Gently Humorous: Accidentally (On Purpose)

     It's pretty amazing how often my toddler will "accidentally" get himself into trouble. I've lost track of the times I've found Thomas with marker on his face, toes, hands, or other unmentionable body parts. When I ask him what he thought he was doing, he replies, "I accidentally drew on myself."

     I tried explaining to Thomas the difference between accidentally and on purpose. When I caught Thomas sitting on his brother's bed ripping pages out of a beloved book, I asked him, "What do you think you're doing?" I'm lucky my three year-old hasn't started rolling his eyes at me. He hasn't realized (yet) what a silly question that really is. Then again, I guess I haven't either.

     "I accidentally tore the book on purpose," Thomas admitted.

     At least my lecture set in. A little.

     Thomas' habit of "accidentally" falling into sin on purpose might be cute and humorous if it weren't so much like my own spiritual shortcomings. How many times have I accidentally wondered into the kitchen and ended up glutting myself? How many times have I picked up that secular novel and accidentally forgot to skip over those scenes I shouldn't read? How many times have I accidentally lost my temper with my kids?

     I'm horribly guilty of purposefully leading myself into temptation so that I can accidentally fall into it. Truth is, I'm no more mature than my three year-old. And I'm not as cute, either, which means I need to be even more careful. (Because, face it, it's not too easy to stay mad at a smile like this.)

     Thankfully, God has more patience with me than I have with my son, but every once in a while I imagine my heavenly Father must be sitting up in heaven asking me, "What do you think you're doing?"

***

Random Fact: My wrist tendons (which are responsible for my sporadic blogging of late) used to make a thumbs-up at only about 35 degrees. Now, thanks to a ton of stretching, I can give a 90-degree thumbs up. (It's the little things that count.)

Blog Love: This post is part of Christian Home Magazine, hosted by Laura O. Since my friend Regi is also hosting her Mirth and Music Monday meme on Mondays, I'm also posting a YouTube video for you to enjoy that, in my opinion, is so musically mirthful I'm giving you both M's in one bang.

Aren't the Piano Guys awesome? I'll be taking my five year-old to their concert next winter. I'm not sure if he's more excited or if I am.

Want a free book? I just signed up with a new website that rewards readers for promoting their favorite authors. Visit my Libboo page to see how you can earn a free ebook just for your tweets and posts!

Pondering the Incarnate

What's up with this photo?

     This Christmas season, my two year-old Thomas has been asking me all kinds of deep, philosophical questions about Christ Incarnate.

     Like, Did Jesus have a pee-pee?

     Now, I’m used to my kids attacking me with inquiries from way out in left field (and sometimes from way out in the bleachers as well). And I know it’s perfectly natural for a little boy to wonder about the anatomy of the Christ Child, who was in fact another little boy. But there are some questions that just don’t seem very reverent to ask about Mary’s perfect, sinless child.

     I hardly wondered about Baby Jesus when I was younger. I knew Who He was, I knew Where He had come from, and I knew why He had come. What was left to ponder?

     Then I had sons of my own and started to imagine what it would be like to have a child who was truly perfect. Jesus the Baby had no sin nature whatsoever. Does that mean the carol is right after all, and Mary and Joseph looked at each other a few days after Jesus’ birth and remarked, “Wow, what a great baby! No crying He makes!”?

     Jesus was perfectly sinless, but He was also flesh and blood. So did Jesus spit up on Jospeh? Did He give Mary a little morning shower when she went to see if His swaddling cloth was dry? Did He get colic and keep His parents up all night with His shrieking?

     What about His circumcision? Did Jesus scream His head off in pain and anger? Did He spend the next few days fussier than normal? And what about nursing? Did Jesus cry whenever He got hungry, even though as God He must have known Mary was busy at times and couldn’t tend to Him right away? Did His cries get louder and louder the longer Mary tarried, as if it were possible for God in the flesh to demonstrate impatience? If Mary’s ducts got clogged, did Jesus heal them immediately with a thought, or did He just holler because He was hungry and wasn't getting what He wanted?

     And what about His life as a toddler? Did Jesus cry when He scraped His knee? If Joseph tried to comfort Him, did Jesus pout and demand Mommy instead? Could the just and perfect Divine have had a favored parent?

     Did the Christ Toddler get scared? Did He cry during storms? Did He cling to His mother's skirts whenever Mary tried to leave Him for a few hours with friends or relatives so she could go shopping at the market or fix Joseph up a nice dinner without the "help" of an active two year-old?

     Jesus was sinless, but He was born into a weak body. Did He get sick just as often as the other children in Nazareth? Or was His body naturally stronger because it was free from sin and its consequences? Did Jesus have many friends as He grew up? Did He play with his neighbors? Could He read their thoughts, know their fears, sense their insecurities? Did children like Him? Did Mary stay up late at night wondering if Her Son "fit in" with the Nazareth crowd?

     The mother in me would like answers to these mysteries, and more. But my pedantic side assures me that if God wanted us to know all these details, He would have included them in the Scriptures. Maybe when I get to heaven I'll ask Mary to join me for a cup of hot chocolate and whipped cream and ask her some of these questions myself. 

     Then again, maybe I'll just sit back in silent awe, try once again to grasp the enormity of Christ Incarnate, and do my best to meditate on the one Mary called "Immanuel —which means God With Us" (Matthew 1:23).

What about you? If you could ask God - or His mother - one question about Jesus as a youngster, what would it be? (Feel free to leave your comment below.)

Tinkle Time

 (This article appears in the Christian Home Magazine, Issue 92. Check it out!) 

What's up with this photo?

     Our family has been diaper-free for exactly three weeks.

     Sort of.

     Which is a huge deal, since Nate (my oldest) is almost seven, and this is the first time since his birth that we have not had at least one child in diapers. (Yes, there was one month during which all three of our boys were in Huggies. How would you like that strain on your family budget?)

     Should I also mention that for one and half years we lived in a village so remote that disposable bootie-covers cost over a dollar? That's per diaper, by the way. Have two boys who need bottom cloths? You do the math (the boys and I have already done our multiplication practice for the day). Why didn't we just get cheaper diapers shipped to us, you might be wondering? Oh, how naive you are to think internet companies bother to ship to rural Alaskan villages like Sanford. Nope, we were on our own.

     Well, not entirely on our own. We did have each other. My friend and I made up our own little diaper co-op. If she was planning to make the four-hour drive to Walmart, I'd give her enough cash that she probably should have been driving an armored vehicle and ask her to bring back as many tinkle-poopers for my boys as she could fit in her car. When I went into town to restock, she would do the same for me. "Security," she liked to say, "is knowing that you have enough diapers to last until your next trip to town."

     Yup, that's how we do it living out in Sanford, Alaska. We program our internal calendars based on the size of our diaper stash.

     Thankfully, I now live in a real city with real roads and even a real Walmart. I don't have to plan a four-hour drive to stock up on Pampers, or else pay a dollar a pair at the local convenience store. But still, I've been looking forward to DF (Diaper-Free) Day for years. When it finally came, you could have heard me whoop for joy all the way back in Sanford, I'm pretty sure, where my poor friend is still paying a buck a shot for her family's crinkle pants.

    So three weeks ago, since I knew at least 299 of my 312 friends on Facebook were clutching their smartphones in anticipation, I made my announcement to the world: Thomas is out of diapers! 
 
     And then he wasn't.

     Thomas' path to regression was so subtle I never saw it coming. (If I had, do you think I would have spent twelve buckaroos for his brand-new Spiderman underwear?) It started with a leak every three or four days. No big deal, I told myself, he's still learning.

     Then he was "accidentally" soaking his friendly neighborhood hero every other day or so. I guess we are busier than normal, I figured and blamed our hectic holiday schedule. Before long a masked Pete Parker was getting rained on once or twice a day. Finally, I got so fed up with the amount of laundry I was doing that I decided to put a Pull-Up on Thomas after his first offense of the day. And what do you know? Thomas realized it was a lot easier to do his little thing (or things, as the case may be) on the run instead of walking to the bathroom, turning on the light, pulling out the stool, and so on.

     It wasn't until yesterday (call it denial) when I realized: Thomas isn't potty-trained anymore. At first, I was able to step back and look at the situation rationally. He's still only two, after all. My other boys were three (and yes, even four) before we celebrated their DF Days. And all the books say regression is quite normal for early toilet trainees. (They also say that most babies learn to sleep through the night by the time they are five months old and that some mothers experience slight discomfort the day their milk comes in, so you can bet how much I trust these "experts.")

     Anyway, there I was, changing another Pull-Up and thinking magnanimous thoughts to myself like, Thomas will let me know when he's ready to be toilet trained, and It really isn't a big deal if we keep having to buy diapers because we're so used to it. We've been doing it for nearly seven years, after all.

     Sometime after I said the word buy but before I said the word diapers, something snapped. Wait a minute! I was supposed to be celebrating my new-found freedom. The money we'd save by going completely diaperless could be enough for a date night a month if we planned things right! And I was going to just let Thomas off the hook, stick him back in Pull-Ups full time, and allow him to decide when he was good and ready to piddle on the potty like a big boy?

     I DON'T THINK SO!

     Isn't that so like human nature? On the surface, we love the idea of forgiveness. We love the idea of extending grace. Until we realize that it costs us something. And don't let anyone ever fool you. Showing grace is an expensive line of business.

     How much hurt does it cost the housewife to forgive her husband for his Internet "accident" ... again? How must energy does it cost the mother of a wayward child to keep on loving and praying ... with no visible results? How much pride does it cost the church member to forgive that one person who is always making Sunday mornings so difficult ... and every other day of the week too?

     I don't know about you, but I can be a lot like Scrooge when it comes to extending grace. I was totally willing to "forgive" Thomas for his constant toiletry slip-ups ... until I thought about the cost of keeping him in forty-cents-a-pair Pull-Ups for another year. I'm totally willing to be a great friend ... until I realize how much humility it takes to keep on overlooking what I perceive to be snide remarks. And I'm in love with the idea of constantly extending grace to my family ... until their minor annoyances overdraw my patience account.

     Unfortunately, grace is never free. We shouldn't be surprised. After all, God's grace cost Him dearly. He purchased our forgiveness with the blood of His beloved Son. Think others have  overdrawn your forgiveness account? Just remember what God did for us.

     I'd like to think that in the coming weeks I'll find peace with whatever potty route Thomas chooses for himself. But if I'm stuck buying diapers by the loadful, I have to admit I'm going to have a hard time feeling magnanimous about it. I guess that's when I'll think about those poor mothers back in Sanford who are spending up to three times as much as I am for their children's bottom dumpers.

     If I'm feeling ultra generous, maybe I'll send them Thomas' leftovers once I've got him back in his fancy Spidermans.

What about you? Do you have any good potty training tips? I'm all ears! Or maybe you have a story to share about a time forgiveness cost you something. (Feel free to leave your comment below.)