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It happened again today. The tears started to fall after calling my husband to vent about how terrible the morning has been going. Recounting the toddler throwing himself on the ground crying, tearing the house apart like a one-tiny-man-wrecking-crew, begging to be held and carried while tugging on the bottom of my dress. Retelling the details of the attitude that our 10-year-old-turned 15-year-old has had since he opened his eyes. Remembering all of the things I still have to get done this weekend (dusting, vacuuming, cleaning, etc.) and feeling the weight of all of those things combined on my shoulders…and knowing that venting isn’t going to solve any of it and hanging up the phone after saying “I love you and I’m going to need some time for a three mile run of solitude and peace when you get home from work.”
Knowing that calling my mom and venting (even though she can 100% relate) isn’t going to suddenly make me feel better, so instead, just leaning against the door for a brief moment, and letting the tears fall down, before wiping them away, and walking into the next room while bending down to pick up the 7 plastic spoons and 3 cups the toddler has left in his path of destruction.
I take a deep breath and just pray. “Lord, just help me get through this with a lot of patience and grace. I feel like I’m doing this all wrong, but I’m doing my best.” Suddenly, I remember that while it’s frustrating and annoying and overwhelming and a million other not-so-great adjectives, the toddler making messes, gave us so many scares before and right after his birth, and is slow to talk and perhaps a bit behind on some other things, is not just right on track with his “terrible twos,” but actually a few months ahead. His curiosity and need to make noise and figure out how things work are steps towards growing and learning. He wants me to hold him because he feels safe and loved.
The 10-year-old’s antics are probably not as bad as they seem, considering he’s been an amazingly well-behaved child all his life and when he does something that is slightly out of line, it seems way more of a big deal to me than it should, because I’m not used to it. It’s not an excuse for attitude or not listening or anything, but it also shows me that I can survive the toddler because I’ve done this before and I have a walking 10-year-old résumé to prove it. While it feels like 95% of the time, I’m failing, I’ve had nothing but positive comments from people who encounter him on a regular basis about what a kind, amazing kid he is. Perhaps he’s just having an off morning, or perhaps, it’s just part of growing up.
So, I decided to blog about it. I open the computer and I let the 10-year-old ignore me on the couch with his video games (if he’s quiet, he’s not talking back haha) and let the toddler take every. single. pan. out of the oven storage to stack them up and knock them down (knowing he’s not going to be interested in putting them away) because I think it’s important to share not just that you’re not alone if you’re going through this, but that you’re going to get through it.
It’s also not lost on me that the clarity came the moment I prayed to God. I also stumbled across Proverbs 14:1: “The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.” It is up to me to build up my house, especially when I’m the one interacting with these kids the most day in and day out. I choose not to let the hard moments define what kind of mother I am, and I look to God for strength to keep moving forward. Yes, there will be more tears, but there will also be more love.
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