Only kids know what unadulterated happiness feels like.

My little family of four traveled four blocks over to our town's carnival last night. I have to admit, I was a little bit in awe. A town with less than 300 people and a three-day carnival that takes up the entire main street area. It was quite a sight. But what was even more amazing was the look in my children's eyes. It was pure bliss at its finest.

They couldn't wait to ride the rides, play games for cheap toys and see all of their friends. But on this night, it was even more magical. First came my son's slow bike race. We recently took the training wheels off of his bike and I was nervous about how steady he would be trying to ride slow. But he was amazing...just the fact that he understood the concept of the race was amazing to me.

Next up was our daughter's foot race. I have to admit I was nervous. She rarely runs without falling on her face. I don't know where she gets it but that girl is one clumsy lady. There are many days she comes part way into the room and just falls over, tripping over nothing. Anyway, her daddy stood on the starting line with her while I waved from the finish, hoping that she'd run to me. "Go" was yelled and away they went; a bunch of little tikes running for their lives, although I'm sure none of them knew why.  The closer my daughter got to me, the louder her giggles became. And the look on her face was sheer happiness. She had no idea why she should feel so gleeful but she did and she let it show. It was truly amazing, and I realized that as adults, we're robbed of unadulterated happiness. How wonderful it would be to see the world through their eyes one more time.

As brave as they want to be, it takes time.

My five year old son has been begging me to ride his bike alone. Around the block. Down a park path and back. Two blocks over to see his dad at work, etc. Little by little, I've been giving in to him. We talk about Stranger Danger all of the time and I do feel that I need to let go a little once in awhile.

But I learned that it's very possible and very easy to give too much.

Yesterday was T-ball practice. We've had many, many practices. I've spent several hours already this summer, entertaining his little sister while he plays ball. And, unlike wrestling, I've never seen him making sure I'm watching or asking where I am. He's seemed very enthralled in the game and in his new friends. Halfway through practice, his sister and I trekked two blocks away to visit with his daddy. With fifteen minutes of practice left, we make our way back. And as I searched the field for Caden...not in the outfield. not in the infield. Not up to bat...my heart began to sink.

I started searching the playground, thinking that maybe some of the kids were dismissed early but he wasn't there either. A moment later, he emerged from the park restroom, holding hands with one of my new could-be friends. Tears were streaming down his face. I could see his heaving chest from halfway across the park. I jogged over to find out that he needed to use the restroom and got scared when he couldn't find me. The woman had gone looking for him after he'd been in the restroom for several minutes.

Thank God she didn't have to help him with anything in the bathroom but still, I was mortified and really felt that I just earned the Worst Mother award. After apologizing over and over again and comforting my son, we scurried home.

After a warm bath, a warm hug or ten of them, and some dinner, he was back to normal. And I'm still feeling guilty today...

Happy Easter

I realize it's a little late, but much of our holiday was spent on the couch watching movies with the flu. But it didn't spoil our gratefulness of having each other in our lives...

We've been manipulating people to get our way since birth.

I first noticed this new game with my five year old son. But amazingly, my two year old daughter has already caught up with him. Making up little lies to get their way...as in asking one parent for permission for something and then going to the other parent and, instead of asking the same question, telling them that the other parent said it was okay.

Seriously, I hear them virtually every day:
"Daddy, mommy said I can go to grandpa's and you're going to drive me there."
"Mommy said you're naughty."
"Mommy said I could have candy."
"Grandpa, my mom said I can come help you tear out that fence."

It goes on and on. What I haven't quite figured out yet though, is when will they realize that I can hear them. And I hear it all the time. And they get busted for it all the time.

Kids are brilliant and completely naive simultaneously...every day.

Our biggest emotions happen around age 5.

I learned a great deal from my son's Terrible Two's. He taught me that the age of three is even worse as far as behavior goes. But just when I found myself sulking in how fast he's growing up, I'm hit with another behavioral challenge...learning lesson. Body language.

Or rather, how to control or keep tabs on body language.

I still make him take a nap every day. I still try to make sure he gets plenty of play time outside to burn off his enormous amount of energy. But his emotions are like a light switch. Bright and cheery one moment and dark and scary the next.

Something as small as his sister standing in front of the TV screen sets him off...his body convulsing, screaming like someone just kicked him in the face. Such a racket that I get a little worried that something did in fact come and attack him. One parenting trick I've been focusing on is remaining calm and getting to his level to talk things out. Let me tell you, it's been rough.

At moments like these, it's hard enough to get him off the floor, arms going one way, legs going another. Even his mid-section seems to have a mind of its own. The tantrums of the Terrible Two's have nothing on this new "tantrum." Anyway, when I can get him standing, myself kneeling, I very calmly hold his arms and speak very calm, looking into his eyes. It does no good. He's sobbing so hard and his body is shaking so badly that I end up sending him to his room to relax a little, or pound it out on his pillow until he's ready to talk. The last time, he ended up crying himself to sleep.

But now I understand why all of his book orders have an entire section on body language and talking about your feelings. As an adult, there have been times I've been THAT upset. But now I understand that control is something that must take decades to master. Especially considering if this is where we're beginning from.

Maybe we need to practice yoga or deep breathing exercises as a family...starting now.

Our kids know more about unconditional love than we do.

I've been thinking a lot lately about love, and more specifically, unconditional love. Most often I feel we hear that phrase when talking about parents and their children. But as I grow up and study my children more, I'm wondering if we have it all wrong.

Maybe parents aren't really the ones with unconditional love; it's our kids whose love is so blind. For example, my own relationship with my parents has has it's ups and downs (as do all I would imagine) but because I know that we seem to grow more cynical each year and possibly a little more judgmental as well, I'm beginning to wonder if it affects our ability to love unconditionally. After all, don't we seem to criticize most, those people that we're supposed to love the most?

And yet, I can watch my son, who has seen very little judgment in his five years, call a boy he's seen twice in his life his new best friend. He can attend any luncheon or community dinner or just go to the park randomly some day and make friends. And he genuinely cares for them and is concerned about their happiness and safety. He hugs without thinking twice. Tells me, his dad and anyone else in his life how much he loves them without being prompted. (and yes, I believe he really does)

This season of Lent, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to sacrifice. To cleanse ourselves of negativity or other evils we place on ourselves and start to see the picture un-blurred by our own cynicism once more. I gotta admit, I'm struggling. It's hard to force ourselves to revert back to some form of innocence. But I think if we can get there, we may be more apt to really feel unconditional love for the people around us.

As wise as we get in our age, it seems we too grow colder and less open to love. No wonder why children bring such happiness to a home.

We learn to adapt early on.

My two year old daughter is pretty incredible. At this age, she can speak like a three year old. She has a ton of attitude. And she's already learned the art of adaptability.

Most days, when she wants to cut something herself, dress herself, or any other sign of independence, it's: I'm a big girl mommy. Over and over and over. Seriously I really doubt her brother professed is independence as much as she does. And at first, I just saw it as a typical two year old stage.

But over the last few days, she's shown another side. The I'm-too-little side. And when I want her to clean or go potty or do something that actually takes some work, it's: But I'm too little mommy. (Which is even more frustrating as the first phrase believe it or not.)

I'm sure this is all part of the independence process but I can't help but laugh, even if it's just on the inside, about her ability to decide whether or not she's big enough to do something or not.