The Gift of Giving

We decided to participate in Operation Christmas Child this year through our church. The program is part of Samaritan's Purse and delivers shoe boxes filled with gifts to children around the world.

The program allows you to pick if you want to get gifts for a boy or girl and the age range. I had originally wanted Jilly to help pick out gifts for a girl aged 2-4, but she was adamant that we shop for a boy. We filled our box with Matchbox cars; a small tin of checkers that look like the characters from the movie Cars; a Thomas activity book; puzzles; Sesame Street stickers; a UVA t-shirt; a stuffed frog; and some candy. It was a fun outing with Jilly this afternoon, picking out the toys for our little boy. We made it a trip where we did not buy anything for us so that Jilly could focus on getting something for someone else.

This week is National Collection Week where all of the shoe boxes are delivered to a local collection site. Tonight JillyBean and I volunteered at the collection site. She thought we were going to take our box to the little boy, but was excited to get the chance to help prepare the boxes. When shoe boxes were dropped off, it was our job to make sure they were tagged properly and had a rubber band around the box. Then we placed the boxes in large cardboard boxes to prepare for delivery. Jilly handed the shoe boxes to me to place in the large boxes. She had a good time.

I am sure that she does not completely understand the meaning behind our task, but she did get that we were sending Christmas presents to a little boy who lives very far away from us. Right now we are developing a foundation for helping others.

today Jilly is thankful for pasta

Woo Hoo For Number 2

Today was a good day at Potty Training Camp. JillyBean actually poopied in the potty this morning. It was quite an accomplishment. She was extremely proud, but even happier to finally get a lollipop for a reward.

We ventured out for a play date and she had an accident shortly after we arrived. This is where things can get frustrating, but I refuse to let this be a stressful process. She went to the potty and not five minutes later I realized that she pooed in her pants. Thankfully it wasn't bad (and I'm sorry for too much information), but still it shows how potty training can wear on a parent. She had just been to the potty. Why couldn't she have told me she needed to go again? This is where I need to remember that I am an adult and she is a child.

Sometimes I wonder if we expect too much from two-year-olds. They have been in this world for a very short two years, yet it seems like we expect they develop manners and a level of understanding and compassion that many adults don't display. I don't remember being out in public around strangers as much when I was a child as kids are today. We certainly didn't eat in restaurants as often as we do now. Preschool was not a concept that was considered until age four - there was nursery school, but no preschool.

So much is going on in their tiny little brains right now. On one side there is this great need to become independent but on the other side they have a need to be babied. I mentioned in my last post that my attitude toward potty training this time around has changed making the process a little bit easier. That attitude has also spilled over into the rest of our daily interactions and I have noticed fewer outbursts and tantrums (from both of us). I feel as if I am a bit more relaxed as a parent now; not relaxed in that I've given up and I'm giving in, but relaxed in a way that allows me to enjoy parenthood more. I have learned to take deep breaths and pray for strength when I feel frustrated and that calmness seems to wash over Jilly. After all, she is not the only one who has had two short years to figure out life. I entered uncharted waters only two years ago as well.

today Jilly is thankful for Ma

Life Lessons

I knew that it had been a while since I had posted, but I didn't think that it had been this long. I checked in a couple of weeks ago, saw the previous post then was too ashamed to start up again. It's kind of like that old friend who you haven't talked to in a while but both of you are embarrassed to pick up the phone and call each other then pretty soon the friendship dissolves. That is not my intention here.

So much has happened the past couple of months. We have moved and JillyBean is growing much faster than I ever expected. I will update on that soon - promise - but something happened the other day and I have have to write about it so that I can move past it. Hopefully.

We live in a new neighborhood that is filled with kids and most are around the same age - elementary school. Jilly has two little friends who we have known for about a year, and it is nice to have them so close by for play time. I love it here because it is nice to know that kids still actually play outside. I hear them running around after dark and it reminds me of summer when I was a kid. I was pretty shocked one night when I heard them outside our back window playing red rover. I didn't think that today's more sophisticated children knew about that game.

On Tuesday Jilly woke up from her nap and a group of girls and boys were at "war" with one another. Boys against girls, water gun style. Jilly wanted to go out and watch them play, so we took a walk. The battle had pretty much come to an end by the time we got outside, but the girls were making sure they were prepared in case the boys returned. Their water blasters were locked and loaded.

For as friendly and fun as JillyBean is, she has developed a shy side. I encourage her to "be brave" when she approaches new kids and when she wants to play with them. I let her know that if she stands back, she may miss out on the fun. So as we approached these girls - who are between the ages of 7 and 10 - she looked at me and said "I'm going to ask, mama." That meant she was going to ask if she could play with them. I told her to be brave and if she wanted to play that she needed to get closer to them so that they could hear he ask. She inched her way toward the group and kept looking back at me for encouragement. I told her to keep going.

Now, these girls are super sweet and they really enjoy helping out with the little ones around here, but I don't think they really know what to do when a two-year-old approaches them; especially when they've just completed a battle with the opposite sex. There came a point when an invisible line seemed to be drawn between Jilly and the girls and they just stared at each other. I stayed back and did not let the girls know what she was doing, just to see what would happen. Soon, Jilly retreated but I was proud of the progress that she had made.

What went through my mind next has been weighing on me ever since. I suddenly got a flash of the day when my child will want to play with a group of friends and they'll tell her that they don't want to play with her. I can see it now: she'll run home with tears in her eyes, heart broken not understanding why kids she plays with on a regular basis all of a sudden don't want to be her friend. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes so I can't begin to imagine what it will be like when it actually happens. On the other hand, I am also sure that there will be a day when she will be the mean girl and say something like that to her friend, but that's for a different post.

For the past couple of days I have been playing the scenario over and over in my head. I don't know why I am obsessing on this. I think that mothers of girls have a very unique role compared to mothers of boys. The self-confidence of girls is so fragile and the desire to be accepted is so strong. I am trying hard to instill in Jilly that she is a very special and very loved little girl. That no matter what happens or whatever anyone says, she will always be loved by her family and, most importantly, by God. I tell her that she is lucky to have so many people who love her. I let her know that God made her a very special and that no one is like her. I encourage her and praise her uniqueness. I know that when you're a kid, though, it doesn't matter how much mom and dad showers you with love, if the kid down the street makes fun of you then it's the end of the world.

What I have concluded is that the best thing to say to her is nothing at all. When she comes home at 5, 15, 25 or even 35 with a broken heart, my job is to be waiting for her with open arms and a shoulder to cry on.