Cody and the Hairy Thing

Cody and the Hairy Thing

            A dear friend asked me if I would be interested in reading two books written by her children.  Because I love reading and whole-heartedly support anyone pursing the art of writing, I immediately agreed.  And in doing so, I decided that I would read the books to my own kids, in order to get a younger perspective of the stories as well.

            Little did I know that this reading would turn into a bonding experience between me and my children.  Despite the busyness of the end of the school year, both my 8- and 10-year-olds would religiously remind me that we needed to “read that cool book!”

            It has to be said that neither of my children are big readers.  And even when I choose to read to them, their gnat-like attention spans take over and they can’t ever tell me anything that I’d just read to them.  In fact, I once read 4 chapters of a book before realizing that my son had been sleeping… with his eyes open.

            All of this to say, if my kids are excited about a book, then it HAS to be good!

            As an adoptive mom, I’m always looking for literature that helps reinforce a positive message to kids about finding their forever family, all the while reconciling their past grief and loss.  And in this first book, Cody and the Hairy Thing¸ young Briton Lafreniere has done just that.  At only 9-years-old, he penned an easy-to-read story filled with imagination, faith in Christ, and the importance of “finding one’s clan” in this life.

            Filled with moral dilemmas, a range of emotions, and difficult decisions that any grade school child may face, Lafreniere found a way to creatively inspire his peers to look to God, respect their parents, and follow their hearts - things that many of us parents are desperately trying to instill into our children at this vulnerable age. 

           When asked how they could relate to the characters in the book, my kids instantly shared a level of insight that is normally not present.  Cameron, my 10-year-old, said that he was taken from his family and placed with a new one, just like one of the story’s main players.  He revealed that he, too, felt a range of emotions, both happy and sad and scared, while we were all working to figure out this new life together.

            In turn, my 8-year-old daughter, Taylor, struggled to hold back tears as two main characters had to part from one another.  She shared that it reminded her of parting with her baby brother.  And for any parent looking for a story that allows for teachable moments, Cody and the Hairy Thing is chocked full of those very moments.  We were able to stop, process feelings, relate the scenarios to our own lives, and talk about how Cody, the boy in the story, may handle them.

            When all is said and done, I’m tired of having to proof everything that my kids are exposed to.  From the friends they choose to the music they listen to, the television shows they watch to the books they read (or are forced to read, in our case!).  And to find a story that didn’t require me to worry, that didn’t need me to monitor, and that inspired my own children to be interested in readingAND writing?  To me, this was a blessing too great not to share.

            I hope that every parent out there supports this young author, purchases his book, and sits back as your own child steps into the imaginative world of Cody and the Hairy Thing.

Cody and the Hairy Thing

By Briton Lafreniere

Acceptance and Forgiveness

My daughter is always writing me letters.  Both of my kids do, actually.  Taylor’s letters, however, often carry one common theme – The need for acceptance.  Because I get these kinds of letters from her on a weekly basis, I usually give them a quick read, answer whatever questions she asked on the paper, and move on with our day.

However, this note stood out to me as a bit different.  Here is a copy of the letter, which she agreed to let me post.

 In case you have a hard time reading 2nd grade writing (as anyone without a 2nd grader would), here is the translation:

 “Taylor Costa – I love you, Mom, so much.  The red stands for love.  I want to be good from now on, and I am sorry for all my sins I have done, and I will never do them again ever, ever, ever again.  I’ve been trying to fix my behavior up.  I hope it works good.  I just want you to forgive my sins.  Do you believe that I will fix my behavior up?  Yes or No”

This letter really struck me.  First of all, I had no idea what inspired the letter, leaving me to wonder if there’s a confession coming in the near future!  It surprised me because, if anyone should’ve been remorseful this weekend, it should have been my son.  After all, he’s the one that caused us to leave his school’s Mother-Son Dance early, due to discriminatory language towards a child in front of the child’s mother!  The woman was rightfully upset that her son was in tears on the dance floor, and she addressed me with the amount of emotion that one would expect, given the situation. 

It never ceases to amaze me that I can still feel embarrassed by my children’s behaviors.  Just when I think we’ve rounded a corner or that I couldn’t possibly be mortified any more in public than I already have been, that’s when another round of humiliation tends to occur.

I let the woman give my son a verbal lashing – partly because I was so angry that I didn’t trust my own words, and partly because she needed that outlet.  She recognized during our conversation that I am a mother of action – I won’t sit idly by and allow my child to disparage another.  So, I allowed her the words she needed to say to him, and then we left the dance.

And trust me, there were many more words to be had that night.

But back to Taylor’s letter.  What had she done that required my forgiveness?  And why was she asking me to forgive her sins, knowing full well that Jesus is the one that cleanses hearts, not I.

I decided we’d chat about her letter so I could have a better understanding of where she was coming from.  Taylor assured me there was no new confession coming (Phew!) but that Sunday’s church service had made her start thinking about her actions.  And that day, she had been praying (at school, nonetheless… let’s hear it for prayer in a public school by an 8-year-old!) and she felt that she wanted to change her life.  She wanted me to forgive her for all her past behaviors and she wanted that acceptance from me – she wanted to know that I didn’t hold a grudge, and that I believed in her and that she was capable of changing.

I don’t know about you, but as a parent, I’ve held grudges.  I know it’s wrong.  I know it’s childish.  I also know it’s human.  And I’ve fallen prey to my humanity many times with these children of mine!  They came to us with issues that were far beyond what we ever could have imagined, yet when we chose to adopt them, we chose to take them as they were – sins and all.  Because isn’t that how God took us when we were adopted into His family?

Yet God doesn’t hold grudges, and I had.  Worst of all, my daughter was aware of that fact.  Her letter was a peace offering.  It wasn’t the normal overly-decorated card she’d hand me each week, donned with new vocabulary words she’d learned that day in school.  This was different. 

My daughter had prayed.  She found conviction.  And she wanted forgiveness.  She wanted to mend our relationship, and she needed to know that I was all in… that I believed in her.

It was a very emotional letter from a little girl to her Mom.  And in that moment, I felt convicted of my own sins – the grudges I’d held onto, knowing that the previous apologies always led back to the same behaviors time and time again.  But this time, this time she was asking for me to have faith in her.  More so, she was asking me to have faith that God was altering her heart and that she was honestly trying to change.

Without another word, I took my pen and circled the word ‘Yes’ that she had written at the bottom of her letter.  The smile that came across her face was beautiful.  Grudges were dismissed and “sins were forgiven”… not because I could cleanse her heart, but because I realized that God had already done so.

Even in those days that are difficult and we find ourselves being chewed out by angry parents, God always seems to provide a loophole in the defeat.  Through the simple letter of my daughter, God renewed my faith that He was indeed doing a work in our family – each and every one of us.

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The Lies We Tell

            Can we take an honest moment and talk about the lies we tell our children? (Today’s Honest Moment is brought to you by the letters O and MaGosh.) Let’s not get critical or self-righteous, now, we’re all in this together. We’ve all told the lies….

            “Mommy, do you like my picture?”

            “Oh… yes, honey… it’s a beautiful picture of a… um… of a beautiful picture! The prettiest picture I’ve ever seen.” (Bull crap… you can’t even tell which way is up and you just lied to your child.)

            “Mommy, where do babies come from?”

            “The Baby Store.” Or “The stork.” Or “Heaven.” (But they really DO come from Heaven! Don’t kid yourself, we all see what you did there… you cheated and left out the stuff that we all shove under the rug! Lie by omission!)

            “Mommy, can I get a pony?”

            “We’ll see.” Or “Maybe when you’re older.” (Woman up, Mama! You know darn well that child of yours, yes the one who eats his boogers and pees on your flowers outside, he isn’t ever getting a pony!)

            So why do we tell the lies? 1) our children are too young for the truth, 2) we don’t want to hurt their feelings or wreck their confidence, 3) we are putting off an inevitable battle over something they want, 4) we are taken off guard by their question, 5) we are human.

            I do the lies, too. And I do them well. “Were you and Dad talking about me?” Nope, mind your own business or get better at eavesdropping. “Am I getting a new bike for my birthday??” Not a chance… do you KNOW how much a new bike costs?? (Meanwhile, new bike is hiding in the garage under a sheet until the birthday party.) We say the lies, and we say them well.

            But what if you find yourself raising children that lie? For the record, all kids lie. Period. What I’m referring to now is the habitual liars. The ones that lie about everything no matter how big, no matter how small. The ones that lie, not just to cover up a wrong-doing, but to make themselves look important, to fit in, or just to have something to say. The ones that lie so convincingly that you may not find out the truth for days, weeks, or years… the elaborate story-tellers, the “I swear to God”ers, the “I really promise this time”ers.

            These are my kids. The future car salesmen of America reside in my home. They have literally convinced me that my own eyes have deceived me at times. I have walked away confused, befuddled, and scratching my head, knowing that I watched them commit the crime but finding myself questioning what I had witnessed only moments ago. Their craftiness is uncanny. If they turn out to be poor salesmen, they’ll have a promising future in politics.

            The husband and I have tried to focus our efforts on this particularly frustrating behavior over the last few months. To do this, I’ve tried desperately to cut out any and all white lies I tell. Model the behavior, be the change, right? This is why my kids now know where babies come from (http://www.mommyhood-shivonne-costa.squarespace.com/the-blog/2015/05/let-me-tell-ya-bout-birds-and-bees.html)! And when they ask a question that catches me off guard, I now try to tell them I’ll have to get back to you on that or  I’ll explain that to you when you’re a little older.

           So far, so good. We’ve still had to deal with their lying, obviously. We’re not magicians! But there’s been a definite improvement with one and a moderate improvement with the other. I was contemplating this proud parenting moment in the shower this morning when all of a sudden, a HUGE problem smacked me directly in the face

            You guys, what the heck am I gonna do about Santa Claus?

            Yes, I do realize this is July. And yes, I will worry about this for the next 6 months.

          The biggest white lie we as parents tell our kids lasts for at least 4 weeks, requires props and staging elaborate scenes, and has global ramifications if word gets out! Will the Bigs tell the Littles the truth and ruin their holiday delusions as well? Will they tell their friends at school, causing angry parents to pelt me with snowballs when I pick them up at the end of the day? Will the kids be angry that we’ve lied to them for the last 3 Christmases? Will Christmas lose its special charm to them? No more pictures with Santa will be wanted… no more cookies and reindeer food will be set out… no more night before Christmas stories will be told….

            “Mommy, is Santa really real?”

            “What, the fat old man that creeps to our house late and night, shimmies his way down our closed-up chimney, comes and looks in on you while you’re sleeping, sees everything you do and knows everywhere you go, and eats your beloved cookies? Yes, honey, he’s real.”

            This is why my daughter is terrified of intruders.

            Guys, I seriously need your help. I really don’t know what to do on this one. I have one that will be in 4th grade (maybe he’s ready?) and the other that will be in 2nd grade (obviously still well within the “believing” zone), the toddler (who plays with a Santa app on my phone all year long and spontaneously sings Jingle Bells), and the baby (who is just as happy blowing bubbles with his spit as he would be learning about Santa Claus). Do we continue the sweetest lie we could tell them, or do we pull the plug on the big S.C. and threaten their lives if they tell their classmates?

            Go.