How to Be Content. From, Shiloh.

In our house, we previously saw the word "Contentment" and thought, "Yeah. We know contentment. As soon as I check off the 19 things on my to-do list and then bake my own bread and then start two companies and then listen to this flower."

Then Shiloh came and the word (and life) was re-evaluated.

Often, Canaan and Tim and I are busy with activities such as: dressing Barbies, writing a blog, logging in 300 miles in the Nike app, perfecting our cloud bursting technique, etc.

Then we look over at Shiloh to see: smiling.

And we think, "Smile more. Stress less."

We also implement the old date-on-a-budget-trick where we celebrate our ninth anniversary by buying nine sentimental things for under $5, such as the ever priceless nail file cause "you sharpen me." I suppose I could have hand-crafted a monogrammed chair cushion for Tim's office, but I remember to be busy less.

Well played, Shiloh. Well played indeed.

While the Goodwin's still enjoy the occasional Warrior Dash through mud, fire, and ninja obstacles, and even though it's hard to "tone down" the excitability factor that rears it's head every 30-40 minutes in our house, Shiloh just looks at us and waves us on.

She reminds us to be content with broken sunglasses, out dated bathing suits, and crappy shoes. So does this enormous pile of crappy shoes.

Although Tim actually was first in his wave of runners until the 20 minute hold up trying to get through the "Web of Despair", he's content with a medal and a drink and his cutie cheerleader.

Whether there's mud in my ear, or cereal smooshed in the bottom of the car, or crayon on the wall, or a poop stain on Tim's good shirt, we're learning to be content in all situations.

Canaan tends to resist this lesson--"I don't WANT TO (slow down and) WALK ON THE BALANCE BEAM!" as she's running across the balance beam, swinging off the rope and landing into the foam pit.

But that kind of energy and drive is going to win her an Olympic Gold. Just kidding. Not really. Either an Olympic Gold or security level clearance at NASA.

We're content with a Participation Ribbon!

But she does have nice form.

Summer days are good for learning to be content. A sprinkler instead of the Bridge Mill White Water Park? No prob.

Shiloh's happy, every one's happy.

Or Shiloh has to do some business, which is often the case when she pauses from all the smiling and waving and laughing to "focus."







We often tease Shiloh (if teasing an 11 month old is okay?) that she's a prime candidate for Prom Queen or President of Sigma Alpha Pi or even Vice-President of the 2041 race. With all her waving and smiling, she's on her way.








She has taught Canaan the fine art of "Fake Smile" in the case of situations such as: Swim Lessons With Ms. Autumn Who Makes Me Go Under Water Even Though I'm Screaming No.









Of course Shiloh's content. Who wouldn't be when Swim Lessons consists of two inches of water, a nice tan, and a "pool side" drink?

Note: no toys floating around Shiloh. Any toy in the vicinity has already been called for. (By Canaan, who is constantly coming up with "Great Ideas.") Thus, Shiloh has learned to be content in literally, every situation: "No toys? Not a big deal. I love plain water. And my hands, of course. Love those guys!"



We can always count on Canaan to come up with a fantastic scenario involved three ratty-haired Barbies, half a plastic egg, two feet of string, and an empty Vanilla Flavoring bottle.
















Shiloh's mostly Canaan's personal assistant in these matters. Or the Family Cheerleader. Or just cute.

















Cooking is the perfect moment to teach the lesson of contentment to a vivacious three year old.

1. Be patient--tasting the all-purpose flour isn't half as good as tasting the actual baked cookie.

2. Be thankful--at least you got to eat the batter off of the spoon, one blender thing, and the bowl. Many children in Cambodia don't even get this opportunity. Shiloh didn't really get this opportunity, come to think of it. She was content playing with the whisk.









3. Be happy--if your Dad saw your face, he'd freak out.

Thus, lessons of contentment learned in the kitchen.

As a parent, we learn to be content with the kids God gives us: one insanely fun 3 year old and one incredibly happy 1 year old.

I've given up the Friday Night Lights Cheering For Our Strapping Young Football Sons dream. Not to say it might happen in the future.

But for now, I'm very content.

Contentment became really real to me when Shiloh wasn't crawling as soon as ______ or pulling up as soon as ______ or walking as soon as ______. But I soon learned that Shiloh is ultra-content just laying there or sitting there or scooting there. No toys? No developmentally appropriate device to pull up on? No physical therapy to encourage walking? Shiloh scoffs at that. She's happy with her toes. And an old piece of cereal if one's nearby.

We've documented the meaning of contentment in our house. Shiloh: "Didn't finish my cup of tea? Not even on the radar. Look! A teapot!!" Canaan: "My Rapunzel dress is falling off my skinny little body? First I stop and breathe and think, then I realize I have to quick run and put on my high heels." Mama: "Haven't vacuumed the house in a week and I've got plants to water? Enjoying tea with my little girls is way better."

"I've kept my feet on the ground, I've cultivated a quiet heart. Like a baby content in its mother's arms, my soul is also content." -Psalm 131:2

A Good Balance

As a parent who stays at home, I am constantly learning the fine art of balancing.

Balancing the amount of sugar our children intake per day--mostly none...

...but on days like Easter, we let a Cadbury Egg slip through the old "Insulin Defenses."

The rest of the year is spent balancing the weight of the sugar in a Cadbury Egg against the actual food we eat. Conversations like this are often heard in our home, "A lollipop? Why not a hard boiled egg instead? Gosh, are they ever good!" or "A cookie? I know--a slightly salted rice cake with honey! Now THAT is some good stuff!" Maybe even, "You're wondering where all that candy that your grandparents gave you for Easter is? Well, direct your attention to this trail mix starring our friends, The Dried Cherries!!"

But alas, Easter comes, and with it, 89 hidden eggs in the backyard filled with yellow number five colored candy corn.

So tactic #1: divert their attention while slowly siphoning off the pastel candy corns into their cousin Courtney's basket.

Tactic #2: pretend like we don't see the eggs and maybe just let them think at Easter we find wood chips instead of hidden candy-filled eggs.

So we learn the art of balancing at Easter: while most of the year is full of Quinoa pasta and dried pineapple slices, there will be days full of sugar and fun. And that's ok. Their livers can detox yellow #5 and Cadbury Eggs. Plus, a little sugar is yummy for a kid.

Another lesson in balancing life: a small kitten.

Despite the Poop Clean Up in Aisle Laundry Room, the look on Shiloh's face when our cat, Ree comes in the room is priceless.

The look on Ree's face when Shiloh goes in for the kill is especially priceless.

Having a cat adds to the seemingly endless responsibilities as a mother: cooking three square meals a day plus numerous snacks, cleaning everything but the baseboards, putting away laundry that is never done, and raising two small kids, but when I look back on the "Should We Get This Cat Or Not" decision, it added a small amount to the Work Load--

--but a large amount to the Joy Load.

And that's a good balance.















We do a little bit of school at home and there are times when I think, "Is the energy I put into teaching her these things worth it? Am I off balance in even trying to expose her to this stuff??" Especially when I ask Canaan at dinner, "Tell your dad what letter we learned today!" (Silence.) "It sounds like p p p p..." (Nothing.) "We ate popcorn..." (And here it comes, "Remember when we saw that llama on my birthday last year? It was so weird.") While she may not be able to recite her letters or numbers or colors or periodic table yet, it's ok. Because I think we've provided a good balance of great experiences (however weird that llama really was) and the opportunity for her brain to grow in other ways (like drawing this little person crossing the broken bridge we were on that morning).

Or to choreograph a dance to Chris Brown with her dad.

Canaan literally learns the art of balancing in a tree at Piedmont Park with her Grandpa.

Shiloh learns how to balance precariously on the railing of the bridge.

While Tim and I learn the balance of marriage, kids, jobs, church, friends, and family every day.

Sometimes that balance isn't a 50/50 split, but rather providing spurts of quality time here and there.











And it makes everyone happy!











However, there are times when "Quality Time" seems to have failed miserably.

Like our visit to the Shriner's Circus.









Under the barrage of elephants and cotton candy and motorcyclists, lay the constant threat of clowns.

Canaan told us, "I don't think I like those clowns."








Shiloh shared in that apprehension. Not only were they clowns, but they were also the type of clowns that didn't quite make it to "The Big Top" of Ringling Brothers. Instead, these guys were the crowning glory of "Dollar Night: Also Known As Adult Group Home Night and Teenage Mom Night."






But quality time in this instance was focused around quality friends, not necessarily the quality of the death-defying feats preformed on a tight wire located nine heart-stopping feet above ground.








Quality friends who were especially cute, like Moses Bardin.











Or life time friends like Joy and Gracie Bardin, who also shared in the healthy fear of those clowns. All except Mr. Greg, who embraced those clowns.










I also find myself balancing "moo-vie" time (with favorites like Sleeping Beauty or Ariel topping the charts) and exercise time (like jumping on our trampoline).

Shiloh is up for anything.

Canaan tends to go into the "Brain Shutdown Mode" at which point it's like falling in love with your kidnapper: I think, "GREAT! I can check some emails and facebook and hulu..." but at the same time I'm thinking, "Oh no. Brain power oozing away..."






Then I think, "But if it's educational, surely that counts a little more?"

Like when we got up at 5:30, dressed in wedding attire, had tea and scones to watch the Royal Wedding.








Aunt Sarah was in her British Attire while Nana provided crowns. That was three hours of educational experience.

So TV and movies are another factor I'm constantly balancing. But I err on the side of "of course!" when David Beckham and Kate's Dress are involved.

A final balancing act: do I pursue a career where I'm maybe climbing the corporate ladder or becoming involved with an awesome ministry like North Point? Or do I stay at home with the girls until they get to school? Or can I do both??

Questions whose answers will probably keep changing throughout the years.

Like our good ole' boys, The Braves.

Do we keep holding out for another World Series like in the Glory Days of 95? Or do we resign ourselves to the fact that we mostly attend the games in hopes of seeing a drunken brawl or catch a foul ball?

While the end results may be unclear, at least we can live a balanced life where the day-to-day experiences are adding value to our marriage, our kids, our friends and family, and especially to God.

Because even God loves cotton candy. Probably.

And when I think of all the plugging away at laundry and groceries and letters and numbers and poopy diapers, there are times like in this video when I think, "This is a GREAT balance. It's totally worth it!!"