I don't know what that means exactly, probably because it's a sports metaphor (right?), but that's what today was. Touch. And. Go.
People were crying, there was pinching, there was faux biting (just threats, no teeth)
(not me! the KIDS!)
(okay, I was crying...inside).
Disclaimer: It's not a real gun. I'm not sure though, about the frog...
I was at the end of my rope, the end of my Time-Out Quota, the end of my parenting ideas and innovations. So, I decided to pray...and blog about it. The blogging part was to make myself feel better (sorry, um, you had to read all that). The praying part was because I was desperate.
I've noticed this thing about myself: I pray when desperate, but usually not before. I have this concept of God and prayer: I think that since He can do whatever He wants, there isn't much point in asking for stuff...no guarantees, etc. So I wait until the last possible resort and then I say to Him, "Okay, I've tried everything. It's not working. I need some magic...please!"
The thing about it is, I've recently discovered that God has made some PROMISES to me in the Bible.
I know He keeps his promises. I forget He has promised to complete the good work he started in me...and I don't have to be patient, or loving, or friendly, on my own. In fact, I can't be any of those things on my own, especially when those kids 'o' mine are dumping juice all over my freshly washed floor. The miracle of it is, when I ask God to take over, to make me a good mother, to be someone that reflects His love to my children, I can depend on Him to say YES.
So I prayed, "HELP!" and I stopped depending on my coffee to save me.
I was expecting Him to answer my prayer in a Monkish way. I envisioned me walking around with the compassion of Mother Teresa and the quiet tone of Marmie March. I thought maybe my children would miraculously behave themselves and be silent, like church mice.
Instead, my three year old got wilder and ruder, and I got crazier. Suddenly I heard the words, "If you don't behave, I'm going to lick you like a big fluffy dog!" The words came out of MY mouth.
The three year old stared at me for a minute, then he swung at me. I caught his arm and squeezed him tight and licked his face. Then I chased him around the house. He was loving it, laughing and screaming. He stopped being angry with his mom, and I stopped being mad at him for being angry with me.
We went outside to water the flowers that the boys had replanted this morning and I squirted him with the hose. It was on the Power Wash setting (or "Jet" as Q refers to it). He again, thought I was hilarious. Of course, I ended up being drenched as well. Good times.
I spent the rest of the day being the Lizard Lick Monster, The Tickle Monster, and The Wedgie Monster.
Everyone was happy and well behaved.
The ways of God are mysterious, right? Who can know them?
