Isn't Mom Mean?

I wrote this yesterday to encourage me-to vent it out and breathe fresh understanding in.  But I post this today to encourage others-moms who have sometimes believed the lie that they are alone in this struggle.  For we are never alone, for if our God is for us, who can be against us?

Today should go away. 

Daniel informed me last night that I would be working for him cleaning up junk around a barn that has been piling there for probably decades, which then meant my one Sunday afternoon in a long time when I didn’t have something in the middle of the day to attend was now obligated to the work I would be doing tomorrow-paying bills and laundry.  Then he came in and announced it was also time to plant some in the garden and after him coming in a couple of times to “ask” where things were, I knew I was being beckoned to quickly wrap up what I was doing because he wanted help.  The garden led to de-winterizing the camper which led to him informing me I had left the battery for it at church and they did not need it and why didn’t I have it home by now, didn’t I know it could be causing damage to the wood on the balcony.  Five minutes later he tells me to go get it right away, even though he had just five minutes before said to bring it home sometime.

So this leads to me finishing the plant I was on so I could gather the children and rush to church, only to find they had stacked the trampoline with junk once again that did not belong on it and would damage it if left on it in a rainstorm that could likely come later this evening.  So I told them to get in the van immediately and we set off, with me quickly informing them in rather harsh tones that I have told them before not to pile the trampoline with junk and as soon as we got home they were to clean it off.  I’m yelling at them in their opinion, though I’m never actually entertaining a yelling voice, but tis true I was past frustrated and relayed a rather angry tone.

I come out of church with the battery.  Nate-“Mom.”  Me-“Yes, Nate.”  Nate-“While you were inside, Katie said, ‘Isn’t Mom mean?’”  Which then led to her defending what she actually said which then led to me trying hard to not react with my heart, but only my head.  So I asked her numerous reasoning questions, leading her to understand that they have been told numerous times not to stack the trampoline so were once again disobeying, since they knew the rule about the trampoline but chose to ignore it, and ask her what I should have done instead since she believes yelling makes me a mean mom.  She then said I should’ve asked nicely, which I then reminded her I have asked nicely several times and it doesn’t seem to be working, which she agreed with.

We come home, she cleans up her mess, and tries to hide from me while she cries her eyes out.  I leave her alone for a while letting her work through it.

Just now I go to her room to see how she is.  She has built a fort in the corner of her room with all the things she loves dearly inside-I am too big to fit.  So it’s a safe place where she has retreated, eyes puffy and heart broken.  And as I watch her, she pulls her last favorite thing in-her giant stuff bear.  And I am trying so hard not to lose it.  She has detached from me because I am too mean, I expect too much, her heart is not safe with me.  And she has built for herself a haven of security, where Cade Bear welcomes her warm hugs and enables the pieces of her shattered spirit to fall softly on his fuzzy fur. 

I ask her if she’s okay. She smiles and says yes.  I tell her that when I am yelling at her, I still love her dearly.   She says I know.  And she tells me she is playing, having fun.  So I leave the room.

When I enter the safe haven of my bedroom there is no cuddly bear to soften the fall of my shattered heart.  I am too old to buy a stuffed bear and the one I had burnt in our house fire over ten years ago.   So I sit here with tears flowing wandering if I’ll ever be able to be the mom I so desire to be.

And as I write this, I know it is very raw.  And by tomorrow my heart will feel differently and I will know assuredly once again that I am a good mom who makes mistakes but is seeking earnestly for God to lead me in this delicate mess called life. 

But for today, today could go away.

I do feel differently today.  All is well once again.  And I'm not sure I would change any of it.  She needed to understand the reality of consequences for choosing repetitively to disobey.  She needed to strengthen her emotional muscle, the one that enables her to face fractured relationships and learn how to restore them both in her head and her heart.  And we are restored.  By the grace of God, we are restored.