I tend to see the frustrating things in my kids…the things I think need changing…the things that I’m mad at myself for not being more consistent about.  One example is I’ve noticed that with summer comes a lot more together time for them, and so their bickering has upped itself quite a bit.  They have this thing where they insult each other, sometimes for real, sometimes tongue-in-cheek, and it drives me crazy.

So I’ve instituted that every time I hear them say something unkind, that person has to say something kind in its place.  It’s been working…sort of. Jack isn’t Sara’s biggest fan.  Asking him to compliment her is like asking him to wear a dress to basketball practice.  This was his highest form of flattery to date that he could muster up for his big sister, after he had just slammed her, let me point out: “Your glasses seem to fit well.”  It gets better.  Not only does he struggle with complimenting her, he can’t stand when she says something nice about or to him (kinda weird).  The other day she said his shirt looked good on him and he replied, “Now you have to say something mean to balance it out.”  Unbelievable.

But I digress ever so slightly.  My point being, I focus on the negatives.  But I was sharing a few stories about my kids with a new friend and she said, “How have you gotten your kids to turn out like that?”  The question surprised me.  I don’t think I have gotten them to turn out quite yet, for one thing.  But for another thing, I forget the good.  I don’t see it, I don’t acknowledge it. Read the rest of this entry »

by Elisabeth Corcoran

Here’s what I’m hoping for this summer…longer stretches with my kids. Really. And that statement surprises me, I have to say. I’ve made it known that I’m not “one of those kinds of moms”. I love my kids. Like super completely love them. And I capital L love the kids of my friends. But, well, let’s just say I won’t be opening up a daycare anytime soon. So for me to not be feeling cooped up and claustrophobic at the thought of a summer with my kids at home is a pleasant turn of events and a gift to me, not to mention to my kids.

So, it seems, I’m hoping for conversations that just happen because we’re together more often. Having the time and luxury to ask, “What’s on your mind, baby?” and being answered with something that blows me away, something I didn’t expect. I want to know my kids more deeply by the time they head back to school in August. I want to understand them better. I want to know what gives them joy, what drives them crazy, what makes them sad, what they lay awake at night thinking about. I want to look them in the eye at the end of each day and tell them that I love them and know them a bit better than the day before.

My kids are moments from walking out of this house and into the world on their own. When I say moments, I mean like five to ten years (depending on their college choices). And what may feel like an eternity to young moms, five or ten years is a breath, as those of us who have older children can attest to. Read the rest of this entry »

My kids are at the ages where they can occasionally stay home alone together.  It feels odd to get a babysitter for a 13- year-old and an almost 12-year-old, especially now that Sara has begun to babysit for others, but it still feels like I’m holding an experiment every time I leave them alone at home.  Will they be alive when I return?  Will the house still be standing?  Will there be a police car outside when I pull up?  (I have an active imagination.)

I knew I’d be doing leaving them on their own once a week for a few weeks, so I came up with some rules:

1. Pretend Mom is standing in the room with you at all times.
2. Do your absolute best to get along.  Do not lay even one finger on each other.
3. If you’re fighting, just stop and wait to discuss it when Mom or Dad comes home.
4. Do not cook anything on the stove or in the oven.
5. Do not take a shower.
6. Do not play outside. Read the rest of this entry »

There’s something about being a mom and living out the day-to-day with your kids, that you sometimes lose sight of who they are.  At least, that’s been my experience.  I look at Sara and Jack much more as “my kids” then I do as “Sara, whole person on her own” and “Jack, the whole person on his own”.

The other day, my animated seventh grade daughter was telling me some very detailed story about something that happened at school, and she’s gesturing wildly with her hands, and talking about people I don’t know, and I was staring at her and she said, “What are you thinking?”  And I said, “You are an entire person all by yourself.”  I’m sure she thought I was nuts.  She just said, “Duh, Mom…” and kept going with her story.  But it happened…somewhere along the way, she stopped being just my child, stopped being just Sara the little girl, and started being Sara the girl who is figuring out life and God and family and friends and (ugh) boys and homework and responsibility all on her own. Read the rest of this entry »

The other night while putting my eleven-year-old man-of-few-words son to bed, I asked him, “How’s your life going, bud?”  And he replied, “What do you mean?” “Well, like, how’s school, family, friends, church…that kind of stuff?” I answered.  “I’ll give them each a grade!” he said.

Awesome, I thought, both surprised and pleased at his suggestion.  So we started on down the line of how each area was going, him giving it a grade between A and F, adding pluses and minuses along the way.  Once we got to family, I had him break it down to his relationship with his dad, with his sister and with me, along with one thing that’s going well and one thing he wished were different.

This was eye-opening.  Forty minutes later I felt like I totally knew how my son was doing and how he was viewing his life.  I even went on to do this exercise with my thirteen-year-old daughter.  Again, new information.  They both said something that piqued my curiosity, so I went on to ask them both, separately, to rate my anger level, more specifically my yelling at them, on a scale from one to ten (one being I never yell, ten being I’m out of control).  I got 2s and 3s.  (I’m a self-proclaimed work-in-progress, what can I say?)

This not only was fascinating and new information, it was the springboard for a few pivotal conversations I went on to have with my kids.  One being about how sometimes we pass some things on through generations.  I made a list of health things, like my allergies, and sin issues, like my anger, that I struggle with, and this, in part, is what I shared with them. Read the rest of this entry »

Yesterday would have been my eighteenth wedding anniversary.  Had my now-husband, then-fiance, not broken our engagement, that is.  That was my first, first-person heartbreak.  Meaning, I had gone through being a child of divorce, but that was more about my parents than about me.  So, this was my first, big, hard thing.  And it was devastating.

But I was telling my son about it this morning, leaving out the devastating part, and I said to him, “Had we gotten married on January 25, 1992, when we were supposed to (please imagine me air-quoting feverishly right about now) instead of when we did, I wouldn’t have had you.  You wouldn’t even exist.”  He gave me that look that tells me he totally doesn’t know what I mean.  But when I said those words while looking my sweet boy in the eyes, it took my breath away.

That devastation that I would’ve given anything not to live through back then brought me Sara and Jack.  Because I’m sure that if we’d gotten married earlier, I would’ve started bugging Kevin about having kids earlier, and he would’ve relented earlier, and therefore we would’ve created altogether different human beings (well, God would have, but you know what I mean).

Side note: when I told Jack our actual wedding day and year, he didn’t say anything for a moment (turns out he was calculating) and then he said, incredulously, “You waited another almost two years?!”  My response, mumbled under my breath, “You are preaching to the choir, brother.”  (I got that quizzical look again.) Read the rest of this entry »

I recently read about triangles in relationships.  That sometimes, especially in the family dynamic, there are triangles.  Meaning, there is a third person in a relationship that has either inserted herself unnecessarily or has been dragged in due to some kind of dysfunction.  Talk about a light bulb moment.

I realized that I am the third person in my daughter’s relationship with her father, in my son’s relationship with his father, and my kids’ relationship with each other.  Now, as kids grow up, of course, we are the referees.  A lot.  But my kids are 11 and 13 and I am tired.  Just last week I heard my daughter calling downstairs with this complaint…”Mom, Jack touched my vitamin…” to which I’m thinking, but not saying outloud, “so what?!”.

But this whole triangle thing has gotten me thinking.  The author basically said that every adult is one hundred percent responsible for the health (or decline) of every relationship in their lives.  Though Sara and Jack still need coaching from time to time on respect and conflict resolution, they will eventually be in charge of whether or not the two of them are friends as they move into adulthood.  I can create an environment of kindness but I cannot manufacture anything right now that will guarantee their level of closeness in the future.  If they choose to be close, that’ll be up to them.  And that’s actually quite a relief if you think about it. Read the rest of this entry »

I love getting things done.  Crossing off items on my to do list.  Clicking the X in an Outlook task box.  Recycling a just-read magazine.  Returning library books and videos.  Deleting all my emails at the end of a day.  Twice a year going through every document on my computer and purging.  Striking through yet another accomplished goal, no matter how small.  Being done.  Love that feeling.

And I am a huge fan of the clean slate.  I love new calendars.  New journals.  New checkbook registers.  A blank document in Word.  Starting a new bottle of shampoo.  Opening a new box of cereal.  The I’m sorry and I forgive you after an argument.  The starting over.  Being at the beginning.

So it comes as no surprise that I love January.  I love, love, love December with the first snows and the waiting for and coming of Jesus.  But there’s nothing like a good January to start from scratch.  January 1 is not just another day for me.  It’s a deep breath and a let’s-see-what-this-year’s-going-to-bring. Read the rest of this entry »

I had to give my first Christmas talk of the season on November 3.  It was an odd 60 degree day in Illinois.  Halloween candy was still fresh in my pantry.  Thanksgiving hadn’t even crossed my mind yet, let alone Christmas, until I looked on my speaking schedule.  My first thought was, How in the world am I going to give a sincere Christmas talk already? So I did what any girl would do.  I made myself listen to Christmas music the whole way there.

It worked, but not in the way you might think.  I was singing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree – nothing.  Silent Night – nothing.  Then my favorite Christmas song came on – Amy Grant’s Welcome to Our World.

It starts like this…

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking

How we need to hear from God

You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child

© Chris Rice

And I was swept away…taken in.  Yes, that’s what I need.  I don’t need the holiday spirit right this minute.  I don’t need to feel like putting up my tree today.  But I do need to hear from God.  I want more of God.

There will be a list as long as my arm waiting for me in the weeks to come.  You have your list accumulating too, I would bet.

And though I usually pray for peace…pray to get everything done and somehow still bring glory to God in the chaos of Christmas, this year, I have only one wish…more of God.

More of God in my friendships, more of God in my mothering, more of God in my marriage, more of God in my heart, more of God in my life, more of God in my heart.

And what better time than right now to ask for more of God…and to receive Him?

Merry Christmas, ladies.  May God meet you just where you are this year.

A great Christmas gift: Elisabeth’s new book, He Is Just That Into You! It can be purchased at https://www.winepressbooks.com/product.asp?pid=2634&search=He+is+just+that+into+you&select=Keywords&ss=1.

And check out the book trailer video here: http://www.vimeo.com/7093233.  Pass it along!

Copyright, Elisabeth K. Corcoran, 2009

Elisabeth lives her with husband and children in Illinois.  She is the author of the devotionals, In Search of Calm: Renewal for a Mother’s Heart (Xulon), Calm in My Chaos: Encouragement for a Mom’s Weary Soul (Kregel), and is excited to announce the release of He Is Just That Into You: Stories of a Faithful God who Pursues, Engages, and Has No Fear of Commitment (WinePress). You can learn more about Elisabeth at www.elisabethcorcoran.com or at http://elisabethcorcoran.blogspot.com/, and you can follow her on Twitter at ekcorcoran or friend her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/people/Elisabeth-Klein-Corcoran/1301703500.

I struggled with friendships growing up.  Like, really, really struggled.  I moved a lot, which I’m sure had something to do with it, but still…I couldn’t find good friends, couldn’t keep good friends.  It was a constant source of stress throughout my entire childhood.

So, to hear my son say recently, “You know the boy who really makes me laugh at lunch?”  “Yep,” I said, smiling.  “He told me I can’t sit with him and his friends anymore today.”

Nothing, and I am pretty sure I literally mean nothing, makes me heart break more than that.  Than hearing one of my children say that they are having friend struggles.  That some kid said something hurtful to them.  (Heart hurting again just thinking about it.)

I actually started to cry.  I don’t know if that helped him at all to know that I really felt for him or if it just made him more sad.

What I wanted to do was go to his school, find that “funny” boy in the cafeteria, and, I don’t know, maybe knock his head against a lunch box or something.  Something Christ-like like that.  But I didn’t do that…don’t go emailing me. Read the rest of this entry »