“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!” My 3-year-old son shouted at me today.
Yes. On Mother’s Day.
The sacred day for Mothers.
Why would a 3-year-old shout that he is not understood?
Well, for starters, his 2-year-old sister slightly colored on his Spiderman coloring picture and I told him it was going to be okay.
I even cut around the pencil scratches she made…
But, apparently, it was NOT OKAY!
I don’t understand…
And then he wanted crunchy toast for lunch.
So I made it.
Buttered bread, into the oven, voile! Out comes crunchy toast.
He wants the bread in the oven first to get crunchy…THEN…And, apparently, only THEN…can I butter his toast.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!!!”
Yes, Maxwell. This is where you are 100 million 25 billion 49 quadrillion 237 gazillion correct. I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU!
Happy Mother’s Day to me?????
Because just when all sanity was lost, a dear friend showed up delivering flowers on behalf of my husband who is 1 trillion kilometers away…
Flowers…on a day when I was LOSING. Like BIG TIME!
Winds of change…This surprise uber lovely visit shuffled all children AND crying 3-year-olds outside where they began to ride, run, and play in the great outdoors.
Lunch still untouched—but, hey! Who needs lunch????
Friends…I don’t understand my kids.
My 10-year-old…A mystery!
My 3-year-old…A puzzle!
My 2-year-old…A NO Monster!
If this was baseball, I would be STRUCK out! Out of that Old Ball Game!
But that’s the thing about mommies. We don’t strike out.
Well, technically, we MAY strike out…BUT WE DON’T leave home plate. We make sure that they pitch it again and again and again…hoping for a hit!
Which sometimes we actually make.
The crack of the bat. The connection of the ball.
We run and run and run…And round those bases so that we can bat again.
Recently I had posted a picture of my 2-year-old trying to escape out the front door to find daddy (who is a trillion miles away). Her diaper sagging. I called her #soggybottom. My soggy bottom baby. And I captioned the photo: Because sometimes we fail at parenting.
But then an angel wrote and said, “It’s not a parenting fail…It’s well hydrated!”
That’s when it hit me…
I didn’t fail. I succeeded. She was well hydrated. That meant she wasn’t dehydrated. Which meant, I could avoid taking her to the doctor for fluids.
My daughter was well-watered. Forget the soggy bottom baby trying to escape. At least she was trying to escape hydrated!
More power for her long, long journey!
I absolutely LOVED how that perspective changed my entire view of the situation.
And, so, I’ll leave you with the same advice my mom used to give me when I’d fall, “Hop up and get going again! You are fine.”
Dear Moms out there…
You’re not failing. You are hydrating your children. Forget all of the details in between…
And, when you need it, remember the words HOP UP! GET GOING! YOU ARE FINE!
Because you are…
Happy Mother’s Day to you!
A masterpiece of work in progress!
“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it…” Philippians 1:6