Thursday, January 3, 2013

I'm Gonna Stop Feeding 'Em.

Logically speaking, it doesn't make sense.  Every time I have to go into a ten round battle to get them to eat just one bite of their chicken, every time I have to serve them for supper the food they chose not to eat at lunch, every time they fight me and kick and scream over having to eat something I know darn well they like has led me to the inevitable conclusion that they should not be growing like this.

This door jamb at my parents' house has measured children for a long time.  There are marks for my sister and me from when we were very young so it is quite the treat to see my children's markings up there next to them.  That being said, when my five year old stood up there on Christmas Eve and had his height recorded, I dang near choked on apple pie when I saw how much he had sprouted.

Then my Mr. Micah walked over there and I died on the spot when I saw the result.

Let's observe, shall we?  The green arrows are Isaiah's marks.  He easily grew a full inch (give or take a bit) just since August.  We had suspected the little weed had shot up a bit, but I guess I didn't realize how substantial it was until I saw it in pencil.

But, can we just take a moment to look at those red arrows?  Oh.  My.  Word.  In just four short months, look at how much Micah has grown.  A solid two inches, at least.  IN FOUR MONTHS.  Is this normal?  Are my children being slipped some kind of growth hormone without my knowledge?

I've come to the inevitable conclusion that I just need to quit feeding them all together.  Even the meager meals they end up ingesting after the epic battles we wage over pork chops and pasta, they have managed to grow this much.  I can only imagine what will happen if I continue to provide them the nourishment they need.  They're going to keep doing this nonsense.  They're going to continue to grow out of their jeans, their shoes, their shirts, their desire to give me hugs and kisses, the way they call me "Mommy," their soft little cheeks, and their innocent hearts.  It won't be long now and we'll be dealing with homework, sports, and talks about girls and sex and how to honor God in the midst of so many changes.

I'm not ready.

I'm sure if I asked my mother, she would tell me that the photo of me in that blue dress was taken last week during my first couple weeks of Kindergarten.  I know for a fact it would not seem like it has been twenty four years since I smiled shyly for that picture and dipped my hand in the green paint to create a keepsake of myself at the age of five.

It just doesn't make sense that Isaiah should be able to match that hand print almost exactly already.  The responsibility I see before me is overwhelming.  Up to this point, I've felt pretty good about just keeping them alive, clean, fed, and happy.  Soon my job is going to get even harder.  Soon it's going to become less about butt wiping and more about character building.  I need to teach them how to be honorable men.  It's my job to mold my sons into husbands their future wives will be praising God for providing to them.

It's scary, yo.  And I just don't think I'm quite ready for all that to really start kicking into overdrive.

So I'm just going to stop feeding 'em. 

That's not going to work, is it?

I'm taking a class at church next week called "Spiritual Parenting" and I suppose it's highly unlikely that "Stop feeding them" will be the instructions I receive on how to keep my kids little for a while longer. 

Ok.  I swear to keep feeding them, but when we suddenly find ourselves having to order five pizzas just to feed our family for a single meal, I'm checking myself into a spa for a week and I may not ever come out.

You've been warned.  :)

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