No, You Are Not Failing

“Do you ever take it personally when your child acts up?” My friend’s question loosened the air in my chest.

“Yes!” I exhaled. “I feel that way all the time!”

Suddenly four women around the table nodded in agreement, relieved to find fellow moms who understand.

Make that four tired, intentional, perfectionist moms. Oh, how I need my friends. Confessions tumbled out of our mouths in solidarity.

I tell her to do one thing, and she does the opposite. What am I doing wrong?

She actually told me she hated me. A four-year-old! Hates me! Because I wouldn’t let her eat a cookie!

The way I see it, it’s my job to teach my kids to behave. So when they don’t, I feel like I’m—{gulp}—failing.

Ouch.

“Failure” is a strong word. It implies we’re incompetent, falling far short of expectations. But whose expectations, exactly?

I put tremendous pressure on myself to be a successful mom—a mom whose kids say please and thank you, eat more carrots than candy, comply with bedtime and never pick noses in public. So when my little charges behave out of line, I see it as a reflection of my parenting. A crack in my system. A failure to teach, train, and control.

Maybe it’s time to adjust my glasses.

“Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far away,” (Proverbs 22:15).

What does that verse say to you? I catch two distinct points.

(1) “Folly is bound up in the heart of a child.” Amen! Maybe my kids aren’t being naughty just to spite me. Foolishness is part of their condition. It’s normal. And yet, it’s not supposed to be permanent, because. . .

(2) “The rod of discipline will drive it far away.” That’s our part. As parents, we are called to correct the folly—to train our children up in the way they should go. Most moms I know pour their aching souls into the task. So when our hard work crumbles into tantrums and back-talk, it’s easy to point fingers at our performance.

But there’s a flaw in that thinking.

Our kids aren’t puppets; they’re people. They’re born with the same sin nature as ours, and the same free will to make their own decisions. We all know how well that works for us sometimes. Can we really expect more from our kids than we do from ourselves?

We can’t control their hearts.

We can only control our response.

When they sass, I’ll plop their bottoms in the naughty chair.

When they swat at each other, I’ll make them hold hands until they giggle.

When they shout I hate you, I’ll whisper I will always love you.

When they act like kids—foolish, naughty, selfish—I’ll remind myself, yes, that is indeed what they are. Kids. On a long journey to maturity.

They’re learning just like I am.

“I think I finally know how God feels.” My friend dug our discussion to the root. “I disobey him all the time. And he has a lot more patience with me than I do with my kids.”

Ah, so true. Let’s follow his lead, shall we? Next time the kids act up, try lavishing a God-sized dose of patience—on yourself.

You are not failing.

You’re simply being a mom.

Welcome to the table.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like Don’t Lie to Me, Birthday Musings From a Sappy Mom, I Should (Not) Do That, and How a Wiggles Movie Changed My Life.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, Mommy Moments, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Living Well Wednesdays, Grace at Home, and Things I Can't Say.

But Everybody Else Is Doing It

It wasn’t a convenient day to get stopped for speeding.

I was driving home from the pharmacy with a fussy toddler in the back seat. Beside me sat a small paper sack containing bubble-gum flavored amoxicillin—that sweet elixir of hope.

My daughter’s first ear infection was painful for her and exhausting for me. Thankfully the doctor had a clear diagnosis and a promising fix. I just wanted to get home and let the healing begin.

Which is why I wasn’t paying attention to my speedometer. Smokey clocked me cruising 35 in a 25 just three blocks from my house.

I must’ve looked frazzled—as moms of sick kids do—because the officer let me off with a warning. But did you know warnings take just as long to write up as tickets? And my passenger wasn’t getting any happier the longer she sat rear-facing, blinded by flashing lights.

I’m not making excuses. But it’s important to note that my car was flowing with traffic (downhill, just saying) and the other cars were surely driving as fast as I was. What’s the harm in going with the flow? Everybody’s doing it!

Whoa. Hold on a second. If my kids uttered those words, I’d pounce with my mommy claws drawn.

I don’t care if everybody else is doing it! You are a Kopitzke—you are not everybody else! We do things different in this family!

Oh, really.

How about that wildly popular but, admit it, totally raunchy TV show hubby and I watched last night? No harm done. I had my filter on. Mm, hmm.

“…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things,” (Philippians 4:8).

I really want that new dress. It’s not in this month’s budget, but I can charge it and worry about the bill later. Hey, all of America is in debt! Overspending is practically patriotic. I’m boosting the economy!

“Then he said to them, ‘Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions,’” (Luke 12:15).

That fellow mom at swimming lessons is super nice. I could invite her to my church moms group, but that might be awkward. I mean, people don’t want to talk about God at the pool, do they? I’ll stick with safer subjects—like sippy cups and hair salons.

“Do you not say, ‘Four months more, and then the harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest,” (John 4:35).

Maybe I’m not so different after all. But I should be.

“. . . Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you,” (Romans 12:1–2, MSG, emphasis mine).

We’re Christians in a messed-up world. We should stick out a little. Not in a weird, look-at-me-I’m-a-nut-job kind of way. Jesus was not a freak. He was magnetic. People were drawn to him. Just imagine—if the world can see his love, compassion, and integrity in us, maybe they’ll want it, too. That’s no insignificant side-effect of living for Christ. Dare I say, it should be our purpose.

That evening, my toddler and I drove (slowly) home with our heads hanging low—hers from the earache and mine from embarrassment. When my husband greeted us in the kitchen and I confessed my brush with the law, I waited for a scolding or a joke. He spoke neither.

“Don’t feel bad, honey.” He took our weary daughter from my arms. “I’ve driven 35 on that street before, too. I guess from now on we’ll both pay better attention.”

Mercy. God gives it to us, and in that moment, my husband chose to pass it along to me. Perhaps that’s the simplest definition of acting like a Christian. I spooned out my daughter’s medicine and thanked God for my family, for amoxicillin, and for teaching me a lesson. No more going with the flow.

Oh, and Lord, speaking of mercy, thanks for dodging that speeding ticket. Who knows? Maybe the cop was a Christian, too.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like No Eat Play-Doh, And Then I Ran Into the Babysitter’s Car, and Life Lessons from a Bird, a Net, and a Scissors.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, Mommy Moments, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Living Well Wednesdays, Grace at Home, and Things I Can't Say.

When Sick Kids Cramp My Social Life

Moms need social outlets. Two of my favorites are Bible study and book club. A few weeks ago, I missed them both.

Bummer.

My two-year-old had a cold. It was nothing to dampen her spirits, thankfully, just a junky cough and runny nose—i.e., the symptoms. You know, those dreaded mucus signs flagged in the universal code of motherhood as: “CONTAGIOUS! Don’t let your kid lick my kid’s toys.”

So of course, we stayed home.

“What are we going to do today, beanie?” I crouched to my toddler’s level and smoothed her wispy hair with my fingertips.

“Read books.” Her eyes twinkled. Then she coughed in my face.

“Okay, bring me three books.” And a box of Airborne.

“Five books!”

“Three books to start.” I grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose. “Then when we’re done reading, you can help me put some laundry in the wash.” Might as well take advantage of our quarantine and catch up on the housework.

“Okay, Momma!” She ran to her room and returned with—yep—five books. We snuggled into the sofa cushions and started reading. Brown Bear, Little Pea, Going to Sleep on the Farm. When we finished one stack of favorite stories, she retrieved another from the book bin. Then another, and another.

Before I knew it, our three-book limit blew to nearly an hour of quality time huddled together under a blanket. Then we set the books aside and turned on a movie. My daughter cradled a sippy cup in the crook of her elbow and pressed her head against my chest.

Stillness. Such a strange feeling. I listened to my daughter breathe and sniffle. Cough and sneeze. Munch crackers and giggle at the television screen.

Laundry? Forget it. I have more important things to do.

“But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me,” (Psalm 131:2).

Sometimes I trick myself into thinking busy is better. That being in fellowship with God requires being in fellowship with other people—facilitating my small group Bible study, scheduling play dates and coffee breaks, dissecting the meaning of life with friends while holding steaming lattes in our hands.

But when I’m forced to sit in the quiet, slow moments, I begin to see how loud and rushed my life has become. Social commitments. Church activities. Work. Chores. Routines. They can pack the calendar and crowd out my peace. They crowd out God. Then a sick day punches our pause button, and I have no choice but to rest.

Funny, isn’t it? All this time I thought social outlets were my “break.”

Maybe not.

As I sat on the sofa with my arms around my daughter and studied her delicate eyelashes, her red-rimmed nose, her plump cheeks, it dawned on me—I am not stuck home alone. God is here. And he’s inviting us to our own little party.

That is not a bummer. It’s beautiful.

Now the question is—does God like Strawberry Shortcake videos? I sure hope so.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like When You Don’t Feel Like Doing Your Job, Achoo! Bless You, The Trouble With To-Do, and If You Give a Mom a Minute.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, Mommy Moments, Titus 2sdays, Living Well Wednesdays, Grace at Home, and Things I Can't Say.

We Can't Protect Them From Everything

“If my friends dressed like Barbie, I wouldn’t hang out with them anymore.” My sister’s comment made me snort-laugh into the phone.

“I did find one Barbie with full-length riding pants,” I said, “and a horse! She would love the horse.”

“Yeah,” my sister reasoned, “but then you might as well just get her the horse. Forget the Barbie.”

Ah, Barbie. My five-year-old daughter wants one for Christmas, so I’ve been scanning the aisles, considering my options. Heaven help me. Have you seen these things lately?

Short skirts, bare bellies, rock star glam. It’s like they stepped off a bad Motley Crue video.

For a mom trying to teach humility and gentleness, toy stores are riddled with pitfalls. Dolls show too much skin, action figures pack heavy weapons, and Justin Bieber’s face is plastered to lunchboxes and pencil kits.

Sex! Murder! War! Idolatry! Greed!

We should shield our kids from all this, right?

Well, yes and no.

Because it’s in the Bible, too.

A couple months ago, we bought our kindergartener her first “real” Bible—the NIV Adventure version. She totes it to Sunday school and reads it with Dad at bedtime. She loves this Bible. We love that she loves it. Of course it never occurred to us that her Bible might be scandalous.

Until she brought it to show-and-share at school. When her teacher asked her to read for the class, my sweet, unassuming daughter flipped to the page where her dad left off the night before—Genesis 4:1—and announced to a room full of five-year-olds:

“Adam made love to his wife Eve.”

“You read that?! In front of the whole class?” I wheeled through the carpool pick-up line and shot a glance at my daughter’s face in the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, Mom.” She beamed with pride.

“What did Mrs. L say?” Besides roaring with laughter in the teacher’s lounge.

“She said I did a good job.”

“You did, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.” And slightly mortified. God bless her.

By Hollywood standards, many Bible stories could be rated R. Cain killed his own brother. Dinah was raped. David seduced a married woman. Nation battled bloody nation while parents sacrificed their children to false gods. Mary was a virgin, but try explaining virginity to preschoolers. And Jesus, our beloved Bible superstar, was tortured and nailed to a tree.

Touchy topics for kids, if you ask me. And yet, this stuff is real. It’s God’s Word, the source of wisdom.

“All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right,” (2 Timothy 3:16, NLT).

I confess sometimes when my husband and I read the Bible to our girls, we skip parts. Or we paraphrase, for example, “Adam made love to loved his wife Eve,” (Genesis 4:1, Mommy and Daddy Translation), because age-appropriate lessons can be explained without gory detail. But as our children grow older, I hope and pray we can explore the touchy stuff from the context of the Bible first—before they glean it from the toy store, TV or Internet.

“Mom, I don’t need a Barbie anymore.” My five-year-old leafed through the latest Toys R Us catalog and circled photos of Lego sets with a blue crayon.

“You don’t?” I looked over her shoulder and wondered what other glittery object had usurped Barbie. Please don’t say a Bratz doll.

“Nope. But I really, really, really want—a Slinky.”

A Slinky! What a deal. You’re on, kiddo. One shiny Slinky under the tree—now there’s something I can handle.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like The Case of the Purple Car, Birthday Musings from a Sappy Mom, and When You Want What They Have.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, Mommy Moments, Titus 2sdays, Domestically Divine Tuesday, Living Well Wednesdays, Grace at Home, Things I Can't Say, Thought Provoking Thursday and Faithfully Parenting Fridays.