Talking Text

Bennett is a changed man.  At least he feels that way now that he is the brand spankin new owner of a his very own cell phone.  He keeps telling me, "Man, I feel so responsible now that I have a phone."

He loves texting me (or anyone for that matter).  I get texts all the time.  Now he's even talking to me in person like he's texting me.  Here's an example of some of our random conversations:

Me: Bennett, would you mind doing those dishes for me, Honey?"
Bennett: NP Mom.

Me: Telling a funny story at dinner
Bennett:  LOL Mom!  That is so funny!

Me:  Bennett, how do you like that food?
Bennett:  Not so good.  HA! JK Mom

He sure had us in stitches at dinner last night talking text to us.  Never a dull moment.

What Language Do You Speak?

We use words like daggers to bleed others' souls
because the void in our hearts is as black as coal

We use actions to manipulate others to do our will
believing that control will bring a lasting thrill

We seek peace in a comfortable life with financial security
driven by fear masked as responsibility

We live isolated and lonely with locks on our doors
protecting all our possessions instead of giving them to the poor

We crave love and acceptance at the core of our being
why do we spend our lives running away from this feeling?

The language of this world is: fear, lust, vengeance, control
looking out for number one is our ultimate goal

But the good news is, it doesn't have to be.
There's an upside-down kingdom called God's Family

It is opposite of everything our world holds dear:
trusting our self and living in fear

The goal of God's Kingdom on earth is ultimately this:
by the grace of God we can live daily in love and forgiveness

This is the language of heaven on earth
His spirit in us is giving birth
to a new way of living that brings life to us all
a daily choice to surrender and completely fall
head over heels in love with a Savior
whose language was forgiveness of all our behavior

His love fills our heart and gives us eyes brand new
to see this world as He sees you
where compassion and mercy and forgiveness abound
that's where my heart wants to always be found.

Food Woes

Confession:  I HATE meal planning.

However, I really enjoy cooking.  I derive great pleasure from serving the meals I prepare for the people I love.  It makes me happy.  I don't care how long it takes to cook a meal, just someone please tell me what to cook!

But planning those meals.  That does not make me happy.  I simply become brain dead when it comes time to plan what we're going to eat for the week.  My mind is blank.  A void nothingness in the hollow of my head.  Food?  What's food?  I kid you not when I say, "nothing comes to mind".  It is literal.  I have a problem.

The Mom is typically the one in charge of this aspect of the household.  I loathe this particular responsibility.  Almost as much as I loathe cleaning my bathroom (however, I clean my tub each day...what does that say about me?)  But I digress....ahh  yes, the meal planning.

When we first got married, we were ignorant enough to think all you needed to do what get 2 boxes of Hamburger Helper, 2 boxes of Tuna Helper and 2 jars of Ragu and we were home free for 6 out of the 7 meals that week.  If we were lucky we might could even spring for Taco Bell on that last night with what we saved on our grocery bill.   Ahhhh, those were were the days.  Ignorance is bliss.

Then we found out what was in our food; how our meat was processed and what all those chemicals are that they put in all those boxes of food that last on the shelves for months and years on end.  Then we had to say goodbye to our old faithful friend, Hamburger Helper.

Thus began my journey into looking through hundreds of cookbooks.  Watching hours of Food Network TV.  Perusing the internet for how to cook the perfect pot roast.  I needed meal ideas people and I needed them fast.  What better place to go than to the horse's mouth?  In my case, that would be my children.

I don't know why I even ask them anymore.  It's always the same suggestion week in and week out: pizza and tacos.   Since our palate needs a little more variety than that, I am left sitting at the table with all my cookbooks open and my list empty.  The problem is I have to 'be in the mood' to cook in order to be creative enough to come up with some meal ideas.

Each week, miraculously, a meal plan evolves.  It's hard.  The process adds at least 5 new gray hairs to my head on a weekly basis.  I moan.  I give huffy breaths.  I pout.  Nothing makes this job go away or get easier.  I have fantasies about having my own private chef one day.

This story actually does have a point.  And it is, with all my 'creative menu planning' sometimes I forget where I got my recipe from.  Ooops.  That could be problematic.  Take today for instance.  I knew we were having some sort of salmon and pasta dish, but I had no clue where in the world I saw that recipe. Which cookbook did I 'borrow' it from?  Did I see it on a Food Network show?  Is it a recipe I own or just heard about?  Oh no.  I need to make dinner now and I have no clue what to do.   I panic.  I start looking through all 10 cookbooks I own.  I look through my recipe card box.  No luck.  I text Chuck who's in a meeting and has no clue what I'm talking about.  No help there.  Man....now I'm going to have to improvise.  I'm all for improvising....but not on food.  I'm not that confident.  I need a recipe and I need it now!

For the life of me I can't picture the cookbook I looked at on Friday when I wrote down the ingredients I would need to buy at the store.  Why didn't I just jot down the name of the cookbook next to the meal when I wrote it down?  And by the way, that's another thing I suck at.  I almost NEVER cook the meal that is written down to have on a particular day on that day.  Just doesn't happen.  Remember, I have to 'be in the mood'.  Many a day I'm not 'in the mood' to cook this or that, so I just end up shifting my whole meal plan around.  It's just a suggestion anyways...at least that's what I always tell the kids.

Okay, so back to my story.  I decide to peruse through my cookbooks yet a second time.  And as luck would have it, I found the meal!  My previous error was that I looked in the index under "salmon" when it was not allocated as a "salmon" dish, rather a "pasta" dish with salmon.

Surprise, surprise, my daughter wants to go to culinary school so she can be a chef when she grows up.  Wonder why she decided that?  Maybe seeing her mother in the throes of panic and mayhem when meal planning is brought up may have secretly urged her on to find professional answers to life's toughest questions:  "What's for dinner mom?" and "When are we gonna eat?"

Maybe I just might get my private chef afterall.....

What Haiti Taught Me

When I think back to my trip, several things stand out that I don't want to forget.  These are my biggest take aways from the wonderful gift that was my trip to Haiti:

The People.  They are amazing.  The joy they have defies their circumstance.  That is their gift and the lesson they passed on to me.

Children are children wherever  you go.  They crave affection, play, fun and laughter.  The kids were the most accepting and welcoming.  They would take your hand and walk along with you or want you to carry them, no matter where you were going.

We visited a deaf community in the village of Leveque.  These people were so kind and just thrilled that someone would take the time to come visit them.  They kept signing "God Bless You" and "I love you" over and over again.  They warmed my heart the most and I feel I gave them nothing but a smile in return.  I was so humbled.

Meeting strangers was so much fun for me.  I met so many people on this journey from Americans to Haitians.  I absolutely love hearing people's stories.  I learned that I'm a good listener and that I can make friends just for being me, not just because I'm the kids' mom or Chuck's wife, or my parent's daughter.  No one knew me for the roles I play in my daily life, but for who I was at the core and chose to befriend me anyways.  That was huge for me.

I learned that I'm a very deep, intense, quiet person by nature.  I've tried to not be this person for so long since I perceived that it wasn't a desirable quality.  Everyone likes an out-going, extroverted person so much more it seems.  And it's not that I don't love to talk, I do, but I learned I'm not good at initiating conversations, especially shallow small-talk (but I'm learning and slowly improving).  If someone were to come up and start talking with me, I could talk their ear off.  But I'm equally comfortable not talking to anyone for hours and just basking in the beauty of nature and communing with God in my soul.  I came to accept this about myself.  It is freeing to be true to who you are and not try to be what you think others want.  Crazy that I'm 40 and just now learning this lesson...better late than never, I guess.

 

Love costs pain sometimes.  Giving and serving can be painful.  It was painful and hard to spend hours in the overbearing heat painting, digging and walking from house to house.  It was painful to my heart to see the living conditions of so many and so many orphaned children. You leave a part of your heart with each child you play with or hold and with each person you connect with.

Haiti

It's hard to describe in words the impact Haiti had on me.  That is one reason I set my pictures to music to share with you what was on my heart the whole time I was there.  The people.  They stole my heart.     They have such beautiful smiles and contagious joy despite the dire conditions. There is no way to explain the heat and humidity and sweat.  It was so HOT! Always. The heat and the rooster were the two hardest parts for me.  No one warned me that I'd be waking at the crack of dawn to a rooster alarm clock every morning.  I despised the thing. The landscape is brutal.  Yet there are pockets of beauty everywhere. I miss Haiti and can't wait to return. I just wanted to feel each moment. 

Haiti2013 from Mallott on Vimeo.

Bennettism

Bennett, Bennett, Bennett....what are we going to do with you?!

This silly, crazy, funny kid has yet again brought us to tears with laugher.  How he does it, I'll never know.  But I certainly don't want to forget his latest antics.

Along with all his wonderful qualities, he also has a few, shall we say 'sub-par' qualities.  He is well aware of these.  One of them is his ability to totally not pay attention to what someone is saying.  He completely blanks out.  He could be looking right at you and not hear a word you're saying.  He is far, far away.  It's like he has his hearing aid off (and he doesn't even wear a hearing aid).  He just lets his mind wander when we are talking with him evidently.

So, we're sitting at the table talking about our day.  Of course everything happens around the table in this house.  From what I've gathered, Bennett pays attention for a few seconds to our conversations and then he tunes back out again.  It appears that he's only getting about 40% of what we say, just enough to be dangerous.   We'll be talking about something and Bennett will jump in with, "So...wait....you want me to do what?"  

Everytime he tries to join in a conversation it starts with, "So...wait....".  So much so that we all go around mimicking him all the time now.  Chuck could have just told me he wanted to have some tea and cookies with me.  And then I will aptly respond with our dear Bennettism, "So...wait, you're saying you wanted to play chess with me, right?"

Don't you just love inside jokes?!

So....wait....were you just saying you wanted me to tell you another joke?

On Being A Mom

Oh how I wish I could wax eloquent like Ann Voskamp!  She who writes with prose and poetry as beautifully as Yoyo Ma performs Bach's Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1.  Both are a delight to the ears and to the soul.  If you haven't already, take a moment to read Ann's honest thoughts on motherhood and let Mr. Ma soothe your soul with his peaceful repertoire.

Before I sat down to blog today I headed over to Ann's site to see what she had to share.  And what do you know, she was writing about the very same thing that was on my heart.  Well, maybe not exactly the same thing, but if we were painting with broad strokes, we'd call it the same thing....motherhood.  I always learn so much from her in the simplicity yet profoundness of her words.

In all honesty, sometimes I actually feel intimidated by her.  I feel she sets the bar so high.  She's a genuine, authentic person who lives fully, loves deeply and learns from her own mistakes.  Have I mentioned that she's an amazing writer?  I feel like I'm stumbling all over myself when I write and here she is a homeschooling mom of six, living on a farm, yet still finds time day in and day out to take perfect pictures, blog, write a book and do a sundry other things.  If ever someone was to take a snap shot of a 'perfect mom' she seems like she could fit the bill.

Yet in her humility and love for Jesus, she will be the first to admit that (and did in her blog) that ideal is an illusion.  She states it perfectly (of course) "what messes our life up most is the expectation of what our life is supposed to look like".  How true that is.

I love having the opportunity to share in her joys, carry her burdens in prayer before the Lord, learn from her mistakes and teachings and relate to her challenges as I read her daily journals of mommyhood and life.  It is precisely this that I appreciate about her.

She finds the beauty in the ugly, the grace in the struggle and the perfect in the imperfect.  She doesn't bemoan, grumble, complain and lament her children or the ton of stuff on her plate.  She is gracious and real.  She makes mommyhood dignified.  Thank you Ann.

Back In Time

This morning I was looking for a picture to show the kids from years ago.  On my quest, I came upon this one instead and laughed out loud.

My....where have the years gone.  What is hilarious about this picture is Chloe and the disgusted look she is giving my hand that is laying peaceably upon her beloved stroller.  How dare I touch it!  She is even taking the precaution of pulling her arm away from my grip of death upon her stroller.  Oh the memories.  Chloe was, shall we say, very "particular".  She wanted what she wanted and nothing besides that would do.  She was two afterall.   There was never any coercion of our daughter.  We couldn't make her smile, say 'hi', hold our hand - nothing.  There was no parenting manual out there that was written with our daughter in mind.  The only thing that worked was, "HELP God, HELP!"  And He did.  He showed us exactly what Chloe needed and graciously kept me dependent upon Him every moment of the day.  Thank you Chloe for that gift.

Here is another great example of 'we couldn't make Chloe do anything".  In this picture we told her to simply smile.  This is what we got instead:

This was snapped as she was vehemently explaining, without words, why she didn't want to smile.  Gaping and acting shocked seemed more appropriate to her.

Now I can look back and laugh and remember the fun parts of the day.  But I'm sure on that day I was exasperated, frustrated and fed up.  I'm sure the only thing I wanted was for her to do what I wanted her to do.  It has always been a struggle of wills with us.  The boys were normally always very obliging and sensitive to what I wanted.  They lived to please me and still do.  I have to always make sure never to take advantage of that.  But with Chloe, God had something new to teach me.  The whole 'free-will' thing.

He gave us free will.  That was probably one of the hardest things to give (besides his life).  When you give someone their own choices, you risk that they might not do what you want or love you in return the way you want or act the way you desire.  I realized very early on that I could snuff out Chloe's free, stubborn will and force her to be my minion and obey out of fear or I could love her enough to give her the choice to fail over and over again.  It's never any parent's desire to see their children fail, but the fruit of that failure teaches them more than the parent's words ever could.  Some people are just wired like that. And I know one of them.

And I love that personality to pieces.  She is so much like me in so many ways and then in other ways she is a mystery to me.  I do not possess her stubborn quality, let's call it 'persistence' instead, that's the beautiful side of the coin.   She knows who she is, what she likes and wants and no one can manipulate her otherwise.  I LOVE that about my daughter.  She sets her mind on a course and sees it through to the end.  When she was two, that wasn't such an endearing quality, but now I'm ever so thankful for it. 

As we parent we must keep in my mind that we are raising little people who will eventually become adults who will have to survive without us.  We can't only worry about controlling them in the here and now.  Control is so damaging to a little heart.  It sucks the life out of it.  It leaves them without hope and/or confidence.  It makes them think they can do nothing without someone else telling them what and how to do it.  Our immediate will is not as important as training their little wills.  Training - not controlling.  Teaching them how to make good choices is hard.  It's easier to make them make the choices we want.  But that's not how God parents me and that's not how I want to train my little people.

Parenting is the hardest, funnest, saddest, happiest thing I've ever done.  It was never meant to be easy.  Character, joy, thankfulness and heart changes are born out of conflict.  We need to see these parenting challenges as the gift they are not the inconvenience to our day that we often do. 

When the doctor handed me my newborn on the day he/she was born, I could hardly breathe.  I couldn't believe I was holding the most precious gift in the world at that very moment.  Awe blanketed my face.  Now that they are 14, 11, and 9 I pray I still look at them in awe with a heart bursting with gratitude as I did the day they were born and not take for granted one single day with my most precious gifts in this life.

Forgiveness

The other day Bennett was struggling through an issue.  He was angry with someone and felt justified in his anger and attitude.  Justifiable or not, it was eating at him and controlling him.  After trying for a few hours to deal with it on his own, he asked me in his sweet, typical way, "Mom, can we go talk on your bed?"

He shared the situation with me and asked me what to do.  We had such a neat time of talking and sharing our feelings and hearts with each other.  I explained to him that forgiving someone is more for you than for them.  That when you hold on to that anger, it's only affecting you and growing bitterness in your heart.  That bitterness ends up controlling you and discolors everything and everyone you see.  It leaves a sour taste in your mouth and everyone who comes in contact with you.


I told him how I really love the song by Matthew West with the aptly named title "Forgiveness".  We turned the song up real loud, sat and listened to it, let the truth of the words fill our souls and just enjoyed the moment of learning together.  God knows I needed it as much as he did.  A while after the song was over he came up to me sporting a huge grin and announced, "Mom, I let it go.  I feel better now."

A Day of Drama

Winter storm Yugi is bearing down hard on us today, this 29th day into Spring.  We have had to drive around in sleet all day long.  Snow is easy, sleet is a whole nother story.  It's slippery first of all.  And second of all, it's deceivingly alot like rain, but it's not.  And lastly, that would mean it's still COLD if it's sleeting.  Not 70 degrees like we would normally be experiencing.  Oh well...go with the flow,  right?  That's the first bit of drama.

This is a 3 part series.

Drama Number 2:  Chloe and I decided to do school at the library today in one of the study rooms.  We  do this every so often for a change of scenery.  It's fun.  But today I noticed someone lurking outside our study room door.  The doors are all glass and see through.  At first I thought it was just someone who was using one of the other study rooms near us.  He was dressed in slacks, a white button down shirt with a tie and a gold watch.  However, every time I turned around and looked through the door, he was still there, looking at the same shelf he's been looking at for the past 10 minutes.  The shelf that had a clear view through our door.  And a few times I thought I caught him looking in at us.  Strange.  But I just thought it was a coincidence.  Maybe he was waiting for our room to be vacant.  It came time for Chloe and I to leave.  We packed up our stuff and headed out of the library.  The guy started following us.  He suddenly didn't need anything on the shelf he spent the past 15 minutes perusing and started shadowing us on our way out.  We had to walk around a wall and down a hall.  Surprise...so did he.  I turned around once and saw him on our tail, maybe 20 feet back.  I was just telling Chloe that I would let her wait in the vestibule and would drive around and pick her up since the sleet was coming down hard, but then I noticed he was still tailing us.  I changed my mind instantaneously and cheerfully announced that we would now be sprinting to the car and not looking back.  Right as we started running...so did he.  Creepy!  I turned around once more and he caught my eye, looked away and darted off to the opposite parking lot than us.  Whew.  We made it to the car and I kept a look out for any signs of being followed.  I made lots of stops in public places like, the drive-thru at the bank, a gas station and a random store.  Thankfully, I lost my tail.  But seriously, I felt like I was on a crime drama show being tailed by the FBI or something.

Drama Number 3:  As if that wasn't enough drama for one day, I was the recipient of one more random act of craziness.  The time of day when I go pick up Bennett from school finally arrived.  As I'm driving in the sleet on the horribly, icy roads, my windshield wiper on the driver's side flies off.  Yes.  It flies off.  But instead of being flung onto a passing car, it somehow comes back and hits my windshield.  At first I thought a bird hit my car.  But seeing that birds don't fly in sleet, I had to reassess the situation.  Then I noticed that my windshield was getting very blurry.  That's when it dawned on me that my windshield wiper hit me.  I drove as far as I could and pulled onto a side street and got out to check the damage.

Mind you, I totally wasn't dressed for problem solving in the sleet.  I only had on a fleece, no gloves or jacket.  Suddenly I have to perform a windshield wiper operation.  I was under extreme duress.  The sleet is pelting down on me.  I have zero clue how you attach the wiper blade to the wiper thingy.  I'm desperately praying for wisdom.  The school is only 1/2 a mile away from me.  I figure I can drive the best I can to the school thru the blurry windshield.  I get back in and clumsily, carefully, grope my way to the school on the icy roads.  The whole time I'm telling myself, think, think, think, Cori.

Thank God I finally make it to the school.  The first thing I do is call Chuck.  But I know he's in a meeting and can do nothing for me.  I thought maybe he could instruct me in the fine art of how to fix a broken wiper...but I only get his voice mail.  Now I really have to think.  I get back out of the car with my broken blade and attempt to attach it yet again.  I'm not very tall.  I have to lean very far onto the car to reach the wiper thingy ma-jig.  It's still sleeting.  I'm still cold and wet and now my hair is getting all messed up (thankfully I had the foresight to take my glasses off and leave them in the car).  By some miracle, I actually attach the two pieces.  I heard angels singing.

I get back in the car.  I had texted Chuck before getting out to do my little auto repair.  This is the exact text:  I have a big problem.  My windshield wiper flew off and I still have to pick up both boys and its selecting.  (Obviously I meant sleeting here, but my phone decided to auto correct me thinking it could not possibly be sleeting in April.)  I'm not really sure what I was hoping to accomplish by freaking him out in his meeting, but I just didn't want to go thru all this alone.  He responds:  Agh!?  Exactly like I thought he would.  I was quickly able to follow that up with an explanation of my car repair skills and told him not to worry.  I can do hard things.  It's ok now.

I don't like to do hard things, but it's nice to know I can do them when the challenge presents itself.  I preferred to be rescued.  Thankfully, I keep a little superhero powers tucked away for just such occasions.

At dinner, while regaling all with my tales of woe, everyone had opinions on how I should have responded to Creepy Guy.  Since I'm not one to think of a good line until long after it's needed, I came up with this at dinner time (a full 7 hours too late):  I should have turned around, faced him and bluntly asked,  "What can I help you for?"  (my typical style of getting my words all mixed up) or warned him, "I took kick boxing for 3 months - you don't want to mess with me."  or my personal favorite, "watch out Buddy, I have pointy elbows and I will use them to inflict pain on you."  My luck, he was probably only trying to let me know I left my lights on in my car or something.

"Liking" Something

So this evening Chuck and I were perusing through his Facebook page together.  I was wanting to show him a post I saw earlier in the day.  When all of the sudden I come across something posted by me.  Hmmm....I think....I didn't post anything today.  I take a closer look.  It is a post of me 'liking' something.  Not just something....a definition.  Apparently I 'like' the definition of "projectile".  Why would I 'like' that?

Then it dawns on me...'projectile' is one of Chloe's spelling words this week.  Part of her assignment today was to look up any of the words she doesn't know the definition of.  The pieces are coming together now.  She always uses dictionary.com.  Apparently, she saw the option of 'liking' the definition, so she chose to 'like' it since she could, not knowing that it linked to Facebook.

HEY WORLD....JUST SO YOU KNOW....I 'LIKE' THE WORD "PROJECTILE"!

I suddenly felt the need to explain to all Facebook-dom that I don't necessarily 'like' the word "projectile" but my 9 year old daughter does.  Like anybody would care, really.  If I'm ever going to 'like' a word it is going to be infinitely better than "projectile".  I'm sure I confused all my 'friends' out there today...just keeping them on their toes to see if they really know me or not.  You never know what random word I might like next.

The Time Escalator

Every night when I tuck the kids into bed it hits me....they are getting bigger every day.  I know most people are already aware of this, but somehow I get accosted by this reality every single night.  And it makes me ask myself, Did I enjoy each moment to the fullest with my favorite people today?  Because if I didn't, my focus was wrong.  They will never be this age again.  And trust me, I've already started trying to go back down the up escalator looking for that lost time.  Funny thing happens though, you can never go back down - only up.

I try hard to remember what Gavin's little squeaky, high-pitched voice was like at three and four when he was asking me such hard questions about life such as: what makes a light bulb work, Mom or what would happen if I got sucked into a tornado?  Try as I may, I can only hear his current voice in his deep baritone octave telling me about his recent troubles in trying to simplify monomials.

Oh how I would love to go back and have one more chance to hold baby Chloe.  I think I held her on my hip for 2 years straight when she was a baby.  She never wanted to be put down.  But now I can't remember what she felt like in my arms or how sore my back used to be.  I would pay money to have that sore back again if it meant I could hold that soft, cooing, wiggly baby in my arms again for just 5 minutes.  But the escalator only goes up.

I would even be willing to go back and relive every single potty training episode we encountered with Bennett if it meant I could hear his deep little voice again that repeated everything in triplicate and feel his wet little chin that was never dry from constant drooling.  But alas, it always remains just out of reach and only in my memories.

Ah, to go back down that escalator sure would be nice.  When our biggest problems were sharing our Rescue Heroes or deciding who should be Batman and who should be Superman.  When everyday began with cuddling on my bed and reading 10 Berenstein Bear books.  

But this is now my current reality.  I realize one day I'll look back on these ages with the same longing I do their younger years.  And I'll wonder, did I play enough with them?  Did I sit and listen to their dreams or their days?  Or was I distracted?  Did I stop what I was doing, give them my undivided attention and enjoy that exact moment with all my senses?  Because I know the escalator only goes up.  If I try going down while they are going up, I miss all the life that's going on now right in front of me.  I can't live life in the past.  But it sure is fun to remember it.  It's kind of like labor, you only remember the joy of holding your precious newborn and all the pain it took to get to that point seems to be a moot point.  

If I could encourage young parents in anything it would be this: enjoy the moment.  Invest in your children while they are young.  Spend time doing what they like.  You can't wait to start teaching/training them until they get older, you won't have that raport with them.  The important things don't just happen when they're older.  The most important things happen every day: time together - doing the mundane, living life together - learning how to work together, disagree agreeably, play together.

The escalator only goes up... enjoy the ride.