On Thursday, we arrived in the rain, and just a shade late. I could feel the storm building as we descended the steps to the program. Little boy was loud and slightly resistant to the hold of my hand. We rounded the corner, and I saw we would have to enter the room where all the other children and their mothers were already situated in front of the story lady, crossing in front of everyone to get to the back of the room. There were tables set up with crayons and paper and glue at the back of the room, and this is what little boy's eyes caught as I directed his older sister to join the child circle.
"Cowere! COWERE!!" he shouted, jabbing his pudgy hands towards the crayons. His mama knew he he was demanding to color, but I foolishly slogged towards the back of the room, thinking I could reason away his insistence. "Ok, buddy. Just wait a minute. Let's listen to the story. See the story over there." I whispered in a controlled voice, while lowering myself into a chair and trying to settle him into my lap. His cries got louder and more petulant. The other mothers either pretended they didn't see the brewing control war, or openly stared in pity. One in particular looked completely put-together, carrying her third child in a perfectly wrapped Moby and monitoring her other two children from a gently swaying position at the back of the room. She looked at my above her nose with raised eyebrows and almost imperceptably shook her head.
The battle escalated to the point that I had to escort my son out of the room. My frustration with the little man was equaled only by my frantic thoughts of what the other mothers must be thinking of me and my ill-behaved child. The rest of the program did not improve much, at least from the perspective of this frazzled mama. Loud demands, insistence on coloring at inopportune times, refusal to follow his mother, demands of first place in line to see the turtle and the snake- it was a never-ending game of wack-a-mole to keep a lid on outright anarchy from the wild two-year old. I walked to the car embarrassed by my child's behavior. Foolishly I decided to brave the grocery store on the way home. Things were no better as I loaded my cart and stood in line to pay. By the time I was shutting the door to his room as he closed his eyes for a nap, I felt more than ashamed. My boy was one of THOSE children. The unruly ones. The ones everyone looks at and wonders why their parents are so inept. The ones that throw tantrums and get their own way. Shame on me. It colored my mood and outlook for a day or two. My spirit sank low, dwelling on my own perceived failure. Even after his mood had changed and a greater degree of obedience and poise had been restored to his little world, I felt a keen stinging my heart, an understanding of how horrible my mothering is.
And then my own personal dawning. Most of my irritation was bruised ego. Smarting pride. I was more bothered by what others, strangers actually, thought of me because of how my children behaved. Shame on me, but not because of their behavior. Because of my own black heart. I want others to look on ME with favor, I need others to give ME their stamp of approval. She is a good parent. She is competent. The fleeting approval of a stranger's thoughts. That is what I had sought. What is that if not pride? Self-centered-ness?
Even worse, I have realized in the ensuing days, is that in focusing on my own flushed and embarrassed pride, I have completely lost focus of my job. What am I supposed to be teaching my two blessings, and the third that will join us soon?
"And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise." -Deuteronomy 6:6-7
"Cowere! COWERE!!" he shouted, jabbing his pudgy hands towards the crayons. His mama knew he he was demanding to color, but I foolishly slogged towards the back of the room, thinking I could reason away his insistence. "Ok, buddy. Just wait a minute. Let's listen to the story. See the story over there." I whispered in a controlled voice, while lowering myself into a chair and trying to settle him into my lap. His cries got louder and more petulant. The other mothers either pretended they didn't see the brewing control war, or openly stared in pity. One in particular looked completely put-together, carrying her third child in a perfectly wrapped Moby and monitoring her other two children from a gently swaying position at the back of the room. She looked at my above her nose with raised eyebrows and almost imperceptably shook her head.
The battle escalated to the point that I had to escort my son out of the room. My frustration with the little man was equaled only by my frantic thoughts of what the other mothers must be thinking of me and my ill-behaved child. The rest of the program did not improve much, at least from the perspective of this frazzled mama. Loud demands, insistence on coloring at inopportune times, refusal to follow his mother, demands of first place in line to see the turtle and the snake- it was a never-ending game of wack-a-mole to keep a lid on outright anarchy from the wild two-year old. I walked to the car embarrassed by my child's behavior. Foolishly I decided to brave the grocery store on the way home. Things were no better as I loaded my cart and stood in line to pay. By the time I was shutting the door to his room as he closed his eyes for a nap, I felt more than ashamed. My boy was one of THOSE children. The unruly ones. The ones everyone looks at and wonders why their parents are so inept. The ones that throw tantrums and get their own way. Shame on me. It colored my mood and outlook for a day or two. My spirit sank low, dwelling on my own perceived failure. Even after his mood had changed and a greater degree of obedience and poise had been restored to his little world, I felt a keen stinging my heart, an understanding of how horrible my mothering is.
And then my own personal dawning. Most of my irritation was bruised ego. Smarting pride. I was more bothered by what others, strangers actually, thought of me because of how my children behaved. Shame on me, but not because of their behavior. Because of my own black heart. I want others to look on ME with favor, I need others to give ME their stamp of approval. She is a good parent. She is competent. The fleeting approval of a stranger's thoughts. That is what I had sought. What is that if not pride? Self-centered-ness?
Even worse, I have realized in the ensuing days, is that in focusing on my own flushed and embarrassed pride, I have completely lost focus of my job. What am I supposed to be teaching my two blessings, and the third that will join us soon?
"And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise." -Deuteronomy 6:6-7
And more than the commandments, what am I teaching?
"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind." -Matthew 22:37
That is it! That is what I should be teaching, and that is what should trouble my heart if I see it lacking in our home. Love God. Follow Him with everything you are and everything you have. I must exhibit this everyday all day to my children. I am not tasked with producing well-behaved children. I am tasked with teaching my children to LOVE THEIR GOD. It is shameful if I am more concerned about having compliant children so that I appear to be a "good" mother than I am about fostering a love in their little souls for our Heavenly Father. This, like everything else in life, is not about ME. Ultimately, I want my son to repent of his headstrong defiance because he knows it breaks his Savior's heart, not because he doesn't want to embarrass his mother. Yes, in these preschool years, it will be my hand of discipline and my disappointed face that is most clear to him. The most painful consequence will be the one that brings the most Immediate change in his behavior. But I pray that these point him to a deep devotion to God, not just a superficial effort to maintain behavioral standards. May he see that it is the Father to whom he owes his allegiance, heart, mind, and soul., above anyone and anything else.
Lord, take my pride, which You have vividly revealed through my willful children. Humble me, and enable me in the large task you have entrusted to me: teaching the next generation how to love YOU. Help me to center all my days on YOU and your glory.
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