Merry Christmas everyone! Here's the whole family (I'm there too, you just can't see me on the other side of the camera). We hope your day was full of fun, good food, and lots of love!

Asa's three!!!

Boy, do I ever love this kid! He's amazingly smart, hilariously witty, wonderfully affectionate, and irrestistibly adorable. (And naughty, of course, we can't forget...uh...charmingly naughty...)
Asa is so excited to be three. He had such fun celebrating his big day with a Christmas Party at Daddy's office, a small birthday gathering for him at Fuddruckers, and a birthday cake (white cake with white frosting, just as he requested) at cell group that night.

Happy (belated) birthday Asa! You are definitely a one of a kind kid and we are so blessed that God chose us to be the ones to celebrate every one of your energy-filled days with you!


 

We spent Justin's birthday in the city, seeing the Rockettes in the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. It was spectacular! Radio City Music Hall is beautiful and impressive. So impressive, in fact, that when we walked in marveling at the soaring ceilings, rich decor, festive fragrances, and twinkling lights, Asa's blue eyes grew huge with wonder and he said in a hushed voice of awe, "Is this Cinderella's Castle?"

Here are a few photos from the show. When it was over we visited the tree in Rockefeller Center, watched the ice skaters at the rink, and had lunch.


We had a great time and the kids are already asking to go back and see it again next year!

The sun was just beginning to trickle it's rays through the clouds and into our bedroom window this morning when I awoke to "Mommy! Mommy!"
I slowly and groggily turned toward the voice, halfway opened one still-sleepy eye, and saw a little head bobbing up and down beside me. "shhhhhh", I said, "You'll wake Astrid".
"Mommy!" exclaimed my eldest as he bounced and danced beside me, "I'm SIX today!!! Now can I open my presents?!?"
"Sure Buddy", I answered, "and Happy Birthday."
As he ripped through the paper on the the gifts I had so carefully wrapped, his eyes shone with the excitement only a child can muster. I thought back over the years since his birth. The joy he has brought to our lives is immeasurable. He is so full of laughter, wonder, mischief, joy, curiosity, determintation....life. And now he's six. Just yesterday he was born (that's in Mommy Memory years...the most nostalgic sort of all) and today he's one third of the way to adulthood. I remember when Granni used to say how fast time went by and how it seemed, from my childlike perspective, that 2 hours might as well have been an eternity. Now, I have this vision of myself chasing the years as they sprint by me, carrying my little boy on their shoulders.
"Mom, do you miss your baby Ethan?" he asked me.
"Yes, I miss my baby Ethan," I answered honestly, "but I love my big Ethan so much that it makes up for any missing I might be doing."

Around my children's birthdays I often find myself unable to resist staring at them, holding them, feeling their soft skin, and even smelling their tiny heads, forcing my brain to take note, and remember. Remember in a way that it will never forget so that when these years are gone and Ethan's kisses and "I love you's" are not so plentiful, Julia's expressions are not so uninhibited, Asa's musical laughter does not come so easily, and Astrid's rosy lips do not smell like sweet milk and sunshine, I can close my eyes and see, hear, feel, and smell these things all over again. And, for a moment, relive these most precious moments and memories of my little ones' childhoods.


Today I put some kid music on the stereo in the car. Ethan (in his biggest 6 year old voice) proceeded to annouce that he "hates this music."
"Son," I scolded, "just because you're six now that doesn't mean that you can start talking like that."
"But, it's ok if I say 'hate' Mom."
"It just doesn't sound nice," I explained, "so it's not ok with me."
"Well, it will be ok for me to say 'hate' when I'm thirty!" he announced.


Four more things Ethan plans to do when he's 30:
1. Get his own house and watch Spongebob (because he's not allowed to in our house)
2. Enjoy football games
3. Buy the house next door to Mommy and Daddy
4. Have kids so they can sit in the backseat and he doesn't have to anymore

A morning at the park.

Julia climbing a wall.













Asa in the sandbox.



















Ethan being crazy



















Silly Astrid 

Astrid in her new hat

I have come to believe that parenting gets exponentially more difficult starting somewhere around age 3. In the beginning you leave the hospital with a seemingly perfect bundle of drowsy humanity. You nuzzle his tiny neck, inhaling the aroma of sweet milk and fresh life. Sure, the nights can be long, and the days can be exhausting, but a few months later when you find yourself walking around with your pudgy, drooling, dimpled prize and strangers in the grocery store are "oohing" and "ahhhing", you think, "this parenting thing is so much easier than I expected! I could have 10 more of these!"

Then, 33 months and 2 kids later, you're staring at a handful of your own hair in your hand, hearing yourself mutter uninteligibly, and in your lucid moments thinking "what have I gotten myself into?!?"

You know, your school teachers really were well-intentioned. They thought they were preparing you for real life. But I don't recall any group projects about what to do when your 4 year old goes on a spitting spree in the McDonald's play area and 3 other mother's glare at you in disdain as they dry their offended progeny. There weren't any lesson plans developed around how to potty train a boy who seems to think that the bathroom walls would look much better if they were "urine yellow". I never completed any worksheets with fill in the blanks on how to handle a child when he's attempting to smother his baby sister with a pillow. I didn't take field trips to the homes of mothers of preschoolers trying to maintain their sanity.

So, when you finally realize that you've just jumped into the middle of the ocean without a life jacket, you flail and kick and reach for the first thing you can find that floats. For us, this was some kind, any kind, of behavior modification. Taking things away, bribing (oops, I mean rewarding), spanking, room time, yelling, whatever we could do to make them stop and change their rebellious ways. It wasn't until recently that I have begun to see that, while behavior modification has its place and purpose, it can sometimes be the easy way out. It may change the behavior, but it does very little for the heart. In Mom's group this year we are watching a video series called "Parenting is Heart Work". It's great encouragement for the parent who not only wants their child to be well behaved, but also wants their child's heart to be directed toward God. To make good choices because they are good choices rather than out of fear of retribution. I've been ready for awhile to make the change to heart-based parenting, and now I'm getting the opportunity to fill my mothering toolbox with the materials neccesary to start that work. The thought that my pouting, cross-armed toddler will somehow morph before my eyes into a defiant-eyed, brooding teenager is chilling. So, I'm praying that the work I am trying to do now in dealing with the tender hearts of my little ones will save me having to break out the parenting power tools when they are teenagers. I realize, like every human, my children's hearts will be under construction their entire lives. But my hope is that I won't have to spend the next 20 years in a hard hat, dodging the wrecking ball.

Last Thursday morning, as I sat nodding and "amen"ing the parenting video, Ethan graciously granted me the opportunity to become a real life object lesson. Due to a previous offense, Ethan was banned from TV and videos for 2 days. So, when the television came to life in the children's room at church I pulled him out and told him he could color and read in the room I was in. A light breakfast is served at every mom's group meeting and that day we had a scrumptious pumpkin bread and fresh fruit. I gave him a plate with a few strawberries and grapes and told him he couldn't have any more than that because this was the "Mommy Snack" and it wasn't really intended for the kids. A few times when I turned around I caught him with his hand hovering over the juicy treats, just willing one to jump off the platter and happen to land in his mouth. Each time, I reminded him that he fruit was not for him and I offered him pretzels and animal crackers as an alternative. About halfway through the video, Astrid, who had been going back and forth between bouncing on my lap and scooting around on the floor, began to express her discontent with the situation and I took her out of the room. After getting her settled with some toys across the hall I returned to the meeting room. Ethan had disappeared. He was not in the seat I had left him in. He was not in the seat beside that one. He was not in my seat. He was not down the hall in the children's room. Just as I was beginning to get anxious my eye caught some movement beneath the "Mommy Snacks" table. I peered under to find a pair of big brown eyes staring back at me and a look of guilt mingled with pride across the face of a five year old with a mouth full of strawberries and a plate overflowing with grapes.

I paused. After all, I did have enough sense not to just "react" with 8 of my peers sitting inches away sipping coffee and scribbling notes on how to be a more loving and patient parent. I silently took Ethan by the hand and led him outside, behind the church shed, where he promptly received a well deserved-
Okay, Okay, that's not exactly what happened. My desire to apply what I was learning kicked in just in time and I reigned in my anger and calmly told my little rebel to have a seat inside, on the stool at the end of the hall, and I would be there to talk with him shortly. He dutifully climbed onto the seat and hung his head. As I walked away I heard him begin to cry softly. Now, you have to know Ethan to really understand how unusual that is. He gets angry, turns red in the face, stomps his feet, and even occasionally growls. But rarely is his reaction to correction a sorrowful one. With every step back to the meeting room I was praying, "Okay, God, how do I handle this?" "What's going to make a lasting impact?" "How do I make him understand why what he did was so wrong?" "I've been over these same principles with him time after time after time, when will they sink in?" "What am I doing wrong that he doesn't get this yet?"

I tried the knob on the meeting room door, but it was locked. Looking through the glass window I could see that the energetic duo on the TV screen were still eargerly imparting their parenting wisdom upon my friends. My friends whose children were sitting on the floor down the hall, criss cross applesauce, listening to a story, giggling with delight, raising their hands when they wanted to speak, and contentedly munching on their pretzels and animal crackers.

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the wood door. I could vaguely hear snippets of the video so I turned my head and rested my ear against it, hoping to catch come priceless nugget to take with me back to the other end of the hall, where my son sat sniffling. As I settled into a comfortable position I heard the woman say, "Parenting the heart takes time. Your children won't get it right away. You will have to teach the same lessons over and over. Don't be discouraged. They will get it, and their hearts will be changed."

I stood, turned, and made my way back to Ethan, who looked so small and forlorn, and knelt beside him.

"Ethan, what was our verse this week in school?"
"Children obey your parents, for this pleases the Lord", he replied quietly between sniffs.
"That's right. Did you obey me?"
"No ma'am."
"Does that please the Lord?"
"No. It makes God sad."
"Yes. Do you want to please God or make Him sad?" I asked.
He looked up and his eyes met mine, "I don't want to make Him sad."
I went on, "And what was our verse from 2 weeks ago? It starts, 'Even a child-'".
"Even a child is known by his actions. By whether his conduct is pure and right," he recited.
"When you disobeyed me and took something you knew was not yours, was your conduct pure and right?"
"No ma'am."
"Ethan, even though you are a child, you know the difference between right and wrong. If even a child is known by his actions, what do you think people know about your heart based on the choices you just made?" I asked him.
"I don't know," he replied.
"You know what I think? I think if all someone knew about you was what they just saw happen here, they would only be able to believe that your heart is not filled with love, kindness, and goodness." I told him gently, "Is that what you want?"
I waited, while he stared at his hands. Finally, he answered, "no."
I lifted his chin and wiped a tear from his cheek.
"Mommy," he said, his voice quivering, "I'm sorry."
"I forgive you," I said, "do you think we should pray so you can ask God to forgive you too?"
"Yes", he whispered as he took my hands, "Will you help me?"
I led him in a prayer, hugged him tightly, and we walked hand in hand back to the meeting room. I felt his rough little boy fingers in mine and thought about how important it is for me to take the time while he' still so small to do this parenting thing right. I realized how differently things could have turned out had I fallen back on habit and just corrected his behavior rather than shepherding his heart. He may never have seen the connection between his actions and his relationship with God, me, and other people. I know he won't always get it right, won't always learn the lesson I want him to understand. I won't always get it right, either. But I think we're both taking a step in the right direction.

The video was over by the time we got back, but that was fine.

I've always liked field trips better than seat work anyway...

I know, I know, it's time for a real post... I'll get to that eventually, but for now how about some pictures of my favorite 5 year old, 3 year old, 2 year old, and 6 month old...here they are playing in the fall leaves!



 

Ahhhhhhh....Fall...Nothing tastes better than apples fresh from the tree!

 

And we're off! Fall is falling...the temperature is dropping...and our first year of homeschooling has officially begun!
Ethan is having a great time with kindergarten! I have learned already, though, that he would rather be the "question-er" than the "question...uh...ee?"
His favorite answer when I am probing him for comprehension is:
"Hmmm...that's a good question...I haven't quite figured out the answer yet....I'll have to think about that." It worked the first few times until I caught on and realized it was just a clever way of getting me to give him the answer. Little snot. ;)

Of course, I don't always have the answers to his questions either.....

So, can anyone help me out? DID Jesus' feet get wet when he walked on the water?

















And...even more exciting than our first week of school......our friends, the Lindsey's, just welcomed their newest little ray of sunshine, Caleb, on September 17th! Sorry, girls, Astrid's already claimed him as hers!

Some pictures of the kids from our trip to Florida.


 

Sometimes we just get in a singin' mood. Actually, for the kids, it's usually more like shoutin'. But, hey, at least they "make a joyful noise" right? The top three requests here at our house are:
1. Baby Bumblebee
2. Jesus Loves Me (hip hop style when they can beg my silliness out of me)
3. The Fruit of the Spirit

For anyone not familiar with the Fruit of the Spirit song, it goes like this:
"The Fruit of the Spirit's not a coconut" (then you knock on your head and cluck your tongue twice)
"The Fruit of the Spirit's not a coconut" (knock and cluck, knock and cluck)
"If you wanna be a coconut" (knock and cluck, knock and cluck)
"You might as well hear it"
"You can't be a fruit of the Spirit
'Cause the fruits are:
"Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentelness, and Self Contro-o-ol"
"Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control"
(Then it goes on to say that the Fruit of the Spirit's not a cherry, banana, lemon, etc, etc until you have exhausted the list of all fruits known to 5, 3, and 2 year olds...then go back to coconut and through them all again until you have exhausted the Mommy)

This morning, as the 18th verse of The Fruit of the Spirit was coming to an end, Ethan inquired, "Do I have those?"
"Those what, buddy?" I asked him, relieved to be spared from the 19th verse.
"Those fruits of the Spirit."
"Well", I began, "Let's see. First, can you tell me what each of them are?" I challenged him.
He wasn't too solid on the definitions of a few of them but we went through them one by one, me telling him in simple terms what they meant, and him voluntarily giving his own examples.
LOVE: "Like when Asa falls down and I hug him and say, 'Asa, are you alright?'".
JOY: "Like when we went to Krispy Kreme in Florida and I was so happy because it was really good"
PEACE: "Quiet?"
PATIENCE: "When you're sick and you go to the hospital and be a patient?"
KINDNESS: "Sharing your toys, even when you don't want to"
GOODNESS: "Making good choices"
FAITHFULNESS: "I haven't no idea"
GENTLENESS: "Not jumping on the bed near Astrid's head"

After that one I stopped, and getting ready for the big wrap-up to the impromptu Bible lesson I said, "Now, this last one is very important. Sometimes we have a lot of trouble with it, especially when things don't go our way. Let's see if you can remember what it is. So far we have, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and....does anyone remember the last one?"
My question was met with three pair of wide eyes and silence. Suddenly, Asa jumped to his feet, bubbling with excitement and shouted,
"Remote Control!!!"

I burst out laughing. Then Ethan, who recognized the humor of the answer, joined me. And Julia, who had no idea what was so funny, began to giggle. Then Asa, who's always game for a good laugh, chuckled at himself, proud to be the one who had caused us all to dissolve.

I never did get around to explaining SELF control, but, if nothing else, the lesson was not lost on me.

I spend a lot of time trying to teach my children self control. Waiting their turn to speak, sitting quietly at the dinner table, having just one piece of candy, cooling down instead of lashing out when they're angry, listening and obeying the first time without whining or complaining. While all of these things are great, I will admit that often times my guidance toward self control can turn into a personal desire for "remote control" over them and their actions. I can sit on the sofa, flipping through channels, looking for something "good" on TV, turning the volume up or down based on my preference. But I can't do that with my kids. What I wouldn't give sometimes for a mute button or a V-chip to block out all the unwelcome words and attitudes coming from their little bodies!

What a gift God has given us to be "self controlled", rather than pushing all of our little buttons until our lives display only the things He wants to see in us. What a gift it is to be allowed to love Him in spite of ourselves because of who He is instead of who He forces us to be. What stronger devotion comes from knowing that we are choosing to follow, obey, and trust Him instead of being bullied into tuning into the "right channel". What a reward to know that we have chosen wisely and that our self control has led us to experience greater love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentlness. And what a gift it is to our children to encourage them to bear this fruit while also loosening our white-knuckled grip on the remote control of their lives and giving them the example of a loving parent that our heavenly Father has so perfectly given to us.

Theology lessons from the kid who prefers to do puzzles naked....(see completely appropriate picture below)

Asa is what some might call a "character". More than once we have been told that he has a "mischievous grin" and that he's "charming but just plain naughty....". On his good days he's charismatic, gregarious, and an all around fun guy. But, remember the nursey rhyme about the "little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead"? She and Asa have a lot in common. When he is good he is very very good.....but when he's bad he is horrid. Anyway, I digress.

Two year olds have a special way of looking at the world. I think their little minds just take everything they see, hear, smell, taste, and touch, throw it all into the part of the toddler brain that's like a blender (a portion of the brain that scientists have yet to explore and have no hope of actually explaining), press the on button, take the top off, and say whatever mixture of their experiences splatters out.

Yesterday, during the portion of our morning walk where all the kids (5 in all ages 5, 4, 3, 2, 2, counting Elizabeth's and not counting Astrid) get out of the strollers to walk along a retaining wall in the neighborhood, I received my first mini-sermon from Brother Asa. He's a tiny kid. He's the youngest of the "big kids", and has the shortest legs. So, when Ethan, Nicole, Julia, and Dale take off down the sidewalk and scale the wall, Asa is sometimes left in the dust. Of course, it doesn't help that his ever-present cowboy boots are a size too big and on the wrong feet....that's gotta slow him down. As the more agile children ran ahead I was attempting to keep up with them while also making sure I didn't leave Asa behind.

Suddenly, I heard the click of angry cowboy boots on the sidewalk and a guttural, "Mommy!" I stopped and turned around to see Asa, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, "Mommy! Don't run!"
"I'm not running, Ace, I'm trying to stay with you, hurry up," I answered, with the slightest bit of impatience in my voice.
I started walking again, slower this time, but the hill was steep and, I'll admit, when the stroller starts to get away from me I do tend to pick up the pace a little. My second reprimand came within seconds of the first.
"Mommy!" came the growling voice from behind me, "DON'T RUN!"
"Asa, I'm not running, I'm trying to-"
"Mommy. No running. Running is a sin."
"It's a what?" I asked him, trying not to giggle at the severe expression on his little leprechaun face.
"It's a sin," he stated.
I took a deep breath and decided to address this warped theology. "Asa, first of all, I'm not running. And second, running is not a sin. A sin is something that-"
But he didn't hear me. He just flashed me a silly grin as he shot past me at full speed, cowboy boots clicking like a racehorse on the sidewalk, one hand holding his pants up and the other swinging wildly, sinning, I mean running, with reckless abandon.

Hmmmmm.......either he hasn't quite grasped the concept of sin, or I've got one heck of an adolescence to look forward to.....

More spiritual lessons from the Allen kids coming soon!

A few more and then I promise to stop.....