Love

In our family, love is a big deal. So we try and teach that a lot.




Fostering a sense of sisterly love: it's like Will Ferrel's Motivational Juggling Routine in The Office.










While balancing Shiloh in one arm, seven barbies in the other, walking up the stairs to get the laundry, making sure Canaan doesn't fall down the stairs since she's donned the Belle Gown and her pumps, at the same time as making a motivational speech about how biting someones finger and saying "I thought it was a snack" is not ok--that is the Motivational Juggling Routine I live.




Holidays such as the Fourth of July provide a perfect opportunity to encourage our motto, "Love God and Love Others (primarily your sister right now.)"

We use a variety of techniques to instill love, such as the old Comparison of Your Situation Discussion, "You think you're mad about not being able to sit in the left stroller seat since Shiloh's sitting there? Think about how the Patriots during the American Revolution felt after their taxes were unjustly raised! LOOK!! A Fair Tax float coming down the street right now!!"

A good float can make anyone feel more loving.

And also the 107 degree weather dulls the senses so that you don't really feel much of anything else.

Loving others includes babies like Dawson (Cassie and Craig Gentry's little boy). Loving is easy when the recipient sleeps 95% of the time.

I think that's why God chose to teach us about the unconditional love between a parent and a child beginning when the child is mostly asleep for the first few weeks.

Because unconditional love is put to the test when there are major messes involved. Of course I still love you, but do I like the fact that I just ________ (swept, mopped, gave you a bath, cleaned this kitchen, vacuumed that carpet, cleaned out the car...) and now there is ________ (ground up crackers, unexplainable flour scattered, finger paint smeared, lentil beans squashed...) everywhere?

Is "unconditional like" similar to "unconditional love"? Completely different?? Not sure.

But then I look at this little face and the noodle-shrapneled floor and I think, "This is what it's like when, despite the messes we've made in our life time, God still looks at us and says, 'I'm crazy about that kid.'"







Love for our friends: Canaan learns this lesson aboard the boat with the Bardin's.

Despite the fact that her life jacket was circa 1972 and Gracie and Joy's had sassy designs and met the Coast Guard weight/height requirements, Canaan learns an important lesson: love knows no fashion.











Is it okay to love someone especially more if you're secretly hoping he'll marry your daughter one day? Is that, in fact, the epitome of "conditional love"?









Love between a Pop-pop and his granddaughter is very genuine--poor guy had three sons and now has three granddaughters with little to no previous experience of dressing Barbies or matching crowns to earrings or h0w to deal with high pitched screaming fits. But love covers a multitude of shortcomings. Good thing, too.







You may be familiar with the trusty "Five Love Languages." In our household, we've added a few more.

The Goodwin Family Love Languages

1. Danger--we both give and receive this one. Perching your young children on a tall rock for a photo shoot shows that a.) I love you enough to take a picture one handed while spotting you with the other, strategically out of the picture so I won't need to photo edit later. b.) you love me enough to trust me when I say, "If you fall, we'll probably have to call 911." Danger provides that perfect opportunity to show how much we really love each other.

2. Squirrels: when we see a squirrel, we are reminded of our high energy three year old. Constantly on the move, thinking of and implementing a "great idea", and able to jump great distances without a thought as to if I'm going to make it or not. We also think of our crafty one year old, who can hide items in places that will be sure to remain hidden for a few months or so. Like the Little People we find in coffee cups, or the cow in the bottom shelf of the fridge, or the blocks in the cat's water bowl.

And so squirrels remind us of the crazy love we have for our girls.








3. Tickling: a favorite among the younger children, tickling produces instant happiness, thus erasing the negative feelings related to time out, or the loss of the mermaid's tail under the couch again, or the frequently heard "No more sugar for you" response, or the fact that I do have to change your diaper many times a day whether you like it or not, or even the old Nemesis: Bed Time. Tickling makes love easy.

4. Cleaning up your own mess: one that Tim looks forward to every day of his life. Whether it's using a fork the entire meal or not taking apart the sandwich and just licking the jelly off one side or simply wiping your own face after dinner, this love language speaks especially loudly for him.

But despite the daily (and insanely numerous) messes we clean up every day, life is full of way more love when those kids are in the picture--jelly smeared face and all.

Before kids, I thought I loved other people pretty well. But in the back of my mind there was usually a condition, "As long as they..."

Having kids proved that I had no idea what unconditional love was all about.

Poop under my fingernail again? Not a second thought. Perpetual ants under your high chair thanks to throwing food on the ground every day? No problem. Not as much time to do what I want to do anymore? Somethings come up that's a little better than that.

Loving others.

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!!"