Toddler Troubles and The Art of Dealing

Toddlers are punks.

If you're one of those people who is gonna coo and aww over their physical cuteness and use it as an excuse to pardon their erratic behavior, be gone. You are not wanted here. 

there's mischief behind them there faces

Look. I have two of the most gorgeous boys to have ever walked the planet (I do. Don't argue with me. You'll lose.). But some days, I would like to put them under a laundry basket and nail it to the floor.

Take for example last Friday morning. Jacob woke up at 6 AM. I didn't have to be up until 6:30. He obviously knew this and planned his escape from bed in advance. I bet before he dozed off the night before, he made a mental note to be my own personal rooster the following morning with a fresh remix of cock-a-doodle-doo. Let there be a day where I have to be up before the sun rises and suddenly the kid doesn't make a peep before 8 AM. Not cool. Anyway, he wakes up earlier than I'd like. No big deal. I can handle it. Let's throw the kid in my bed for some snuggles and a little extra sleep, shall we?

Commence snuggling.

After about 30 seconds, I realized that my shirt was wet. After a little investigative work, I realized Eldest Child had, at some point, decided he was too good for pull-ups and had taken them off. And after said escape from training pants, he decided to save his morning tinkle for his mom...as he was laying right on top of her.

Jesus, be near.

I manage to clean up the little darling and get him re-diapered (let's be honest, pull-ups are diapers disguised as progress) and give him a nice, clean shirt because his own was also soaked with pee. I couldn't find any pants at that exact moment, though. But what did it matter? I was about to put him in the high chair and turn on the tv for some Paw Patrol morning therapy. Plus, who even likes pants? I'm doing him a favor by letting his legs breathe freely.

Commence meltdown.

Apparently, toddlers and pants go together like peanut butter and jelly. That is, when they decide it's fitting. Cause I've seen him drop his drawers on multiple occasions without a second thought but THIS MORNING, my friends, pants were a MUST.

All this before a single sip of coffee. Oy vey.

And don't think he's the only child to grace my complaint list. Oh no. May I turn your attention to the golden child, Silas. Golden child no more. He is officially a full-fledged toddler in his own right.

Forgive me for asking you to sit down while you are in the tub, dear baby boy. While I only wanted to avoid head trauma, I should have been more considerate of your feelings and desires to lick the faucet while standing in shin-deep waters on a soapy/slippery tub floor. How dare I be a party pooper? And I suppose I was wrong for forcing you to sit after you ignored my verbal singsongy request to do so. How was I to know that you would fling yourself into a tantrum and nearly drown yourself to make your point? Shame on me.

This is why I love bedtime. Toddler-free SILENCE. (And Downton Abbey and snacks in bed, but I digress.)

You know, though, why I think toddlers are the biggest of punks?

Because I see so much of myself in the very actions they make that I loathe. They are an extension of me and sometimes, I don't like having to accept that realization.

I pout and whine when I don't get my way (it usually involves food and not getting to go out for dinner). I react harshly when someone (ahem, Brian. Sorry, Brian.) says something I don't want to hear. I forget to be mindful of others. I want what I want when I want it.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I think I've written a blog post once on how parenting is absolutely a vehicle for sanctification. It is. In the moments where I want to send my children to Camp Grandparents because they're working my last nerve, God quickly reminds me that He extends grace to me in my own tantrums time and time again. The realization is both overwhelmingly humbling and frustrating. (C'mon, God. Can I just have a pity party for, like, two seconds?)

As far as toddler-hood goes, I have only just begun this game and have a whole lot more innings to play. I hope that during their inevitable charades of toddler terror, I can remember those silent whispers to offer grace and to humble myself. I hope I can be the haven of peace my boys need in a way that Christ has always been for me. Some days I know will be more difficult than swallowing glass. But maybe, if I keep my wits about me and just deal with it, I'll learn they aren't quite all that terrible.

After all. They're just so cute. :)

killing me with cute.

and another? so much cute. i'm dead.

the one I should've written months ago.

You know what I love more than anything? Entertaining. That's why I love Theatre. My preferred genre is comedy. I love any outlet I have to give others a laugh. Laughter is the best medicine and others laughter is my best source of inspiration.

Facebook has been a big outlet for entertainment for me. I've literally contemplated a status for hours and re-written it several times before posting just to make sure it had its fullest comedic effect. If someone commented that I brightened their day or made them laugh, I counted it as worth it. I am not lying: I LOVE to make others laugh. Even at my own expense.

Unfortunately, sometimes this comes at the expense of my own productivity. I spend countless hours perusing facebook to provide a sarcastic jab or funny anecdote here and there when there are far better uses of my time. Lately, I've recognized the ridiculousness of my petty addiction to a social media platform with no tangible benefits.

A little background: For a while now, I've had an overwhelming sensation that there's something big out there for me. "Big" is a relative term. I'm not saying I'm headed to Hollywood. I'm just saying that I feel like I'm standing on the precipice of life change that can have a positive rippling effect. But I've known for a while that my Facebook habits are absolutely impeding that change from coming to fruition.

I've honestly felt God calling me to leave Facebook behind. And I've had some ridiculous excuses: "But, God, I don't see my family much. How can I share pictures of the boys or know what's going on with them? Isn't my desire to bring smiles a good thing? Can't Facebook be an extension of the calling you've placed in my life?" The answer is "no". It can't.

I've avoided abandoning Facebook because I am addicted to the praises of man. And that is wrong. There are some people who don't struggle with this. They can log on and log off any time they wish and not think a bit about it. I am not that person.

Facebook is a black hole of distractions. It has kept me from seeing Jacob make a goal when playing basketball. It's distracted me from conversations my husband is having with me. It's kept Silas waiting (very impatiently) for a cup of juice. It's been the "just 5 more minutes" that turns into 30 where I should've been meditating on the Word that I claim is the most important in my life.

Facebook is my idol. As humiliating as it is to say, it is true. I've allowed it to become that. I've allowed myself to compare my life to others virtual lives. It's caused discontentment, unnecessary arguing, anger, and kept me from growing in Christ the way I really long to.

For my non-believing friends who find this move completely ridiculous, I ask you to view it as you would an alcoholic who takes steps to become sober. They want something different for their lives. They don't want to waste it on something that will bring no eternal significance. Well, this is me making the same kind of commitment.

I want to see what Jesus can do with a woman who is willing to give up something she finds joy in, if He asks her to.

So, friends. This is my farewell to you on Facebook. I am nobody special so I doubt very much that I'll missed for long. You'll go about your days as normal. And I'll go about mine...just with a bit more purpose.

I'm inviting you to check in on my life here, at my blog. I plan to start posting a lot more often -- most of it will be the same light-hearted LL comedy you're used to. Some of it will be random ramblings you might have wished you hadn't wasted 5 minutes on. Whatever. I'll be writing. Pop in sometime.

 I also have an instagram account where I share incredibly adorable photos of my boys and our life: @llbadams. You can also find me on Twitter: @llbadams

Thanks for letting me tell you terribly unfunny jokes and validating my self-worth. Time to let Jesus do the rest. Catch you around. :)

painful observation.

I don't know if this is the world I want my children to grow up in. Of course, I don't really have much of a choice about that. Every time I scroll through my twitter feed or look at a newspaper or check the evening news on tv, I'm totally and completely floored by the headlines and happenings. From extreme, violent crimes taking place multiple times a day too close to home to a world that is slowly dissolving and losing any sense of whatever moral compass it once guided itself by, I feel complete anxiety wash over me as I think about my boys facing these issues head to head as they age.

Anxiety is something I have battled a lot in the past year (thanks, postpartum journey!) and I don't have much of a hold on it. I can't quite explain it and I don't at all know how to navigate it gracefully. It's funny, though, how - just like I do with everything in life - I try to fix the problem myself.

I don't think I need to tear into some long, drawn-out post to get to what I know to be true. Anxiety is not at all from God. He is the producer of peace - the calm in the storm, now and forever. That's the image we're all struck with - us dear ol' church-goers - when any of us begins talking about peace: Jesus calming the storm.

I don't believe I have an issue with Jesus bringing peace in my life. I think I have an issue living like I absolutely believe God's word is true. Because if Christ can calm a storm with a simple, spoken word, is He not able to do the same in my life? If I truly believed He is who He says He is, would I allow myself to fall into the same temptations and trials that anxiety brings me? (Or any other sin, for that matter...)

I cannot control the future. I cannot control the world. The things my children live through, whether I am by their side to guide them along or not, are outside of my dominion. Worrying over their safety and choices is about as useful as a wet match.

But..."The God who made the world and everything in it is Lord of heaven and earth...he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything" (Acts 17:24-25). This omnipotent ruler, this perfect peace-giver tells me to cast all my cares upon Him. He tells me that I cannot add a single hour to my life by worry.

Why do I live as if I don't believe these words?

...I don't have an answer to this post today. But as I reflect on it, I realize I do have a challenge.