Page Four

A treasured memory that is stored in my heart forever....

It was the summer of 2009 and I was a young mother of two toddlers.  I had a precious four-year-old girl who was as close to an angel as any parent could have.  She loved to do puzzles, read books, color and sit still.  And I had an adorable 19 month old boy....who kept me on my feet.  I knew he was adorable, with his big blue eyes, little man haircut and Mickey Mouse grin.  But wow. He...drove...me....crazy! 

He had suddenly come to life, this sweet little baby who had been so good.  I thought I had hit the parenting jackpot when my second baby was a good eater and sleeper--just like my first.  I would hear other young mommies complain about how hard it was to be a mother to a fussy baby, and I have to admit, I would think to myself that I must be doing something right and they must...well, you know:)

So, the summer of 2009 I found myself often in tears.  I would cringe when I'd hear the familiar rhythmic sound of a certain toddler's feet jumping up and down in his crib each morning and then again each afternoon, signaling that nap time was over.  I'd find myself handing my boy off to my husband each night when he came home from work.  Not a kiss hello or a "how was your day".  It was usually an extremely irritated mommy trying her best to subdue her screaming boy and a "you deal with him, I can't take it anymore!" handoff exchange.

Late in the summer, we went home one week to visit my family in Virginia.  Roy was out of town and I was "Single-Mommying-It".  I dreaded these times because I was not good at restraining Roy Austin.  Roy could do it, but me?  Nope.  And the times I hated the most was eating out at restaurants.  From the time we would sit down, we'd have 15 to maybe 20 minutes until he was officially done with the idea of sitting in a highchair and nothing would appease him.  So there we sat at a Mexican restaurant....Caroline, my wild boy, me and some of my family.  I was constantly moving napkins and silverware and menus out of his way.  Handing him crayons just to have him throw them.  I wanted to get in on the conversations, but he wasn't letting me.  And then, it happened.  He reached forward, grabbed the bowl of salsa and flung it all over the table.  That was it.  I exploded.  I think those at the table didn't know what to do...or those sitting at tables around us.  I was mad, embarrassed and so done!

Looking back, this story is funny to me now.  Once we got back to my parent's house and put him to bed, I had a good cry with my sweet mom in her laundry room.  My mother---the mother of five girls, who she raised to be little ladies---didn't know what to tell me.  She didn't understand the ways of boys and I remember saying something through my frustrated tears like "it's like something's wrong with him!  He never sits still, he is into everything, he's a mess and he drives me crazy!!" and she replied in her soothing voice, "do you think something COULD be wrong with him?" !!  Later that night, one of my sisters had heard about the state I was in and brought over a stack of parenting books that she thought I might want to look through.  There were various books on rearing children, from one with advice from Amish people, a few by the Facts of Life actress and then Bringing Up Boys  by James Dobson.  I picked that one up and headed to bed.  Little did I know that this book would change my entire view of parenting my little boy.

When I tell this story, I always say that I really am not trying to sound dramatic.  Only God knows my experience that night.  But I truly believe that the Holy Spirit used page four of Dr. Dobson's book that exact July night to hug a tired mommy and to whisper to her that everything was going to be alright. 

"It begins very early.  If a toddler can climb on it, he will jump off it.  He careens out of control toward tables, tubs, pools, steps, trees and streets.  He will eat anything but food and loves to play in the toilet.  He makes "guns" out of cucumbers or toothbrushes and likes digging around in drawers, pill bottles, and Mom's purse.  And just hope he doesn't get his grubby little hands on a tube of lipstick.  A boy harasses grumpy dogs and picks up kitties by their ears.  His mom has to watch him every minute to keep him from killing himself.  He loves to throw rocks, play with fire, and shatter glass.  He also gets great pleasure out of irritating his brothers and sisters, his mother, his teachers and other children." (page 4, Bringing Up Boys).

As I sat in my bed, I literally wept!  He was normal!  He was doing exactly what he was designed to do, by GOD.  I didn't understand what a little boy was.  I had been desperately trying to make him just like his big sister, but in that moment I knew that he was exactly right.  It would be okay and I would be okay.  I was given the overwhelmingly wonderful responsibility for him...even though it seemed unbearable and so foreign to me at times.  I was hand picked by the Creator for just this task.

And oh, how true that paragraph was about my Roy Austin.  Instantly it all made sense.  The time he ate a cigarette butt, or when I found him coughing as he chewed through a Cascade gel-pack, or ate "one, two, thwee....all of dem" Pepto Bismol tablets and I had to call Poison Control---again! The weekly findings of him hanging from the top shelf of our pantry, that eventually made us get a lock for that door--and a lock for the refrigerator.  The many times he would clog the toilets with rolls of toilet paper or special receipts I needed....or the nasty time I caught him--this is gross--dipping toilet paper in the potty (it was unused) and then sucking the water from the paper! He loved to chase our angry chihuahua through the house and then laugh when she'd nip at him.  And because my wise mom taught me to take pictures of things that she promised I would laugh at later, here are some others:

This was where I could always be sure to find him when it was quiet...the bathroom.  Either playing in the toilet or somehow in the sink, turning the water on and off and soap pumped everywhere.

...and this was the face he'd always make when I caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to.  See?  Funny now, but at the time, not so much.

Here he is at one of Roy's birthdays.  All was quiet and I looked over to see him trying to figure out how matches worked.

There's that face again. 

This is one of my favorites.  Again...it was quiet and we soon discovered why.  He had taken a spatula to 24 eggs in the refrigerator.  When we asked him why he would do that, his response?  "I had to!"

 Fast forward five plus years and I couldn't be more happier with our sweet boy.  Oh, the joy he brings my heart.  Whether it's seeing his big, toothy, grin in the carpool line, the always 8 kisses he gives me when I drop him off at school in the mornings, his sweet, sincere heart for the Lord and the Bible, his absolute love of life or the fact that he loves to snuggle up with me and have me call him either "Dude" or "Bubs",  I delight in him.  Yes, I know there are some difficult and hard years ahead and right now the "poopy/fart talk" is just about all I can handle, but I'll take it.  He is doing what he was designed to do and so I will do what I was designed to do and bring up my boy.

P.S. Here is a favorite video of our family's that captures the sweet innocence of Caroline, the frustration of Mommy and the adventure and humor of Roy Austin: