A routine day passed. Peter was calm, school smooth. The girls played together and I managed to sweep and mop two rooms. I prepared homemade chicken noodle soup with cornbread for dinner, which everyone eats and enjoys, no fuss.
Three goldfinches came to the feeder, surprises came in the mail from our sweet penpals, a nice e-mail exchange occurred between me and my friend in Wyoming, who I mentioned needs prayer for finances. Her family does ministry to the poor and needy in a trailer park.
The day flowed. Nothing distressing.
Then it happened.
The girls were in the bath. Miss Beth kept scooting around as I washed and rinsed her hair. I positioned her again, in front of me, after telling her to stay still. Intent on getting a bath toy or letter from the other end of the tub, she ignored me.
Shocking anger spewed. Abruptly pushing all the toys to her side, I yelled, "Here! You want these? Take them! Just stay still so I can rinse your hair!"
Mary looked up at me, surprised and sad. "I guess we're not having a good day."
I hadn't yelled in quite awhile. Bible reading and prayer, sudden and planned, cured me--or so it seemed.
I stepped away and just watched the girls after that. Tears threatened.
Where had that anger come from? It hadn't been a hard day, other than the rain and the closed-up feeling we all have.
Again, while I put cream on the girls after their bath, Miss Beth scooted to the head of the king bed, smiling mischievously, before I'd finished. Normal two-year-old behaviour. She isn't a difficult child.
And yet, my anger sparked. I pulled her back down abruptly, yelling that she needed to obey.
Mary: "When will we have a good day?"
Momma: "Mary, I'm sorry. We haven't had a bad day. I guess Mommy is just tired. It would be nice if everyone listened and things went smoothly. Thank you for listening to Mommy."
Mary: "I wish Beth would listen."
Momma: "She's still little. Most of the time she listens well. Soon she'll listen as well as you."
We often sing songs during dressing time, distracting them from such childish behaviour. Tonight, I didn't remember. I was reeling from the tub-side anger, moments before.
Lights out, Beth nursing peacefully beside me, I caress her hair, her cheeks, tell her how much Mommy loves her. I pray that God will apply mercy and grace, helping the girls forgive me and not dwell on it--especially Mary, my sensitive one.
The moments before bed should be special. Their last thoughts should be of fun songs, sweet prayers, and Momma's love, keeping them safe.
I blew it.
When I went back to Mary's room to apologize again for my anger, and to cuddle with her, she was already asleep.
Please God, give her a peaceful sleep. May she feel love, not disdain, for her angry Momma.
House quiet, husband away till 1:00 AM, I research perimenopause and mood swings. Am I a victim now, even though my cycles are like clockwork? Is this just normal PMS, but worsening because of my age? I'd never felt such a sudden flash of anger.
One minute, I'm joyfully singing campfire songs during bathtime, and the next, I snap--shove toys at my two-year-old.
This isn't who I want to be, God!
I'd made such progress, becoming a measure more gentle and quiet, these past weeks, months.
I read about omega oil, flaxseed, calcium, exercise, sleep, no caffeine (which my Excedrin has, but I don't drink tea or coffee).
Youth is gone. Is that it? Now I have to work at feeling good?
I've always needed less sleep than the average person--five or six hours is fine, especially if uninterrupted. My dad is the same.
Either I take care of myself consciously now, or my kids suffer?
And of course, I'll need more prayer, more Bible, more Jesus songs. More of His grace.
We never arrive. Have you noticed? Something always send us running back to Him.
Help me Lord, I can't do this!
Matthew 11:28-30 (source here)
Three goldfinches came to the feeder, surprises came in the mail from our sweet penpals, a nice e-mail exchange occurred between me and my friend in Wyoming, who I mentioned needs prayer for finances. Her family does ministry to the poor and needy in a trailer park.
The day flowed. Nothing distressing.
Then it happened.
The girls were in the bath. Miss Beth kept scooting around as I washed and rinsed her hair. I positioned her again, in front of me, after telling her to stay still. Intent on getting a bath toy or letter from the other end of the tub, she ignored me.
Shocking anger spewed. Abruptly pushing all the toys to her side, I yelled, "Here! You want these? Take them! Just stay still so I can rinse your hair!"
Mary looked up at me, surprised and sad. "I guess we're not having a good day."
I hadn't yelled in quite awhile. Bible reading and prayer, sudden and planned, cured me--or so it seemed.
I stepped away and just watched the girls after that. Tears threatened.
Where had that anger come from? It hadn't been a hard day, other than the rain and the closed-up feeling we all have.
Again, while I put cream on the girls after their bath, Miss Beth scooted to the head of the king bed, smiling mischievously, before I'd finished. Normal two-year-old behaviour. She isn't a difficult child.
And yet, my anger sparked. I pulled her back down abruptly, yelling that she needed to obey.
Mary: "When will we have a good day?"
Momma: "Mary, I'm sorry. We haven't had a bad day. I guess Mommy is just tired. It would be nice if everyone listened and things went smoothly. Thank you for listening to Mommy."
Mary: "I wish Beth would listen."
Momma: "She's still little. Most of the time she listens well. Soon she'll listen as well as you."
We often sing songs during dressing time, distracting them from such childish behaviour. Tonight, I didn't remember. I was reeling from the tub-side anger, moments before.
Lights out, Beth nursing peacefully beside me, I caress her hair, her cheeks, tell her how much Mommy loves her. I pray that God will apply mercy and grace, helping the girls forgive me and not dwell on it--especially Mary, my sensitive one.
The moments before bed should be special. Their last thoughts should be of fun songs, sweet prayers, and Momma's love, keeping them safe.
I blew it.
When I went back to Mary's room to apologize again for my anger, and to cuddle with her, she was already asleep.
Please God, give her a peaceful sleep. May she feel love, not disdain, for her angry Momma.
House quiet, husband away till 1:00 AM, I research perimenopause and mood swings. Am I a victim now, even though my cycles are like clockwork? Is this just normal PMS, but worsening because of my age? I'd never felt such a sudden flash of anger.
One minute, I'm joyfully singing campfire songs during bathtime, and the next, I snap--shove toys at my two-year-old.
This isn't who I want to be, God!
I'd made such progress, becoming a measure more gentle and quiet, these past weeks, months.
I read about omega oil, flaxseed, calcium, exercise, sleep, no caffeine (which my Excedrin has, but I don't drink tea or coffee).
Youth is gone. Is that it? Now I have to work at feeling good?
I've always needed less sleep than the average person--five or six hours is fine, especially if uninterrupted. My dad is the same.
Either I take care of myself consciously now, or my kids suffer?
And of course, I'll need more prayer, more Bible, more Jesus songs. More of His grace.
We never arrive. Have you noticed? Something always send us running back to Him.
Help me Lord, I can't do this!
Matthew 11:28-30 (source here)
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