We have a well-enjoyed book with this same title. It’s a touch-and-feel book with bobbly noses and fuzzy ears. The friendliest monsters you’d ever wish to see under your bed. But the ones nipping at my heels are not always friendly.

One is lurking in the bathroom – the Pee-Pee Monster. It was garbage day recently. When I grabbed the small trash can from the main bathroom, I was pretty sure I smelled pee. Sniffing the can didn’t confirm it, so I checked inside the potty training chair. Nope, none there. I checked the big boy toilet. Sure enough, someone’s aim was off, and the back of the toilet seat was no longer white. The Pee-Pee Monster wanted to march out to my son to demand a cleaning.

Another is lurking in the living room – the Toy Monster. Last month, I attempted to re-organize the toy area…again. Lego people were mixed with cars, monster trucks with play food, and every type of play thing stuck under the shelf unit. No wonder they can’t find anything, and yet still have everything. The Toy Monster raises my temperature, darn sure it had put away that ocean puzzle just an hour ago. I ask for an organizational  rescue and get the look, You want me to do what?

Still another is lurking in the laundry room – the Sock Monster. Sorting the laundry, I found a balled up sock. I unrolled it, turned it right-side out so it could be washed. Digging in the hamper, I found its partner, also rolled into a tight ball. By the time I got through the pile, I had unrolled 6 pairs of socks. I was pretty sure I could smell the feet sweat in between my fingers. I don’t understand how removing a sock is all that complicated. How do they end up as a ball? It seems to be a guy thing. Is it the basketball-like hamper-tossing that causes it, or did my hubby teach them to roll them off the heel that way? I don’t know of any woman who would put them in the laundry like that, knowing it can’t possibly get clean all scrunched together. The Sock Monster whispers in my ear. Let them get washed and dried that way, it says. They can grab it from their drawer later to find it’s still damp. Such a nasty Sock Monster!

While I’d like to think these monsters are hiding out in the rooms of my house, they are actually inside me. All rolled into one – the Nag Monster.

The Nag Monster has shown its ugly head many times. Its talent is rolling one thing off my tongue after another in a matter of minutes like a Krispy Kreme donut line. “There’s a pile of markers left on the floor… granola bar wrappers belong in the garbage can, not my sofa table… who went into the fridge and didn’t close the door all the way?”

Oh, I have perfectly good reasons for each of them. But it does no good. The Nag Monster is put on mute by my kids. Not purposely. They just can’t keep up with that many complaints.

Pick your battles, my mother always said. And it’s true. Nagging doesn’t work. Just because it’s nagging me doesn’t mean I have to nag them. If I truly want them to do something differently, I have to choose when and how I ask them. Select one or two at a time. Not expect them to fix the seven things I just rattled off like a machine gun.

Plus, nagging is a funny thing. It’s more than just annoying. It actually has a way of causing harm, even with the best of intentions.

A trusted friend shared a story with me about her daughter years ago. She would sweetly say, “Let’s try to keep your shoes off the couch, dear,” and “Uh-oh, let’s wipe up the drink you spilled on the table.” Her reminders were always given in a calm and loving way. Or so she thought. Imagine her surprise when one day, the tween daughter blew up. “You’re always nagging me. Always pointing out what I do wrong. I feel like I can’t do anything right!” All the time my friend thought she was being super patient trying to encourage good habits, she was actually making her daughter feel like a failure.

I thought this was incredibly insightful. Nagging can actually be damaging…beating down your child’s confidence. And your relationship.

One of the things I hope for my kids is strength. That they feel they can accomplish anything. They have confidence to go after their dreams, no matter how far off they seem. And at the same time, they have strength to accept failures along the way, but not lose hope for the next time. Will my nagging help that? Not at all!

Now, rather than let the Nag Monster prevail, I’m pursuing the Love Monster.

It’s there in the mornings when I catch my oldest son’s sleepy-eyed face stumbling to the bathroom and saying, “Morning, Mama” to me. One day, his mornings will be spent elsewhere.

It’s there in the imaginative destruction of my living room where pillows, tissue boxes, and Are those my new Tupperware containers? build a dirt bike track over my couches. I hope they enjoy this freedom and comfort in their own homes.

Yes, it’s even in the laundry room, where I realize that someday all the socks for the three most important men in my life will be the same size. I’ll miss these miniature versions. And the ability to know which is whose. 🙂

We’re not perfect. Never will be. Never CAN be. Our best is to keep trying. To improve.

        Let us not become weary in doing
        good, for at the proper time we will
reap a harvest if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9

I started this journey to a yell-free home 48 days ago. I’ve had some successful days (the first 9 were fantastic!) and some not so good days (any day I attempt to clean the house). The journey to date has definitely not been 100%, but I didn’t expect it to be. I won’t beat myself up over it either.

Because in this journey I’ve discovered things that have led to good. Little things. Smiling more. Whispering to get their attention. Asking why they are upset rather than asking them to stop crying. Picking my battles. Most things I was aware of before, but I had gotten out of practice remembering them. And more importantly…using them.

In our minds, we see failures too often. We must look at ourselves through our kids’ eyes. They will recognize a failure, but our failures are forgiven. And most days, they see perfection.

It’s time I see their perfection more than their failures. When I stop to look at them…truly look at them…they are miraculous. The biggest blessing I’m not sure I always deserve. I remind myself that God chose them for me, and me for them. And He always knows what He’s doing.

Your child is perfect in so many ways, too. I’d love to hear about them!

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I love Cheetos. So do my kids. Not sure if it’s a genetics thing, or Cheetos are just THAT good.

I’m in awe of how quickly they devour them. And how despite the fact that you only need one hand to eat them, that cheese powder is clinging to all ten fingers when they’re done.

As I watch my 2-year old…yes, I let him eat Cheetos now and then. Seriously, you need to see his joyous grin and hear his giggle when I give him this treat. It’s this low chuckle like an evil scientist plotting taking over the world. He should rub his hands together and throw his head back just to match the image with the sound. It’s the funniest thing – you would give him Cheetos, too, just to hear it. Trust me.

Anyway, he stuffs his cheeks two halves at a time, licks each finger, and dives in the bag for more. Here’s what I imagine he’s thinking.

• [Mmmm, Cheetos are yummy.]
• [Hey, my fingers are orange.]
• [Oh, that’s cheese, too. I better lick that.]
• [Wait. There are more in the bag.]
• [Mmmm, I love Cheetos.]

I am in total agreement with him. Except the licking part. I’ve managed to keep my cheese-finger coverage to a minimum because I stuff them in my mouth whole. 🙂

BTW – If anyone who works for FritoLay ends up reading this, I have a question. Why did the Cheetos Puffs get BIGGER? They used to be the perfect pop-in-your-mouth size. Never did I think to myself, Gee, these should be bigger so I can feel like an even bigger PIG trying to stuff them in my mouth. If I were honest, they are a little too big. I really have to cram them in. Come on, FritoLay. Don’t you realize I’d pop them in my mouth faster and probably eat more if they were smaller? Well…at least you don’t wrap them individually, like my other love, Dove chocolates. I’d devour more of those if I didn’t have to unwrap each one (probably a good thing).

Now, when my little one has finished his helping and comes at me with those ten cheese-lovin digits, I balk. “Stop! You have Cheeto fingers!” I say.

He has a face of bewilderment. But is patient as I use a diaper wipe on his pudgy hands (hey, those things are good for more than just butts).

He’s not thinking about his fingers. Or the couch arm he just touched as he does a quick jump in the air from his cheese dust high. Or my pants leg as he reaches up to whisper in my ear, “I love you, Mama.” (I just gave him Cheetos after all.)

He is simply in a moment of joy. This moment. Right now.

In the past, I know I’ve grown frustrated about those cheesy fingers. Wondering if I should try cleaning my pants or just give up and throw them in the wash. I’m sure I’ve shown this irritation to him.

Who am I to ruin his simple joy by getting flustered over his fingers? And, God forbid, causing him to think he’s doing something wrong? After all, I gave him the Cheetos.

I want to be more like him. Less uptight about things like this. To be in the moment. To savor the joy before thinking about what’s next. Forget the “what ifs.” No predicting what might come.

Do you remember the biblical story of Martha and Mary? Martha was uptight about taking care of their guests, while Mary simply sat down to enjoy the teachings from Jesus.

        “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered,
“you are worried and upset about
        many things, but few things are
needed. Mary has chosen what is better,
and it will not be taken away from her.”

                                                          Luke 10:41-42

Now, my cheesy situation is not exactly similar. Jesus wasn’t talking about Mary enjoying her favorite treat – like Cheetos. But this scripture gives a lesson about Martha’s distractions and forgetting what’s important at the moment. I see this in other areas of my life, too.

When I get home from work, my little guy routinely grabs my neck, and says, “I missed you Mama. Let’s play ball.”

I acknowledge and respond, “I missed you, too. I love you.” But then my brain immediately runs a tally of what’s next. What to do for dinner. The mortgage payment I need to make that night. Starting a load of laundry because I’m wearing my last clean bra.

He hasn’t seen me all day. Why can’t I stop and spend 15 minutes asking about his day and tossing the baseball to him?

Because I have things to do. It’s my job to keep things moving in this home. It never ends.

But that’s the point. It never ends. It never will.

But this WILL end. This sweet, innocent, toddler stage. I need to soak it in.

So is it really my job to always tackle the list? Or is my job to be in his world right now?

Another blogger, Hands Free Mama, hit me in the forehead with an incredibly perceptive statement. BTW – If you haven’t read her, she’s fantastic!

She reminded her readers that, You can’t kiss a moving target.

Woah! That’s me! I’m on hyperdrive. How are my kids ever going to connect with me? (Not to mention, my hubby.)

So I need to make an effort to stop more, be present in the now, not get irritated by messes I’ll have to clean up later, not take away from their enjoyment by nagging at them to eat over their plates. Just enjoy their joy…because they Grow. So. Fast.

Hopefully I can learn to love Cheeto fingers, too. Granted, I’m still popping them in my mouth whole to avoid my own cheesy mess, but I don’t need to worry about his so much.

His joy is something to be savored…just like the Cheetos!

YOUR joy is something to be savored. Take the time to enjoy the joy.

Darn this post. Now I’m hungry for Cheetos. And I may top it off with some chocolate. What’s for dinner? 🙂

Heart Monitor: Ups and downs this week. Friday was great! Today not so good – trying to clean the house always gets me (ugh)!

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