Josiah's gone to see Jesus

He was barely one pound. Baby Josiah lived for about 15 minutes but his story will never die in the lives he's touched. Since word first broke of the disturbing sonogram, the family, their friends and their friends have been praying for God to heal him. They rejoiced when someone discovered "Josiah," the name the mom had picked even before she knew the sex is translated - "Whom Jehovah heals." But Josiah died. "It wasn't quite like we wanted it to be, but he's healed now," the father told the pastor's wife, who happens to be a retired obstetrician. If she had been the doctor in this case - once the mother lost her mucus plug, started having contractions and labor pains, she would have prescribed a steroid shot to try to help Josiah's lungs form quicker in case of early delivery. Monday, doctors performed an emergency c-section once all the amniotic fluid had leaked out which left Josiah and his mom vulnerable to infection. But once outside the womb there wasn't a breathing tube small enough for his tiny throat. He got out one little cry before he died. But he has already spoken volumes for the faith of his family's church. For weeks, they have been praying and declaring Josiah would be born whole, healthy and of sound mind. Doctors have been telling the parents to abort. The mother fought back tears over the weekend as she retold the advice she'd gotten. This woman, after hearing the sonogram showed fused hands and feet and Spina Bifida, told her doctor she wasn't going to refuse God's gift just because it wasn't perfect. When a woman at the specialist's office said the second opinion was not covered, she asked wouldn't the mother be better off if she just terminated? It wasn't long after that she was fighting back labor and trying not to lose any more water. Even if doctors and their nurses had given up, the family and the friends did not. Some unbelievers might scoff at a God who chooses not to heal a baby or of people who pray for the impossible. But little Josiah's hands, feet and face were normal. So either the doctors were wrong about the formation of his extremities or God healed him. The parents know they did all they could do. Josiah did not die in vain, some good will come out of this, they said.
- Liz

Mom at home and school

How does being a teacher affect your kids?
RESA and others are holding teacher job fairs in the coming days and weeks and I thought: what if you work where your kid goes to school?
When I was in 9th grade, I went to school with two great friends whose mother taught social studies at our school. They were the top students in their classes. How much of it was the fact that mom was just a hall away? I don't know, because they both went on to excel in the medical field. But I imagine the emphasis on education must have been very high in their home.
So teachers - got kids? How do you separate school and home? OR do you?
Inquiring minds want to know.
--Misty

When 1+1 doesn't equal 2

My newest parenting challenge is finding patience when helping my daughter with school work. Last week she brought home a math paper with more red X's than a needlepoint sampler. More subtraction problems were wrong than right. She's been taught to use a number line to add and subtract but I have to wonder whether she's using it incorrectly as most of the wrong answers were one digit off. It's been so frustrating because I know she has a good memory yet these math equations and her spelling words aren't sinking in. How do you learn those things without memorizing them? I once met a little Indian girl at a wedding who wanted me to remember her mother's cell phone number so we could arrange a play date. "Put it into your mind," she told me. If only it were as easy as that. It appears some things go in Faith's mind and right back out. She has a hard time concentrating on which problem we're working on let alone finding the correct answer. The teacher has advised us to use flash cards for 10 minutes each day. When flashing certain equations, Faith just says, "That's so hard." I remember having to write out long tables of 1+1 and 1+2 and memorizing my multiplication tables. I don't know how else to help her memorize these numbers. Does anyone have an advice for helping a youngster concentrate and learn?
- Liz

Looking to the future

High school seniors are deep into college application territory. So here's my question: what do you look for, as a parent, when your kids are looking at schools? Is cost the major factor? Are the programs offered your main concern? What about size of the school?
Drop me a comment, start a discussion. I know Middle Georgia parents are super aware of the importance of their kids' educations!
--Misty

All better

It's amazing what a note to the teacher can do.
I wrote her about Daniel's concerns about bing called "stupid" and that he was coming up with excuses to not go to school. She had a chat with him that day.
"While I couldn't get Daniel to name the student who was calling him 'stupid,' I did tell him he is one of the smartest in my class," she wrote back.
And sure enough, he was all smiles when I picked him up that afternoon. "I'm smart, mama!" he crowed.
Yes, dear, I've been telling you that. But apparently, some things take on more meaning coming from a teacher.
God bless our teachers.
--Misty

PDAs of a different sort

Before you had kids, you probably had a policy about Public Displays of Affection between you and your significant other. And I bet he knew where the line was, too.
But when it comes to babies, all our rules go flying out the window. We coo, snuggle, kissy-face and baby talk in public without thinking one bit about the impression we're making on others. Why is that?
Is there something about kids that makes even normally nondemonstrative people give hugs freely? Is there something about babies that makes even the best grammarians lose years of education? And here's the biggie: is it cute or just stomach-curdling to see a normally rational adult go ga-ga over a newborn?
For the record, I'm guilty big time of allowing PDAs with my kid that my husband would never get away with. He gets hugs and kisses on demand, although at 5 he's making fewer demands every day. He's allowed to crawl in my lap, or hang on my shoulder, or wrap his arms around me wherever we are. But I never used baby talk, and at four he was using words like "mistaken" properly. But that's another blog.
--Misty

Bullying worries

What's the difference between being bullied and just plain being picked on?
Daniel hasn't wanted to go back to school at all this week. "The other kids call me stupid" was what I got after weeding through the litany of "my head hurts, my stomach hurts, I don't feel good" complaints. So we had a discussion about those kids not being his friends and how his friends don't call him names, and he's doing so well in reading and writing, so why don't we give it a try just today?
But I don't know how to fix the base problem. My child used to love school. He loved his teacher, he loved learning. Now he only loves learning at home. We read together, he and his dad spend hours constructing elaborate Lego projects, and I have no problem getting him to write letters to grandma at home. He just doesn't want to go to school anymore. Help!
--Misty

A sonogram's sobering stillness

My eyes didn't want to blink fearing I'd miss the expected movement on the screen. But there was none to see. When you are pregnant, bleeding can be an ominous sign. So once I got to the doctor's office, he quickly ordered a sonogram. Unlike my first procedure there was no anticipation of joy. Dread had a grip on me as I bellied up to the machine. Scheduled sonograms are often eagerly anticipated. Expectant moms and dads can drag in grandmothers, siblings and friends to view the baby bouncing around in the womb. But during my first miscarriage those sound waves showed me something I didn't want to see. I think doctor's call it a non-viable pregnancy. I call it heartbreak. All the hopes of a giving birth to a healthy child were stuck on that screen. Although my experiences came about nine years ago, a dear friend is reeling from the images formed by sound waves bouncing off the baby boy growing inside her. His hands and feet are fused, spina bifida is present and doctors suspect brain abnormalities. She has no plans to terminate the pregnancy. "Why should I refuse God's gift just because it isn't perfect," is her attitude. Instead, she and her husband are joining forces with family and friends in prayer. Believing in miracles, they are determined to pray for baby Josiah for at least 21 straight days. They know God works all things for good for those who love and serve Him and are called according to his purpose. They are not willing for this child to perish for lack of faith.
- Liz

More movie magic

Although Faith never once asked for it, a portable DVD player has become one of her favorite Christmas presents. When my brother asked if she had one, I was thrilled they were planning to give her one. No more whining about riding in my car without drop-down screens! In advance of the gift, I made sure she was getting plenty of new DVDs. Much of our holiday vacation has been spent in scintillating cinematic escapades. On New Year's Eve, I set Faith up in her bedroom with her player and a couple of favorite flicks. In the meantime, I curled up with a book - a luxury usually only reserved for vacation on the beach. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've even read on vacation since I've been a mommy. We also took an afternoon to catch "Alvin and the Chipmunks" at the theater. I've been a fan of those critters since childhood. I was amazed once again that in the preview was another throw-back from my early days - Speed Racer is coming to the big screen and the animation sequences look awesome. Add that to Curious George, Nancy Drew (why isn't that on video yet?) and Underdog for the most recent examples of Hollywood remakes. It's nice to feel like a kid again.
- Liz

Party Time's Over

Daniel and I were both happy he went back to school this morning. We had a little discussion about the things I expect his teacher will ask: "What did you do over the break?" And I reminded him he could color pictures of teh movies we went to see, the trains he spent literally days playing with, the friends he went to visit. I'd be willing to lay down money, though, that he'll come home with another picture of Thomas or Gordon the big blue tank engine. Oh well, at least I know what I'm looking at.
--Misty

New Year's Restitutions

My New Year's resolution is usually the same: Get everybody healthy, by God.
Because by this time in the season I'm sick of being sick. LAst year, it was major surgery. This year, it's pneumonia. And every year, poor Daniel walks around sniffling and coughing any time he's in contact with other kids. It's like we have signs on our forheads: "Weak Immune Systems - Germs take up residence here."
But it's not a bad idea to make this your New Year's resolution: Take everybody to the doctor for an annual checkup. That means dads, too. Because while mom will put her doctor's visit off while she gets everyone else squared away, at least she'll go. Research shows dad just won't bother. But as most families' primary breadwinner, dad can no more afford to be hit with a surprise illness or disease than the rest of the family. So that's my take on the whole New Year's resolution gig.
But Tigger has a different view - and a different vocabulary. During one of Daniel's movie-watching sprees this week, I listened to Tigger explain "New Year's restitutions" to Pooh. And I thought: That's not a bad idea. So I'm also going to seek out someone to whom I was not nice, or whom I failed in this past year, and make a restitution. I may not make up for the hurt I did, but I plan to try.
--Misty

Thanks a lot

It was just a month ago that I was having trouble encouraging Faith to show her appreciation and gratitude when she receives a present. What a difference some creative thinking makes. For Christmas, Faith received a box of thank you notes and some other make-your-own stationery. Before I knew it, she was asking me how to write "thank you for the gift" and writing out her notes. At a friend's house the other night, she started writing the note before she opened a gift. "Thank you for the _____" was on the card until she opened, then she filled in "book." Before we left, Faith had hidden her note on our friend's doorstep. Now that she goes back to school tomorrow, we need to set aside some time today to write a few more notes. Of course, now it seems like work so I might have to get creative again. One of my best incentives is my own personal story. One year my brother and I failed to send notes to my father's cousins and we were cut-off from gifts from that point out. It's a hard lesson, but one that will certainly resonate with my 7-year-old.
- Liz

Happy New Year

Welcome to 2008. Did you know there is no cleaning allowed on New Year's? It follows suit from my daughter's rationale that there is no cleaning on Christmas which she loudly proclaimed when my husband prompted her to pick up her messes before company came Christmas morning. My husband says there is no such "no cleaning" rule, which drew tears from a sleep-deprived holiday warrior known as my 7-year-old daughter. She detests the thought of cleaning and teared up again today when her dad suggested she spend the day organizing and putting things away. I tried to stress to her that straightening up is a daily routine not to be dreaded. I, too, have been blissfully out of my routine for weeks now. I apologize for running off into festivity fairyland without much of a mention or note on the blog. Blogging is something I do when I've finished my chores. During Christmastime, the chores never seem to end until well after the 25th has passed. On this, the 8th Day of Christmas, I'm ahead of the game and had a few minutes before starting on Black-eyed pea and Collard preparation.
I want to wish you and yours a very happy 2008!
- Liz

Anyone else ever feel this way?

From the Daily Babble:

Bad Parent: Game Over
Shelley Abreu
"You be Ariel, and I'll be Prince Eric," instructs my three-year old daughter Julia. Then she dives down into the pretend ocean that is our kitchen floor and beckons me to save her. I scoop her in my arms, and we swim safely to "Ariel's Grotto." I attempt to return to chopping vegetables, but she begins the game again. I try to get out of it. "Ariel has to cook up some crabs for Prince Eric's supper," I say. But she's onto me. "Ariel doesn't cook the supper," she retorts.

It's not the first time I've dodged Julia's games today. After a short stint playing a mind-numbing game of Dora The Explorer Candyland, I fake a bathroom emergency. When I come out, I casually begin folding laundry. When Julia calls me back to the game, I tell her I'll come back soon. I'm lying.

Sometimes I'm not even that suave about averting playtime with Julia. After a few laps around the house playing Tag, I simply run away mid-lap. For a moment it delights her when she realizes I'm missing. She's thinks I've turned it into a game of Hide and Seek, but after a few minutes she begs me to return. Then I use my arsenal of verbal excuses, including: I need to get the house picked up and make a phone call. When she whines, I urge her to play with her younger sister, Elise, who is old enough to toddle her way through a round of any running game. And that's what siblings are for, right?

I'm not a complete failure at playing. I'm content to do puzzles, and I'll take time-out from any adult activity to read a book. I'm a musician, which means anything musical is pretty much okay with me. I'll also last a good while at "I Spy" during walks through our neighborhood. But generally speaking, I hate playing with my kids. Games of "Horsey" — in which I'm asked to giddy-up through our yard — or "Payer," where we use a toy cash register to enact pretend transactions — are enough to make me lose my mind. Of all the negatives that parenting has brought — sleep-deprivation, a constantly messy house, never a moment to myself — it's the playing that I hate the most.

And yet, read any mainstream parenting magazine today, and you're made to believe that playing with your children is essential to their well-being. I recently read "Fidgety Kids: 10 Fun Games You Can Play in an Instant." The article suggests I pass the time waiting at the pediatrician's office by using the exam table paper to draw a village. It's not that I can't appreciate the inventiveness of this crafty game, but truthfully, I'd rather read a magazine and let my kids entertain themselves with the germy toys (which, by the way, they love).



Another recent article suggests that at holiday get-togethers, adults take all the children outside and enjoy a jaunty game of monkey-in-the-middle. I don't know about you, but when we have get-togethers around our house, we let the kids play with each other while the adults enjoy festive drinks. In his book Raise a Smarter Child by Kindergarten, Dr. David Perlmutter hails the importance of playing with our children to promote intelligence, and in support offers pages of tedious activities.

Luckily, the jury's still out. The Boston Globe recently reported that playing with your children is actually a modern phenomenon and not necessarily all that beneficial. According to anthropological studies, three-fourths of the world's parents don't participate in the kind of parent-child play so popular in our current American culture. In fact, the article, titled "Leave Those Kids Alone," suggests that most cultures think we're kind of nutty.

Still, deep down, I consider playing with my kids something I should do. Not because I think it will raise their IQs or because it will make me a better mother, but because they want me to. After all, what's so hard about sitting down for a tea party with twelve furry stuffed animals and two cute little girls? Maybe it's the fact that as a mother who works from home, I have so much to do every day that squandering twenty minutes on fake tea and pretend friends — while I think about unanswered emails and piles of laundry — makes me fidgety.

And when I think back to my own childhood, I don't recall my parents ever playing with me or my brother. He and I played together, building elaborate forts, rescuing stray animals, hunting for frogs, and thinking up creative ways to execute my Barbies. Would we have done any of this if my mother was right there orchestrating elaborate games instead? I don't think so. So I'm going to follow her lead. I'll stick to the grown-up things — making a living, picking up toys, doing dishes, vacuuming floors — and I'll let the kids have fun for all of us. Although I may not care to swim around the house dressed up as Ariel the mermaid, I'm happy to do all the things that allow my daughters the time and space so that they can.

--Misty

Introducing the concept of charity

Every year, I have Daniel pick out a toy for "someone else." I tell him this "someone else" doesn't have mommy and daddy who can buy a lot of presents, so it's our job to help out. He always picks out something he really wants for himself, and is then disappointed when I put the present in the Toys for Tots bin. I think the message is sinking in, though; he got a Star Student award for generosity a few weeks ago.
--Misty

Avoid spoiling the kids

We've all seen them - we've all thought it: The kids who have everything and get everything they ask for and the parents we thenk "are going to regret that later." But how do you know your kid is spoiled? And how do you avoid spoiling them? ParentCenter.com has some tips - they might even put a stop to that annoying whining!

Set clear, simple limits

Think of it this way: If you leave no room for reinterpretation, you save yourself arguing later. Listen to the difference between "Oh okay, you can have a cookie..." (plenty of room for hope that a second one might be okay) and "You can have one cookie, but don't ask me for a second one. This is it."

Stick to those limits no matter what

One really means one. It's happened to all of us: We say no to more than one cookie, and then we start second-guessing ourselves. The trick here is to take a long-term view. Maybe a second cookie really would be okay just this once, but do you really want to be second-guessed every time you set a limit? That will happen if you change your story.

Never give in to begging

This one's simple — once you do, you've taught your child that begging works, right? Ditto with whining. If your kid is a whiner, chances are that's because they know the tactic works on you. If you're just annoyed enough, they think, you'll give in. Be strong! (Buy earplugs)

Make your child convince you

If she wants something you're not sure about, ask her to make a case for it. She wants to watch a favorite TV show? If she explains that all her homework is done and she's practiced piano, you can feel comfortable saying yes.

Require that chores get done before fun

You don't do your child any favors by being a softy. Studies show that being strict on chores and responsibilities helps him develop the ability to cope with frustration. (Not to mention it instills good long-term habits.)

Don't be afraid to disappoint

We hate to see our kids sad, but the Stones said it best: You can't always get what you want. And studies show that learning to accept disappointment will give your child important coping skills to deal with emotional stress later in life.

Let them work for what they want

Many experts believe that kids become spoiled when things come too easily, encouraging them to take those things for granted. If your child wants a new bike, set up a reward system for good behavior and let him earn it bit by bit. (I remember as a teenager thinking that the kids whose parents or grandparents gave them cars - even used, beat-up cars - didn't take as good care of them as those of us who had to buy our own first cars with our own money.)

--Misty

Macho Man

Daniel lost his first tooth last week. Being Daniel, the tooth didn't just fall out. No, my son pulled the tooth himself.
Here's the back story:
He's been pestering me about opening a present since the tree went up. "You may only open a present before Christmas," I foolishly said, "if you lose that wiggly tooth."
Now mind you, the tooth has been loose for a couple of months. It would wiggle, then tighten up. Wiggle, then tighten. But I really didn't think it was that loose.
Well, I made the satement on Wednesday, and Friday when I picked up my little darling from school, he announced: "I lost my tooth!"
"Right," I thought to myself. Then I looked at the now-gapped smile. "Holy cow - you sure did!" I exclaimed right there in the school lobby. "How did that happen?"
"My teacher told me to stop playing with it, so I pulled it out and put it in my pocket," replied the child.
I almost passed out. "You did what? Where is the tooth now?"
"She took it and put it in my agenda," he said.
So the tooth fairy recovered from her bout of shock and gathered up four quarters to slip under the boy's pillow tht night. Bravery like that gets a little reward.
Of course, the tooth next to the lost one is loose, now, too.
*sigh*
--Misty

When mom's down for the count

Twice this year I've had pneumonia. While neither time has been a party, the last three days have simply wiped me out. And what to do with Daniel while I'm passed out in a haze on the couch?
Well, dad has stepped up. But I've also been stockpiling "Things For Daniel To Do" in preparation for rainy days and school holidays. So he got a new Hidden Pictures book from Highlights, some finger paints (thank God he can clean up after himself) and all of his trains back.
Of course, now I'm staring a week of vacation in the face. Here's hoping there's good stuff under the tree!
--Misty

More on manners

Liz's post on "Please" and "Thank you" reminded me of a pet peeve of mine.
Parents, please teach your children what "RSVP" is and why it's important. I entertain a lot. As a PartyLite consultant, I coach my hostesses in getting their friends to attend shows. And as an event planner (only part of my job description), I regularly issue invitations to everyone from teenagers to lawmakers. The one constant in all these roles is that I never really know who is going to show up
RSVP means simply "Respond to my invitation. Let me know if you're coming. Let me know if you're definitely NOT coming. Just let me know you got the invitation, for crying out loud. And if you say you're coming, then change your mind, or something comes up, let me know of the change."
I know formal entertaining is not a big part of our children's lives. But does a mom need to order (or make) cake for 10 kids or 20? Do I need goodie bags for 5 or 15? Because if I make 15 and then am stuck with 10, I'm going to be irritated.
So if you're attending any holiday events, let your kids see the invitation, then let them see you respond to the hostess. Remember, e-mail is as good as a phone call for most hostesses - e-vite is my favorite means of contact these days. But please don't let this common courtesy die out. Hostesses everywhere will thank you.
--Misty Cline

Thanks, but no thanks

On the whole my daughter is pretty polite but we just realized we need to brush up on her manners. We need a refresher on "please," "thank you," "maam" and "sir." Just the other day, she received some gifts for her birthday and was reluctant to say "thank you." I wasn't there, but I understand she pulled her shy ploy and didn't appropriately thank the giver. As a result, we have stressed the need to show appreciation for gifts whether she likes them or not. Now that she is getting more creative, she is making cards. We're going to work on writing "Thank You" notes in addition to greeting cards. 'Tis the season, after all. Perhaps that will be a good way to encourage her thankfulness. Sometimes I feel like she is showered with so many things that she doesn't fully understand the debt of gratitude she owes someone. I painfully remember the consequences for not sending a note acknowledging a gift from my father's cousins. My brother and I were cut off from future gifts. I'm sure that's a lesson she doesn't want to learn the hard way.

- Liz