Ever wonder if you’re doing too much for your kids?
Personality-wise, this is my reality. I am a helper, an empath to a point that it arcs others’ eyebrows.
THE AWKWARD MOM
because uncomfortable conversations are the ones worth having
Category: Parenting (page 2 of 23)
Reading Time: 3 minutes
Reading Time: 4 minutes
A friend asked me a good question in a roundabout way. Let’s say my child is in one of those seasons when they’re hard to love.
…Or even being a jerk.
Reading Time: 3 minutes
One of my (many, many) weirdnesses in parenting my teens has been the fact that every. Single. One of mine is opinionated and fairly strong in personality.
This is weird for me because I was totally the opposite. I was an I-excel-in-being-a-doormat-and-pleasing-the-world teenager.
Reading Time: 4 minutes
There’s always this weird tension for me when summer break splats on our family like an ice cream cone on a sidewalk.
The kids are fatigued, even exhausted, from school. Heck, I’m tired from the school year.
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She gave me a gift that day.
Years ago, my friend and I sat on my back porch in Uganda–no doubt with tea or coffee in hand. I was preparing for our first home assignment, and the forecasted meltdowns of at least one jetlagged child in a crowded plane where everyone would be able to sleep if it weren’t for your kid.
Our youngest would have been three, and 20 hours of flying or so makes full-fledged adults want to throw their own fits sometimes.
My friend’s wise words to me that day: “People expect kids to mess up. It’s how the parents handle it that makes the difference.”
I think of God’s words that it’s his kindness that leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4). If my kid did the limp-body thing in the middle of the aisle, bawling when everyone’s hoping to get off the plane, I can scoop him up and whisper in his ear: I know you’re so tired. We’re almost there.
If he hits a sibling in his exhaustion, I can calmly discipline with a consequence, rather than blowing my own top.
(We discipline differently for rebellion than for childishness, no?)
Their inevitable childishness or outright sin is going to happen, despite my perfectionism, control, or vigilance. But what I do with those invitations to love my kids like Jesus?
That’s my (Holy-Spirit-fueled) choice.
Saw that coming: When your kid acts like a kid
Maybe these don’t feel like a huge “aha” to you. But this jewel folded in my hands has offered me comfort–when, say, the principal called to say my son was caught jumping off the urinals in the school bathroom, trying to touch the air freshener.
Or having teens, when I’m discouraged by choices they make.
But that idea doesn’t just extend me comfort. There’s wisdom in expecting our kids to be childish–or even to be sinners. I mean, God actually prophesied that his kids would screw up.
It prevents me from being as crestfallen when I discover my child spit cherry pits on the floor.
Yet, to quote my mom, I’ve learned to always expect your kids are smarter than you think they are. And I’m not just talking about them understanding a great deal about adult dynamics and conversations in a home. See, they’ll also be crafty at seeking out ways to sin.
I mean, we’ve all been in those conversations where you or a sibling reveal to your own parents what you were actually getting away with in high school.
Don’t get me wrong. Yes: Have lofty hopes and goals for your kids. Don’t water them down or dumb them down.
I believe in the “aim small, miss small” philosophy: If we aim for holiness and perfection in our kids, the consequences of them making decisions off that mark are hopefully far less.
And yet, it’s healthy to totally anticipate they’ll mess up, as sinners like ourselves tend to do. (If we don’t, in our shock that our little angels would do such a thing, we might be prone to shame-parenting.)
So my thoughts are these, when my kid acts like a kid:
- I can expect my child to be a little sinner.
- I can be prepared to act in redemptive, rather than shaming ways–like God acts toward me when I screw up or generally act like a human. (Don’t miss God’s Attachment Love. Your Kid’s Darkest Moment. Your Open Window)
- I can ultimately place my trust in God. He commandeers even my kids’ mistakes for his purposes (check out Genesis 50:20).
So when your kid acts like a kid this week? Don’t miss your chance to show them Jesus.
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Bouncing Back: Helping Your Child Open the Gift of Failure
Reading Time: 3 minutes
A few weeks ago, I needed to take my son in to have a couple of teeth extracted.
Can I just say this is not my favorite mom-job?
I held his hand during the injections, whispered “breathe” through his anxiety.
I remembered my own extractions when I was around his age, and other dental memories which would cause my hands to shake years after. So even getting in the car to take my son demanded some discipline.
When Parenting = Doing Hard Things
Like any of us, I’ve had my share of these moments throughout parenting.
Driving up to Denver for scans to see if my son had cancer. Purchasing the plane tickets for our family’s move back from Africa. Enduring tough conversations with my disenfranchised teenagers in a local Starbucks, swallowing my urge to cry.
Sometimes, my mental image is that of Abraham asking Isaac to carry the wood up the mountain…that Abraham planned to sacrifice Isaac upon. Is it some form of cruelty? I wondered more than once about this story.
But here is what I know.
That wood on that son’s back was a forerunner of another man centuries later, bending beneath the wood to be used for his own sacrifice. In fact, that wood was so heavy and the man so depleted, he collapsed beneath its weight.
God, too, is used to doing hard things for his kids. Because love is brave. It overcomes for the sake of the beloved.
And there’s this: That man not only carried his own wood, he grew it from the ground. God watched as men mined and forged iron into spikes that would plunge into his Son’s wrists and feet, or literally into his Son’s heart. He was there the day some Romans hatched the idea of crucifying criminals.
Not just crosses
But he also shaped the cave that would house Jesus’ body–and the stone that would both seal and unseal his tomb. He grew the garden around the tomb.
God created the means for both his own death and resurrection.
I mean, he also pressed seeds into earth to grow the trees–and their arboreal parents and ancestors–for the boat Jesus would sleep on, then rise from to calm gusts and waves from the weather patterns God had swirled together. He watched as the boat-builders learned and honed their trade.
I’ve learned what I share in this post about walking through a tough season for my son: That God, in orchestrating our suffering, ordains his own.
But he also ordains our resurrection and healing. And triumphs with us there.
Getting into the car together after my son’s procedures, I knew he didn’t just have the makings of a healthier mouth. Like a chick pushing through a shell, he had fledgling muscles he’d developed by doing hard things.
Good people, and good parents, can do that. And a good God does, too.
Lord, we pray we never find ourselves without hope, without a glimpse of the empty tomb each time we happen upon a cross. Help us begin our daily journey expecting both crosses and empty tombs and rejoicing when we encounter either because we know you are with us.
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Bouncing Back: Helping Your Child Open the Gift of Failure
Reading Time: 4 minutes
I was chatting on the phone with my oldest this week about purity culture–which deserves a post on its own. (I have feelings. Big feelings.)
I expressed to him how tough it is as parents, when some of the less-healthy methods of purity culture are subtracted from parenting –I’m looking at you, shame-parenting–to find something as powerful to direct our kids toward good and keep them from what’s truly bad.
“I mean,” he said, “I pretty much always know you loved us no matter what.”
I’m fairly open with all of you that though my blog and book are a lot about parenting–there have been a lot of failure and tears on this end. But that–that felt like a holy moment.
Cut to a conversation my husband and I had this morning. Verbally, I realized aloud that for at least our three older kids, God has handed us some significant life moments that ended up being opportunities for unconditional, all-the-way-in, no-way-out love.
Some of those have looked like big confessions from my kids–and inside me, moments my insides felt ripped from top to bottom. Some of those have been moments like my son’s cancer scare, or learning to cope with learning disorders.
Some were no-contest the lowest moments of my parenting.
But in the rearview mirror, they were openings to speak hesed love to my kids.
All-in Love
I’ve written about hesed before.
The Bible Project’s podcast episode The Loyal Love of God describes God’s hesed love–this steadfast, loyal, generous, merciful love characteristic of God throughout Scripture (think of his love as told through the story of Hosea). It takes literally about 13 English words to describe this one Hebrew word.
Now that I know it’s about 250 times in the Old Testament, I see it everywhere. It’s in the last verse of Psalm 23, translated as mercy: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…
It also means “covenant love.” Paul Miller describes it as “love without an exit strategy.”
But in the podcast, it was news to me that Scripture tells of people who had this brand of love. And when is that steadfast, God-like love most tested?
In pain, in suffering.
When those we’re loving are being unlovable.
Or as loving gets hard and long.
And when people disappoint us or need forgiveness or patience.
God’s Attachment Love
But–and you can tell I listen to podcasts when I’m working out, trying to ignore the fact I would rather be somewhere else–in my newest favorite podcast, Neuro Faith, I heard neurotheologian Dr. Jim Wilder describe hesed as God’s attachment love.
Wilder described a facility where he worked for those who’d undergone mental and emotional trauma. And those most likely to heal were those with healthy attachments and bonding. It’s the kind of connection of a mother or father to a child, gained through trust, and the child gaining trust that the parent will respond, will fulfill what the child needs.
Weary parents of infants: No, your child will never remember this phase of their lives. And if your kids were like mine, lacking even the positive feedback of a smile for the first months (other than gas, I mean).
But take heart: that attachment lays the cement foundation for their attachments and ability to trust throughout life. Those 3 AM feedings and seven-per-day diaper changes and “conversation” with a preverbal infant matter.
And when Dr. Wilder looked for this kind of love in Scripture, he found it in hesed love.
A Peek at What God’s Attachment Love Means for Your Family
The implications for this are huge. But let me boil down a few.
- Even if your parents failed in this area, God loves you with hesed.
- Some of your darkest moments in parenting or marriage or your extended family–that failure of theirs, that fear, that loss that rattles your core–are your windows for hesed love.
- That hesed love shows our kids in their bodies, their own mental health issues, their own sin, the gospel, even before we say a word. It shows them God loves them no matter what. And he will look for them. (You might like the post “I‘ll find you”: What we long to hear.)
- And that means in your greatest areas of shame or loss, God’s hesed is looking for you, too. The Hebrew of Psalm 23:6 implies his hesed hunts us down.
Attachment Love: Questions to Think On
- What events in my child’s life have been open windows to show hesed love?
- Which of my kids could especially use an experience God’s hesed love right now? Why?
- What circumstances/open windows in my kids’ lives right now are opportunities for hesed love? What could it look like for me to show that love in ways that would most connect with my child?
P.S. A Brief Word about Attachment Disorders
I’m largely uneducated about attachment disorders. But it’s possible you know your child has an attachment disorder, and this post stabs at your heart. (This post from Christian parents with children with attachment disorders is painful to read, but eye-opening.)
Though your alienation is not at all my intent: Please know that as a parent who longs to find your child, you demonstrating the gospel to your kids in real-life does matter.
Right now. For their lives, their relationships, their faith.
Whether they ever respond or not. (Some of God’s kids did. Some did not.)
(Though I haven’t had time to hear it, this breakout session, Adopting for Life–Attachment Disorders and the Gospel: Building the Right Adoption DNA in Your Family may be helpful…? Use your own discernment.)
And God is stronger than any attachment disorder. No child is beyond his reach. Salvation belongs to him alone–and thankfully, not to us parents.
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Reading Time: 4 minutes
Author’s note: This week was one of those where I was pretty consistently busy nearly until bedtime. I would recommend this pace to pretty much no one.
But I continue to have real-life kids, like the one to whom I have been raising my eyebrows about chores three days in a row. Or whichever one left a fingernail clipping on my sofa. And the one I had to apologize to while editing this version of the post below.
So this post from way back in 2015 came to mind. Remembering some of my own parent fails made me laugh out loud. Hopefully, they’ll give you a grin you need today.
Whatever parent fails you face this week, and however eye-rolling or utterly overpowering: God’s grace is big enough.
Yep. Even for that one.
***
As I was noodling on blog post ideas, my son with ADHD was having an epiphany of his own.
His chore was cleaning out under the bed, which I highly advise on a regular basis if your children’s Tazmanian-devil style of activity tends to whirl things into deep crevices beneath furniture, as mine does.
My son, however, recovered a pack of markers. So he thought of what any red-blooded boy would: What if my big toe were colored completely green?
Well, he found out. As did we all.
Parent fail #1: Toe-shaped, grass-green prints all over Grandma’s carpet. And a great reason to only purchase washable markers.
Good grief.
So, in the vein of ushering the Gospel into our lives—where we’re honest about our failures and looking them in the eyes, in light of who God is—I have decided to post for you 25 parent fails, inspired by real life. Mostly mine.
Even as I compiled this list, my husband looked at me.
“Well, isn’t God bigger than all our failures? I mean, not like that makes them not failures, or not bad.”
But a strange peace blankets me in my parent fails, knowing that my kids’ ultimate safety and well-being doesn’t stop with me. If this hits a sore spot, check out Grief as a Parent: What to Expect When You Didn’t Expect It.
As Andree Seu so aptly writes, “I started out wanting to be my children’s savior, and ended up pleading for forgiveness.”
That said: a completely uncomprehensive list of it’s-okay-parent-fails.
The Other 24 Parent Fails
- Your kid poops in the closet, then blames it on the dog.
- Your kid hops out of the shower, then hops on his bike outside without stopping to access clothing.
- You make an entire week of burned, over-spiced, disgusting, Alpo-like, and/or mediocre dinners.
- Every now and then you let the kids eat a dinner primarily taken from the top level of the food pyramid. You know, the one labeled “FATS, OILS, AND SWEETS: USE SPARINGLY.” See? Parent fails are overrated.
- Your kid breaks something as old as you in your mother’s house, and tells no one. Oops.
- Your kid thoughtfully recommends to someone they should stop smoking.
- Visiting a friend’s home, your kid complains aloud, “This milk tastes spicy!” You chastise them for their stubborn nature. You discover said milk is spoiled. Oops.
- Your kid repeatedly breaks wind at a family dinner, in a manner that whiffs as if he has been dining on sardines and French fries.
- Your kid pokes Grandma’s arm-dangle with wide-eyed fascination. True story.
- You discipline your child with unrequited volume right before the doorbell rings.
- A friend stops by for an unannounced visit. Your house looks like, as Jerry Seinfeld so aptly puts it, you have a blender, but not the lid. Said friend skewers foot on Lego shrapnel.
- Your kid melts down in the middle of the grocery store. Then you do, too.
- Your kid flushes all of the Tupperware lids down the toilet. Daddy has to dig up the septic system. (That kid was actually me.)
- Your kid wears pants that show his ankles.
- Your daughter holds her dress up during the entire Christmas performance.
- Your kid sneezes on someone’s food.
- Your kid licks the top of the Parmesan cheese at Pizza Hut.
- Your son’s stick figure illustration of you has hands on (delightfully slender) stick-hips, because, “Well, you’re angry a lot.”
- Your kid picks his nose, then shakes someone’s hand with gusto.
- Your kid hides behind your skirt during an entire wedding reception.
- You forget her lunch for school. Again.
- You kill Captain Nemo, the class goldfish, on his weekend home.
- Your homeschooled child replies that the ancient Greek poet who authored the Iliad and the Odyssey is named, of course (“it’s on the tip of my tongue!”) Alvin Poover. (Alvin who?) This is in the same week he replies that a five-sided polygon is called–wait for it–a hoxagon.
- You find your son urinating in someone else’s bushes, or in full view of your pleasant suburban street.
9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
10 For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.
Reading Time: 2 minutes
Four years ago, my husband and I squinted through snow flurries as we wound our way to Denver.
We were driving my 13-year-old to an MRI screening for cancer.
Lymphoma is a primary consideration, the radiologist had said, goading us toward the test that day.
Those of you who’ve followed this site may remember this post, where I attempted to sort through six weeks of horror, where we’d wondered just how withering my son’s future might be.
That day at the children’s hospital, my hands shook on behalf of my son, from his angst over drinking the chalky oral contrast, to the needles he dreaded. In fact, I comprehended far more than he did of what lay at stake.
My husband and I had of course taken off work. For our son to go it alone was never, ever an option.
I recalled Abraham with Isaac as we climbed the stairs to the test together, waiting for the rustling of a ram. And God, I believe, climbed with us.
This begs the question. In ordaining our suffering, could God be ordaining his own?
See, like the rest of humanity from David to Job to Jesus, I tend to experience suffering as forsakenness. Separation. My God, My God…
But is that reality?
I’m exploring this theme in my first article for Fathom magazine, a publication “with an eye for intellect, wonder, and story and a conviction that our beliefs have consequences for ourselves, our communities, and the world.”
Hop over and check it out–and maybe, with me, chew on this new-to-me angle of God’s faithfulness.
Reading Time: 3 minutes
Valentine’s Day for kids: I 100% get the dilemma.
How can you make it special, make them feel loved–when you’re just trying to get kids to eat mashed potatoes with a fork, or get their shoes on the right feet?
I’m piling in here a few easy ideas to make Valentine’s Day for kids pop–without a lot of extra effort.
Remember: Moments like these are about communicating your affection to kids, and creating memories together that say, I see you. You’re special to me.
When you look at it that way, the rose-colored glasses from every Pinterest activity can slide off.
That priority helps me sift out the activities that could steal my joy or expend energy I don’t have, leading to the kind of Valentine’s Day I hope they don’t remember. (Yikes.)
Take a page from Romans 12:3, and look at yourself, and your schedule, with sober judgment. What can you really do, and still be able to “love sincerely” (Romans 12:9)?
Don’t look on Insta at what your friends are doing for their kids. Lay down your heart-shaped super-parent cape. And feel free to order absolutely nothing pink last-minute from Target.
And just be the parent your kids need, who shows them God’s smile.
Valentine’s Day for Kids: 4 easy-enough ideas
Valentine’s Day Bingo.
Hopefully, this can hand your kids a few ideas to love on other people.
Print Valentine’s Day for Kids Bingo here.
Take ’em on a date.
Milkshakes, cake pops at Starbucks, bowling, mini-golf if you live in a place warmer than I do. Don’t overthink it or overspend it; I’m not saying you need to blow your wad at Build-A-Bear.
The goal here is memories together, feeling loved.
Hand them a custom, heartfelt, parent-child Valentine, maybe with a box of their favorite candy.
…or a coupon for the date above. Grab an easy fill-in-the blank/circle-all-that-apply printable template here to keep it fun, easy, and hopefully meaningful.
Print this parent-child valentine here.
Add teensy pizzazz to your meals.
You could
- create an easy garland by cutting out a string of hearts, paper-doll style. (Fold up paper like an accordion/cut out heart-shape, hang. You got this.)
- cut their lunch sandwich into a heart shape.
- add a note to their lunchbox, or the parent-child valentine above.
- make strawberry milk, using strawberry syrup.
- grab a roll of slice-and-bake sugar cookie dough, slather on frosting, dump on sprinkles. Or let the kids do it. Done and done.
- grab a box of real-fruit strawberry popsicles, and call them Valentine’s Day popsicles.
You see where I’m going here. Think, Hey, I could do this.
Don’t miss this: My kids don’t need more. They need just a few gestures of kindness.
And it’s great if they can be the givers of those gestures, too.
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After five and a half years in Uganda, my family and I returned to the U.S., where I write and speak professionally, and we continue to work on behalf of the poor.
My first solo book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids' Hearts (Harvest House), released October 2021.
#instagoodness
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