Memories

There's often talk about parents building memories fortheir children. While I think that is valuable, I'm thinking that many of the memories we've built with the weeWeir have done us as much, or more good than they have for her.

I'm thinking about when we had a few nights away last month and she wouldn't settle to sleep on our first night. We tried our usual arsenal of tricks, but nothing worked. Eventually, after four hours we out her in the car and she was asleep in seconds. Literally seconds.

Literally.

I look back and find it completely fine, cute, understandable and all that. At the time, it was none of those things.

What did I learn from that memory? What do I need to leave behind from that memory?

I learned that the moment can be hard to separate from the context. That being away from home a few weeks after you move to a new home is pretty unsettling for a weeWeir. And that being awake until midnight one night will result in no problems the following night.

I learned that getting worked up by the lack of sleeping child is understandable but almost as futile as the lack of sleep itself. It's part of the process and next time, we'll try the car about three hours earlier in the process...

It would be easy to jump to a conclusion that we should never go away from home again, or never try and get the weeWeir to sleep in a strange bed. But that's not the real memory.

We had a great holiday and learned some new stuff about going away from home when you have a small person involved.

Have you ever been there? What are your memories telling you?

Amen, Daddy

Yesterday, the weeWeir got herself all upset over something. I wasn't in the room at the time, and I'm not sure what the *something* was.

Crying, she came running to find me, saying "Daddy" and other words I couldn't quote interpret at the pace and insistence she was using. Kneeling on the floor, I asked her why she was crying.

"Daddy...[insert toddler ramblings here]" was the response. But I knew it wasn't my fault.

"Where is is sore, I asked".

Same reply.

As I held her and she calmed down, I listened again. "Amen, Daddy". It made a little more sense now.

Since before she was born, Jenny and I have prayed with the weeWeir. Before bed for sure, but at other times too. Particularly if she had hurt herself or was unsettled. That and singing with her.

So as I knelt with her on the floor, I prayed a few simple words asking Father to come with Grace & Peace in Jesus name.

An "amen" from Beth (yes, I used her name which is unusual) and she was calm.

A lot of thoughts on the back of this precious moment, which I'll unpack soon, but what's your view. Yes you. Add a comment and share your thoughts.

200.

This is, interestingly enough, my 200th blog post since I moved from iWeb (here) to Blogger (erm, here).

I've known the number was approaching for a while and had a few ideas, but when I was playing with the weeWeir tonight, it all became clear.

You see, Beth is doing what we all do and growing. She's doing it pretty well too. Jenny and I are grateful for such a treasure. Beth is our wee promise in action.

So tonight, I'm breaking with my own position. You can read about that here.

This post is about my family. Beautiful and complex and delightful.

Beth was getting ready for bed and decided she'd like to wear a hat. Off she trotted to find one, but her hats were nowhere to be found. She found a pair of gloves. Infact, she found one mitten, came back asking that it be put on her hand and then went to find the other glove.

Then she was keen on a hat again. So I gave her a hat. It's spring mind, and she's in her jammies. I love this kid.

Then it was time to brush her hair. Not the most enjoyable of activities for Beth, but we got there. I, now sitting on the bottom step in our hall, asked if she wanted to brush my hair (as you do).

Beth put on her hat (at a jaunty angle), pulled on one of the mittens and stood on the step. Next made three intentional swooshes through my hair with her brush and looked intently at her work. She then put her arm on my shoulder, rested her head and smiled.

I could have wept.

Then it was time for bed.

Delightful.

So here's to you Beth, keep bringing a smile to our hearts.

(strike a pose...)

(couldn't resist including a wee snap of Mrs theWeir and I too!)