There's a boy in my oldest boy's kindergarten class who has a hard time staying still and has a VERY hard time understanding, "No." He does fine at school now because he's realized there are rules there that have to be followed or there will be consequences. The same is not so for his home life. His grandpa is the one that takes care of him and he takes care of him as most grandparents would. There was an incident about three weeks ago after school. The parents were all on the playground, letting the kids have some free play before we went home. This boy wanted to play a game that involved hitting with my boy and mine didn't want to play. Mine said no and he hit mine to try and egg him into it. Mine said no again and he hit again. This escalated to where mine really wanted to hit in anger which he doesn't dare to do but he was fighting his angry tears. I stepped in and told the boy that mine didn't want to play. He reached around me and hit mine again. His grandfather did nothing. I immediately took my boy home and it escalated after I left. After this incident the head of the department got involved and they've been working with this boy and his grandfather to make changes. That's good, but the kids know it and they are quick to help the teachers know when this boy needs correction.
Today on the playground when it was almost time to go home I noticed my boy was talking to the boy's grandfather. "He hit (one of his classmates) and he lied about it. He's a liar. He always does this..." and on and on and on. I called my boy over only to watch the grandfather walk out in anger and calling for his grandson to come with him. I asked my boy what happened and apparently he had been washing his feet when some incident had happened and the boy was angry so told my boy to take care of it for him which he promptly did. He did not see anything that happened and yet was very willing to give witness to lying and violence.
I told him how my husband had made a mistake at work and was punished for it. That was right, but afterwards he was bullied by his co-workers. Any detail that was out of place was noted and reported. These were things all people did and were not a big enough thing to report for anyone else. It didn't matter how careful he was, they still managed to find something to report him for each day. We were scared he'd lose his job. I told him this is what he and his classmates are doing to this boy. This had him almost in tears. I gave him three rules:
1. He could not take care of things for his friends because they are afraid to do it themselves. He can go with them, but they have to do it themselves.
2. This boy has to commit the same "crime" three times before it could be reported to an adult and each of those three incidents must be accompanied with a, "Please don't do that. I don't like it." or something similar.
3. He could not report anything to any adult other than the teacher or mom. Those adults will talk to other adults if they need to.
He agreed but I didn't know if it sunk in. He looked really sad.. I prayed about it, asking for wisdom to know how to teach him to help this boy and not bully him. I then got a call from my husband and told him what had happened. He said, "Did you praise him?"
"For what?!"
He replied, "He wants justice to happen for those who are picked on. That's good. His methods and ability to see who is being picked on is not completely mature, but he has the right idea."
I went to my boy and praised him for his desire and told him if he'd use the rules I gave him he'd help people get what they really need. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up.
We'll see how things go tomorrow. I think I will ask the teacher to help me keep an eye on his helping others do or say what they are scared to do for themselves. I think I may have to take him off the playground after school for a couple days to let the grandfather cool down.
But that's not the point of this post. My point is that my husband gave me a perspective that I couldn't have seen without him. It was an answer to my prayers. I need him to help me raise these kids and I'm so grateful for him.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Exhausted Gratitude
Exhausted. That's what I told myself this morning. Where has all the energy gone? Where's the ambition? This baby is sucking it out of me. I went to my children's room. It was seven. I found they were already awake.
"Mom, there's poo on my bed." Sure enough two spots of dried poop on his sheets. I thought I'd gotten it all two days ago when I found it on the comforter. I knew then I should have washed everything, but I was exhausted. And now I'd made my son sleep with poo for two nights. Somebody give me the mother of the year award.
I stripped the bed and walked out into our main room to find more evidence of deserving a rewards ceremony. The dinner dishes were still sitting on the dinner table. The coffee table and chairs were skeewompis; evidence that my children had been playing trains while I was passed out in my bedroom the night before. I had woken up just in time to tell them to brush their teeth and go to bed. Then I went back to bed.
I started cleaning, all the time thinking to myself, "I'm exhausted and it's going to be dirty again faster than I can get it cleaned up." As evidence of the fact, my two year old brought his loaded water gun from the bathroom out to our front porch, dumping all the water that was in it in a trail along the way.
I handed out breakfast to my 5 year old and 4 year old as they headed out the door with their dad for kindergarten and preschool. I shook my head at what I was giving them. Chocolate cake for breakfast. Well, no worse than cocopuffs I guess.
My two year old started screaming as soon as they shut the door. He wanted to go too. When would he finally realize that he wasn't going to be going with them when they left in the morning? This daily ritual was beyond old. I picked up my son and mingled my tears with his. This was becoming a morning ritual as well.
Last Sunday the lesson I had prepared to teach our young women (ages 12-18) completely fell apart when the computer wouldn't print the things I needed. I was left to wing a lesson about gratitude. I said a prayer and told Heavenly Father I had tried to prepare but as it was, He'd have to teach the lesson. He did. We read the story of the 10 lepers (Luke 17:12-19). We found together that the grateful leper first praised Jesus from afar and then in the next verse he was at Jesus feet thanking Him. I wasn't there, but in my mind's eye I can see him realizing the miracle and immediately screaming gratitude and running to Jesus where he falls at His feet in exhaustion and tears of gratitude. And Jesus asks where are the other 9? and if I know Jesus (which I'm still working on), He didn't ask because He didn't know. He asked because He wanted us to think about it.
So what have I got to be grateful for that I should be so excited about that it makes me exhausted with the gratitude of it? I held my crying boy tighter and was grateful that he still comes to me when he's sad. I felt the boy in my tummy kick. I guess big brother was crushing him. I looked at the toys, crayons, and art projects cluttering the floor as well as the cake crumbs that ants were already making their breakfast.
Why was I one of the nine? I am tired...because I'm full of new and what is now a healthy life. Housework is monotonous and thankless...but I have a house. I have things, people, and relationships that I feel sad about, but what I've learned from those relationships should be and is more than enough to fill my heart full of the kind of gratitude that may not make me jump up and scream but does make me quiet, thoughtful, and grateful at His wisdom and that He is mindful of me. And the relationship I have with my husband is that kind that makes me want to jump up and scream with gratitude. Life is good and I let me two year old study ants while I mopped up the water.
"Mom, there's poo on my bed." Sure enough two spots of dried poop on his sheets. I thought I'd gotten it all two days ago when I found it on the comforter. I knew then I should have washed everything, but I was exhausted. And now I'd made my son sleep with poo for two nights. Somebody give me the mother of the year award.
I stripped the bed and walked out into our main room to find more evidence of deserving a rewards ceremony. The dinner dishes were still sitting on the dinner table. The coffee table and chairs were skeewompis; evidence that my children had been playing trains while I was passed out in my bedroom the night before. I had woken up just in time to tell them to brush their teeth and go to bed. Then I went back to bed.
I started cleaning, all the time thinking to myself, "I'm exhausted and it's going to be dirty again faster than I can get it cleaned up." As evidence of the fact, my two year old brought his loaded water gun from the bathroom out to our front porch, dumping all the water that was in it in a trail along the way.
I handed out breakfast to my 5 year old and 4 year old as they headed out the door with their dad for kindergarten and preschool. I shook my head at what I was giving them. Chocolate cake for breakfast. Well, no worse than cocopuffs I guess.
My two year old started screaming as soon as they shut the door. He wanted to go too. When would he finally realize that he wasn't going to be going with them when they left in the morning? This daily ritual was beyond old. I picked up my son and mingled my tears with his. This was becoming a morning ritual as well.
Last Sunday the lesson I had prepared to teach our young women (ages 12-18) completely fell apart when the computer wouldn't print the things I needed. I was left to wing a lesson about gratitude. I said a prayer and told Heavenly Father I had tried to prepare but as it was, He'd have to teach the lesson. He did. We read the story of the 10 lepers (Luke 17:12-19). We found together that the grateful leper first praised Jesus from afar and then in the next verse he was at Jesus feet thanking Him. I wasn't there, but in my mind's eye I can see him realizing the miracle and immediately screaming gratitude and running to Jesus where he falls at His feet in exhaustion and tears of gratitude. And Jesus asks where are the other 9? and if I know Jesus (which I'm still working on), He didn't ask because He didn't know. He asked because He wanted us to think about it.
So what have I got to be grateful for that I should be so excited about that it makes me exhausted with the gratitude of it? I held my crying boy tighter and was grateful that he still comes to me when he's sad. I felt the boy in my tummy kick. I guess big brother was crushing him. I looked at the toys, crayons, and art projects cluttering the floor as well as the cake crumbs that ants were already making their breakfast.
Why was I one of the nine? I am tired...because I'm full of new and what is now a healthy life. Housework is monotonous and thankless...but I have a house. I have things, people, and relationships that I feel sad about, but what I've learned from those relationships should be and is more than enough to fill my heart full of the kind of gratitude that may not make me jump up and scream but does make me quiet, thoughtful, and grateful at His wisdom and that He is mindful of me. And the relationship I have with my husband is that kind that makes me want to jump up and scream with gratitude. Life is good and I let me two year old study ants while I mopped up the water.
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