross. We read Bible stories together most every day, and over the past two months or so, she has asked more and more questions and expressed her desire to go to heaven and be with Jesus. She’s asked me how she can stop doing bad things. She has told me how much she loves God and wants to obey Him. So she and I have recently had many conversations about the foundational truths of the Gospel.

Micah is also a little conversationalist–It’s just that I can’t understand 90% of his jabber yet! Plus his attention span is much shorter. His questions much less complex. In fact, while he often asks to pray (several times throughout the same meal and other random times), I don’t know that He’s ever said ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’ at all. I have often prayed for him, told him how much God loves him, and how I pray that he will grow to be a man that loves God more than anything else. But I don’t think I’ve shared the Gospel with him in a deeper way.

That’s okay–his sister did! The other night at dinner, I just listened to this (one-sided) conversation between my three-year-old daughter and her 20-month-old brother:

“Jesus loves you, Micah, and He died for you on the cross. And we want you to love God and obey God, but you do lots of bad things. But God will still love you, even though you do bad things.”

I don’t know how much (if any) of this Micah was really comprehending, but I was amused that her intensity in conversation was matched by his intensity in expression: his jaw literally hung open as he sat there in his high chair, listening to her soliloquy.

“This is really important, Micah,” she finished.

Up until this point, I sat silently, wondering how she would explain these truths, and marveling at the ease with which she shared them.

Then Mara turned to me: “I told Micah all about God. And I started with the Bible.”

Today the Lord encouraged my heart that perhaps someday He will use my little “disciple” to reach others for Him!  I pray that these truths will be real in Mara’s heart–not just reciting things she’s heard–and that her life (along with her words) will continue to point her younger siblings to Christ!

Bedrest Moments I’d Just as Soon Forget. . .

Posted on by Becky

Although I’m a long-time MckMama and Stellan follower, I’ve never before participated in “Not Me! Monday.” But now that I’ve been on bedrest for a month and a half, there are some blog posts in which the only way to save any remaining dignity is to participate in this meme.

It seems almost impossible for me (as a mom of a 3yo and 19 month-old) to coordinate (from my “manager’s office” in bed) everything that needs to be happening for this young family. And we are blessed with the best of help.

But life happens. So for now, stuff continually falls through the cracks. I’m desperately trying to be okay with that, for my own sanity, and so my family can stand to live with me.

Which is why I need to be okay with my son wearing his shoes on the wrong feet or wearing a shirt too small, with sleeves that barely reach his elbows, or pants too long that continually drop to the floor. . .

And why I have to be okay with snowy footprints people have tracked in on the hardwoods (I can’t mop) and crumbs all over the dining room floor after lunch (I can’t sweep) and toys everywhere (I’m not supposed to squat or bend down)!

But, despite the fact that in the moment this stuff seems so overwhelming, when I stop to really think, it’s actually rather mundane–not incredibly blog-worthy–just part of bedrest life.

So while I want to say ‘not me,’ I really just need to “Deal!” as my three-year-old tells me.

Last week though, I experienced a genuine “Not Me!” moment. The kids’ baths have been falling through the cracks. This is one I have trouble dealing with. It’s basic toddler hygiene, you know. And one of those things they just can’t do for themselves yet.

One morning, from my bedrest post on the couch, I caught a whiff of my three-year-old daughter and called to my husband (from the living room to the kitchen). “Daniel! Mara stinks—like poop! It’s been six days since the kids have had baths now!” I’m sure my voice was a bit edgy, since I was already annoyed about the whole bath thing. As soon as I said it, I knew I had made a big mistake.

My poor poor child looked completely dejected and deflated, as she spoke in a hushed voice, “I don’t ‘stink–like poop’.”

Then Mara picked up her phone to call her imaginary friend (Tosta) who apparently sleeps on the twin bed in her room, when there are no guests staying with us.

“Hi, Tosta,” she said. “My mom and dad say I ‘stink like poop.’–I don’t ‘stink like poop’! . . . I need your help, Tosta. . .  Please help me. Bye.”

She pressed the button to end the imaginary phone call, glancing at me with hurt in her eyes.

I did not know what to do or say. It was true! I wished I hadn’t said it, but now I couldn’t take it back. So I just hugged her and told her she would have a bath today, and she would smell nice after her bath.

Then I walked into the kitchen and collapsed (crying) in my husband’s arms. . . .

Surely I’m not the mom whose kids went six days without baths.

Surely I’m not the mom who yelled through the house in front of her daughter that she stunk like poop!

Surely my daughter isn’t the one who has to call her imaginary friend for support when Mom insults her . . .

A definite “not me” moment.

Bedrest: With Toddlers

Posted on by Becky

My three-year-old, adding a whole new dimension to Mom’s “bedrest”

My 19-month-old son, making a call to Dad

(who–lucky for Mom–is working from home today).

Son needs to explain his missing pants and missing shoe

. . . and how all those Pampers escaped from their box.

For More Wordless Wednesday, hop over to Five Minutes for Mom. And if you’d like some tips for having fun with toddlers while on bedrest, check out my previous post “Doing Fun Things With Mommy on Bedrest.”