Monkey See, Monkey Do

Yesterday, I introduced the first of the
 2 things
I had to learn about
 raising my adorable monkeys.

#1 They have a sin nature.

I called this,
Monkey Be, Monkey Do.

Monkeys don't need to see to do,
monkeys do because monkeys are.

However, in addition to their own sin nature,
our kids have another downfall to their behavior.

Thus, we venture on to point #2.

2. Their parents have a sinful nature. 
( I included my husband because I don't want to take all the blame. )

Even with the new nature that comes through salvation,
the old man still shows up.

I have a temper.

I am not always kind.

Sometimes I gossip.

 I harbor bitterness in my heart.

I can be a bad example.

A memory from my early years  in parenting still sears my heart.

I was frustrated with something and slammed a kitchen cupboard door.
Really hard.
Really, really, hard.

The sturdy wood made a resounding bang that soothed my ruffled soul.

It felt good, until my little precious toddler waddled over to the same cupboard door,

slammed it, then looked up to me with a few-toothed smile, waiting for my approval.

Instead, she broke my heart.

I wondered how I would survive parenting

when I couldn't even survive my own sinful self.

Twenty years later, I'm still wondering.

Only now, I live in a house where the cupboards are plastic and pressboard,

and when I slammed a drawer shut soon after we moved in, it broke.

My husband has fixed it several times,

but the awkwardness of the drawer and the dried dripping glue

is an ugly insight into to my own soul.

I have grown, but not enough.

But, lest we become discouraged and throw ourselves down in disgust,
there's hope,

it's called forgiveness.

The Lord doesn't call perfect people
to become parents,
He calls parents
to become perfect people.

The book of James explains we become perfect through trials.
That's why the same things happen over and over.
We face it until we conquer it.

It's a hard job,
being a sinner
raising sinners
to not sin
against a holy and mighty God.

Isn't it wonderful
our holy and mighty God
helps us not sin
while raising sinners
to not sin?




Sometimes, it means confessing sin.

Sometimes, it means apologizing to our children.

Sometimes, it means confessing to our husbands and asking for prayer.

Sometimes, it means asking an older woman for help, encouragement, advice.

As we deal with our sin,
we teach our children how to deal with theirs.

If we try to gloss over it and blame it on hormones or lack of sleep,

we'll teach them to do the same.

If we harm relationships and don't heal them,
we'll teach them to do the same.

If we don't forgive others when they sin against us,

we'll teach our children to not forgive us when we sin against them.

So, there's hope,
there's joy,
 there's a way to bring
 the Lord glory in all our failings.

 

As our precious little monkeys
see us
turn to the Lord for forgiveness and strength,
they will
do
the same thing.


Because Monkey See, Monkey Do.

Monkey Be, Monkey Do

We say

"Monkey See, Monkey Do"

 when we're admiring our clever children

mimicking a behavior they witnessed.

We also  say
"Monkey See, Monkey Do"

when we blame other kids for wrongly influencing our darlings' behavior.

It took me a few years to understand 2 things clearly
about raising my adorable little monkeys.
Monkeys don't always have to see to do.

 

1. They have a  sin nature.

Psalm 51:5

"Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
And in sin my mother conceived me."

Some behaviors are learned, some acquired, but the nature of sin begins at birth.

Since Adam and Eve sinned in the garden,

all mankind has been born with the same fallen nature.

 

In other words, the monkeys don't always have to see because

"Monkey Be, Monkey Do."

 

Theologically, I believed in the sin nature, but I didn't understand.


I was surprised when my adorable babies grew up
and were selfish, had tempers, pouted, stole, hit, bit and refused to share toys.
I thought the better Christian I was, the better parent I would be
and the better my children would be.
Actively pursuing the Christian faith only took care of MY sin nature, not theirs.

 

One day my husband came home to a disillusioned, sad, stressed-out mother.
I was down that my kids were SO naughty.
As I related the struggles of the day, he looked at me and simply said,
 "They're just doing their job. They're sinners."

It was an epiphany.
 I expected my kids to be good and was disappointed when they weren't.
So, if their job was to sin,
my job was to train, instruct, correct and love them.

Changing behavior won't happen overnight.
It won't be easy.
Some kids may struggle with an area of sin their entire life.

Until the spirit of God indwells them through salvation
that comes through faith in Christ, and gives them power over sin,
it's our job to help them navigate those struggles.


They can graciously learn,
just because they  be, they don't have to do.




~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tomorrow, we'll talk about the 2nd lesson I learned ~
that one about who the monkeys are imitating the most.

 

Training Toddlers to be Teens

On Friday, I blogged my heart.  Why is Mothering so Hard?

On Saturday, I read a blog from a wonderful mom of four young kids who had one of THOSE days.  You know those days, when little fingers get into so many things, you don't have time to recover from one episode, before another drama unfolds before your eyes?  Those days when you wonder how someone not able to even speak in sentences can render you into the same condition.  Yea, one of those days.

Her blog made me miss little kids so much, it took me a few minutes to remember the overwhelmed feeling that often accompanied those little blessings.

I still have those days, but not with those kind of trials.
My kids now read books, not just throw them off the shelves or eat them.

My children no longer unwind a whole roll of toilet paper just for fun.  Not saying they've mastered hanging a roll of toilet paper, but I haven't seen this scene for years.

The kids are driving larger, more expensive vehicles we have to insure and fill with gas.  Road rage is absolutely NOT tolerated.

I miss little kids.  Having a "baby" who's 8 going on 24 is not the same as being the mom of a baby or a toddler. I love my kids at every stage, but I miss those early years.

I miss little problems.  I miss the simplicity of wiping up spills and putting away a bajillion Legos for the kajillionth time.  At the time these problems seemed so hard, and they were, but now seem so simple compared to the situations we face now.

As I look back on those early years, there is more than just love of little ones tearing at my heart.  There's regret.  I didn't completely understand what I was doing.

I loved what I was doing.  I planned to be a mom.  I prayed faithfully.  I studied the Bible.  I asked older women questions.  I was in my element, serving in the career I had chosen - MOTHERHOOD.

But, somehow, I missed out on some important aspects of parenting.  I didn't understand the small problems, like spilled milk,  were preparing me for larger problems.

I also didn't understand I needed to handle my children's small problems in a way that would build trust and confidence so they'd come to me with their bigger problems. Over reacting and ungodly anger can prove inability to handle their problems.  If you're faithful in little issues, you'll be prove faithful in larger issues.
Do you want your teenager to come to you and confess the true details of how they dented your car? Be patient and gracious now when they tell you how they broke your glass or your vase.  Yes, they still might be reprimanded  for playing ball in the house, but they have to know you value their right standing with the Lord and their safety more than your possessions.

Do you want your teenager to come to you and discuss all friendship/relationship problems? Begin now training their relationship skills and your listening skills in dealing with their sibling confrontations.  Hear both sides.  Teach them to confess and ask for forgiveness.  Let them know that nothing they tell you will freak you out.  Allow them to entrust their relationship problems to you.

Do you want a teenager to admit to their weaknesses?  Don't deride and rail on them for their weaknesses as children.  Have a bed wetter or one hard to poddy train?  Be patient.  Be encouraging.  Be supportive.  Even when you have washed the bedding for the third night in a row, bite your tongue. Do you have a child prone to stealing?  Lying?  The goodness of God leads to repentance, deal with them with firmness and a determination to find the truth, but in a spirit of grace and not offended anger. But, let them trust you with their weaknesses.

Picture how you want your children to act as teenagers and young adults.  Then trace backwards to the stage they're at now.  Pray for wisdom, and ask the Lord to show you how to root out sin in their life, teach them to apply the Word of God to their weaknesses and help them grow into that godly young adult you envisioned.

I Thessalonians 5:14

"Now we exhort you, brethren,

warn those who are unruly,

comfort the fainthearted,

uphold the weak,

be patient with all."

Motherhood, despite having those days, is still the best job I've ever loved.

TWIST and SHOUT!

There is an old saying

 "many hands make light work."

This is true.

There is a Momma Mindy saying,

"Many hands make heavy work."

This is also true.

A dual income mother of two kids once very nicely accused,

"They say parents just have a lot of kids to do their work."

The Lord gave me a gracious answer.

"Did it ever occur to you that if I didn't have so many kids,

I wouldn't have so much work to do?"

In a big family there is a lot of work to do,

so everyone learns to pitch in.

That's part of the blessing,

 kids helping out.

That is part of the trial, too,

kids helping out.

Mothers might redefine the word

"help"

when kids step into the laundry room.

I've had white things turn pink,

my clothes shrunk until they fit Rebekah,

 and stains set in because they were thrown into the dryer.

 

I have also had the

help

of a pen exploding in the dryer.

Yea, it made it through the washer just fine,

but the heat and the tumbling of the dryer caused an explosion.

To remove the hurled blue spots,

I tried alcohol,

I tried finger nail polish remover,

I tried Goo Gone,

I tried De Solve It -

nothing worked.

I let it dry for a few days,

then tested it with a load of towels,

and it was fine.

A few years later and the dryer is still going strong,

blue streaks and all.

My recent

help

occurred when someone eagerly and quickly slammed the dryer shut

and caught just one little corner of a shirt.

It mangled half the load together in a tangled, twisted mess.

It gave a new meaning to the words...

TWIST

and SHOUT!

(I didn't shout, but the kid who opened the dryer did - in surprise!)

When those many hands try to make light

of the heavy load of work they've created,

I walk a tightrope.

I can't fall onto the side of criticizing them so much they stop trying.

I also can't fall onto the side of thanking them so much,

I fail to point out the errors they need to overcome.

So, I give encouragement for their service,

gently point out their errors,

 and sincerely thank them.

Then, I hide my laundry from their

help.

I think I'd rather have their help in the kitchen.

SH!!! Mom's on the PHONE!

Why is it that by the time I figure out the rules of parenting,

it's too late to apply them?

Too late schmart,

I will share my late-bloomed wisdom with you.

Arencha' lucky?

For years I maintained the rule,
"You come when I call.

I will only call once."

Sometimes, my kids were hard of hearing,

other times they were hard of obeying.

It took diligence and discipline to train them to come when I called

the

first

time.

The rule saves yelling.

It saves getting annoyed.

It saves time.
It teaches prompt and pleasant obedience.
(It teaches Mommy to be pleasant, too.)

If you can train a dog to heal,

shouldn't you be able to train a child to come?

The other day I was on the phone.

It was an important call.

It was another adult with a writing opportunity.

It was the kind of call that mandates silence in the background.

The kind where you want the kids on another planet.

It never happens that way, does it?

The importance of the call only escalates the noise level 

and the proximity of the kerfuffle to your phone.

They're just suddenly there and loud

and there in your face

and there under your face
and there breathing unbrushed-teeth breath in your face.

Then, they become blind.

They can't see your pointing fingers,

your eyes boring holes in their scalps,
your eyebrows creating one angry-unibrow,

your lips over-exaggerating threats you'll never carry out.

They know they have you captive.

You have to be nice,

you're talking to another grown-up.

So, my inspired genius occurred while I was hearing

thumping and wacking up and down the hallway outside my bedroom.

I know the sound of sibling smacking sibling,

I know the sound of fake cries to get the sibling in trouble,

I know the sounds of hushed, forced apologies,

as the tale-bearing, heel-thumping, self-righteous indignation
pounds closer and closer to my door.
I know the sounds of whispered yells,
"SH!  Mom's on the PHONE!"
projected at greater decibals than the original infraction.

This is when I realized my utter failure.

 I instructed and disciplined,

training them to come when I called the first time.

What I should have done,
is picked up the phone instead of calling them,
holding it in my never-manicured hand,
knowing they would come running
and breathe their unbrushed-teeth breath in my face.

Next, I should have whistled

and made them stand at attention like those Von Trapp kids.

Then
and
only then
should I have made my phone call.

Oh,  I'm too late schmart.

WH-I-I-I-I-I-NING

In my vast experience in parenting, 21 years and 8 months today, I have endured a great amount of whining, fussing, complaining, begging, demanding and pleading from my six children. To combat their weapons of self-interest and self-absorption, I established a few simple rules. I did have their higher interests in mind, but also my sanity was at stake. Like fingernails to a chalkboard, whining can drive a parent into a state comparable to their child's. While child training, I had to maintain my maturity so they would live long enough to achieve theirs.

momma mindy's rules for no whining

1. NO means NO. I do not change my mind. Sometimes this was as much to remind myself as my children. I knew I had to carefully examine the question before me and make a wise, firm decision, then stick to it. Giving in only once weakens your credibility and your own resolve. If they win once, they will continue to badger, knowing that you might change your mind.

2. If you ask you can't have. This was for those many years of grocery shopping when I was required to take all the children with me. Treats were purchased because I WANTED to reward them for good behavior, not purchased as bribery to stop bad behavior.

3. My ears didn't hear words that were accompanied with whining or without proper manners. I would gently cup my hand to my ear to remind them that my ears weren't hearing and they needed to repeat correctly.

By diligently following these simple rules, I tried to be a consistant parent who didn't train a child to whine by conceding to their antics.

Imagine my surprise when a whining session interrupted a lovely Mother/Daughter Expedition to downtown Seattle. I had treated all four daughters, ages 6 to 21, to a treat at Starbucks because I WANTED to, not because they asked, and we were sipping and chatting in a very should-be-blogged-about moment.

Our tranquility was shattered with an unthankful, whining beg.

"M-aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-m, can I please have a cupcake?" (Don't they know yet that the longer it takes for them to say your name, the higher the likelihood that you will deny their request?)

"No." I said it firmly and confidently.

"Please, I need one. They look so good. Look at them, all full of frosting, don't YOU think they look delicious?" (Don't they know that a mother knows the difference between a need and a want, and their inability to discern the difference further increases their chances of denial?)

"No." I was NOT going to change my mind.

"Please, please, PLEASE!" Folded hands, poochy lips were starting to be dramatically added to the request, but my backbone was like steel. By now, the six-year old was warmed up. She sat forward on her chair a little, leaning forward, totally engaged.

She continued watching, smugly knowing her older sister was NEVER going to get that cupcake. I refused to answer. I allowed a dramatic pause, then gave the perfect mother lecture.

"You know that we are cutting down on sugar in this family. Because I have had cancer, your chances of getting cancer are increased. You know cancer feeds on sugar, and I am trying very hard to cut it out of my diet and decrease your intake." With barrels blazing, I continued on, mistaking the glint in her eye for wise acquiescence. "I need you to support me in this. I need to have the family behind me."

My soliloquy of wisdom only fed her desire, like sugar to cancer.


"But, M-AW-AW-AW-AW-AW-AW-AW-M, my cancer really, really, really needs that cupcake!"