Last night I was in the Montessori closet where we have the shelves put up with each work laid neatly in their own space. All I was doing was just putting some things away when all of the sudden, I turn around, and see two little beaming faces staring up at me. One child had his hands on the rice pouring activity and the other child was deeply involved int the starfish and fish sorting activity-mat and all. So I says to myself, “Self, are you allowing enough time for the kids to work in the Montessori things?” I was too busy to answer back however because the rice went pouring everywhere and my sweet boy squealed in delight at the sound it made when it hit the tray. I have my work cut out for me. After cleaning up the rice together (mommy did more of the work than my son–he was more interested in seeing how far the rice flew up into the air) they went back to their work. I looked around at both of them, happily engrossed in their work, and listened to beautiful silence.

I had a great conversation with my mom today, and she told me on a sidenote that she reads my blog. Now, I am looking at the stats to see how many people have viewed my blog, and I don’t really have a huge following… well let’s make it a VERY small following….Well just my mom. So since she is the only one reading this I will say. Hi Mom! I love you and thanks for reading my mindless writing about the craziness at our house. Love you!

“What have you been doing these days?”
“Not much really. Taking care of my husband and the kids, house and dogs. Oh, did I forget to mention that I am STARTING MONTESSORI HOMESCHOOL THIS FALL???”
Yeah, you heard that right. So now you know why the waves of anxiety come flooding over me periodically.

Originally we were going to put the kids in Montessori school. I started touring schools a year and a half ago to find the perfect location to put Noodlebug in. After touring EVERY Montessori school within a 40 mile radius, I only found one I liked…about 40 miles away. With traffic that would be an hour and a half commute time daily. Hmmmm. That is not going to work.
Fast forward a year, and after AH (Awesome Husband) and I prayed about what to do with the kids for school, the solution slowly revelaed itself. Montessori Homeschool. I used to go to Montessori Primary ages 3-6. It taught me a wealth of things and gave me a great start. I knew the children should be educated this way, and I also have a passion for teaching. To educate my children is a true gift from God, and I don’t take it lightly. So I was satisfied with homeschooling.  

Roadblock 1: The materials are expensive to purchase.Yes, however a year’s worth of materials are LESS than what it would cost for one child to attend Montessori school for one year. Plus we would reuse the materials for Baby Bear, and IF we had a third (I am capping it at three children–you think I am Supermom?!) then those materials would again be reused.
Roadblock 2: How do I teach Montessori? There is a specific order in which the material is introduced. You can’t just buy everything and then let the kids play however they want. There were certain ways the materials should be set up, (left to right, top to bottom), and certain ways the materials should be presented to each child. (How do you like that? Do I sound like I know what I am talking about or what?) After much worry and stress I found several sites that helped me each time I got stuck with something:

• http://www.infomontessori.com/index.htm This gave me the basics as to what age to present the materials, what I would need, and HOW to present the work to the child. (This was my BIG “AHA” moment)
• http://mymontessorijourney.typepad.com/my_montessori_journey/ Um… can I just say Pure Awesomeness? I read the whole blog from beginning to end. The big help for me was how to introduce reading and writing and unlocked the mystery of what letters to introduce first, and how in the world to introduce them! She also has some CUTE activities to reinforce the principals of the Montessori Method to the children. I certainly follow her lead with a ton of stuff, and the kids have loved it so far. I actually emailed her to thank her and she promplty responded. What a great lady!!!
•  http://montessoristory.blogspot.com/ This blog pulled it all together for me in the homeschool setting. If you go back to the beginning and read her first posts about why she started doing her Montessori homeschool you can insert my name instead of hers. I ABSOLUTELY agree with why she decided to homeschool her children the Montessori way. As I was reading it I kept saying “Yeah!” to myself. AH was sitting 20 feet away working on his computer, but as I usually am verbal when I read something I am passionate about, he is used to it. So he smiled to himself, nodded and went back to his work. (I also emailed her to get some of their circle time ideas and she emailed me back and was very helpful and fun to talk to. Yes I KNOW I email people too much, but I really need help and these ladies have been such a blessing to us in being kind and open to helping us further our journey. Too much fun!)
• http://mommyme-thewonderyears.blogspot.com/ This blog is GREAT! It has many cute ideas in a homeschool setting. Her two children are slightly older than Micah and Grace so it helps me to see what activities she is doing with her toddler. She has posts for activities ages 3-6 and then posts for activities for toddlers. Baby Bear is absolutely interested in what Noodlebug does, and I allow him to join in the work, but I have to modify each thing for his age level. This wonderful lady gives me awesome ideas for both kids and I check this blog often to see what is new.
• http://www.montessorimaterials.org/ Free montessori materials to print out. I have used this often to print out stuff for Grace and Micah to use. Now if I could only afford a laminating machine….
• http://us.montessorioutlet.com/ Dum tada Dum! One of my favorite montessori materials stores. They are quick to respond and ship items, and their customer service has been wonderful. I highly recommend this company.
• http://www.adenamontessori.us/US.php Dum tada Dum tada Dum! This is my second choice only because they had an awesome sale this summer with 50% off of their materials. I am still waiting however for the shipment even though my order at Montessori Outlet which I ordered at the same time has already shipped to me.  I will let you know how I like the materials when they come.

Roadblock 3: How can I become a teacher with no actual training? Reading my friend, lots and lots o’ reading. Besides the Bible I think I have read more books about Montessori Method than any other book this year. (Exculde all children’s books.) Here is a list I have gone through so far:

• Basic Montessori by David Gettman
• The Absorbant Mind by Maria Montessori
• Maria Montessori her Life and Work by E. M. Standing 
• Montessori a Modern Aprroach by Paula Polk Lillard
• Montessori Play and Learn by Leslie Britton
• Teaching Montessori in the Home The preschool years by Elizabeth Hainstock
• Montessori From the Start by Paula Polk Lillard and Lynn Lillard Jessen
• Montessori in the Classroom by Paula Polk Lillard
• A Montessori Mother by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

Yikes. That makes me look super smart. Well, I will preface by saying some of them were NOT easy reads, and I should read more books by Dr. Montessori herself. But… well, I get the gist of what she was trying to do.

So now I am preparing for the school year, cutting, laminating, organizing, spreadsheeting (yeah, I am making up that word), and most importantly praying. I will update you guys on what we are doing and give you the humorous aspects of Homeschooling the Montessori Way.

Do you remember the slang term Scrappin’? I used to use it back in my high school days when you were referring to somebody that was fighting. Well, that’s what happened at the mall today. Who was fighting? Me. Yes, I know I am not a fighter, I can’t tell you if I ever really got in a fight at school, but there is a little twist at the end. Settle in, this is a good one.
Noodlebug was on top of a ball shaped toy jumping off of the top. A little boy who looked like he was three came up to her and pushed her off. My friend alerted me to what happened, so I looked over to see that the boy would not let anyone on the ball. It would seem as if he were bullying the other kids. Anytime anyone bullys someone else I get mad. VERY MAD.  So I walked over there to ask if Noodlebug was okay. She nodded and her friend started to point to the boy and say that he pushed her. I didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence. I walked over to where he was and bent down to his level.
“No sir, we do not push people. We share. It was her turn and then it can be your turn. Get down and let Noodlebug have a turn, and then it can be your turn.”, I said in my stern voice. I was not rude or mean to the boy, but by my tone the boy knew that I meant business. I do not like bullies and won’t put up with it especially when it deals with children.
As I was saying this to the boy a woman’s voice came up behind me, “Excuse me is there a problem here? What is going on? ”, she said angrily.
“This boy pushed my daughter off of here, and I am telling him that wer don’t push people and to take turns.” I said matter of factly.
“Well I don’t appreciate you getting in my son’s face.” She said escalating her tone. “He is only two and..”
“Well my daughter just turned three, and he still shouldn’t be pushing people.” I said getting just as angry.
“Well you shouldn’t be getting in my son’s face.”
“Look, I am sorry you think I was getting in his face but that’s–” something stopped me. “I gently touched her arm as she was saying a comeback and said, “You know what it doesn’t matter. It’s not a big deal.”
Taken aback, she silenced her words. We turned our attention to the kids hovering around us looking up at us. The minute we turned our attention to the kids they went back to playing. I helped Noodlebug get on the ball, she jumped off. The lady’s son got on next and he jumped off. Noodlebug got on again, and jumped. By that time a line had formed and Noodlebug’s friend was waiting to go next, but the boy wanted to go. The mother told him to wait in line, that there was a line and she took his hand and led him to the back of the line. We watched the kids for a minute. I kept encouraging the kids and saying things like’ “Good job! Great sharing! Your doing a great job at taking turns!” To continue to help the kids to share and take turns and to reinforce to the boy that that was the correct behavior.
“So he is only two, huh? He looks like he is three. He must give you a run for your money.” I said.
“Yeah, he is really big for his age. A lot of people mistake hinm for being older.” Then she opened up.” He actually has sensory issues. He runs into things at full speed. He doesn’t know how to stop. Actually we just got back from therapy not to long ago.”
“Really?” I said with an interested look. “Where do you guys go?”
She told me–can’t remember the name now, but then opened up about how her other son who was running around there somewhere was borderline autistic and both had allergies, and some other disorders, along with having a teenage step son.
“Wow you really have your hands full.” I said sympathetically. Skeesh, if I had known all that…..
“Yeah, I do.”, she said. Behind those words you could feel the unexpressible exhaustion this woman has been going through. Between physical therapy, and running around after the boys, dealing with an older son in his teenage years and being fully drained there was one word I felt was coming from her. Weariness.
“Sorry.” She said to me.
“No big deal.” I said smiling as best I could. I was still shaken up about arguing.
We walked away to our seats to continue watching the children. I went back to talking with my friend all the while still thinking about the woman. A few winutes later she was rounding up her boys to get ready to leave. I saw now that there was something off about both of her boys. Very hard to handle, and the two year old kept running away from her. She would yell after him, but had to physically run to grab him by the arm and drag him to the seat to put his shoes on.
Go over there, God’s voice spoke clearly to my heart.
I waited a minute so she can put her boy’s shoes on which was like watching a wrestling match. I got up and walked over there, tapping gently on her back. She turns around to look at me. I embrace her and give her a warm heartfelt hug.  “You are a good mother. You are doing a great job.” I say to her with a sincere and quiet voice.
she smiles at me and we sit down. I see her other son who also was a little wild standing next to her. I make small talk a moment longer with her, and she tells me more about her older son having sensory issues. I try to help the younger put on his shoes because he wasn’t listening to his mother when she was threatening him to put his shoes on. As I tried he yells at me, “NO! My Shoes!”
“As you can see he is a two year old.” She said in a joking manner.
Laughing I said, “I see that.” Although I was shocked that he was so strong in yelling at me.
Pray with her. Again God speaking to my heart.
I don’t like to come across as that ‘weird crazy Christian’ to people, but I have missed prayer opportunities before and realized how important they were after the fact. I wasn’t going to ignore God’s voice.
“Can I pray with you real quick?” I said timidly.
“Um, okay.” She said shocked.
We grasped hands and I said a short prayer that fully embodied what she needed. When we both said Amen, I got up, I said goodbye, and walked back to my spot.
I couldn’t believe that happened. We went from practically yelling at each other to praying with each other in a 20 minute span. I knew God had used me because she needed to hear that encouragement. The door He used to open between us was her son pushing Grace and me getting involved, was an interesting one. Well, really it was an uncomfortable one, I still am a little shaken from arguing with her, but I know that in all that God used me. How marvelous. Thank you Jesus for still using me in my moment of weakness.

My husband’s’ father had never met our children. You see, the last time we had seen his father was on the beach about 8 or 9 years ago. He was living on the beach, homeless, by choice, and a slave to the addiction of alcohol. This had been going on since before I met my husband in 1997. It was not uncommon in those days to recieve a call from his grandmother saying that his dad was in jail for this or that, or that he needed money. When he moved out of our city into other parts of the state, we didn’t know where he was, when he would be calling except if he needed money, or was in trouble. Half the time, I am sorry to say, I expected the phone call to say that he was dead or missing in the woods, because that is where he slept most of the time if he wasn’t in jail. Despite that fact, my husband still loved his dad. Even though the relationship wasn’t as you would want a father son relationship to be, he still loved his dad just the way he was. He would still wire money to his dad even though we all knew it would be used for more alcohol, he would still send pictures of our children every now and then to keep his dad abreast of what was going on-if we knew where he was and had an address, most of the time he would be sleeping out in the woods. We would all pray for this man’s salvation, for him to overcome the addiction of alcohol through Jesus Christ, and for him to be safe.

We got a call about 4 months ago. It was from his father, but he was more sober than I had ever heard him. He met a Christian man who took him in, and was now going to church. He told us he was saved and that he was trying to live right. He even asked to talk to me (I hadn’t really spoken to him for about 4 years) and the conversation was actually pleasant with no explatives! THAT was really huge!!! My husband would talk to his dad often and in each conversation he would be relatively sober.
You see in his state, his body needs alcohol to function properly. He had been drinking for so long and for so many years, if he goes without alcohol for too long he starts shaking really badly, and seriously can’t function. It is an addiction that grips your very soul. So when I say relatively sober, he was still drinking, but not so drunk that you couldn’t understand half the things he was saying.
Fast forward to this weekend. My husband told me that God was really moving him to go visit his dad. He only lived two hours away and since my husband felt that his dad was more in his right mind than he had ever been, that it was time for him to meet his grandchildren.
Sunday morning came, my husband said he was thinking about taking us down there, and within 3 hours everything fell into place so we easily slipped out the door, packed, and were ready to meet his father. (Or Grandpadaddy as Noodlebug calls him).
Now I am not going to lie… I was a little nervous before we left. I knew he was more sober than ever, but flashbacks of him from before plagued my mind, and I was nervous having the kids around him. After praying with my awesome prayer warrior friend—must do a post on how good it is to have someone to pray with outside of your husband–God just kept giving me the peace I needed, saying that it was in His hands, and that we all will be fine.
We get down there, and as we drove up to the house he was staying at I noticed he was standing at the front porch waiting for us. He had a clean shirt and shorts on and was clean shaven for the most part. His hair was neat, and his nails were nicely manicured. This man was not who I remembered his father to be. He walked down the driveway more sober and clean than I had ever seen him, and had the biggest smile on his face. He came to my side of the car first as I was getting Micah out of the car. I unstrapped babt bear and started to walk towards him. I was nervous and didn’t look directly at him at first, afraid of what I might see. I smiled, glanced up, gave him a hug and said hello. I smelled the faint smell of alcohol on him, but we expected that, and accepted it. Baby Bear instantly reached out for his Granddad. I took a deep breath afraid at first, but trusting in God’s promise that everything would be okay, I gave BabyBear to his open arms, and beheld grandfather and grandson smiling at each other. Not knowing each other but in just a few seconds, they already “knew” each other.
I then looked up into his father’s face and saw a kind, loving, gentle man with an impish grin in his eyes. He looked older, the abuse he had taken over the years showed on his face and in the way he carried himself, but other than that his good nature and kind personality shined through. He was so different than the previous years I had known him. At that moment my husband gave his dad a hug and said hello to “shy” Noodlebug. We walked inside and exchanged pleasantries.
The whole time we were there his dad was on his best behavior. Trying his best not to curse, and if he even said a mild bad word, he would apologize. He was pleasant to talk to, enjoyed his grandkids, and we had fun laughing and joking. He had some pretty interesting stories to tell, and we enjoyed him very much. Many times my husband reached out and hugged his dad, we all told him we loved him, and he did the same to us. The need for his father to truly be part of the family was great, and we were willing to invite him into ours.
The next day we spent some time together. The day was amazing. My husband and his dad had times where it was the two of them, and I could see glimpses of the relationship the two of them had. Noodlebug eventually warmed up to “grandpadaddy” and asked to hold his hand along with my hand. As we were walking together, mommy, Grace, and grandpadaddy, I felt like we could have been a Hallmark card photo, the moment was perfect.
At one point, my husband was talking to his father leaning up against a rail, he glanced over and noticed him and his father standing exactly the same way. Laughing and pointing it out, the typical “like father like son” saying was mentioned.
baby Bear reached for grandpadadddy several times. Grandpadaddy loved his grandchildren and it showed. At the end of the day, as we dropped his father off at his house, we said our goodbyes. the children hugged him, and said “I love you.” I climbed out of the car and gave him a big hug, and looked directly into those kind worn eyes, smiled and told him I loved him.
“Pray with him.” God’s unmistakeable voice said to me.
“No God, I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Pray with him.”
I waited for my husband to finish hugging him, and asked if we could pray together.
“Sure!” was his reply with a grin.
We all grabbed hands under a darkening sky with thunder rolling in the distance. As we stood there fat raindrops fell down on and around us. Not enough to soak us, but just a light drop here and there. Peace fell around us. I put my hand on his father’s back and our heads touched as a father and daughter would do if praying together. I don’t remember what I prayed, but I know the family connection was so strong. We were a family praying under a darkening sky for simply God’s protection.
I got into the car after giving him another hug, and glanced at my husband hugging his dad so tightly. He said a few things to his dad, and with an “I love you,” got into the driver’s side of the car. He rolled down his window, and we all said that we loved him. You could see his father’s eyes misting up as he said he loved us too. As the rain was falling all around him, he stood at the end of the driveway waving until our vehicle was out of his sight.
“A Byrd Family Tradition.” said my husband.
“What?” I asked.
“Wave goodbye until the family member is out of sight.”

Now that is a phrase you don’t want to hear from the other room. But alas, my daughter was shouting those words in her cute little voice. As I walked towards the room, I felt like I was on a death march. Knowing the doom that lay ahead, I took a deep breath, and peeked my head in their room. Baby Bear was standing on Noodlebug’s bed diaperless, with only one boy’s tennis shoe that was 5 sizes too large. He piped up “Hi!” as he saw me enter the room. Noodlebug was standing in front of the bed on one leg and had the other leg propped up on her toe because she had poop on her heel. The bedspread and pillow had been thrown off the bed and was strewn about the room, along with several dress up items, and I do believe the match to the shoe Baby Bear was wearing was in there somehow as well. His diaper was on the floor , as well as his “prossesed” dinner. Ahem. 

“He went poop!” said Noodlebug.

I picked her up and yelled to my husband who was in the next room, “I need some help!”

He came in and got baby bearh, put him on the carpet, not realizing that there was also poop in baby bear’s feet. So then he called to me that he needed help, all the while I had Noodlebug on the changing table scrubbing her feet. He came out holding a pants-less 19 month old and had a panicked look in his eye. Trying to help my huband out I moved Noodlebug to the chair and told her not to touch the bottom of her foot. She obediently held her foot up like it was radioactive and stared at it. (Such a good girl.) I turned back only to realized that there was poop all over baby bear, and since we only had half a box of wipes left in the whole house he had to have a bath.

“Let’s put him in the bath.”

He quickly obliged, and we walked into the bathroom, only to find that there was stuff in the tub from their last bath. My husband groaned because his arms were getting tired from holding a 30 pound boy at arms length from him. I hurried as fast as I could, put him down, washed him off much to his protest, and he was on his knees the next 15 minutes scrubbing the carpet.

Lesson: Don’t ever buy used carpets from people, because you never know what has happened to them.

But he’s manly about it.

I suppose I have to tell you why I think this. Alright, pull up your provierbial chair and hang out with me for a bit.

We were outside in the afternoon sun, and I brought out a bubble gun. It was one of those cheap guns you buy at Walmart that when you squeeze the trigger, bubbles come shooting out. Both kids were practically holding onto my legs wanting to see what the fancy new gadget that mama brought out was. I fiddled with the darn thing for a minute or two, because we all know that toys don’t always work like the directions say they are supposed to. After much shaking and hitting the thing with my palm, I got the bubbles going. When my daughter saw them she squealed with delight and started running around pretending she was in the shower and bubbles were flowing all around her. Baby Bear however ran for the porch door which was ten feet away.

I can’t say why the little guy was so scared of bubbles, but one thing was for sure, every time I went near him with bubbles, he backed away from me. So I had Noodlebug right underneath me yelling, “Get me Mama! I want to take a shower!” and Baby Bear ten feet away hiding from the bubbles.

*sigh* When he gets older, his dad is so going to tease him for this.

We all knew it was going to happen. The day that Baby Bear decided to test his boundaries with dear sweet mama. First of all let me preface by saying this: Baby Bear is a Mama’s Boy through and thorough. If mama isn’t around, it just isn’t fun for him. So for Baby Bear to test me, means that he is growing into is own and becoming *sniff* a big boy.

*Ding Ding Ding Ding*
ROUND  1
It was Wednesday night and we just got home. Baby Bear and Noodlebug were ready for bed and playing in the kitchen while my husband and I were trying to hold a conversation. Baby Bear comes up to me to ask for more water. I grab the water from the kitchen counter, and ask him to say “please.” Now mind you, he has said please MANY times on several different occasions, so I know he knew the word, and knew what I was asking of him. He looked at me, looked at the water, and then decided that he was not going to say it. He promptly threw himself on the floor and started wailing, pushing his little body with his feet almost as if he was an inchworm moving along the floor. My husband and I looked at each other, he took Noodlebug out of the kitchen, and I followed suit. No audience, no reason for temper tantrum.

He then got up quickly and walked into the other room where we were, made sure I was looking at him, and threw himself down on the floor again, and started all over with the wailing and imitating an inchworm on the floor. We went back into the kitchen, with wailing Baby Bear behind us, and I grabbed the water, and he stopped immediately. No tears, no wailing, just a quick sniff and an expectant look for me to just give him what he worked so hard for. After all throwing a tantrum that big did merit a prize, right?

Ahem, let’s continue:  I asked him to say please again and he looked at me and threw himself back on the floor again, wailing and now adding a roll to it. He ended up throwing something across the room, and I picked him up, brought him upstairs, kissing him good night, and put him to bed. That was the end of that.

*Ding Ding Ding Ding*
ROUND  2
Or so I thought. About two hours later he woke up crying and thirsty. My mom instincts told me not to fight the “please” battle until morning. So I gave him the water he wanted in the first place he sucked the whole thing down, (Thirsty little guy), and then passed out in my arms with a faint “Aha! I win” smile on his face. Little stinker won that round.

*Ding Ding Ding Ding*
ROUND  3
When I woke up in the morning I knew I had to make sure Baby Bear said please. Let’s just say if I gave in to him, and let him have anything he wanted, then my role as a respected parent in his world would not be effective. I was ready. I made a beautiful breakfast that morning. Eggs, Fresh organic strawberries cut into bite size pieces the way he likes it, and buttered toast. Yum! Both Noodlebug and Baby Bearwere downstairs and I had given them their milk to sip on. When I put the breakfast out on the table I made sure Baby Bear was paying attention, and asked Noodlebug in a very loud and clear voice, “Noodlebug can you say please?” She promptly said “Please!” and I picked her up, and put her in her chair at the table to eat. Baby Bear got the point. As Noodlebug was shoveling the fresh strawberries in her mouth I picked up Baby Bear to reveal the plate full of his favorite breakfast. He reached for his chair almost tasting those strawberries in his mouth. I then asked him to say please.

He stopped. He looked at me. The defiant smirk came across his sweet little lips. He then started wailing and kicking.

I put him down, told him no, and that he would not eat until he said please. He threw himself down on the floor and did the same number that he did last night. Only this morning he added a little twist to it so it was more of a pilates pose rather than the previous night’s inchworm. Glad to see that Baby Bear is branching out.

Meanwhile Noodlebug and I are at the table enjoying our breakfast as much as we can, eating strawberries and toast, and every now and then glance down at Baby Bear. (Who by the way would stop to watch us eat, but as soon as I turned my head towards him, he would start to wail. Hmmmmmmm.) I would pick him up and kiss him and hug him, tell him how much I loved him, but when he reached for a strawberry, I would ask him for a simple “please” and he refused. Wailing and arching his back. Kicking, and flailing. Ahhh what a beautiful sight in the Byrd’s Nest.

After about 20 minutes or so, I started feeling really guilty. I mean the little guy was so hungry, and all he wanted to do was eat. Perhaps I wasn’t doing the right thing. Maybe my memory of him saying please wasn’t accurate. Was I being a good parent? Is this abusive? At the culmination of these thoughts my dear husband walks downstairs as says, “Are you sure he knows how to say please?” So then I started really second guessing myself. So I prayed.

“God, am I doing the right thing?”

I heard, “Yes you are. Keep going.”

So that is what I did. Noodlebug was still hungry so she asked for yogurt. (Baby Bear’s second favorite breakfast) His little ears perked up when the y-word was mentioned, and he toddled over to the refrigerator with me as I grabbed two yogurts. I asked him if he wanted some, and he smiled and said “yes.” (Actually it sounds more like “doh” from Homer Simpson, but that is his word for yes.) So I brought one for Noodlebug and set the other on Baby Bear’s high chair. I picked him up again, and said, “Say please.” Nope. Not going to do it. The great flailing act continued. This boy is persistant, and knows it. I put him down for him to resume the morning floor show he had been giving us. Noodlebug finished her breakfast, I got her down from her chair, and Baby Bear wanted up in her place. He wanted the yogurt she was eating. Still no please, so no yogurt for him.

As he was now beating his tiny fists on the table, I sat at there  with him frustrated and worried that he might not eat. At least I was giving him milk, so he had something in his stomach. As I sat there, I wondered what he liked that he could not pass up. Then it hit me. Gummy vitamins. They are vitamins but are in gummy form. You can’t beat that!

I asked Noodlebug and Baby Bear if they wanted their vitamins. Both said yes, and I do believe Baby Bear clapped his little hands. I got out the containers and sat at the middle of the table with Noodlebug at one end and Baby Bear at the other. I opened the containers and doled out the right amount for each. I asked Noodlebug to say please and she said it no problem. (I think she enjoyed getting to be the big obedient girl). I then turned to Baby Bear and asked the best cheerful voice I could muster, “Say please.”

“Pleeeeeaaaase!” In perfect clarity my son uttered that priceless word I had been asking for all morning. He gave in. I just about cried I was so relieved. I felt like shouting! I gave him some of his vitamins and he asked for more. I asked him to say please and he said it again no problem, with a big smile on his face. I then asked if he wanted strawberries. He said please. Eggs: Please: toast: Please: Yogurt: please. No problem, perfect clarity, everytime.

After feeding Baby Bear, I ran upstairs swung open the door to my husband’s office waited for him to look at me. As he turned to look, I raised my arms in the air as if I were announced the winner at a boxing match and mouthed those silent words, “YES!!!! I won!” Relieved and happy my son was eating, and that my first real test with him had been successful I couldn’t shout because the kids would hear, but had to share my joy with my husband. 

Mom wins.

We just came off of our church 21 day fast, and it was amazing. God showed me so much in this time, I could fill a book. However, my fingers are tired, so I will type just a small portion of what He worked in me. Ready for this???

Accept God’s Gift of Grace. It is not earned, there is no way I can act good enough to earn His Grace or love. That was a biggie for me.

All my life I grew up thinking that I’d better be good, or else God will be mad at me. He won’t like me or accept me because I am not doing something right. That I couldn’t pray to Him and get my prayers answered because I wasn’t super spiritual, or that I was living so heavily in sin that He wouldn’t be able to hear my prayers. It was performance based love. In reality He loved me even before one of my days were here on earth. Hows that for a thinker? (That is southern slang…thought I’d throw that one in there) It still is hard for me to grasp sometimes, after several years of truly living my life for Jesus. Once I think I am on the right track, then BAM I am living a performance based life again. So during this fast God was really trying to tell me, “I love you Sarah just as you are. No amount of good deeds, or bad deeds is going to change that.”

The Byrd household is so very excited about Jesus’ birthday. Everyday Noodlebug tells me, “Mommy, Jesus’ Birthday is coming up!” And I reply, “I know isn’t it exciting?”
“You wanna sing Happy Birthday Jesus?”
“Okay.”
“Ready? One, Two, Three.”
And then we burst out into the familiar chorus of Happy Birthday, inserting Jesus’ name in the appropriate place.
If that weren’t enough she also likes to sing the First Noel and Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
We were in Target the other day and I was pushing the kids in the double stroller, getting some stocking stuffers for my husband. (BTW I did put back the Tootsie Rolled flavored lip gloss Noodlebug picked out for his stocking. Although it was tempting….) Baby Bear was fast alseep in one side and Noodlebug was singing Noel at the top of her lungs. That is how you sing Christmas Carols in the middle of anywhere when you are a toddler. There she was singing merrily, and smiling at everyone that passed by. I could have probably put a collection bucket in front of her she was attracting smiles and wonderful comments from everyone. The funniest part was that baby bear was still snoring away as if there was nothing going on. He must be used to her jabbering that it doesn’t affect him now.
Noodlebug also likes to sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing. I listened to her carefully and this is her version if you would like to sing along:

“Hark the hairy Angels Sing
Glory [make sure this word is shouted out!] to the newborn King
He’s on earth and Mercy Mild
God and innerds conciled.
Joyful [Again, shout this word out] ….nations rye!
Join the triumph in the sky!
…Angelic horse proclaim, Christ is born in eth-le -him
Hark the Hairy Angels sing,
Glory to the Newborn King.”