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Balance

Balance.

Any healthcare professional will tell you that good health is largely dependent on balance. Work and play. Cardiovascular exercise and good stretches. Fruits and vegetables with the occasional cupcake.

Balance is a big deal for the health of your family dynamic, too. If all of the attention is on one person (or one CHILD), the health of the family suffers. If one child is controlling the whole family--whether it's through his/her behavior or his/her extracurricular activities--then the peace of the family is upset. And there's no balance in that.

If your family is child-centered, then your child will grow up to be self-centered.

God's design is for the relationship between husbands and wives to be second only to our relationships with Him. In other words, Dad and Mom need to put Him first, each other second, and the children (with attention distributed equally to all) come next.

#areyouhappilyparenting #itsnotaboutyou #ifyourenothavingfunyouredoingitwrong

--Stacey

Scheduling Happily Parenting

We're still eating ice cream by the pool as often as possible--but y'all, it's time to start thinking about fall and winter! Who needs a fresh start this school year? Marriage? Teens? Pre-schoolers? Family talk in general? You're not alone, and we've got you covered. E-mail Andrea at afuller@happilyparenting.com.

Hope to meet you soon!

--Stacey

A new game we are playing at our house . . . .

Even in the most consistent households, parents will find from time to time their lambs juuuust need to check and see if the rules and expectations are still the same. Say for instance, picking up after themselves.

Yes. That is STILL the expectation.

Rather than throw your arms up in utter disgust and exasperation over what you believed to be a closed case (because after all, you have been intentionally consistent) . . . dude . . . have fun with it!

In our home of late (which houses two teenagers), we are using these moments as an opportunity to learn about adult life when they are on their own. As adults, when we are unable to perform a needed task such as a small home repair, gabage removal, etc., we have to pay for this service. Adulting is fun that way.

SO.

Right now in our home, if you are unable to pick up after yourself or complete a task expected of you, Mom or Dad will complete that service for you--yep, you read that correctly.

But keep reading.

Each service provided by Mom and Dad LLC will cost $2. $2 per cup, per sock, per trash liner not replaced. Invoices will be issued for payment at the end of each month with payment due upon receipt.

Good thing they have those summer jobs.

#comeonbigmoney  #mamaneedsnewshoes  #ifyourenothavingfunyouredoingitwrong

--Stacey

Summer Memories

Memories in the making . . . .

 #livesummerdeliberately

Road Trip Tip

What trips do you have planned for this summer? Join us on Facebook to share!

Here's to good moods all around!

 #livesummerdeliberately

Your Summer Story

What will you write in your family's summer story?

#livesummerdeliberately

The Lesson My Mother Taught Me at a Funeral

My mother had a couple of difficult family relationships, but probably the hardest one of all was the one she had with her mother-in-law.  (I say her mother-in-law—not my grandmother--because my mother re-married when I was nine years old. We don’t use the term “step-father,” so I will refer to him as my dad, but I never enjoyed a relationship with his mother.)  Here’s why.

(I’ve read over 200 children’s books this year, so please forgive the following analogy, but I think this will be clear.)

She fell out of a mean tree and bumped every branch on the way down.

She never accepted my mother, and she definitely didn’t accept me. During every holiday, not only was she short with my mother, but she also made rude, inappropriate, and downright mean comments to her—and the comments were generally so out of left field that they revealed how very little she even knew about my mother. Honestly, these short holiday visits could probably fall under the category of verbal abuse.

And it wasn’t just that she was mean to my mother—she was hateful to her own children also. The stories from their childhood would simultaneously break your heart and curdle your blood.

Mom did the best she could, but the visits put a strain on her mind and a bigger strain on their marriage. Finally, during my early teens, she declared that she had had enough, and the visits ended. Once I got my driver’s license, I offered to drive my dad (he doesn’t drive due to his vision) to his mother’s house and let Mom stay at home.

When I was about 23 years old, Mom updated me that her mother-in-law had cancer and that her condition was very serious. A few months later, she called to tell me that she had passed away.  I offered to keep my much-younger brother, who was about 7 at the time. I took a day off from work, made plans with my little brother, and left the funeral plans to my parents.

I later found out that they were the first to arrive at the funeral home. The funeral director, of course, had no idea what the relationship was (or was NOT), so she rushed over to Mom and said, “Oh good, I’m so glad to see a lady!” And then she told my mother that she needed a dress and underclothes for burial.

At that moment, no one would have blamed my mother for declining. No one would have blamed her for telling the funeral director to use a dress from their donation pile. No one would have blamed her for making a run to Wal-Mart and buying a cheap dress.

Instead, my mother gathered my dad and his two brothers in their mother’s bedroom, and she had them stand there as she held up dress options.  Do you like this dress? Did she like this one? Do you recognize this one? What color did she like best? (This was the funny part where she discovered that all three sons are pretty seriously colorblind.) She finally chose a dress that they all liked.

Then my mother went into her late mother-in-law’s panty drawer. She dug through a drawer of old, worn-out panties that belonged to a bitter, angry woman. She chose the nicest pair she could find—the pair that had no tears or worn-out elastic or faded color.

“Do good to those who hate you.”

A thousand Sunday School lessons could never have taught me what my mother taught me that day—and I’m glad to say that I told her so. I honestly don’t know that I would have acted in such a loving way. She treated her frightening mother-in-law with the same honor, respect, and reverence that she would have used for her own mother. Her actions that day consisted of forgiveness, kindness, and grace.

In other words . . . being a lady.

--Andrea

We're Just Friday Night Overachievers

Like so many of the world's most riveting stories, it all began at TJ Maxx.

I sweet-talked my brother into shopping with me--I think he needed a new set of sheets anyway--and as I was browsing through cute pajamas, my hands grazed a shirt that was so soft. I pulled it out and saw that it was a gray night shirt with the word "Love" written across the front in black scribbly writing . . . so stinkin' cute.

My little girl was the first one to notice my new soft shirt as we were folding clothes. I told her that I was going to save it for Friday night.

I had recently told my kids that Friday was my favorite day of  the week. I tell them lots of interesting tidbits about myself: I've told them about my childhood, my school experiences, and even old boyfriends. But for some reason that Friday night factoid was captivating.

"Hey, did y'all know that Mommy used to help make commercials--ones that AIRED ON TV--to help grandmas and grandpas all over the state learn about flu shots?"

[crickets]

But apparently preferring a day of the week over the others suddenly had me up there with the Kratt brothers.

So when I told her that I was saving the new shirt for Friday night, she immediately went to share that info with her brother, and then they compared notes on this new development in Mommy's secret life.

When Friday night rolled around, we ate pizza and made plans to watch the LATE showing of Caillou (7:40 p.m.), and then everyone took showers and changed into pajamas. I found my little girl digging through her pajama drawer for her Doc McStuffins shirt. She put it on and proclaimed, "Mommy, I've been saving this for Friday night!"

Well. It was just magical after that.

As the weeks went by, I found myself searching through the laundry each week to be sure that my gray "Love" shirt and my daughter's purple Doc shirt were both clean in time for the big night. My son was still very interested in my affinity for Friday night and mildly interested in our sleepwear. So just before Christmas, I made two satisfying purchases: I bought my daughter a much larger Doc shirt (the purple one was creeping up her middle), and I found the perfect Friday night shirt for my son: it portrayed two Minions, one with a serious face (Monday) and one with an overjoyed face (Friday). So right after Christmas, three out of four Fullers were sporting Friday night shirts.

You've probably guessed where this is going next: the kids started asking me if Daddy had a Friday night shirt. He has two drawers filled with t-shirts--proclaiming everything from USC football to ARMY to that cool restaurant he ate at in California 17 years ago. But nothing special enough for a Friday night.

Yesterday, I finally did it: I bought Daddy a brand new navy blue Captain America shirt. I washed it last night using Stacey's favorite scent boosters. All four of us are, at this moment, wearing our Friday night shirts.

When they've asked me why I celebrate Friday so royally each week, I tell them that it's because I've missed them so much that I'm thrilled to have two whole days of time together . . . and that time begins on Friday night. But my own second reason is that during this phase of life, I feel like the home base. I oversee the safe place where they all return. And when Friday rolls around and the Lord has shown me how to get my three loves through the week, I kind of feel like wearing a soft shirt with the word "Love" scrawled across the front.

PS--The kids asked me today if our dog can get a Friday night collar. Does Etsy have a shop for that?

--Andrea

Marriage 1st, Children 2nd

Yesterday while doing a little shopping with my kids after school, it dawned on me . . . .

"Ya know, Stace, some of the folks reading your blog may be wondering why in the world you guys talk so much about marriage if this is supposed to be all about parenting!?"

That's how it is you know; if you're passionate about anything, you sometimes just assume others are as well--or even worse, that they understand where you're coming from. Obviously not always true.

So here it is:

I (as well as Andrea) are very firm believers in marriage before children. I'll even go one step further and say marriage before sex. How 'bout them apples!? You'll find no apologies here for our very strong belief in traditional marriage and in the divine plan for family balance: our relationship with Christ, then our marriages, THEN children.

I know, I know, I'm such an intolerant, hating, close-minded, old fashioned, ridiculous, ignorant woman. Did I leave anything out? Unrealistic? Yeah, I'm also unrealistic. Did I cover it all?

The truth is, as far as The Word goes, our marriages must come first in the home. I talk to A LOT of parents out there, and the longer I do this, the more I see a trend which, unfortunately, isn't a huge shocker. Parents are struggling. They are doing so primarily because their marriages have never happened, ended in divorce, or are heading in that direction.

We are even defining ourselves by our parental status: "Stay-at-home mom" rather than "housewife." And the logic is usually along the lines of, "I don't live to serve my husband. Why would I call myself a housewife?"

Really? But you're quick to point out that you are a "stay-at-home mom" . . . 'cause THAT doesn't scream "you're all about your children." You are serving your children. Soooooo . . . . ?

We know that the entire family thrives when the marriage thrives. Children who have a front-row seat to a loving marriage will undoubtedly succeed in their own family lives.  This is not to say that children in homes where a parent has passed or single parents for whatever reason can't successfully raise a happy, healthy, God-fearing child. But I will say that I have YET to meet a parent in one of these situations who disagrees that having a happy marriage--and a marriage FIRST--would have been much more preferable.

Here's my point: being "old-fashioned" isn't synonymous with "out of touch" or "ignorant."  It certainly shouldn't be a four letter word either. As far as I can gather, when we're old-fashioned in the ways of marriage and allowing the Biblical model for family to be your guide, most everything else falls right into place. God has the most perfect plan for our families . . . as Gary Chapman says, "it's one of his BEST ideas!"

That's just my two cents.

--Stacey

For Approval of Man?

I came across this verse yesterday during my quiet time--which, if we're being honest, doesn't happen near as much as it should. It really made me stop. Whoa . . . how true and very convicting is this? I immediately thought about my children . . . and yours. What are we doing? Are we raising our children by the world's set of standards, which seem to be deteriorating by the minute and completely without a moral compass? Or are we holding firmly to the Word and pressing on even when our sanctimommy "friends" try to sway us otherwise?

Our children are but ours for a moment; our job is to point them so that they are His forever!

--Stacey

Charting New Waters

When the time came to potty train my first-born, I have to admit that I was more than intimidated. Rocking, breast-feeding, nurturing, all that stuff came totally naturally to me. But the idea of bodily fluids all over my house had me briefly lying on the sofa with a wet wash cloth on my head. Then I found these printable charts where you could place a sticker every time your child went to the bathroom. In a totally uncharacteristic move, I printed a bunch of the charts and actually hung one up in my rose-garden-themed bathroom. I figured this process wouldn’t be a picnic for him either, and having cute little pictures on the chart might cheer all of us up.

Of course, I was already going against the core of my nature by printing the charts, so stickers were a bit much to ask. I put a sharpie on top of my John William Waterhouse framed print and told my husband that every time we take our son to the bathroom, we should offer to draw him a picture.

For some reason, my son was mesmerized with vacuum cleaners—so more often than not, that’s what he asked us to draw. (We got really good at drawing them. One time my dad came over and decided to mix it up by drawing a canister style instead of our standard upright. My son announced, “Granddaddy drew me a wagon!”)

After a while, we stopped asking him what he wanted, and we drew what we were in the mood to draw. So my drawings were all about sunshines and flowers and happy faces and the occasional butterfly. My husband continued to draw vacuum cleaners, but he also drew trucks, planes, and even a snowman once or twice (I think it was summer, and any time the temperature goes above 70 degrees, the man longs for a hard freeze).

And then I saw it: a crazy-looking little creature.

I came out of the bathroom and called to my husband, “Hey, I love your squirrel!” He called back, “That’s a dinosaur, and you know I had taken Nyquil when I drew that!”

Unlike me, my husband can actually draw, so the wild-looking critter really cracked me up.

And then it was ON. We could not wait to comment on, compliment, or make fun of the other’s drawings. One day I took extra time to draw a little guy with a top-hat and animated-looking eyes. My husband complimented me on my leprechaun. I had totally forgotten that we were two days away from St. Patrick’s Day, and that little guy was really supposed to be more of a magician than a leprechaun—but why should he ever know that? Weekends were more fun because he was home more, so there were more chances to compare drawings.

As I’m sure you have guessed, my son was still in diapers, having accidents that were every bit as bad as the scenarios that I imagined, but his father and I were having a blast with our utterly worthless chart system. In case you’re wondering, I absolutely DID save the chart with the dino-squirrel.

And if you need to know how to potty-train a toddler boy, please ask Stacey Watts. Even though I eventually did have success, I have no idea what I did to finally train that kid.





--Andrea

Amazed

On a recent visit to a corn maze with my family, I had the most unexpected wave of emotion for such an event. Highly anticipated by both of my children and even my husband, as this trip was in lieu of overly priced state fair experience and contained far fewer germs, we were on our way! Astounded at the number of cars as we pulled onto the farm, my first thought was, “Great! We’ll have to wait forever to get to anything!” Having visited in the past, I knew there was much more than a maze for families to explore during their visit. But as we walked through the barn and out into the fields aplenty, my heart jumped to my throat and tears filled my eyes. Corny, I know (no pun intended . . . okay, intended!), but the sight of so many children engaged and playing--really playing--was overwhelming in that instant. The simple pleasures of climbing on repurposed farm equipment, grinding feed corn in old mills, using a hand crank water pump to race plastic ducks down a pipe, sliding down and swinging on giant piping, pedaling miniature toy tractors on a dirt track, and the newest attraction: banging on pots and pans strung up between posts with a giant spoon!

Families could be seen over acres of farmland picking pumpkins, venturing hayrides, playing--really playing!--and of course navigating the giant maze. Seeing the flags bobbing along above the corn stalks was such silly sight! But the most amazing sight, or rather lack thereof, was the near absence of any technology, cell phones included. Now, if you know me well, you know I am an absolute technology hater. Yes . . . HATE-er. To see families talking and running, laughing and sharing without having to post it or snap it was beyond refreshing and reminiscent of a time too quickly gone from our lives. For while it has its advantages, technology is stripping away the childhood experience at lightning speed!

Seeing families engaging with one another and children just being CHILDREN without the absurd interference of a handheld device was almost more than my heart could stand. To focus on my own experience and family without being reduced to a puddle of tears right there in the middle of all things “fall, family, and fun” was a challenge to say the least. I mean . . . I’m not even a crier, for goodness’ sake!

THIS is what we are missing in life! Simplicity. Banging on old pots and pans with spoons . . . really? Had they the wherewithal to understand the value of one million dollars . . . this would have been the equivalent this crisp autumn day.

I revisit this memory often. It is one of my favorites. I wonder and I pray: did anyone else see what I saw that day? Did the laughs and conversations continue in the car as they drove away? Or was it gone in an instant and replaced by the cold, distant, lifeless company of a--well, you know.

--Stacey

Happily Parenting: The Blog

So we’ve added a blog . . . I mean, there are so few out there we felt more than compelled to do so--you know, for the masses. For those of you just joining us, Happily Parenting consists of two women on a steadfastly passionate mission to get parents to CHILL OUT and parent by the book we’ve been given: THE Book! We want every female parent to embrace being wives and women first before labeling themselves “Mom.” Girls, be interesting, for goodness sake. You can’t be interesting to your children if your whole lives revolve around them. We want every male parent to step up and be a man. Don’t let her boss you around . . . LEAD your family. (Side note: we have a very large male fan base.)

Okay, here we go: my name is Stacey Watts, and I’m a certified Leadership Parenting Coach through the John Rosemond Leadership Parenting Institute, a speaker, a veteran teacher of nearly 17 years, and . . . well, we’re not going to tell you everything here because we would rather you visit our web site! Andrea Fuller is my partner in service and Happily Parenting’s Program Director. She is the driving force behind our mission and has quite the knack for PR (that comes from those strong, sweet, southern roots of hers)! She’s too cute; again, go see our web site.

Andrea and I are housewives, not stay-at-home mothers. We are madly in love with our husbands, and . . . well . . . we really just want to talk you off the ledge when it comes to managing marriage and family and just get you to LAUGH! Parenting is so much more fun when you’re not so dang serious all the time. The kids will be a’ight. Relax! They won’t need therapy at 20 if every outfit isn’t smocked and embroidered with a giant bow to match. However, if you don’t start stepping back, then you may be the one in therapy.

We have known each other for over twenty-five years. Although we were raised in very different homes, our similarities more than outweigh our differences. See for yourself:

We’re both dazzled by the love of Jesus Christ

We are children of God, women, wives, and mothers . . . in THAT order

We’re both southern-bred through and through—from the pearl earrings to the pedicured piggies

We both have a love affair with emerald green . . . especially when it comes to shoes and purses

We LOVE family traditions—and the quirkier, the better

Between us, we have a combined 33 happy years of marriage under our belts; and even after that many years, we still think that our husbands are super heroes

We both have one son and one daughter and enjoy the experience of raising one of each

We both suspect that our dogs have mental health concerns

We both get slightly giddy when we see a child read for pleasure

We both lose our sense of humor when we see a child under the age of 16 with a smart phone

There’s some really good stuff headed your way and hopefully more than a few laughs! Check us out daily, and be sure to tell a friend . . . you know . . . THAT friend . . . ummm hmmm, her! ;)

--Stacey