Every Sunday, I think it will be different.
Every Sunday, I think, they know the drill. Today they'll be so good.
Every Sunday, I'm wrong.
Sure some Sundays are better than others. But lately, eh, not so much.
Joseph has a VERY hard time with transition. So the transition from his nursery class to his primary class has been, well, less than ideal.
It never ceases to amaze me just how long a screaming child can hold out! I find crying to be exhausting. How do they manage to survive the day after a temper tantrum that rivals a hurricane?
Well, needless to say his screaming was very distracting. I took him out of class, down the hall, and to the breezeway between the outer and inner church doors. And I let him scream it out. For a very. long. time.
During that time a number of elderly men and women passed through those doors. Not a single one passed without smiling or chuckling and commenting on their days of been there's and done that's. Some told stories, some offered advise.
One lady offered the following story:
When one of my girls was about 2 years old, she would NOT stay in her bed. She would just keep coming out all night long. Finally, one night, I grabbed her but the front neck of her sleeper and hauled her off her feet. Somehow, her head managed to collide with my nose. I broke my own nose.
Okay... never grab a child by their pajamas and bring them up to my face. Check.
I felt grateful that none of them looked at me like I was an evil parent, or a bad mother. They all seemed to understand.
Finally, Joseph calmed down. We gave each other hugs and exchanged I love you's. I took him back to class where I sat with his for a while. He was perfectly calm but he snuggled up to me. After a few minitues, he seemed to be okay so I left.
I watched him though the little window on the door for another minute. He face was expressionless, his cheeks we bright red.
And. I. Felt. Like. Crap. (pardon my language)
I love that kid but man alive, he can sure be stubborn!
After church wasn't another better. The boys were at it all day. The girls weren't much better.
I've decided to blame it on the snow.
Being a parent is one of the most rewarding and the most doggone stinking hard thing I've ever done.
So tonight, I'm going to chant to myself as I fall asleep, "I'm not a bad mom, I'm not a bad mom." So tomorrow I'll believe it and start over.