One more time, with FEELING

"I'm so excited!" I read out loud from the book, The Mouse and The Motorcycle, our current bedtime story.

We had just reached the high point where Ralph is finally reunited with his beloved motorcycle.

I thought I had read it with proper gusto, but out of the dark, Judah's voice arose - Mom, you didn't sound very excited. Can you read it again? This time with more feeling?

What?! I balked for 2 seconds in silence. In his whole life I have read him over 15,693 stories and he has never critiqued my delivery of a single line, not once.

Please Mom, for my sake?

Who is this kid and why does he say things I've never heard him say before that sound too mature to be coming out of his mouth?

Uh, okay, Judah, I'll try again - I'M SO EXCITED!!!!

And then Noah's voice pipes up - I can say it better Mommy - I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!

Thanks for the post-shout ringing sound in my ears, Noah.

Little brothers aside, six year olds who are turning seven soon are so much fun. Judah is turning that magical age - the first that I remember of my own life in full living color - in just a few weeks.

I'm so excited!!

My Punny Sonny

What do you call a bullfrog with no legs?

I don't know, sad?

No, "unhoppy"!

What is an alligator's favorite drink?

I don't know, swamp juice?

No, "gator-ade"!

Judah told me these two jokes this week and I'm LOVING it. He knows I love puns and he saves them up for me, a few every week for the last 3 months or so.

He's so punny.

But what cracks me up the most is when he chooses a perfect phrase that seems way too mature for him. I'll never forget the time last year, when I sat at the kitchen table, pausing in weariness after taking a long sip of water.

Judah looked at me with anxious eyes and said, "There followed a dreadful silence..."

It was a direct quote from a Roald Dahl book we had been reading at bedtime, and it was perfect.

The dreadful silence was quickly swallowed up by mirthful chuckles, story of my life with kids.

The Deeper Magic From Before the Dawn of Time

Last week Judah told me his classmate believes in magic.

Do we believe in magic Mommy?

Uh, that's a complicated question with some interesting nuances, son.

Of course that's just what I was thinking in my head. And what I was also thinking was it's your bedtime and I don't want to drag it out by getting into a discourse full of interesting nuances...so, short answer - Nope! No, we don't believe in magic.

We don't believe in the tooth fairy, and witches, and wizards, and Santa Claus and all that jazz, I reaffirmed to Judah. BUT, BUT, I warned sternly, many kids do believe in all that so let's not take away their fun by telling them there really is no such thing.

Judah nodded in understanding.

The only problems is, I do believe in magic.

I believe in the kind of magic that makes cold lifeless statues come to life. That makes inanimate stuffed bunnies real. That reaches into the darkest pits of despair and plants a seed so potent, a hundred flowers blossom on it's eventual branches.

I believe in the magic of Love.

And no more do I experience that magic than in the daily, extravagant displays of affection from Judah and Noah. The light in their eyes. The warmth from their smiles. I am their mom and their first true love. I believe that if I love them well, it will set a seal on their hearts and protect them for all time - like the flashing talisman on Harry Potter's brow.

A few days ago, we were getting ready to go upstairs to start the bedtime routine and I started turning off all the lights downstairs. The only lights remaining were from the Christmas tree and (battery-operated) candles on our mantle. How beautiful and magical, I thought to myself. What a sentimental sap I am.

And then I heard Judah's little voice - Mommy, let's sit on the couch and huggle snuggle and enjoy this Christmas magic!

Oh my sweet child. You read my mind. You share my heart.

You know me. I know you.

And I think we both most definitely believe in magic.

My Pleasure

Now that Judah has lost all his baby-ness, I'm realizing how quickly this hard early phase disappears. And I'm pretty sure the thing I'll miss most is his voice - the mispronunciations, the cute made-up and almost correct but not quite phrases, the way "purple Hershey's kiss" sounds like "puh-pull huh-see kiss."

Currently, I'm enjoying Judah mangling up the phrase "your pleasure." As in...

Me: Judah, thank you so much for drawing this beautiful picture for me!

Judah: [beaming] Your pleasure!

What a charming conflation of "you're welcome" and "my pleasure."

Completely unrelated picture of Judah wearing a "diaper hat" - your pleasure.

And yes, I refuse to correct him because it is my pleasure.

We Could Be Heroes

Judah and Noah both love superheroes and all their TV shows throw the word "hero" around like confetti at Mardi Gras. Creepy steam engines with faces, curious monkeys, Hispanic toddlers with talking backpacks - these are all regularly declared 'heroes' for doing relatively nothing.

This is our lives - ALWAYS.

But even so, my heart felt a flutter tonight when Judah said - Mom, you're my hero - as I kissed him goodnight. He's never called me that before.

Who knows if he knows what he's saying...but I swear there was something in his voice - softer, sweeter, even shy...

What He Said

Today Judah came in from the backyard soaking wet with colored chalk marks all over his hands.

He informed me that he and Noah had been taking our sidewalk chalk, grinding it down with their feet and pouring rain water on it. And when they ran out of rain water, Judah turned on the hose and let 'er rip.

I made a mess Mommy!

Yeah, I can see that Judah.

But it was a beautiful mess, Mommy.

Oh my heart. Me too. Life is messy. Relationships are messy. Parenting is messy. Figuring out how to not crash your boat between the Scylla of a mother's need for her OWN space and life and the Charybdis of a child's need for his mother's space and life is messy.

And by grace, beautiful too.

Life, Death, and Love...and the Preschooler

Yesterday I was sitting on the couch with Noah and Judah was jumping around above us. I told Judah - Get down! That's dangerous!

Unexpectedly I heard Noah's little voice chime in - Might fall. Kill Noah. Die. Mommy sad.

Uh, someone's a little melodramatic.

But I think Noah's just imitating Judah's overly dramatic expressions. Judah is constantly asking me how I would feel if he died. This is Judah's latest (in a long line of many) way of seeking affection. It takes the form of the following:

Mommy, if I died, but Noah/Daddy/the whole world were still alive, how would you feel?
(Correct answer: My heart would be broken. I would be sad for the rest of my life.)

And then it's correlative:
Mommy, what if I was alive again? How would you feel?
(Correct answer - must be spoken with eyes twinkling with emotion: I would dance for joy and throw a big party to celebrate! I would be the happiest person in the whole world!)

Just another lost soul lookin' for love.

Judah is (obviously) my needy one. He is constantly asking for affection, devotion, and promises of everlasting, over-the-top, uncompromising love for the ages. It's exhausting.

And sometimes, a little humorous. Today Judah overheard me complaining to the Spouse about all the dishes I have to wash and he instantly formulated a new love-postulate.

Mommy, if I died but all the dishes were clean, how would you feel?

Oh silly child.

If you died, not only would all the dishes stay clean, the entire house would stay clean as well. In fact, it is almost certain that one day my house will be in tip-top shape because you will no longer be under my roof.

And I will most certainly be sad.

Portrait of a Parent

Sometimes people see me out and about with the kids and make kind comments like - you are such a good mom! You are so patient!

It's amazing how seeing a 2-minute snapshot of a parenting situation is so different than a 12-hour time-lapse experience.

Because if you ask Judah how he feels about my parenting, he would probably present to you this very telling picture (which he in fact did present to me last week):

Mommy, this is about 'motions. So we can learn about 'motions. In this picture you are mad, I am sad, and Noah is confused.

And there you have it. The inside scoop from someone who tells it like it is.

Where did my kid go?

Today Judah was not himself.

At no point in the day did I get frustrated with him. Not once.

He was kind, obedient, cheerful, helpful, sweet, good to his brother, and very cooperative. From the moment he opened his eyes to the time I left his room at night, he was nothing but sweetness and light. What is going on????

During the day he occupied himself for hours drawing, playing with his new birthday toys, and writing little notes.

Mommy, how do you spell "Noah"?

Mommy, how do you spell "Chung"?

This is for you Noah! It has your name on it! You are the master of it. If you want to destroy it, that's ok! If you want to keep it that's ok too! No one can take it away from you because you are the master.

Mommy, how do you spell "Batlady"?

Judah hands me a picture of his rendition of Batman as a woman with the words "Mom" and "Batlady" on it. And then proceeds to give me the same speech about how I'm the "master" of that paper.

At night he very sweetly "huggle snuggled" goodnight with me, and then said "Mommy, when you get close to the door I'm going to air-kiss you and air-hug."

I don't know of a better way to end the day with him.

All the development books say age 4 begins the golden era of parenting. Children become more reasonable, less impulsive, and try very hard to please their parents. And indeed I've detected that Judah was on this trajectory starting about 6 months ago, but I could never predict that we would have a day like this.

Halleljuah. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we may have just crossed the Jordan.

How Judah's Best Day Turned Into His Worst

Today I took Judah to Safeway and, as always, he found a balloon he wanted to hold. Ever since infancy he has loved holding balloons for the duration of our trip and is perfectly happy to hand it back to the cashier at the end.

But today, since Judah chose a really sad looking, half-deflated plain red mylar balloon, the cashier told us it was free and Judah could take it home! Judah was ecstatic, of course.

But then, just when he though life couldn't get any better, I told him we would stop by the local frozen yogurt store for a treat before heading home. At the fro-yo shop Judah happily slurped his plain tart yogurt as the song Best Day of My Life (by American Authors) comes on the speakers.

And right in the middle of the chorus Judah announces, Mommy, this is the best day of my life!

Wow. It's amazing how little perspective preschoolers have. Really? THIS is the best day of your life? You got a deflated balloon and tart yogurt.

Thirty minutes later Judah was whining and begging to watch a video, and when I denied him with finality he bemoaned, Mommy, this is the worst day of my life!

Okay hormonal teenager, get a grip. Seriously.

Short but Sweet

It's been awhile since I've blogged so I'll just share a quick favorite memory before I unplug for the night.

Often Judah will randomly say "I love you mommy!" (He recently admitted that he does this because he doesn't know what else to say--Mommy, I just say that because I don't know what to say--and yet he still wants to fill the silence and feel some verbal/emotional connection to me. Man, that kid reminds me of me!)

Anyway, for the last 4 months or so, every time Judah says his little 'love tick' statement, I hear Noah's little voice pipe up: Mama!

I'd like to think Noah is saying "I love you mommy!" in his own little way. I mean, really, he says it with such a tone of affection and joy.

So this is what I hear about 20 times a day:
I love you mommy!
Mama!

Best. Soundtrack. Ever.

A Bad Dream

Today Judah recounted some dreams he had. One of them was just...weird.

In his own words (as well as I can remember):

Mommy, I remember the bad dream now.
I dreamed that Satan was actually more powerful than God and he could control God's mind. And he made God command us to do bad things, like fight and kill and hurt people.

Weird right? I mean who dreams about this kind of stuff? I guess it comes with being a pastor's kid.

Turns out kids do say the darndest things...

Overheard this conversation Judah had with my friend:

Judah: How old are you?

Me: Oh [friend] you don't have to answer that!

Friend: No, it's okay. I'm 34!

Judah: That's old.

Friend: How old are you?

Judah: Three and a half. I have a whole big life to live still.

Friend: That's right! You sure do.

Judah: But you're going to die soon.

Ba dum chhhhh

Why oh why oh why, because because because because, good bye good bye good bye

Sometimes as a special "treat" I allow Judah to ask me 3 questions. This is my very clever way of preventing him from asking me to do something much harder--make up a story about superheros. My superhero stories are completely lame--Batman goes to school for the first time, Batman goes to the grocery store, Batman has a birthday, you get the idea.

Today Judah warned me that his 3 questions were going to be "really, really, really hard." I told him to bring it.

First--Why did all the dinosaurs die?
Easy, we don't really know. Told him about the theory of the giant asteroid and something about them freezing to death. I should read up more on this dinosaur stuff, hmmm. Next.

Second--Why do scientists look for dinosaur bones?
Easy, they like to explore. Next.

Third--Why did God create people?
What?! Where did this come from? Mumbled something about God having a lot of love and joy that He wanted to share with people, but I didn't want to tread on the notion of God's self-sufficiency--the idea that God was perfectly content in Himself before all of creation.

Fourth--Because Judah wouldn't be Judah if he actually limited himself to the pre-arranged number--Why do people need food to grow?
I deflected and said what a great question it was since plants don't need to "eat" food to grow. Why is it that people need to eat? Hmmm...

Fifth--Why don't plants need food to grow? How come they can just grow with water?
Okay, that deflection backfired. I guess maybe now is a good time to go into cellular biology...mumbled something about cells and microscopes, at which point Judah wanted to know if Superman could see cells without the aid of a microscope. And when I came down on the side of "no" Judah protested and debated me for a very long time.

And then, because Judah is an equal-opportunity pre-schooler he said it was my turn to ask him questions.

Judah, what is your favorite thing to do with Noah?
Laugh!
Not exactly what I was looking for, but okay, valid.

What is your favorite thing to do with Daddy?
Watch new videos.
Not exactly quality-time bonding...we need to work on that...

If you could have one super-power what would it be?
I want to be smart like Batman...the power to read lots of books.
Wow, the Spouse has truly created another being after his own image. Domination complete.

This also reminds me of the time when Judah said, out of the blue--We are like robots because God controls us.

Hmmm....I guess three is not too young to start grappling with the age-old Calvinist paradox of God's sovereignty and man's free will.

All that to say, I actually enjoy conversing with my kid now...sometimes.

On Life and Death

Recently Judah's been asking me a lot about death and dying. I guess it was inevitable given all the killing that goes on between superheros and villains, his current obsession for the last 6 months.

He asks things like
Mommy, are you going to die?
Am I going to die?
Yes, Judah, everyone dies someday.
When are you going to die?
I don't know, nobody knows.

Apparently he's talked to the Spouse about it as well because he comforts himself (and me) by saying: Daddy says after we die, we will become alive again and then we will never get sick or die anymore. So it's okay if I die.

I told him that it is okay, but I hope he has a long life.
Why Mommy? What's a long life?
I hope you get to grow up and become a big boy like Evan (who is 8), and then a teenager, and then a grown up like daddy, and have your own kids, and then a grandpa.

And then Judah became distraught when I had to explain that he might not have a long life because no one is guaranteed that. He teared up as I explained in concrete terms that we could die any day. That Mommy could die tomorrow and I wouldn't see him again for a long time after that.
Mommy, my eyes are almost crying, he said.

The next day he asked how he could have a long life. I told him that was out of our control but we could pray about it, so he did.

And today, a week later he said
Mommy, I already have a long life.
You mean 3 years?
Yeah, 3 years is a long time.
When I told him his dad has already lived 37 years his eyes bulged in disbelief.

Judah, just 3 hours old, a "long" time ago.

But of course, he is right. Even 3 days is a long time if you count up every second of grace.

Heart of My Own Heart

Mommy, the sky was so beautiful, Judah recounted to me. It was blue and pink and purple!

Mommy, I love nature. Let's go on a nature walk. Nature is so beautiful.

Judah on a "nature walk" cira 1.5 years old.

I'm sure we all feel stirred by the glory of the skies, but very rarely do I hear people talk about it, and even more rarely do I hear little kids have self-originating, completely unprompted thoughts on it.

When I was in elementary school I first became aware of how my heart felt like breaking while staring at cumulus clouds slowly sailing across a piercing blue sky, or the rivers of gold in a vermillion sunset. I often exclaimed to friends, "Look at that sky! Gosh I love nature! Isn't it so beautiful?"

I've rarely if ever said that to Judah, maybe because I'm too distracted making sure he (or Noah) isn't eating dirt or about to get run over by a car. So to hear him echo back the unspoken beats of my own heart was pretty trippy.

I guess he really is mine.

Snippets

Noah

Noah is turning out to be a little comedian. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's hilarious when he does his little comedy routine called "blowing before nursing".

He's picked up on blowing his food to cool it down because he sees me do it all the time. He does it sometimes as I spoon-feed him mac n' cheese or steaming rice. So now he 'blows' on my boob before nursing as his little inside joke--ha ha Mom, see what I did there? I'm cooling it down before I eat it, ha ha ha. I'm hilarious!

How do I know that's what he's thinking? His tell-tale little smirk and the glint of his eye as he does it. Is 12 months too early for babies to "tell" jokes? Not this kid.

Judah

Sometimes I wonder if I infantalize Judah too much. I often help him do things that other kids much younger can do for themselves, like get up and down his step-stools and put on his jackets.

So today I asked him, "Judah, do I treat you like a baby?"
Without skipping a beat he replied, "No, you treat me like a slave."

Well, there you go. Someone feels like he's not being babied enough!

Actually, Judah has a good point. I've gotten in the habit of barking orders at him--Hurry up! Put your socks and shoes on! Get your jacket! We're late already! Drop that crayon WE HAVE TO GO!!!!

Sigh, it's because we can never make it on time to his preschool. And then his teacher gives me the stink-eye because we're late. Again. I need to start waking up earlier.

Sometimes He is Good

Can I brag a little?

Yesterday I experienced one of my parenting's proudest moments.

We were walking around and Judah found a dandelion and instead of wishing for his usual stuff ("t-rex gunner car" and "that I have a cooler toy than Noah") I heard his little voice say "I wish that no one would get sick or have nightmares." WHAT?!

Stop the presses. What did he say?! Did I hear that correctly?! Seriously, was that just in my head? Oh my heart, he actually said that! And it was completely unprompted and self-originating!

I'm realizing more and more that I can get my kids to obey me externally (by threatening all kinds of unpleasant consequences) but it's much harder to shape their inner moral life.

I don't just want them to share because they have to. I want them to want to share. Because they care about others' feelings. Because they are kind and gentle-hearted. Because they understand compassion.

I honestly don't care if my kids are "successful" or "accomplished" or wealthy. If they can just learn to wish for a better world for others, I will die a happy woman.

Birthday Party Angst

Judah will not have another birthday until August but I'm already starting to feel anxious about it.

I feel like this will be the first birthday that actually matters to him.

He talks about it occasionally, but today, driving home from preschool, he really laid it on thick--like, talked-about-it-non-stop-in-vivid-detail-for-10-minutes thick:

Mommy, I'm going to have a Justice League Party.  I want the colors to be blue and green.  And red and blue.  

Judah wants you to have fun at his party...or else.

I don't want to invite anyone from preschool [he hasn't made any friends there yet since he's only been attending this new school for 3 weeks.]  But you're invited, and daddy and Noah.  

Noah will be the only baby.  Only big kids are invited.  [He then proceeded to rule out lots of younger siblings who are actually the same age as him and insist that only their older siblings are invited. Apparently Judah thinks of himself as a 5 years old.]

And it will have a volcano with hot lava coming out.  Two volcanoes.

Mommy, is it going to be the coolest party ever?

And there's going to be a pool, a giant pool.  It will be warm so we can swim.

And there will be lots of pretend animals.  Like at the zoo. But these animals will be just pretend.

And a train ride, like at the zoo.

And a car ride, like at the zoo.

Mommy, it's going to be the coolest party, right?

Um...right...I'm glad his birthday is far away so I can take my time playing the game "Managing Expectations: Preschooler Edition."

Also, don't you love how he speaks in the future indicative, leaving absolutely no room for doubt that this will all definitely happen?  And it's so gracious of him to invite me.

I was hoping to do some low-key thing--you know, bring some fun party cups and napkins to his preschool and give everyone a brownie and some goldfish. But now I'm realizing that's not gonna fly with Judah. Guess this might actually be the first year Judah gets a real, bonafide, at-some-designated-venue party.

Ugh. I hate, HATE party planning. I didn't even want to plan my own wedding. I was so not into planning my own wedding that I hired my close friend to do it all for me, and she ended up doing an AMAZING job while I gave her very little direction or opinions.

I guess I'll start looking at Pinterest pages for "how to plan a birthday party for people who hate planning parties."  There is a page like that, right?

The Humble Dandelion

Eventually I'll find the time to do some kind of end of year/new year post.  But for now, I just want to do something quick and dirty.

The other day we played in an open field full of dandelions.  Those downy seedlings will always be magical to me.  And to Judah.  Since his earliest days he's loved them.

There are few things as transcendent as watching your child blow those puffy balls into the air and speaking his wishes, like a perfect physical representation of what it means for his soul to dream and hope.

Photo credit: NanDPhotography.net

Although the wonder of it all is a little dampened when you realize the childish mundanity of their requests.  With each exhale, Judah wished for a "T-Rex gunner car."  (That's some kind of ungodly creation consisting of a t-rex and a car with a gun on it, like a tank).

Oh well, I guess world peace and the fulfillment of our cosmic longing for meaning and love is still a bit too lofty for a three year old.  But that's my wish for us all for 2014.  Happy new year!

(Addendum: A few days later Judah found more dandelions and repeatedly wished for "that I get a cooler toy than Noah."  Yeah, this guy is definitely not the Dalai Lama.)