My son is rude.

He’s only four, and you might say that he’s just forthright and painfully honest.  You’d be right.

Yes, he is young.  Yes, the things he says that make me cringe are true to him.  But they’re still rude.

Navigating him through this has been tricky.  I value honesty.  I value authenticity.  I would rather myself and my children be respected than liked, so I do think it’s okay to communicate unpopular and sometimes difficult truths.

But I also don’t think it’s okay to go around spouting whatever you want, simply because it’s true.

I don’t have much respect for people who take pride in saying whatever is on their mind in any situation.  What’s so hard about that?

(And the ironic thing is, they are the ones who often have the hardest time accepting honest comments, and take offense the most.)

So what’s the difference between acceptable honesty and rudeness?

I think it’s motive.  Intent.

There have been times where I’ve felt moved to be very frank.  One may need to be bluntly honest when the speaker truly loves the hearer, or feels the need to resort to clear, exact speech to articulate the seriousness and reality of something.

In cases where honesty is profitable, the candid speech is meant to benefit the hearer.

That’s a far cry from simply saying an offhand “honest” remark to make a point, put someone in their place, or to just feel better about oneself.  If I have to claim “I’m just being honest” instead of “I’m saying this because I love you” I just may have the wrong motivation for sounding off.

Ah, but we were talking about a four-year-old.

For now, we’re just sticking to a “If you can’t say something nice, say nothing” rule.

There’s a trend in advertisements and movie themes.  It goes like this…

I want to break away from my humdrum existence.  I could if only I had the time/money/opportunity/different spouse/better job. Someday, I will escape the routine I’m trapped in.

Oh, how we love to think that we’re spontaneous!  We despise lack of variety.  We hate tiresome repetitiveness.  Deep inside, we’re courageous and impulsive.

But, boy, do we ever squawk when life throws a curve ball.

Who are we kidding?

No one is forcing us to do the same darn thing every day, week after week, for months and years on end.  In fact, life does everything it can to force us out of our routine.  Flat tires, sick children, broken internet connections..  They all attempt to shake us up and order our days differently.

And yet, when we have a choice, most of us would choose to continue running on our stationary spinning wheel, exerting much energy while going nowhere.

It’s way nicer to think that if only, then we would x, y or z.

Okay, then how about ordering something different at the restaurant? Wear a color you’ve never worn before?

Still think you’re a Viking, exploring new and exciting territory?

For just for a moment, let’s forget fantasizing about some big, crazy escapade.  How about just doing something you’ve never done before… today?  One new thing, every day, for a week?  Even if it’s just a little thing.

I dare ya.

“Walk away. Just walk away.”

I find myself saying this to my children several times a day.  In their mind, there is always a good reason to bicker, hit, and pester one another.

What I want to teach them is that most of the time it doesn’t really matter who is “right” or what is “fair”, as it can just intensify a situation to a blowing point.

Sometimes, it’s better to just walk away.

It’s a good lesson for all of us.

There’s a time for discussion, for engaging in respectful discourse about a disagreement.  And then, sometimes… there’s no point.  Maybe the other person isn’t one to hear anything beyond the cavernous echo of their own brain chatter.  Or maybe they’re just itching for a fight, and want to drag you down with them.

Whatever the case, even if you won the battle you’d lose the war.

Callahan’s obsessed with chairs right now.  He’ll spend 20 minutes or so hauling all the dining room chairs into a group, which is not an easy feat for a 20 month old.

Ack.  Make that a 22 month old.  Oh. My. Goodness.  He’s growing up too fast.  *sniff*

Anyways, after much heaving and pulling, he gets enough chairs piled together to satisfy his plan.  He climbs up and the real fun begins.

There is really no great object to this game, besides walking from chair to chair without falling and cracking his head.  Of course, he refuses to hold on to anything.  Such a thrill!

And if tearing around on his little bike isn’t rowdy enough, (those who have seen him can attest to his speed as he flies from one room to the next, actually skidding his rear wheels around when he turns) he has added tricks into the mix.

Chase and Skylar were talking the other day about how they wished Cal would stay at this age for just another year so we could enjoy it longer.

Oh, how I love the toddler years!

People hurt.

That can be taken two ways, and both are true. People experience hurt, and often that translates into them causing hurt.

It’s an inescapable fact that relationships with others will involve wounds, pain, and sorrow.  It’s the nature of a fallen world.  Being that we are sons of Adam, the question isn’t if we’ll experience (or cause) grief, it’s when and at what level.

One option is to become a hermit.  Cut off contact with all potential hurt, distancing yourself physically and emotionally.

The problem with withdrawal is that you also cut off love, intimacy, encouragement and all the other things that friendship brings.  If you can’t serve others, you can’t fully serve God, and you are most certainly serving yourself.

Besides, as you begin gnawing on raw squirrels you won’t have anyone around to tell you you’re thinkin’ crazy or to take a shower already.

It’s also tempting to become jaded.  As the realization sinks in that relationships are messy, it’s easy to build walls around our hearts and lose compassion for others.  The demands can seem too much at times, and a natural coping mechanism is emotional aloofness, or even detachment.

For me, I fight the urge to become even more cynical and sarcastic.

This is especially true when dealing with those seeking help.  I am not foolish enough to assume that all will turn out well and the seeking person will emerge stronger and triumphant.  Sometimes that happens, sure.  And I’m thankful when it does. But when there are deeper needs and issues beyond a “Hey, how do you get stains out of the carpet”, things get a bit more mucky.

The difficult thing is being empathetic while still maintaining an understanding that they alone are responsible for their behavior and victory.  I can offer support, prayer, a listening ear, or even alternate viewpoints they may not considered, but I cannot and will not do what they alone can do.

I have been known to err on the side of speaking truth.  I attempt to do so lovingly, that is certain, but I’m not interested in mincing words or soothing egos.  But even truth spoken bluntly can later be twisted by the listener when it isn’t quite what they wanted to hear.  If the one seeking help isn’t willing to receive, it will probably not go well.

If it sounds like I’ve been there, I have.  It hurts.

In any case, it would be nice if the one asking for help didn’t end up crapping on your face.

But maybe that’s just my cynicism talking again.

On most days, lots of stuff happens that is worthy of complaint.

Take this morning, for instance.  A broken dish that culminated in someone getting glass in their foot, a toddler with diarrhea resulting in runny poop all over him (legs, hands, back), his bike and random places on the floor, a clogged sink disposal, a child falling, smashing their face, and ending up with a swollen bloody lip and nose… and that’s just including the stuff before lunch.

Most of the time, these things occur without much fanfare from me.  I just deal with them one at a time, and the majority of them are handled without anyone even knowing about it.  Actually, it’s not really honest to say that “I” deal with them.  Jesus does, in the sense that he gives me the patience to endure and the willingness to continue joyfully as I walk in a thankful, prayerful attitude.

God also has blessed me with friendships.  There are those days, those weeks, that seem to call for an understanding friend.  Amazing what an online or phone chat can do to help me regain perspective!  Most times, I can again find humor in the circumstances, or if not that, at least part of the load has been eased through a sympathetic ear and knowing there’s a caring friend.

As much as I appreciate someone listening, I still apologize afterward.  It just doesn’t seem right to gripe.  Especially when I know that sometimes at the heart of complaining, there are some things I need to change or work on.  I wrote this silly poem for a friend last week, poking fun at complaining.

This song has been running through my mind ever since I heard it for the first time last week. I don’t know if it’s new or not, since I rarely listen to country music, but it’s new to me.

It’s about a guy talking to his friend who is basically giving up because he feels like he can’t deal with his life. His buddy complains about stuff like a car breaking down, a broken washing machine, and too many bills. He replies in the chorus,

Sounds like life to me it ain’t no fantasy
It’s just a common case of everyday reality
Man I know it’s tough but you gotta suck it up
To hear you talk you’re caught up in some tragedy
It sounds like life to me

It’s a funny thing…  Without the proper perspective, I can view the bumps of everyday life as overwhelming tribulations instead of minor annoyances that force me to slow down and perhaps learn from.

I’ll be freaking out over, oh, everything and then my dear husband reminds me that life is never without problems, mishaps and even calamity. He’s right.

That’s not discouraging. That’s just life.

It makes the good things even sweeter.

Yeah.

So it’s Thursday, and there hasn’t been a post since Monday.  And that one was a rerun from two years ago.  Sheesh.

I thought cutting blog post publishing down to just three days a week would keep me on track.  But, apparently, NO.

At the risk of sounding cliche, things have been crazy lately.  Really. When I do have a chance to get on my computer, I begin with the lazy stuff of reading emails and facebook statuses.

(Not that I actually answer the emails.  Cuz that would require putting more than two sentences together, and, like I said, I am lazy.)

Now, hitting the “like” or “share” button, or commenting “LOL” on someone’s status?  That’s easy.  I frequently indulge in a frenzy of one-click action.  And then, before I know it, I am out of precious computer time.

AND.

Callahan has begun this highly annoying trick called shriek-over-everything-and-anything.  If I am to be the consistent parent I am always harping about, I have to jump up and administer a specific little consequence.

Which means my trail of thought is suddenly somewhere miles away and I am wandering without a compass.  Or hiking boots.

Whatever that means.

And then.  THEN.  My usually happy-go-lucky Spence (ahem) has also recently learned a new trick called crumble-to-a-heap-of-catastrophic-calamity over every little perceived injustice.

Not to mention that he and Carmen have also taken to attempting to administering their own form of discipline on each other, as apparently they each suddenly possess great depth of maturity and reasoning.

I can hear them in the next room, taking turns howling out the other’s name while the swatting becomes increasingly rigorous.

Spence!  *smack*

Carmen! *thump*

Spe-ENCE! *bop*

CAR-men! *whack*

SPEEEENCE!  *wallop*

CAAAARMEEEEN!  *pummel*

I am a great advocate of giving your children the chance to work things out on their own.  At least, that sounds better than I’m too worn out to go in there and pry their entangled, flopping arms apart.

Is this long enough to hit “publish” yet?  Because, frankly, all this writing is exhausting.

See ya Monday.  Maybe.

\

…with a semi truck.