Smooth and Fat

So the other night we were comparing thumbs.  Fun.  Right?  Who doesn't do this?  Seriously, if you just isolate your thumb and look at it continuously it looks rather odd.  So, we're all holding our thumbs out for the rest of the clan to admire when Bennett makes an observation:

"I'm smooth and fat like Dad."

To which Daddy instantly replies, " *ahem* Let's clarify, we're talking about thumbs here.  That's the only part of me that's smooth and fat."

Of course.  That's all we were talking about.  Thumbs.  All of Daddy is not smooth and fat.  Not at all. It's just that when Bennett says it, it always sounds funnier.

How He Loves Us

Every time I hear this song, I think of these pictures.  Every time I see these beautiful sunsets/sunrises, I think of this song.  I decided to marry the two today.  Each of these are pictures I've taken over time. Whether on the plains of Texas, the beaches of California, the lakes of Minnesota, the desert of New Mexico or from the barrenness of Haiti, I can remember where I was each time and I am still awed.  It never gets old.  

Camping Misadventures

This was it.  This was the weekend we had all been waiting for.  It had been a whole year since our last, great, Mallott family camping adventure.  We were poised to deliver great expectations on this blessed trip.  However, we have noticed an uncomfortable trend infringing on our glorious camping experiences the last few years.  The trend (or curse) is that of rain.  It seems that no matter when or where we plan a camping trip, it rains.  Not just rain.  Thunderstorms.  This trip was no exception.  Not that it had rained at ALL for the past month.

We decided to head out early on Sunday since the forecast showed the higher percentage of rain for later in the day.  The entire drive to our destination - it rained.  That should have been clue number 1. Oh ya, and it was like 55 - 60 degrees...in August!  We could see our breath people! Our breath!!  This should have been clue number two - just turn around and go home now.  But no, ever the optimists we're all like, "Oh this is perfect hiking weather, we wouldn't want it any hotter - this is just great." Whatever.  Apparently, being outdoors does something funky to my brain and makes me question all things practical and wise.

Hiking in the cool fall-like weather of August with complete cloud cover and the occasional sprinkle was wonderful.  We were lost in the beauty of nature and rock climbing (please don't assume these are vertical levels we are attempting here, they are simply lots of rock outcroppings on a horizontal plane - much easier for us novices to handle).  We are out for a day of adventure and gosh darn-it, we will have it rain or shine!  We will not let the weather control our attitude - even though Chuck and I are giving weary glances back and forth wondering if we'll actually make it all the way through till the next morning.

This is the type of hiking we live for...off trail, climbing, a hint of danger involved and the smell of the great outdoors surrounding us.  A little sun and warmth added to the mix would be nice, but we realize we can't have it all. 

However, we were lucky enough to find the door to the woods, so we felt rather special.

This is the depth of hiking we had at our finger tips.  Too bad our finger tips and the rocks were too wet to climb because of all the rain!  And if it wasn't rain, it was fog.  The fog on the morning we woke up was so thick you couldn't see the other side of the river.

Like I said, we live on the edge.  If you have a teenager around (or Chuck), you know that if there is a sign that says something is probably hazardous, then we have to immediately head for that area and explore it and mock the sign that was meant to keep the weak minded away.  We made it half way down this cliff face before we realized a few important items: 1.  it was already starting to rain and the path was mostly a mud slope with an 10% grade, we might not make it back up.   2. Since it's so steep, it might be painful to (adult) muscles to have to climb all the way back up on slippery mud.  3. We didn't bring any rope, first aid kits or water....so if we got stuck in the 'hazardous' area Bear Grylls might think we hadn't been paying attention to all his hints and tips he so readily gives on all his survivor shows and we wouldn't want to disappoint him.

But oh, would Bear be proud of my husband for thinking up this little trick.  If there must be rain, then we WILL outsmart it.  Never again will we be caught sleeping in a water filled tent (yes, it has happened at least 2, maybe 3 other times to us).  This is the Tarp From Heaven.  It kept us dry all night long.  I was truly impressed with my husband's rope tying skills and ability to keep me from an utter melt-down in the rain.  

Unfortunately for us, we couldn't start a fire in our fire pit at the campsite.  Fortunately for us, there was a 'lodge' on the campgrounds with a massive fireplace.  We improvised and voila....we still had fajitas for dinner....even though we had to cook the teeny, tiny strips of chicken one at a time speared on a k-bob holder.  Our hands were getting slightly burnt being so close to the fire with our one slice of chicken.  Necessity is the mother of invention - thus, that is why our hands are wrapped in our table cloth.  Problem solved.  It only took us a hour to eat one at a time.  Each person got exactly one fajita with one piece of meat but hey, at least we got to eat, stay warm and dry for a while and even had ample space to play our family game of nertz after dinner.

Once we got back to our campsite there was really nothing left to do but read.  It was already getting pretty dark even though it was only 7:00 because of the storm outside.  We kept telling the kids, "We're making memories, so enjoy it."

Bennett took it seriously and decided he would be happier making memories if he could eat all the doritos and oreos he wanted inside his sleeping bag that comes equipped with arm holes.  He certainly was a Happy Camper.

Chloe was so disillusioned that we were going to bed so early she would have none of that (plus, she finished her book and hand nothing left to do).  She decided to run away.  At least as far away as the car and try to come up with a better plan.  There was alot of huffy breaths, crocodile tears and drama involved.   She felt we were all party poopers.  So she took it upon herself to try to get our campfire going.  She noticed that when she left the comfort of our shelter that it wasn't raining.  So even though the fire pit was soaking wet, she deduced that a fire would be had.  THIS is what camping is all about - sitting around the campfire at night talking and eating smores.  Thank God for her persistence and strong will in this because she won out, succeeded in dragging us all out of the tent and had (with a small bit of help from Daddy) gotten the fire started and all the chairs set up around it.  We enjoyed our last hour of no rain gathered around the fire talking.   

And then we lie in the tent for the next 8 hours listening to the rain pelt the tarp and the wind howl.  If I fell asleep it was on accident.  I don't know how it would have happened because all I remember was looking at the ceiling and trying to guess what time it was all night.  At one point I rolled over and told Chuck, "I feel like I'm an NFL coach who is waiting for the team to dump a cooler full of Gatorade on me."  I just KNEW all the water gathering on the tarp was going to somehow seep through and shower us from above.  We were all miserable, but made it through the night dry, much to my surprise.  We did a HARD thing.  It wasn't the optimal circumstances, but we indeed made a memory and tried desperately to make the most out of it.  

We were out of there, packed and on the road by 8am.   Maybe the Mallotts will only camp in cabins from now on.  This whole tent/rain thing is getting old.  Every. Time.

It Matters

This poem came in response to my utter sadness over the complete despondency in the world at the moment. I could allow all these horrible events to spiral me downward until I loose hope. Sometimes they do. But then God gently reminds me that He is my hope. He came to bring hope and love and a new way of living for right now. This beautiful earth often seems so full of injustice, fear, hatred, disease, mistrust and war. We hear so much more bad news than good news.

Bennett started reading the news on his phone. He recently told me that it makes him sad but he's glad to know what's going on. I told him I also felt the same way and apologized that we can't protect him from all the ugliness as much any more as we could when he was younger. He told me he doesn't want to be protected from it any more, that he needs to learn how to deal with it and what's going on so he can understand better the world he lives in. But most importantly he said he needs to know it so he knows how to pray. I couldn't agree more.

There seems so little that we can do. Praying is often the only thing I can physically do to help in some of these situations. I can't help the thousands of illegal immigrant children trying to cross the border (alone) for hope at a better (safe) life. I can't drop off food and water to the Kurds stuck in the mountains by Isis and left to die. I can't hug the family of Robin Williams who is left without a Husband and Father because his internal demons were too much for him to bear. I can't change the police in Ferguson, Missouri and ask them to treat the African Americans with more respect and kindness instead of hatred and fear. I can't make Israel and Palestine live in peace. I can't stop Ebola from spreading across Africa. And the list goes on ad nauseum.

But I can pray. I can touch of the lives of people I come in contact with every day. I can show love instead of reciprocating hate. I can give food to those around me who need it. I can help the immigrants and refugees here who I come in contact with every day. But most importantly, I can pray and trust the One who can change hearts and lives and nations. If we all touched one person next to us, then eventually, the whole world will be touched.

To quote one of my favorite movies (The Power of One): "A waterfall starts but with one drop, and look what becomes of that."

I have so, so many questions and I don't pretend to have any answers.  I'm confused so much of the time.  This is just me trying to reconcile all my questions with what I know to be true and what I feel and think. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn't.  But I know that everyone matters, otherwise, why did Jesus die on the cross.  If they matter to him, they matter to me.

It Matters

It matters what you say
It matters that you pray
It matters what you do
It matters how you choose

People laughing on the outside
Might be dying on the inside
People hating on the outside
Might be scared on the inside

Spending time together matters
Holding hands in unity matters
Standing up for others matters
Speaking for the voiceless matters

Money doesn’t matter
Skin color doesn’t matter
Address doesn’t matter
Stuff doesn’t matter

Look at the heart, it cares
Look at their eyes, they plead
Look at the bodies, they are broken
Look at their faces, there is fear

Where is the hope?
Where is the love?
Where is the peace?
Where is the justice?

One to one....relationship,
That’s how we care.
Surrendering our pride and need for recognition,
That’s how we give.

Looking out for others not only ourselves,
Touches lives and tenders hope.
Speaking the truth,
Brings pain at first and justice in the end.

Actions matter
Words matter
People matter
Love matters

How do we erase fear?
How do we bring about justice?
How do we help the helpless?
How do we show we care?

We love our enemies.
We do good to those who hurt us.
We turn the other cheek.
We fight evil with good.
We mourn with those weep.
We bless and do not curse.
We pray and always hope.

It matters.

Guest Blogger

Today's post is from my favorite 12 year old.   I just love his heart, the way he looks at the world and who he is.  He writes from his heart:

Random blog late at night

Some people are made to write.  Some people are just good at it.  Notice I saidsome people.  (:  My Mom isn't an author but her blogs are like, really long.  Every time I finish a good book, (I counted and I have read 14 books this summer!  All of them were good.) I think to myself how easy it is to write a book.  I have a way of doing things like that it my mind.  Like I think to myself, if someone had a gun against my head and ordered me to to twenty pull-ups, otherwise I would die, I usually just think, yeah I could do that if I had to.  In real life if that situating happened, I would be able to do two pull-ups, then I would die.  Happy thought.  I have a lot of awesome ideas for books in my head but when I try to write them, I get about one paragraph done and give up.  There would probably be a ton of good books written by well, me, if I had continued them.  To many ideas but I can't follow through.  (:  I think the reason I always think that I could do something hat I actually can't do is because of my Lymes Disease.  Now if you were talking about someone who had a life threatening disease, you wouldn't talk about me.  But if you were talking about someone who, every morning wakes up and literally feels like he played a hundred games of rugby during the night them got hit by a truck going 70 mph, you probably will be talking about me.  (: No joke.  Calling me sore would be a huge understatement.  But I'm not complaining.  A couple weeks ago, we went on a canoe ride.  If you have ever gone canoeing on a hot day in a metal canoe in the middle summer you know it's fun.  A couple weeks before that and even that day, I had been taking pills for Lyme's Disease (that didn't work) and one of the allergic reactions that I didn't read was to stay out of direct sunlight.  (:  ahhh, if you know me, you will see the irony.  Making me staying out of direct sunlight?  Are these people crazy?  (:  but I didn't see the note.  So of course after canoeing for a while, I felt a very unusual feeling in my hands so to speak.  First, cake the tingling.  Then came the stinging.  Then came the burning.  Then came the agony.  IT HURT A LOT!  I cried actually and to make me cry from physical pain is very rare.  My hand were on fire and there was nothing I could do.  So I endured the seven mile canoe ride with my hands on fire except with no fire.    It hurt for days afterwards and I still have scars and burns on my hands right now.  Two days later, it was just me and dad in the car and he was asking me questions about the burning in my hands.  We finally came to the subject of cancer patients.  He told me that people with cancer, the medication they take makes their whole body like that!  I am truly grateful and thankful.  My guardian angel knows me well and has been with me through every painful situation I have been through.  (A lot). And probably is so sick if taking some of my pain. (:  Every time I am in a painful situation I actually think of God.  Or my family.  I think of how loved and lucky I am and how good of a life I live.  I am a ground magnet, a human punching bag, and I am sure that one day I will get hurt really really really bad.  But I don't care.  I have God's love, my families love and that makes me so very happy.  No one has a bigger smile than me when I realize all this.  I didn't write this blog to brag about how hurt I am, or how much pain I have endured, or anything else.  Actually I don't know why I wrote this blog.  It is like 11pm and my mind doesn't work properly after about 9:30.  (:  I had an impulse to write a blog so I did.  I don't know if I have ever written a blog this long for no apparent reason.  I have realized who I am.  I am a kid with a big smile, a kid who loves God, a kid who has the best family ever and who doesn't know much more than that.  Goodnight I guess.  I'm tired but maybe you guys are reading this blog in the afternoon or morning.  So I will just say good morning.  Or good afternoon.  Or maybe you are so happy you just wrote a blog for no reason and are reading his blog late at night.  Well since I don't whether to say good day or goodnight, I will just say good.  Cuz God is good.

Friendship

Unadulterated, pure joy, hand in hand - it must be Summer!

A true friend advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, 

defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably.  - William Penn

Triathlon

This is the second year that Chloe has run the Miracles of Mitch Triathlon.  I just love, love, love that there is something kids can do to actively help other kids.  We didn't even ask Chloe if she wanted to do it this year, she just told us she was.  She raised donations all on her own too.  The air was ripe with nervous anticipation and excitement on race day.  The weather was perfect too.

The procession where all the kids (grouped by age/gender)

 walk into the staging area where the race begins.

Chloe and her friend (that she just met) right after 

finishing the first leg which is swimming.

Chloe beginning the second leg, which is biking.  

Still with new friend. 

Coming down the final home stretch.

Finishers!!

Chloe is loyal if nothing else.  The girl she did the entire race with she just met as they were waiting in the procession line.  Turns out they were both running for the same All-Star (kid with cancer) named Addison.  Then Chloe found out that this girl has been running the triathlon for a few years since her older sister was an All-Star but ended up beating the cancer.  Yay!  So it was very personal for her. 

On a separate note....Chloe did the whole thing without ever training.  That stinker.  I guess swimming a hundred yards, running a half mile and biking 3 miles is just child's play.  All in a day's work.  But she did tell me that next year she will probably have to train because she'll be in the older kids category and they have to do twice as much as the younger kids.

Rest In Peace

My dear, sweet Jadziu passed away Monday afternoon.  It was exactly 1 year and 1 week after my Bapchie's passing last year.  He was 94 years old.  He suffered from Alzheimer's for the past 13 years, but that's not what killed him.  It was a blood infection from his pace-maker.  He was otherwise still healthy and strong.  Always so strong.  He has cheated death many times before.  The one word that best describes him was: fighter.  He lived through throat cancer, prostate cancer, the war, pneumonia, car accidents and probably even more things that I'm not even aware of.   He still had the strongest handshake at 90+ than anyone I know.

Ed, as he was known, was born in December of 1918 or 1919, no one is really sure because the town hall where the records were kept burned down.  He was 1 of 6 kids born to Polish immigrants.  He grew up in Ellington, Connecticut where they farmed tobacco.  He was forced to leave school in the eighth grade to work full time on the family farm.  He adored his mom, but from what I remember, his father was a very hard person.  He joined the Army before Pearl Harbor.  He re-enlisted and served 6 years, 5 of those years were spent in WWII.  He was stationed in the Pacific Front in the Philippines.

He married my Bapchie when he returned home from the war.  He was six years her senior.  He never talked about the war that defined him so, much like every other man who served during that time.  They just never spoke about it.  He borrowed $8,000 from his father-in-law to buy their first and only house. It was in pretty bad shape when he bought it, but he fixed it up and continued to do so for the next 63 years they lived there.  He worked his entire life as an auto mechanic at Town Line Auto Body.  He could fix anything.  He was still climbing a massive telephone pole they had in their back yard that one end of their outdoor clothes line was attached too in order to fix the pulley system that was attached about 15 feet high off the ground - at 90+ years old, blind, with Alzheimer's.  Very little stopped him. They had two boys, six years apart.

I never lived close to my Grandparents but we always visited each other.  My Dad says that my Jadziu became a softer person once his grandkids were born.  I am the oldest of the 6 grandkids.  I remember asking him tons of questions about the war.  I know that he still suffered from headaches related to the war even now.  He lost his eye sight years ago, but he never let that stop him.  He would listen to books on tape and still read the paper every day (he could only see through his peripheral vision).  He read every National Geographic ever printed.  That is how he became so smart even though he never finished school.

This was the last time I saw him, a year ago at my Bapchie's funeral.  I had the chance to spend a few hours alone with him while my Bapchie was in the hospital.  He could never be left alone.  He was fiercely independent and his medicine often made him more confused and ornery.   The only time that seemed clear to his memory was his time in the war.  He thought I was female soldier coming to flirt with him.  He asked me all about my 'outfit' (what unit I was in).  I was making stuff up on the fly, it was hilarious.  We also sat outside in some lawn chairs for a while out on the driveway (they lived right off a main road and he often liked to watch the cars go by).  We were sitting very close to my car and he started asking me all types of questions about what type of engine it had.  His mind was still sharp as a tack when it came to cars, he could still tell you exactly how to fix any problem it had.

Jadziu was a life long Boston Red Sox fan.  That is why he is laughing in this picture.  My Dad placed his own Yankees ball cap on Jadziu's head which made him laugh and he said this was the only time you'd ever see this.  He never lost his sense of humor.  He was so funny.  Last year when the kids and I visited him, Bennett was trying to relate a story to him.  Jadziu responded with, "Don't ever tell a story if you don't have to."  It was pure Jadziu.  I traveled to Connecticut for his 90th birthday 4 years ago. He was still suffering from Alzheimer's but would still have moments of lucidity.  As I was about to leave to catch my plane he looked me directly in the eyes, held my hands and said, "May the Lord bless you and keep you."  My eyes still tear up  to this day with that recollection because I knew he knew exactly what he meant.  The thing he didn't know was that I send my kids off each morning with that same prayer.  My favorite memory of him is when I was a little girl and I would sit on his lap in the kitchen and we would eat oyster crackers with peanut butter on them together.  This big, strong man putting tiny globs of peanut butter on teeny tiny crackers...all for his grand daughter.

Thank you for the memories, Jadziu and for your legacy.

Proverbs By Bennett

Sometimes Bennett comes up with the craziest things.  Lately it has been his 'proverbs'.  He likes to put on the air of a wise old man and say in a most humble, serious voice, "I'd like to share a wise saying with  you..." and so it goes.  Here are some of the 'wise sayings' I am subjected to day in and day out:

Sometimes a one-eyed cow can see things a two-eyed cow can't.

Sometimes there are cracked potato chips and whole potato chips.  The cracked ones sacrifice themselves so others can eat a whole potato chip.

Sometimes to make an omelet, many eggs have to crack.

Sometimes a light bulb can lead to light, like the light in the refrigerator when you're getting chocolate milk.

Must I go on?  You see the theme here, don't you?  Food.  He has all his major, life revelations around food.

Bonus Points

I just totally earned a TON of bonus points with my boys this weekend.  Daddy and Chloe went camping so the boys and I got to spend a bunch of extra time together.  I knew they would think much higher of me if I were to suggest we go see a 'boy movie'.  I NEVER watch 'boy movies'.  Ok, I confess, I did just recently watch The Amazing Spiderman 2 and lived to tell about it.  It wasn't as bad as I had assumed it would be.  Normally, when the boys want to see a comic book movie or action/adventure movie, it's Chuck who takes them.  Afterall, he is a former boy, he gets it.  He still likes that stuff.  Me - not so much.

I checked the listings of the local theater and found Godzilla to be one of the only options of acceptable movies to go see.  So I suggested to the boys we go check it out.  Their immediate response was, "Are you sure you want to see this mom?"  A reasonable question given their intimate knowledge of my likes and dislikes.  "Sure, " I said, "I just want to do something with y'all that I know you would enjoy."  They were stoked.

Of course going to our favorite pizza joint before the movie only served to raise my cool factor that much higher.  And then there was the movie.  I really thought I could make it through it.  I figured how bad could it really be?  There really aren't words to describe my feelings about that movie.

As soon as the show was over and we were walking out the boys asked me, "So, Mom, how did you like it?" eager for my response.  I didn't want to kill the mood, so I just said, "I'll have to tell you later. How did you like it?"  Of course it was incredibly awesome to them in that gory, destructive, loud, unrealistic way boys see the world.

Once we get in the car Gavin is like, "So was it the sensory overload that got to you or all the destruction?"  Oh how he knows me.  "Both, actually. And the fact that is was so completely unrealistic.  But I can see how if you love science-fiction, that movie was probably really cool to you." Then Bennett piped in with, "At one point I was about to tell you that you didn't have stay in here and watch it, you could wait outside for us, but then this really awesome part happened and I forgot to tell you and figured you'd probably want to see that part."  How thoughtful.

The boys really were so super thankful that I would do something with them that they knew I really didn't like.  Because it's not about me.  Rather, it was about me doing something that I knew they really liked and I like them so, why not put up with an unrealistic, loud, poorly acted, loud, destructive, loud, violent, loud movie for 2 hours.  It was the least I could do to show my love.

All of parenthood is a sacrifice.  It starts off that way and never ends.  It's brutal at the beginning, sacrificing your sleep, all your free time, all your money; their needs are instantly more important than your own.  After a while, they become more self sufficient and independent needing less and less of us. That's the plan.  They shouldn't need us as much, but want us.  I recently heard a quote that said: "It isn't a sacrifice unless it costs you something."

I sacrificed my sanity, peace of mind and eardrums for my boys so they would know how much I loved them and wanted to hang out with them doing what they loved to do.   Their love tanks are full now. They were so incredibly thankful all day and kept thanking me over and over.  It truly does feel better to give than to receive.

The Teen Whisperer

This blog seems to have turned into what I have learned through the course of being a mom.  Since I've never been one before, I'm forever learning.  This holds true for every phase.  I've never been the parent of a teenager before.  I rather like it.  At times it is maddening, I must confess, but most of the time it is very enlightening.

I'm lucky to spend most every day at home with my kids and my neighbor kids.  I've always been drawn more to kids than people my own age.  I feel like I can relate to them better.  If I'm ever at a party, I'm the one sitting at the 'kid table'.  I just love picking their brains and listening to how they see the world.  I truly find it fascinating.

What I've learned from my time with teens is this:  

1.  They WANT to spend time with adults, specifically their parents.  BUT they want to do this on their own terms.  They want you there.  Just being there is super important.  They don't want to feel forced into having to spend time with you, they want to chose to.  And when given the choice, they will normally chose you.  They are mini grown-ups or grown-ups in training.  The way kids have always learned is by mimicking what they see.  It's no different when they are in adolescent bodies.  Just being there goes a long way.  Being there for the mundane happenstances of life carry much more weight in the long run than those few 'quality time' experiences.  They don't want more stuff - they want more you.

2.  They WANT you to respect and trust them.  This goes a LONG way.  All the hours of time you spent teaching them as children, the difference between right and wrong, politeness, manners, how to make good choices, how to pick friends....they remember these things.  Trust that they are drawing from what's inside them, from the tools you gave them when they were young.  Kids, no matter what their age, will always live up to your expectations.  If  you set the bar low, it shows you don't really have faith in them and feel that your nagging and constant reminding are the only way they will listen.  If you set the bar high, they will reach it.  I've witnessed this too many times to not believe it.  Also, you HAVE to respect them first before they will respect you.

3.  They WILL mess up - let them.  This is the training ground for adulthood.  Let them fail while they are in the safety of their own homes surrounded by people who love them.  Yes, their failures have bigger consequences the older they get and those failures are scary.  But just like learning to ride a bike or learning how to walk - they learn from their many failures.  We HAVE to let our kids fail and we have to be there for them when they do.  We can't fear failure otherwise they will.  Don't hide your past failures from them.  Talk to them about what you learned from your bad choices when you were their age.  Talk to them about the mistakes you still make and how you learn from them.  They will see you as human, just  like them.  Kids often set their parents on a pedestal and feel they do no wrong.  Mercy and compassion go a long way.

4.  They WILL be moody - let them.  They have never been this age before - you have.  Remember what it felt like to be stuck in this new, adult body with emotions, feelings and thoughts you've never had before.  It's weird, scary, confusing.  They need time alone to make sense of all the massive change that is happening in and around them.  Give them time alone to process all of this.  The older more mature person needs to always be more understanding and patient of the less mature.  This is what love does.  It doesn't take their moodiness personally.  It doesn't get offended when they want to be alone.

5.  Your opinion still matters. They want your affirmation.  They want to know they're on the 'right' path.  BUT they don't want to be told how to get there, they want to figure it out for themselves.  The most loving thing to do is to let them.  Encourage them along the way.  Build them up.  Let them know they are on the right track.  They miss valuable lessons by you just telling them what to do at this age. Problem solving is a very important skill to learn.  When they ask your opinion, give it honestly and in some cases delicately for issues of the heart (such as boyfriends and girlfriends).

6.  If you want them to spend time doing what you like, you have to FIRST take an interest in what's important to them.  This is a big deal.  Most parents and teens have vastly different interests and chances are, you are really not into what they are.  For example, my boys are super into Minecraft.  I could really care less about it.  But I need to show an interest in what they like because it's a part of them.  It shows I value them, all sides of them.  They love to show me the worlds they build, they love to talk to me about techniques they used.  I try to ask pertinent quetions.  We've even set up challenges where they build something, make a rubric and then Chuck and I 'grade' each person's design based on the rubric they came up with.  

7. They want you to LISTEN to them.   Really listen.  Stop what you're doing and listen.  Put down the phone, turn off the tv, focus all your attention on them.  Sometimes they don't know how to explain how they feel so their actions show their feelings instead.  Sometimes they want to talk for hours - at 11pm when you want to sleep.  Sometimes we don't want to hear the brutal honesty of what they want to share.  Take the time to listen and not talk.  The action of listening seems to be a lost art.  We love to tell others what we think.  We love to jump into a conversation and try to relate.  We love to make sure our point of view is understood.  But listening involves being silent, giving space and being there. Sometimes your teen may just want to you there so they can vent.  Other times they may talk just to get their thoughts out in the open making them not seem so scary or confusing.  And then there are times when they talk and really, truly, honestly want to hear what you have to say - but they have to initiate. Don't offer advice, help, opinions unless prompted to do so. 

Ahhh....Summer!

Oh how I love summer, let me count the ways:

1. no schedule
2. lots of sun
3. kids home
4. eating outside
5. more time with friends
6. lots of play time
7. perfect weather
8. the smell of fresh-cut grass
9. fields of cornstalks waving in the wind
10. working in the backyard
11. birdsongs
12. sunsets at the lake
13. the heat of the sun on my skin

These past few days have been the epitome of all that summer is for me.  I just love having the kids home!  It's not so much that they want to do stuff with me, but it's the fact that they want me there, they want to hang out at our house and just spend time together.  Sometimes it looks like us just sitting on the sofa reading a book together. Other times it's lazy evenings eating ice cream and watching our favorite summer shows (yay Food Network Star and American Ninja Warrior!).  The last couple of days it looks like neighborhood friends coming and hanging out at our house all day long.  How I love that!  I love that everyone wants to be here.

It's not so much that the kids friends are here that I love, it's who they are that I love.  They are the sweetest people.  We have a high school freshman, junior and senior that think it's fun coming to hang with us all day.  Not to mention my own 3.  And eating all our food.  It's always busy here around lunch time.  They spent one whole day playing hide n seek in the house.  When that game ran it's course they felt the need to consult with the activities coordinator for more exciting ideas.  I am pleased to announce that I did have a few acceptable activities up my sleeve for just such an occasion.

They ended up spending the rest of the afternoon demolishing my family room.  I suggested building obstacle courses and racing through them.  In my mind's eye, I saw them outside doing this particular activity.  But they preferred the indoors so I gave them cart blanche reign over the family room.  There's not much that can get hurt in that room.

Not once did anyone turn on the tv or complain of being bored.  I loved watching this creativity in action.  This is what I love about being a stay at home mom.

When the excitement of that started to wane they were ready for more ideas from the idea generator. Thank God I had time to think.  Most of my ideas were great 7 years ago, not so much anymore.  I need to start thinking like a teenager again.  A cool one.  The next idea I came up with was a shot in the dark, but I knew my kids really enjoyed this game so I thought everyone might.  They ended up playing the communication game that we always enjoy around here.  It was so fun to listen and watch as the neighbor kids struggled through what at first glance is an apparently easy game to play.

After whittling away the rest of the afternoon everyone said goodbye only to start again the next day.
Yesterday they began by building an obstacle course for me to go through.  Then somehow, I'm still not exactly sure, but I was the one building the obstacle course and timing them as they raced through it. I was deemed an expert course builder, a title I hold dear.  Next on the agenda was a bike ride up to the convenience store for junk food - sans Mom.

They all made plans to meet back at our house once it was dark (making it like 9:30pm) for serious play time.  There's nothing quite like a game of hide-n-seek in the dark.  They also added a new game that the freshman learned at church camp - Murder in the Dark.  Since it was a church camp game afterall, I felt it would be acceptable.  Thankfully, they modified it to be a little more non-violent, so instead of using your finger to mimic slicing the victims throat, they chose to tap the victim on the head.  I was so proud of them.  Chuck got to enjoy the all the dark games while I got to enjoy the peace and quiet of reading alone in my room.  I was exhausted after a full day of play.

Today looked completely different from the other two days.  Chloe and Bennett played with the little 7 and 5 year old girls from across the street.  I just love how all the ages can blend together and play so well together.  Each family genuinely looks out for each other and each other's kids.  My heart is full.