“Will you read me this book, Mama?”
“Sure. Just give me a few minutes.”
“Nooooooooooooo! I don’t want you to read me the book.”
Book is now thrown across the floor and toddler is lying on the floor in tears.
——————
“Mommy, can we play outside later?”
“We’ll see. It’s gonna be a scorcher today, folks.”
“Nooooooooooo! I don’t want to be a folks.”
——————-
“Apple. Apple. Apple. Apple.”
I hand her the banana that she is pointing at.
There is great delight. I have a smiling, happy baby.
Banana is thrown to the dog. Dog eats said banana. Queue uncontrollable tears.
——————-
Sound familiar? I’m assuming it does if your house is one that has been invaded by little people with personalities much larger than their bodies.
They are a blessing beyond reason. The way the little one runs to me screaming “Dada Dada!” as I run down the stairs even though she absolutely knows the difference between Dada and Mama.
The way the middle one will run from across the room and leap into my arms with absolute abandon, knowing full well that I will catch her every single time.
The way the biggest one will crawl into bed with us in the middle of a night if she has a nightmare because she knows she will be safe between the two people she loves the most.
Yes, they are a blessing.
But some days they are also absolutely, totally, and completely exhausting.
And so I sit here today. Nauseous. With a headache. A wee bit dizzy from being up most of the night.
And I ask you Lord to please, just give me a little patience.
A little patience to see the creation behind the mess.
To see the passion behind the anger.
To see the hurt behind the screams.
And to feel the love beneath the frustration.
Because there have been tears and screaming for two hours straight, and if I don’t get some kind of Divine intervention, I’m gonna lose my shit one of these moments.