How I Learned to Love Making Homemade Bread

By Katharine Grubb 

Ka-CLUNK! Ka-CLUNK! Ka-CLUNK!

From my kitchen came a clunking that awoke me from my precious sleep. This better be good, I thought. Since I was a mother of a two-month-old, I had a shoot-first-ask-questions-later type of mentality, especially at this time of night.

The culprit was my bread machine’s bucket, loose from his clips. When the kneading began, it clattered like a jackhammer inside the steel oven. My only solution was to hold the bucket in place with two hands until the kneading cycle stopped, which was a very long ten minutes.

Before bedtime, I had dutifully added the ingredients, set the timer and went to bed, expecting to have a fresh loaf for breakfast for me and my family. I foolishly assumed that only my infant would be reason enough to get me out of bed. I couldn’t think of anything else we could eat for breakfast. So, hold the machine I must.

This was the dough bucket’s second offense. The first was that it contained a tiny hole. If I poured the water in first, it would drip out the bottom. I solved this by putting 1/3 cup of flour in first. But I often forgot this step, made a mess on the counter and ate sub-standard bread.

Between the hole and the loose clips, I had a love/hate relationship with my bread machine. Bread became our most common breakfast since we bought a $9 bread maker from a thrift store. Daily I made bread in the machine, allowing me to completely boycott anything from a store. My family adored it so much, that when another mother came over and took out her loaf of store bought slices to share, my four-year-old daughter, said, “I don’t want that bread, there’s no love in it.”

Within two years, we wore out the thrift store machine and invested in a deluxe two-pound model that came highly recommended. It was this model that beckoned me to the kitchen that night and made me question whatever “love” was there.

Maybe it was my lack of sleep or my post-partum hormones, but I concluded that considering the trouble it took me to overcome the faults of this deluxe model, hand wash it daily, and prepare five or six loaves a week, making it by hand wouldn’t be any more trouble.

The next morning at breakfast, I issued a proclamation: “We are through with bread machine bread!” I swallowed hard and hesitantly stated, “I am going to start making it from scratch!”

My husband applauded the idea. He never shrinks from a challenge and appreciates quality over convenience (perhaps why he married me). He also had no desire to replace a $100 machine.

Should I have made such a statement? Even though I love to cook and I’ve become quite competent since my early days in marriage, I was intimidated by this bread-making idea. One could argue that the last thing a mother of five---especially with one being a newborn---should undertake, is a new project that a family is dependent on.

I decided I’d rather eat my mistakes than humble pie. So, I started collecting recipes and experimenting. In just a short week or so, my 3 a.m. conclusions were proven right. Methodically, I compared the two processes:
With a bread machine, it takes me (when I’m being most efficient) four minutes to read the recipe and fill the bucket. But it takes longer if I’ve forgotten to put in flour to plug up the hole. To meet my family’s needs, I do that at least five times a week. That’s 20+ minutes. That doesn’t count cleaning my bread pan out between loaves.



When I make bread by hand, I can make the dough for a five-loaf batch in 20 minutes also, including kneading. I have many more dirty dishes, but most of them go in the dishwasher (unlike the bread machine) and I only wash out the three big bowls once for every five loaves.

What I had not counted on was the discovery that the greatest difference between hand made bread and bread machine bread is the journey. And what a journey! I never knew how pleasant the details of making bread could be.

Watching yeast in the warm water bubble and expand as it consumes the sugar is fascinating. I marvel that such a tiny, living creature can make such a difference in the texture and size of the bread, not to mention the smell in my kitchen.

When I pour the salt into the white flour, I see two very distinct shades and textures of white, like colors on an artist’s palette. No one sees that in a bread machine.

I can watch the texture change as I stir the oil and water into the whole-wheat flour. I like the feel of the same wooden spoon in my hand as I stir, and the stirring challenges my muscles to endure the ride.

I like that I never make bread without thinking about my Gramma Lucy who, when making rolls in her lonely house, high on a hill in rural Oklahoma, squished them together so they came out kind of tall and skinny. I’m sad I’ll never taste them exactly that way again, no matter how hard I try.

I like watching the dough in the bowls on the stove as they creep up, raising the towel that covers them. It reminds me of my waistline when my shirts stretch over it, making room for a baby.

I cheer with my kids when the rolls come out of the oven, Everybody wants one immediately. With butter. Sometimes jelly too.

I find it comforting that my family eats this bread for breakfast several days a week and that my children are more familiar with me holding a wooden spoon in my hand than a cereal box.

I learn something more about the craft of it every time I bake. It keeps me humble. I like that there are still little discoveries to be made, like that cold water works best when cleaning up.

I can easily measure ingredients and measure time and labor involved but I can’t quantify any of the nuances of my own observations. I also know that it’s just flour, water, salt, oil and yeast and heat, a chemical reaction. But my conclusion is that I’d rather savor the sacrament of bread-making than push a button and hope for the best.

Most importantly, if for no other reason, I love making bread by hand because it’s quiet. Old-fashioned bread can be made in silence. The best things are often made that way. And it's cheap. And it's healthy. And there's no high fructose corn syrup or milk products (my daughter's allergic to dairy) to worry about.

If I can do this, you can too. It takes practice, patience and a willingness to eat your mistakes. The recipe I make for my family is the following, times five.

Honey Oat Bread

1 C warm water (110 degrees is perfect!)
1 TB oil
3 TB honey
1 tsp salt
3-5 C flour
3/4 C oats
2 tsp yeast

In a small bowl, dissolve yeast and honey in warm water. Wait 10 minutes until yeast is foamy and bubbly. Add oil,salt, and 1 C flour. Beat well. Slowly add in remaining flour and oats until dough is easy to knead and not moist.

Turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead until smooth and elastic. (I count to one hundred.) Place in a large, well oiled bowl. Cover, and allow to rise until dough doubles in bulk. This usually takes 90 minutes.

Shape into loaf. Place in greased, 9 x 5 inch pan, turning loaf over in pan to grease top. Allow to rise until dough doubles in bulk. This takes about 1 hour.

Bake at 350 degrees F for 35 minutes. Let cool before slicing.

Chalkboard encouragement

By Karen Brown


As a mom of three little ones, I feel like the majority of my day is spent telling kids no. “No, that’s not for touching”, “no running, please walk”, “No, we don’t bite our sister when we’re mad.” I want to be a mom that encourages my kids more in what they are doing right, rather than feeling like I have just told them what not to do all day.

I know, for me, that if I don’t have a plan, I’m not always intentional about following through. I came up with the idea for chalkboards as a way to let my kids know what they did that day that we were really proud of and appreciated. My hope is that the chalkboards can become part of our dinner time routine each night.

 I used $1 chalkboards from Michaels and paint pens. I was inspired by designs I saw by Mary Kate McDevitt and by Shanna Murray. We went with the phrase “It was awesome when you _____ today!" We just use chalk markers to fill in the blank.

REUNION recently did a message on encouraging kids and how to give them intentional praise as opposed to empty praise. You can listen to the podcast here.

How do you intentionally encourage and praise your kids?

Turn it up!

By Katharine Grubb

“If God really loved us,” I pondered to my friend, Michelle, when an unusually long church service was over, “wouldn’t He have designed us an extra arm and hand with the birth of each baby?”

I asked this because my six-month-old was teething, my three-year-old was upset that her jacket was not pink and my four-year-old was having another allergic reaction, all simultaneously. So, this question, while not theologically solid, seemed quite reasonable.

“Oh, but if we did,” Michelle answered, equally stressed - she was a few years and a few pregnancies ahead of me - “In addition to having very strange clothes, God might bless us with 36 children.”

So I was stuck, with a little more than I could manage. And I only had two hands. Now, I was experienced enough to know that the infant could be put down in the car seat. He was the easiest of the three, at least for a few months.

But the girls…what about the toddlers? At ages 3 and 4, they were constantly running around, fussing, scribbling and processing the world around them faster than I could manage. And the problem was not just a Sunday-at-church problem, it was a home problem too. I could park them in front of the television, but I’d rather occupy them with something that was a little more stimulating, something a little more educationally nutritious.

The solution was not another appendage, but appliances!

My CD player and iPod!

With audio, I can keep them busy and “feed” those growing brains! Over the years, my kids (now five there are of them) are in the habit of listening almost as much as watching. The habit that we started in preschool is now strengthening them academically.

AUDIO FOR PRESCHOOLERS
The first and simplest audio resources are the book and tape/CD combination. A book like The Runaway Bunny can include a CD with a professional actor (or the author) telling the story. Often these books have music in the background or audible signals like a beep that tell a listener when to turn the page.

By listening to the CD and looking at the book simultaneously, the preschooler is:
• Understanding the left-to-right progression of a book
• Strengthening attention skills
• Understanding a correspondence between oral and written words
• Developing a positive emotional connection with books and reading
• Strengthening skills in following directions, like “turn the page at the beep”
• Being introduced to elements such as characters, plot and setting

Subtly, these skills will develop a necessary educational foundation before actual reading ever occurs. Don’t forget, your public library is a great resource for acquiring book/tape or book/cd combos. Online catalogs can make this very convenient. See you local branch for more information on how to do this.

WHEN TO START?
My preschoolers were ready for this at about age 3, but everyone is different. A preschooler is ready for an audio book when he can:
• Sit through a reading of a picture book with a parent
• Mentally follow a short story
• Simply describe what is happening in an illustration
• Can be trusted not to rip, damage or eat a book

Starting with their favorite books and easing into it a few minutes at a time, a toddler (ages 2-4) or a pre-reader (ages 3-7) can develop a taste for reading that can grow into a life long love.

WHEN THEY’RE READY FOR MORE
Even though their independent reading skills are not ready for a chapter book, a preschooler’s mental skills may be strong enough for more complex stories, more colorful characters and more complicated plots.

This is where the chapter book comes in. A chapter book, like Charlotte’s Web, on CD strengthens those reading skills, satiating a hunger for more intellectual challenges.

In an e-mail interview, writer and educator Susan Wise Bauer said,

“My own children listened to unabridged books on tape and CD from the time they were babies, for at least two hours per day. They developed enormous vocabularies, far beyond their age and grade level. They learned to love long, complex books (long books were favorites because they took up so much time!). They listened to books which were far above their technical reading level--and then went to find the print versions of the books. And they all developed a wonderful ear for written language. All four of my children--even the ones who are not naturally language-focused--write well, because there is so much good, fluent, stylish language in their memories.”

So God, as you can see, didn’t give me another hand. With the help of audio, my preschoolers grew stronger, cognitively that is. They learned to sit still (even for a short time). They practiced their listening skills. Their readiness for reading was strengthened. They were introduced to the technical aspects of reading. Their relationship with books was gently nurtured. And they were exposed to great literature. (And I was able to go to the bathroom!)

And that was a huge answer to prayer.

Meet: Kirsten Strand

By Kirsten Strand & Karen Brown

Kirsten Strand lives in Aurora, Illinois with her husband Scott, sons Erik (age 13) and Brian (age 12), and their dog Lucy. She is the Director of Community 4:12, the Compassion & Justice Ministry of Community Christian Church, a multi-site church with 14 (and counting) locations . She is deeply passionate about addressing the “injustices” and inequalities that people living in poverty face and about bringing people together across racial, cultural, and economic differences. She believes that everyone is rich in some ways and everyone is poor in some ways, and only by coming together can we help address each other’s poverty. Check out her blog.

Question: Do you have a specific vision for your family that's beyond just surviving the day? 

If so, how do you keep your vision in all the chaos? When my husband and I got married 17 years ago, we went on what we called a “Family Summit.” We went off to a cabin in the woods away from all technology and people and wrote a Family Mission Statement and dreamed about our future. Every year since then, we have gone on a “Family Summit.” The kids started joining us when they were in elementary school, and they have gotten more and more involved each year. We go away for three nights and spend time evaluating how we have done as a family in the past year in sticking with our mission (which was revised when they were old enough to have input) and accomplishing any goals we’d set the year before. We dream and pray together and work through any conflicts or tensions that haven’t been resolved. Our family motto is, “A cord of [4] Strands is not easily broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:12). We try to model the idea that if we all stick together and keep God at the center of what we do, we can get through anything. The Summit weekend is the highlight of the year for all of us, and recharges and refocuses us for the coming year.

Question: Are there any routines that you’ve incorporated into your daily schedule that help foster faith formation in your children? 

Despite our hectic schedules, we try very hard to eat dinner together most nights of the week. We do a family prayer before that with everyone sharing something they are thankful for or a request they have. We are not a particularly “spiritual” family in terms of doing family devotions or lots of praying together, but we are on a “mission” together as a family in an under-resourced community, so we hope that our lifestyle choices and efforts to put our faith into action are influencing our kids’ faith journey.

Question: Do you have any practical tips that you have found especially helpful in managing your household? 

I am an off-the-chart “beaver,” so planning ahead and being organized comes naturally, and at times drives the 3 other “otters” in my house crazy. One thing that saves me during the week is that I plan and cook most meals ahead of time (on the weekends) and freeze them so that I don’t have to worry about cooking during the week and so that we won’t have to be tempted to swing through the drive-through. We also have a rule that the house/bedrooms get completely picked up every weekend, but I don’t stress too much about the mess during the week. I have learned to be okay with having “book bags” and “bat bags” sprawled around the living room.

Question: What are some practical ways in which you help your children think and care about others around them? 

When my kids were very young, my husband and I made some significant life choices that have significantly influenced the life my kids have lived. I joined the staff at our church to start a ministry to help Christ-followers address poverty and justice issues. My husband left his corporate job and went back to school to get his teaching degree so he could teach and impact kids in under-resourced schools. We then moved from a mostly White, affluent suburb to an under-resourced and mostly Hispanic community so that we could be a part of helping to restore that community. My kids have come with us to serve at homeless shelters or with refugees since they were toddlers. Their best friends are what society would label as “poor Mexican immigrants.” We helped start a bilingual campus of our church in our neighborhood so that we can worship with our friends who don’t speak English. We also hope that we have shown them that Jesus cares more about “loving” the poor than he does about “serving” the poor. Jesus wasn’t anyone’s volunteer. He was their friend. And that is what we hope to help our children be.

The Negotiator: A Short Story

By Katharine Grubb

The house had a glass door, so Mr. Smith paused. With a glass door, he could view his reflection before the meeting. Mr. Smith liked looking at himself. He was pleased with the image he saw, the suit that he wore and his position. He was a Negotiator for the Toddler Rights’ Commission, a very successful one, and he was visiting another home to discuss another client; a two-year-old, named Mikey.

Almost immediately after he rang the bell, the Mother met him at the door. She was a short, stocky woman, who looked far younger than her forty years. Yet, she wasn’t very fashionable. Her face was freckled, with little or no make-up and her dark blonde hair was simple, just pulled back from her face. She smiled and her blue eyes were cheerful.

“Come in, Mr. Smith, ” she said briskly, and almost in a whisper. “Could we talk in the kitchen? Mikey just fell asleep on the couch.”

Mr. Smith entered the house and glanced at his client, a copper-haired boy, curled inside a faded flannel blanket on a lumpy blue sofa, the focal point of this simple room. Mr. Smith noticed that this room didn’t have the sleek, designer feel to it that he was more accustomed to. This one held mismatched, shabby furniture. The television was out of date. The only art was family photos on the mantle. But the room was tidy. He had to admit that.

The child stirred, let out a little cry and simultaneously reached for a toy fireman’s hat with one hand and stuck the thumb of his other hand right in his mouth.

“Oh, what a life he leads,” Mr. Smith viewed all of his clients with a little bit of contempt. Mikey was no different from the other toddlers who whined, cried and begged to get their own way.

Mr. Smith had worked with dozens of them since he began this job last May. It was at that point, that his life, one much like the life of a two-year-old, came abruptly to an end, since his college life was over.

Smith had been reluctant to take this, his only offer. Work as a Negotiator would require him to curb his late night antics and succumb to the nine-to-five routine.

But that was five months ago, before he knew how good he would be at negotiating the demands of little children. It was a perfect fit. Just like that expensive suit he wore to every meeting, every negotiation. And everywhere he went, he won. He had never lost a Toddler Rights Case and he was a rookie. This was an impressive feat for anyone in The Commission.

The Mother led him into the kitchen and she motioned for him to sit at the table. Like the living room, the kitchen was ordinary. But the counter tops were clear, the floor was swept and the empty steel sink sparkled.

Mr. Smith sat down at the kitchen table across from The Mother.

“Um, do you have a pen?” he asked. Pens were too much trouble to keep up with.

She offered him two, one black and one blue.

He took both.

“Let’s begin with bath time,” he opened. He never let the parent speak first. He learned early on that his first request should put the parent on the defensive. Besides the sooner they got started, the sooner he could get out of here. This was his last stop for the afternoon.

She picked up her copy of the contract from the table.

He began before she found the place. “First, your son would like at least thirty minutes of play time before you begin the actual washing.”

“That can be arranged,” she agreed, writing on her contract, “as long as there is a discretionary clause, which allows for a shorter time if needed.”

This was a rare request. She was well informed of her rights.

“Fine,” he agreed, a bit discouraged by this rocky start. “But no scrubbing of the ears.”

“I must scrub his ears. What if I use a softer washcloth?”

He disapproved of her haggling, but relented. “As long as it’s blue,” he said.

“Agreed,” she replied. Not exactly a victory for his side.

He continued, “My client wishes for you to sing every lyric from ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ on demand.”

She fidgeted, “Not ‘on demand’, that’s intolerable cruelty. I’ll do it, under protest, three times a day at the most.”

“Agreed.” Mr. Smith drummed his fingers on the table, happy that he had won that point. “Um, do you have any spring water?”

“We have filtered. Will that do?”

He nodded.

She rose, took a glass from the cupboard, and walked to the refrigerator for a pitcher.

As she poured, she stopped and looked at Mr. Smith.

“I want my son to stop drinking from the toilet,” she said, as she sat the glass on the table.

Mr. Smith grimaced. The cool water no longer seemed so refreshing. He twirled the pen in his fingers, but did not touch the glass.

Parents usually didn’t make requests of their own, and this perplexed him. Quickly, he remembered a point that Mikey had wanted, one that would have come later. But this was a game of strategy. Mr. Smith had learned to play it well.

“He’s probably just thirsty. He’ll stop if he has more juice to drink; say, six cups a day?”

“Six!” She laughed. “He can’t count that high, Mr. Smith! Please, let’s get back to drinking out of the toilet.”

The young man sighed, repulsed not only by her command of the conversation, but that he couldn’t get the mental image of Mikey’s drinking habits out of his mind while his thirst begged him to pick up the glass of water.

“Well, could it be that he’s just curious?” Mr. Smith asked the mother. Distraction, Mr. Smith, thought to himself. Distraction is the answer to this problem.

He overcame his aversion, picked up the glass and took a long drink.

“Don’t you think he sees, you know, the rest of the family in the bathroom all day and . . . Poor thing, he’s still in diapers . .”

He drank again, slowly, to spite her.

She remained unshaken. “I thought you might bring up potty training,” she said as she handed him a notarized document. “ So, I’m requesting an extension for two reasons. First, I am nursing his baby sister and that takes up a great deal of my time. Secondly, I am homeschooling his three older siblings, which take up even more.”

Mr. Smith had never seen a document of this type before. He was stunned.

She continued. “Contrary to the mug I got for Christmas, Mr. Smith, I am not Super-Mom. If he is still in diapers when he is three, it will not kill him. He will stay out of the toilet and that is that!”

Mr. Smith winced. His favorite tactics of guilt had failed him. He gently rattled the ice in his water glass, cueing her for a refill.

But she appeared not to notice. Was she was rude or just oblivious?

“Never mind,” he thought to himself. Stay focused. No more yielding.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “My client claims that you do not come when he calls you at night. He demands your prompt attention every time he yells, ‘Mommy!’”

He studied her eyes, expecting a tear of shame. Instead, she rolled her eyes in amusement.

Exasperated, he elaborated. “According to his deposition, two nights ago he stood in his crib and yelled for you for 23 minutes and you did not come.”

She spoke firmly. “Did your client reveal to you that I had been in there three times already? I fixed his blanket, kissed him twice, gave him two hugs, prayed with him and brought him a drink of water? He needed nothing except sleep!”

“The point is not that he needed anything.” His next accusation was a classic, and he practically hurled it at her, “The point is that you didn’t come. What were you doing that was more important?” This was a deft move, combining selfishness with small accusations of guilt.

She leaned back in her chair and chuckled, “I will not apologize for doing something so basic as taking a shower!”

He was dumbfounded. No guilt? No tears? She was bulldog in a pink polo and ponytail.

“Now for my next item,” she said, turning a page of the contract. “I want to discuss his other bad habit: eating things off the sidewalk.”

He scratched his head, staggered at her leading of the conversation. But, he confidently rattled off his textbook answer, “My client insists these items are: A) very attractive; B) surprisingly tasty, and C) unlikely to kill him.” He picked the glass up again, hoping for a little melted ice, sure in his reasoning.

“And I insist that if his lips touch worms, they will never touch mine.”

“I can cite many cases that calls that ‘conditional love’,” he said smugly. “You don’t want to love him ‘conditionally,’ do you?”

She never flinched, but with a smile, gently retorted, “Okay I will kiss him, under the ‘condition’ that he washes his mouth with Listerine first.”

Because he would rather eat worms himself than explain mouthwash to a toddler, he had no choice than to concede.

He was relieved that the next item was about food. In his experience, children always got their way with food.

“My client wants only bread and butter for meals, three times a day. And absolutely no vegetables.”

“Listen,” she said, sitting up straight. “Except for the occasional snack, he is going to eat what we eat, when we eat it, in his high chair, at the table. He will not spit it up, throw it on the floor or smear it in his hair. I will periodically give him bread and butter, but no more than two times a day. And he certainly will eat his vegetables, with a please, a thank you and a happy heart.”

She had obliterated every single item on Mr. Smith’s list. He was aghast. He was suddenly sweaty inside that wool suit and questioned, for just a moment, how he could hide the results of this interview from the Commissioner.

She was not finished. “Now, let’s move on. I also want my son to restrict the use of the word ‘mine’ to two times per day.”

Mr. Smith loosened his tie, wiped the perspiration off his brow, and spoke up, “According to his testimony, everything is his.” This was a fact. The boy had spoken the word ‘mine’ fifty-two times in the exploratory conference two weeks ago.

“He doesn’t have receipts to prove it. I do. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, you know.” She handed him another file, thick with paperwork.

Suddenly, the front door creaked opened and crashed shut.

“Help! Mommy!” A frantic cry came from the living room. “Amy’s dress is caught in the bike chain!”

With a quick, “Excuse me,” The Mother jumped from her chair, ran to the living room and out the front door.

Mr. Smith was relieved at the interruption. He took a deep breath and examined his water glass. Why hadn’t the ice melted? Not even smallest drop of water had come from the cubes. And yet, he was still very thirsty.

Moving quickly, he opened the refrigerator door and reached for the pitcher. A half-eaten chocolate layer cake was inside. Mr. Smith pinched a chunk from the top and stuffed it into his mouth.

He heard The Mother reassuring the child while the front door opened, “If everything’s all right now, I’ll go back to my meeting.” He shut the refrigerator door quickly and licked his fingers clean, careful not to wipe them on his pants.

She re-entered the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” she said, sliding into her place at the table.

She then handed Mr. Smith another file of documents. “I want you to have this.”

He thumbed through the folder, his fingers still sticky from frosting. He was trying to hide his surprise.

“As you will see, Mr. Smith, the top form is my mission statement.”

“A mission statement?” He repeated her and instantly regretted that he showed such weakness.

“It reads that my husband and I have one and only goal: to rear this child in such a way that he is socially, spiritually, emotionally and cognitively healthy.”

She looked him right in the eye. Was she smug or just steadfast?

She continued. “Every request that I’ve made today is based on that goal. Additionally, I have an affidavit stating that Mikey is not the center of the universe that he claims to be.”

Mr. Smith was mortified. If any other parent gets a whiff of this document, he would be out of a job.

“And lastly, a joint statement issued by his father and me, affirming that we love him so much, that we can’t let him have his own way all the time. Please add this to the file.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Mr. Smith croaked as he grasped the folder. There was nothing more to say and no more points to negotiate. He numbly gathered his papers, (and the two pens), put them all in his briefcase, and stood up to leave.

Mr. Smith and the Toddler Rights Commission had been soundly defeated by this formidable woman. The bad news was that this kid would be heartbroken. The good news was that he’d get over it with a lollipop.

Mr. Smith piped up one last time, “You realize he won’t be very happy with our outcome today.” Mikey wouldn’t be the only one.

She smiled. It was the same confident smile that haunted him for the entire meeting. “I’m not all that interested in his happiness today. I’m interested in his happiness for a lifetime.”

“Mommy?”

Mikey’s groggy voice came from the living room. He was half whining, half crying, disoriented from the nap.

The Mother went to her son and scooped him up from the couch. He clung to her neck and she tenderly whispered in his ear. The mother’s full attention was the child, as if the Negotiator had completely disappeared. Mr. Smith was genuinely moved by their affection for each other, but the feeling frightened him a bit.

He shook it off and walked hurriedly toward the door, preoccupied by his failure. She followed him. He limply shook The Mother’s hand, mumbled good-bye, and exited the house.

He walked away. He wasn’t just pained in his defeat, he was nearly debilitated. Usually, by this time in the afternoon he was ready to track down his buddies and make plans for the evening. But his confidence was crushed under her deft victory. He was far too numb to celebrate.

She had refused everything except a blue washcloth and some dumb train songs. She had presented him with dozens of papers he would have to file, explain or investigate. Her stubbornness had stained the unbroken success record he had at the Commission. Perhaps if she had squirmed just a little, if she had fretted or worried or fearfully picked a cuticle or bit her lip, he might have felt better about the results.

No, he wasn’t going out tonight.

He’d much rather go home and sulk.

Baby Yuck and Lessons of Holiness

By Katharine Grubb

At church a few summers ago, I was discussing with a friend the connection between hardship and holiness. I said something along the lines of "we should embrace hardship and look for opportunities to die to ourselves; we'll never have true joy otherwise." Then I scooped up my eight-month-old daughter and took her to the nursery because she had a poopy diaper and it was leaking through her cute little bloomers.

After I changed her, I decided I might as well nurse her too. So I spent my time thinking about what my friend and I discussed and I wallowed in my own spirituality, since what I said seemed so eloquent and holy.

I patted the baby’s back and oops! She spit up! All over her clothes, too. Okay, another change was in order.

Once that was done, I picked her up again, only to hear the familiar gagging sound. Yuck! It came up again! This time, it's not so much on her as it is on me. About a cup's worth of grossness all over my left arm, the sleeve and front of my shirt and all over the baby carrier. If I were home, I would have changed my clothes. Instead, I had to sit through church, spend an hour in the un-air conditioned car, and spend the afternoon at my family reunion smelling like . . . . .. bleeuuch!

After I did my best to clean up, I never actually sat to listen to the service, as I was busy walking her. I was grumpy, to the point that I even questioned why I bothered coming to church just to walk in circles in our entryway. (How many laps of the perimeter would make my daily mile? I guessed thirty and stopped when I got bored.)

When my husband and I got our baby and four other children into the hot van for our hour long drive, and I described my morning to him, I finally saw the truth of my situation; I can't embrace hardship. I don't respond well. I have a wicked heart. I need the grace of Jesus to be thankful for a healthy baby, a great church and a fun afternoon. It is only by the grace of God that I can look past my wet blouse, my boring walk in the entryway and my next few hours. I was gently reminded that an un-airconditioned car ride to visit family is always better than an air conditioned emergency room visit (or worse, a funeral home).

Yes, we should embrace hardship. Jesus did it too. He did it for us, we should do the same. He will carry us through it with grace. No matter what we smell like.

Free Fun Fridays

by Karen Brown

If you live in New England, don’t miss Free Fun Fridays offered by the Highland Street Foundation. 

Free Fun Fridays are an opportunity for children and families to attend local museums and attractions free of charge. There are literally 36 different places to visit including the Boston Children’s Museum, Franklin Park Zoo, MFA, Plymouth Plantation, USS Constitution, Museum of Science, and others.

What a great way to spend some family time together!

What To Do When Your Toddler Says, “I Hate You!

By Katharine Grubb

One of my children said “I hate you” to my face.

I know, you thought I was the perfect mother, that I never make mistakes, that my children are so very compliant, but it did happen, and this is how I handled it.

The “I hate you!” came when he, a passionate and creative four-year-old, was being corrected. He did not like that I was correcting him and he was really, really mad. Apparently, my request that he not play in the toilet was unreasonable.

I made a simple, clear request of him, and I expected him to obey. I said, “Honey, do not ever play in the toilet. It’s dirty. Wash your hands and come out of the bathroom.”

Then I waited a few seconds to see if he obeyed me. In this case, he wasn’t even making the slightest effort to obey. Toilet water, to a four-year-old, is so appealing that he didn’t care what I said.

Then my voice changed. I was more stern, but not angry. “Honey! Get out of the bathroom right this second. I said no!”

My son looked right at me and scowled. His muscles tensed up. He sat his little bottom on the floor. He wanted to play. Okay, his violations have doubled. Not only is he still playing, but he refused to comply.

I absolutely cannot let him win this battle. He must obey me.

I immediately swatted his bottom and marched him into the kitchen where I was making dinner, and I made him sit down on the floor. “You WILL do what I tell you to do, young man!” The time out was to get him to change his mind toward me. The swat was to teach him that defiance has immediate consequences. And, while not every parent agrees with this method, we have found that corporal punishment, if used sparingly and in a controlled manner, is very effective. I told him he could get up when he was happy. He absolutely, cannot have a defiant attitude toward me.

But he did not want to get happy. He kept that little scowly face and started half-whining, half-pouting. He yelled at me, “You can’t make me! I’m not going to do that!” And then he said it. “I hate you!”

I said, “What did you say?”

I saw the hesitation in his eye, but he still wouldn’t back down. “I hate you!”

I swatted him again. And I said in a very calm voice. “You will never, ever say those words. You meant to hurt me and you are not allowed to hurt me.”

At this point he started crying.

I said, “I asked you to stay out of the toilet because it has germs. It can make you sick. I love you. I don’t want you to be sick. I’m not trying to be mean to you. I love you. I want you to be wise.”

Then he started to cry. And I did too. We hugged and kissed. He still had to talk about this to Daddy, later, but everything was fine between us.

I had no idea that the issue of playing in the toilet would grow into such a battle. But this, unfortunately, happens often with emotionally-driven young children, especially at the end of the day. But no matter what he says or does, you have to keep control and correct his behavior.

What to do if your child says “I hate you!”

I Hate You Do’s

1. Do handle This Immediately. Our very first responsibility, before cooking, cleaning or social life, is to raise respectful children. Show them how important it is by handling it promptly.

2. Do keep your language simple. When I said, “You are not allowed to hurt me,” he understood it. Every word I said to him was slow and simple. I wanted him to understand it wasn’t out of spite or meanness that he was corrected. He has someone on his side - me - who says no for a reason. Often we have our children repeat this, “You love me. You want me to be wise.” We do this so that they somehow get it, and their little wills are broken.

3. Do remove him from public. Before you say or do anything, get him out of the way of anyone who might see you correct your child. Not only is this a private matter, but we don’t know who is watching us and your swat on his fanny, which is perfectly acceptable inside your home, might not be other places.

4. Do tell your spouse about it. My husband was far more upset that my son did this than I was. He said, “YOU said this? About OUR MOMMY!?” That confrontation alone was enough to make sure he didn’t do it again. Also, you and your spouse need to have a united front when it comes to discipline issues.

5. Do think about how he might have heard these words. Do you ever say them to your spouse? If you don’t handle your anger well and say hurtful things to others, then that might be where your kid is getting it. Change your behavior so your kids have great role models.

6. Do realize that bad behavior is often the result of fatigue or low blood sugar. My kids were far, far more likely to get into trouble after 4pm than any other time of the day. But this doesn’t excuse their actions. If I felt he was tired or hungry, after I punished him, I’d give him a light snack and make him lay down until dinner.

7. Do forget this as soon as you can. Little, isolated incidents like this should go into your mental file of I can’t believe he did that. There will be many more. Many, many more.

8. Do demonstrate forgiveness. This is where the hugging comes in. Your kids need to know that when they mess up, they are safe.

I Hate You Don’ts

1. Don’t take it personally. Your child is in a moment of strong emotion. He may not even know what he is saying.

2. Don’t let him get away with it. Very calmly tell him those words are hurtful. They are not allowed. Punish him in someway that is painful (a swat, taking away a favorite toy, sitting in a corner). Make it immediate and bad enough that he’s uncomfortable.

3. Don’t let him see that it bothers you. Of course it’s upsetting to hear the person you care for say those words. It’s your baby! But be strong. Some children are looking to see you weaken, even if they don’t realize it, so that they can manipulate you in the future.

4. Don’t let it happen again. Be very clear to your child that this completely unacceptable. If they are not afraid of the consequences of saying those words, then you may have bigger issues on your hands.

I also hate to admit, that this I hate you business happened a few more times with this particular child. But because my husband and I were consistent in our reaction to him, he eventually stopped doing this. He’s seven now, and would never dream of saying such a thing.

Thank goodness!

For more information about why choose to occasionally use corporal punishment, check out child expert Dr. James Dobson's opinion on spanking.

channeling your inner Mary Poppins: motivating toddlers, part 3

By Katharine Grubb

There was once a time in our lives that we ate like civilized people. We sat in chairs around a table, ate all the food of our plate with utensils, wiped our hands and faces with napkins and enjoyed conversation.

Then we had toddlers.

After the third spilled glass of milk, it is very hard to believe that meal time can be enjoyable, that your child will sit in his seat, eat his food, and refrain from sticking green beans up his nose. But I believe it can be done. A child can be trained to behave using games.

This is the third of a three part series on motivating toddlers. In the first article, I discussed why games are so effective. The second article explained how games can motivate toddlers to pick up their toys. But this article, the last in the series, is about eating.

I believe that family mealtime, whether you like it or not, is a rehearsal for public life. What is permitted at home will most certainly embarrass a parent at a fancy restaurant. A wise parent will train their child to show self-control, eat their food and be respectful, so that when you do eat in public, little Junior will know what to do.

You can teach him what to do through games.

Make a plan. You and your spouse need to agree what the accepted standards are at mealtime and stick to them. Must he sit in his chair throughout the meal? Must he eat all his food? Is throwing mashed potatoes frowned upon? Decide, as a team, in advance, and then stick to your rules at every meal.

Once you’re at the table, then it’s time to use the secret weapons I mentioned earlier in the series:

• Enthusiasm: A toddler will get excited about the things you get excited about. If you consistently make a big deal out of sitting like a big girl and using a fork, she will think it’s a big deal and want to please you.

• Healthy Competition: This speaks to the competitive nature of your children, especially boys. If they know they will “win” because of good behavior, they are more likely to chew with their mouth closed.

• Cheerfulness: I am shocked at how much my emotional tone sets the tone for the whole household. If I am cheerful in anything I do, my kids are more likely to be cheerful too.
With these three secret weapons, and a good game to play, you can get your kids to be little angels at mealtime.

Let’s play a game!

1. Race to 5. Of course when I sit at the table, my plan is to eat my dinner. I finish way before my children do. I had one girl on one side of me, the other girl on the other side and my fists in the air. If Ariel took a bite, one finger on her side went up. If Miranda took a bite, one finger went up for her. Which girl could get to five bites first? After the race, I close up my fingers and start all over again until the plates are clean. I was shocked at how quickly they learned to count to five. This will not work with more than two children. I’ve tried it.

2. Make up a reward song. “Brave, strong Corbin, he loves to eat his salad!”

3. Animal noises. They take a bite, (or two) and you do something silly like howl. Yes, it is undignified, but oh, Mommy, it is magical.

4. Mealtime Olympics. This is similar to the other Olympic games, mentioned in part two, but in these games we have specific events: the milk event, the meat event, the potatoes event and the vegetables event. Whoever finishes their event first gets the gold. Don’t forget your invisible medals!

5. Tell A Story. The most successful, most repeated story I ever told was about the vegetable amusement park and how all the little peas and carrots wanted to be lifted up into the fork and put into the dark cave and slide fast, fast, fast down the slide into Ariel’s tummy!

6. Don’t Tell A Story, Read One. But there’s a catch: You only read a sentence or two. If they want to hear more, they have to eat three bites.

But you are the most creative teacher your child has. If you have other methods, use them. Use them when you feel like making animals noises, and use them even when you don’t. The purpose, of course, is that someday, they’ll be trained to pick up after themselves and to eat like a civilized person.

And just think how easy life will be after that!

5 tips for raising children you like

By Karen Brown 

Today I am thrilled to introduce you to Edie from Life {in} Grace.  I first found her blog a couple years ago an instantly fell in love.  She is a wife, former physician turned stay home mom, homeschooler, creative genius and dedicated Christ-follower.  Her passion and pursuit of Jesus is absolutely contagious!  I am inspired by her transparency and vulnerability. 

She was a guest blogger here recently and her post on Christian parenting was challenging, motivating and encouraging.  You’ll love her pearls of wisdom! She has graciously agreed to let us repost the article here.  Thanks Edie!

Edie & family

We all love our kids. That’s a given.

But have you ever asked yourself whether or not you like them?

Are they generally likable pleasant human beings?

Can you spend a whole day or week or month with them and really like who they are becoming as people?

Summertime often is the pressure cooker that brings out all our imperfections and it’s a great time to be intentional with our kids.

One of the things I’ve learned since I quit working to stay home is that the more I’m with them the less tolerant I am of their bad behavior. When you spend long stretches of time with your children, you begin to require of them that they be decent people, who are pleasurable to be around. Most of us can tolerate bratty spoiled kids for about an hour. It’s hard to be around them for much longer than that. I think that as a society we are raising a generation of kids who are lazy, sarcastic and demanding and have a tremendous sense of entitlement. And it’s our fault. We have the best intentions. We want them to have the best of everything, we’re worried about their self-esteem. But in an effort to give them what we never had, we seem to have lost the courage to say no. I’ve been as guilty as the next guy and I want to recognize my errant ways and make the necessary changes while there’s still time.

Here are five little tips that come to mind:

1.) Repent- I think we must first start with the premise that we are all sinful, selfish people who are in need of grace and forgiveness.  Our most grievous sins are often against the little neighbors that we live with everyday.  We must teach them by example to live in repentance.  I think it's important to say the words, "Will you forgive me?" and "Yes, I forgive you."  We live in forgiveness or we live in broken relationships and we must lead by example.

2.) Resist- the temptation to over-indulge. Famous child psychologists have said that over indulgent parenting is worse than neglect for children. And often, we are really indulging ourselves and we are not doing our kids any favors. In the end, we are making it impossible for them to be content with the things in life that matter. It’s okay to say no and it’ s a word that doesn’t come easy for me. But I’m getting better. And it’s teaches them to say ‘no’ to themselves which is a hard lesson for all of us.

3.) Read, Read, Read- I find that there’s no better way to inspire them toward right thoughts and actions than with the heros and heroines of good books. After reading hundreds of books together with my girls, I am convinced that those books are changing us all. They see in books examples of bad behavior that they want to avoid. I don’t even have to point out the selfish, whiny, bratty characters because they can spot them a mile away. They recognize the traits easily and don’t like seeing them in others and can often see similarities in themselves that they’d like to change.

And there’s nothing like a courageous, honest, pleasant character that you’ve grown to love in a book to inspire you to be the same. Choose wholesome, classic books and watch your children imitate the good they see in others. It sure makes the job of teaching and discipline easier and more pleasant.

4.) Require- much. Children tend to rise to your expectations—-so raise the bar higher. They are capable of far more than we think and we’ve let our society of peer-driven child rearing dumb us down. Just read a book from a hundred years ago and see how the children were expected to behave. Ten year olds back then were treated nearly as adults and expected to behave as such. We tolerate such poor behavior in kids sometimes and give all manner of excuses as to why little Susie acts the way she does. Little Susie acts that way because we are too busy and have let down our guard. We must do the courageous thing and stand up tall and be parents. Parents that teach our kids how we want them to act. My favorite little trick is to give the girls a pep talk on the way to various activities to tell them exactly what I expect of them.

“When you go into dance today, I want you to make it a point to talk to everyone and be nice to all your friends, not just your favorite one. Ask the other girls if they’d like to sit with you too. Look for someone who’s lonely and try to make a friend. Use a kind welcoming voice and don’t be sarcastic or harsh.”

“When we first arrive at the party, look Ms. SoandSo in the eyes and tell her thank you for inviting you.”

“When it’s time to leave from Johnny’s house, I don’t want to have to tell you repeatedly that it’s time to go. No whining or asking if you can play 5 more minutes. No asking him to our house. Just say yes ma’am and get your stuff and say thank you for having me. Okay? Are we all clear?"

It’s amazes me everytime that when I make the expectations clear, they almost always follow the rules.

5.) Redeem- the time. They often spend so much time with their peers that they’re not even sure what mature, virtuous behavior looks like. They need you to model it for them. Even though we homeschool, I can tell in my girls’ behavior if they’ve been with peers too much. They’re more sarcastic and shorter tempered with each other. Usually, it takes a few hours of time at home to play or read and it resets their attitudes. I think we highly overvalue childrens’ need to spend time with peers while undervaluing what they gain when they are able to spend long stretches of time with parents and family. This subtle shift in priorities may have a devastating impact on kids. Kids need to be loved and to be understood and no one can do that for them like their parents. If you have kids who are emotional and acting out, it can usually be remedied by time with you. I think we easily forget what pressure it is to try to fit in and do and say and wear the right things in order to be accepted by peers. They’re stressed out and we would be too. Take the pressure off and limit their peer time in favor of time with the family.

We often hear that a small amount of quality time is better for kids than quantity. I read recently, and forgive me that I can’t remember where, that our kids are starving to death on tiny morsels of filet mignon.

They do need large quantities of time from us. And then everyone wins because they get what they need and we, in turn, get kids that we like as well as love.

p.s. Let me let you in on a little secret in case you wondering. I don’t always like mine either, which motivates me even more to do the hard work of repenting, resisting, reading, requiring and redeeming! We’re all in this together. Summer is a great time to be intentional with your parenting. I wish you much joy in the sacred task!

Saying Sorry

By Julie Wilson

If you are like me, you will be on vacation this summer, and around extended family. My sisters all live in Illinois with their families, and we only get to see them a couple times a year. The cousins all get along really well, but kids being kids, there tends to be an occasional argument or fight. There happened to be an argument this morning between my niece and nephew over a toy. They both wanted to play with it at the same time, so one pushed the other, and the other started crying.

When my own children get into an argument with one another, and are angry, they usually do not want to be around the one they are mad at. But, my husband and I have always made the kids say sorry and apologize to one another for the fight. We try to get them both to calm down, take a deep breath, and realize what they did wrong in the situation. Then we have them not only say they are sorry, but ask for forgiveness. Just saying sorry did not seem like enough. We want our children to realize that they need to not only ask for forgiveness, but then also extend forgiveness to the one that hurt them.

Kids of course can be very stubborn, and may not want to say they are sorry, or offer forgiveness because they feel truly hurt by the other one. But if you stay consistent, and patiently wait, they will learn that this is the process by which they need to solve their disputes in a healthy, God-honoring way. 

We also have the two who are in the argument kiss and hug one another. We are a very affectionate family, so this seems to work well for us. It usually helps soothe the hurt feelings or the pain. Today, my nephew was being stubborn, as any five-year-old can be, but we patiently waited for him to say he was sorry and calm down, so he could hug his cousin and make things right between them. If you establish these guidelines early on with your children, they will learn about forgiveness in a way that will only help them in their relationships later on in life.

Too Small To Ignore

By Anna Hamman 

One of my favorite books is Too Small To Ignore: Why the Least of These Matters Most, by Wes Stafford, the president and CEO of Compassion International.

Too Small to Ignore is a book that has challenged my perspective about children and poverty. It helped me see how God values children not just for who they will be as adults but for who they are now, and how it is our responsibility to care for them too. Because of Stafford’s unique upbringing in a remote community in Africa, he brings a fresh perspective from someone who has lived and worked in both third world and Western settings. Here is a quote I really love:

“When the wealthy and the poor get together, each ends up meeting the desperate needs of the other. Too often Satan achieves his wicked agenda by keeping them apart---geographically and philosophically. The result is that one tends to die in need and the other in greed. But when Jesus brings us together, the genuine needs of both are mysteriously and wonderfully satisfied. In God’s amazing economy, the rich and the poor need each other, the common message being, ‘Enough really is… enough’”

I really recommend this book for those who care for children. It offers a fresh perspective on how important children are in God’s equation but also a challenge on how we value those who have less than we do and how we can pass this perspective to our own children. In this book, Stafford shares his own experiences of growing up in an African village and also his perspective from working with children and families through Compassion International around the world. 

Compassion International is a Christian organization that helps people sponsor children and teenagers and their families in third world countries. My husband and I have sponsored and written letters to two children through Compassion for a few years now and we were privileged to go and visit them and their families with compassion staff in rural Uganda a few years back.

We were really impressed by how sponsorship through Compassion benefits a whole community and were so touched by how overwhelmingly grateful our sponsor children and their families were for the relatively small amount we sacrifice each month to sponsor them. It was a humbling experience to realize how such a small sacrifice each month from us could really make a huge difference when channeled in the right way. We were also touched when they brought out every letter and photo we had ever sent them and shared how much they loved getting them.

I do not write this in any way to glorify us, because I feel this is a small act on our part. I just want to emphasize that child sponsorship is just one of those things that seems so right in this world. It is around $40 dollars a month to sponsor a child and sometimes that can seem like a stretch, but when you see how grateful the children, their families and the community who benefit from sponsorship are, it seems well worth it. Really when you think about it, $40 for us is just a few meals out that we could save by eating at home a little more. In a third world setting, this money goes a long way. Many of you may already sponsor a child or give in other ways but if you are interested in finding more about it, I highly recommend it.