The Gifts that Keep on Giving?

My two year old comes looking for me, because he has something he wants to give me. I'm thinking, "Oh, how sweet! This is going to make my morning!" What does he have for me? A booger. Yes. Specially selected for me, I'm sure. And one of a kind. But, still, a booger.

Anyway, it got me thinking about all the gifts I gave to my parents as a child, and how I feel really badly about some of them. Almost mortified. Ought to apologize, actually. I specifically remember the first Christmas I had saved enough pocket change to buy something for each member of the family all by myself. I chose all the items from one store (why not go for convenience and efficiency?). How I selected the store, I can't recall. It probably had the most colorful flier on Sunday or the most sales (way to go advertising department!). But whatever my motivation, I remember being super excited as I planned out my purchases, and we headed off to Michael's (yes, Michael's, of all places. I guess Walmart had yet to assert it's dominance...)

I don't remember what I purchased for my sisters. They probably didn't even pretend to like the stuff, and it's long since been tossed. =) But I do remember all the things I made for my mother. I bought a small undecorated wooden wreath and tied bells to it with green string. It was too small to hang anywhere but a doorknob. I have no idea what I thought she was going to do with it! If that weren't enough, I also made her an ornament. I made a green paper cup into a bell by running string through the bottom and attaching a collection of staples inside. (Her favorite color is green, you see.) It did NOT actually jingle. Finally, I made her a mixed tape. Oh, not just any mixed tape. A recording of myself, singing all the songs I knew...and many that I didn't. Where I knew the words but not the melody, I made it up. It's really horrifying to think about it.

And what do you do with gifts like that? I'm sure she accepted them with inordinate graciousness. Is that part of some unspoken "Mom code?" Do I really have to accept dead bugs, even when presented by children with bright shining eyes? (Let me go ahead and answer that rhetorical question for you. No, no I do not.) Do I have to keep EVERY paper ever scribbled on "just for me?" There's got to be a compromise, because I have one child who is, at best, destined to become a pack rat and, at worst, demonstrating tendencies of a hoarder! He would claim every bit of free wall space in the house if there were enough sticky tack on earth, and that which I don't display is kept in a box that becomes fuller by the day!

I guess it comes down to what you value and why. Some things are valuable because of what they are. It's intrinsic. Some things are valuable because of WHO gives them. It's transferred. It's sentimental. I can't promise I'll keep every piece of paper. It's just inconceivable. (Anybody want a peanut?) But I can understand how something seemingly worthless to almost everyone else, might become priceless to me, simply because it was given by someone I love...who loves me too.

But not boogers. Never boogers.

Raising Little Men

When I first found out that Declan (my oldest) was a boy, I was pretty overwhelmed. Coming from a family of girls, I really had no idea what to expect, and what I'd heard from my husband about his experiences with his brother only left me feeling all the more unprepared! Tales of pranks and resulting broken arms, fireworks, fireballs (yes, engulfing flame), decimated hot wheel collections, fighting with golf clubs...(and the list goes on and on). I had no idea how to raise a boy, and now I've been blessed with three! And if that weren't enough, considering how to raise a boy to be a strong young man: firm but gentle, determined but humble, protective but kind, assertive but wise...

These issues come up early. The simple "don't hit your brother" statement turns into a discussion about how to treat others and how to properly stand up for yourself without being hurtful or vindictive. Boys are naturally aggressive, I think. Most people would think it's just fine to hand them each a pair of boxing gloves or pugile sticks and pull up a chair for the show. But, the task is to guide those natural tendencies so that when they are angry, they are not overwhelmed. When they are frustrated, they don't act out in ways that are harmful. That, oh horror, they CAN use words to express themselves (carefully chosen words, at that) and that it's not a cop out to do so. God says "vengeance is mine," and He means it. God tells us, "so long as it depends upon YOU, live at peace with one another."

But, oh, sometimes it's so hard to get that message across! And when do you just let them have fun?! When is it good to just get out that boyish energy? Wack a tree or something. Wrestling free for all anyone? So long as it is playful and not intentionally hurtful? Sometimes when boys play it seems they artfully dance around that line (yes, dance, and probably the only time they'll enjoy it!). Especially now that they have been introduced to Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, they have become intensely interested in weapons, attacks, strategy and fighting. On the one hand, I know it's natural and also a good thing, and sometimes their antics do just make me laugh!

Declan has become very interested in sword fighting, and a number of our recent conversations have revolved around it. The other day he and Mike talked about war. Declan, very seriously, said, "Dad, if I had to go to war, I'd probably be the first to die, because I'm so young." Mike replied, "Well, Declan, they train you before you go to war. Besides, in our country, you have to be older before you are allowed to fight." Declan's response? "Well, they wouldn't have to train me TOO much, because I'm already good at sword fighting." (Apparently Mike neglected to inform Declan that sword fighting is not so much a part of modern warfare. If he had, I would surely have met with a disappointed little boy that afternoon!)

Instead, it came up again yesterday. As we were traveling home from school, Declan saw a dachshund, very similar in appearance to Peanut, in some one's yard. He very worriedly wondered aloud whether bandits might possibly have broken into our house and stolen her! I told him it was very unlikely, and then he confidently assured me, "Well, if we ever DO run into bandits, it's OK, because I'm good at sword fighting." I was pretty amused until he started deconstructing the battle that would ensue, which involved incapacitation using a heavy object and then decapitation...which brought me back to my original worry. He was using his imagination but, nevertheless, I felt the need to throw in a little disclaimer that we shouldn't physically hurt someone else unless it was absolutely necessary for self defense. We should always walk away when possible. With exasperation at my over-seriousness, he replied, "But Mom, they're BANDITS!"

Ah well, for every conversation where I feel like I just don't know how to say the right thing (Lord, grant me wisdom!!), there is usually a situation that makes me laugh! For instance, the other night the boys were in the bathroom together, and they both ran out, Declan yelling, "Keller peed on me!!!" When I asked what happened, Declan replied, "He was using his pee as a light saber!" And those are the moments of levity (because I could NOT help laughing out loud) that remind me of how much fun little boys are. And, while I will always be mindful of the fact that I have the awesome responsibility of helping them grow into men, for now I can also take every opportunity to enjoy the moments where they are just my precious little boys!