Damage Control

Luke woke up yesterday morning and decided that he is now an exclusive walker. He only uses those "drunken baby" steps as he follows Eli around the house. It's probably a good thing. He's worn through the knees of several pairs of pants and the rest aren't far behind. Over the last couple of weeks he has also begun stacking block towers of three to four blocks, feeding himself with a spoon, drinking only from a sippy cup (no more nursing!), climbing up and down the stairs, and coloring with crayons. Lest you think all these accomplishments are helpful his new feats also include climbing up the front of the oven to investige whatever is on the stovetop (no matter how hot!), eating play-do, shutting cabinet doors on his tiny fingers, and removing pants and socks during naptime.

Yesterday morning I went to the library with the boys. I pushed the getting-really-kind-of-heavy double stroller down to the nearly empty children's department and hoped we would find some fun Thanksgiving books. I unloaded the boys and the next thing I knew, Eli was headed for the "Button!" and sliding door of the elevator and Luke was quickly toddling off toward a table and chairs just perfect for climbing (and falling off!). It was at this moment I knew I'd reached a new stage as a mother.

We've been flirting with it for a few days--like last week's out-of-control toy dumping rampage at our Friday playgroup--but yesterday I realized it was fully upon me. It's name: Damage Control. Eli and Luke are happy and active and easily entertained as long as I can stay ahead of them. The thing is, I can't always do that. Sometimes I'm too busy recovering from the previous mini-disaster to prevent the next one. I know this is one of the roles of all mothers. I confess I used to look down on moms who were in the midst of it. (Can't they just give their kids some direction? If they'd only establish some boundaries, their kids would know what lines not to cross...) These little charges of mine are not only helping to knock the selfishness out of me, they're making sure I'm not prideful too.

We've been reading a book with our Oasis group called, The Good and Beautiful God. Last week's chapter contained this idea: my choices no longer define who I am, they are a reflection of who is in me. I don't strive to be the best mom I can be so that others, including my own children, will think I'm so great; I strive to be an exceptional parent because that is where God has called me to be. A new life in Him means He'll supply the patience and creativity needed to guide these two boys. I don't need to pull it out of my own strength, God (who owns Eli and Luke anyway) will give me what I need for the task He has blessed me with. So whatever stage we're in, even if it's damage control, I can trust that my good and beautiful God is walking along side and guiding me through.