There was a mild panic in my bathroom when I spotted the gray hair. There were many possible ways of dealing with the situation, like quoting Proverbs 16:31 to myself: "Gray hair is a crown of splendor..." But I chose a less spiritually inclined response: I stomped my foot and yelled, "Lily!"
God has blessed us with a unique kiddo in my youngest, but I know there had to have been a snicker when He blessed me with a child who would give me as much of a run for my money as I did for my own parents.
I've heard there is such a thing as a laid back third child; that kid, much like my youngest sister was, who is content to listen to their older brothers and sisters talk rather than fight to speak over them. That kid who you just don't know is even there unless you call out their name. I've heard these kinds exist.
But this does not describe my youngest.
This describes my youngest:
The table she broke apart doing nap time. Because what else is a child to do during nap time at age two?
Duh.
And this:
"Making pizza" on her own accord whilst dressed in a blanket. Because what else are you supposed to wear when making pizza?
Duh.
And then there is this gem:
I snapped this picture right before I over heard a conversation between another mother and her young daughter: "Mom, can I go under the cart like that girl?"
"No, honey. The bottom of the cart is for groceries not for little girls."
And so I'll chalk that one up under mom error. Because apparently the bottom of carts aren't for little girls. Geez.
And then there is this picture that I discovered after a tough day with my youngest:
Let me interpret: "To Mom Kit, Love Lily. Thank you for being my friend." And the two girls are labeled "me" and "Mom Kit."
Yup.
It's the incessant questions. I try to be patient with them, but when they start as soon as I wake her up in the morning, I know it's going to be a rough one:
"Mom, why in the world are you waking me up?"
"Because you have school." Like we haven't done this since September
"It's just like...WHY. I mean WHY do I have to go to school. I mean they just make me work, work, work, and that's all I do is work!"
So, I'm sure there is a mature way to deal with this sort of morning conversation, but I'm still working on maturing, and so I simply told lily she had five minutes to get dressed for school, and if she didn't get dressed in five minutes, she would stay home with me and I would SHOW her what work really looks like.
"It's just that I don't get WHY I have to go to school. It's just that I don't get it. At all."
Seriously? And she was still in bed whilst talking. She has a bunk bed, so I can't just pull her out (I've considered all the different ways this is possible and have concluded that all my various tactics would seriously injure one of us). Therefore, she remained in bed.
And, of course, we were late getting out the door for school. Somehow on the mornings my husband drives, he manages to get them all in the car and out the door with plenty of time to spare. This is not one of my spiritual gifts. So, while I know I share in the fault, on this particular morning I reminded my youngest that because she did not get out of bed, we were now going to be late.
That information resulted in a full body sprawl across the kitchen floor: "But I'm the child of the day at school!"
"And you will still be child of the day when you get to school."
"But I'm never going to get there now because you're driving and then I'll never be child of the day again because I'm going to be late. Always when you drive we're late!"
Oh my word. The drama could have won an Oscar. I let the commentary on my driving roll and peeled her off the floor. Our late drive was a non stop commentary from our youngest alone, and we're in the car a good hour on school mornings. And I kid you not when I say she filled each minute with words.
I have no idea what all she said; survival calls for me to tune some of it out. I do know she about did in my two oldest, along with their mother, and I do recall a particular line of questions (complaints) regarding the smoothie I drink:
Mom, I just don't get why you drink those gross things. It's like eating grass or dirt or something. MOM! They are so gross that they make me want to puke. MOM! I mean every time I see that smoothie, I just want to puke. Mom, if I puke in the car, what would you have to do? Like would we get a new car? MOM! Can I puke in the car so we can get a new car? But what if I puked on my clothes, then what would I wear to school? MOM! I mean what would I wear? I don't even know if I puked on my shoes. Then I wouldn't even have shoes. MOM! But, then would I have to go to school? MOM! They don't let kids go to school when they don't have shoes. MOM! I mean, do they? What about kids in those other countries? You know the ones with EBOLA? MOM! Do they have to wear shoes? Do kids with EBOLA puke too? I just hate that smoothie so much. MOM!
To say I was undone when I dropped her off would be an understatement. I called my husband at work after listening to an afternoon commentary on the way home from school on what songs are good and what songs are bad and why we can't just sing Taylor Swift in church sometimes. I told him she had successfully used up my capacity to listen to words. I had no words left to hear from anyone. Not my oldest, not my son, and not my poor husband. I just needed him to understand that if words were directed my way that evening, I would not hear any of them. Lily had used up my ability to process words.
He got it. But Lily didn't get it. The night unfolded in a less than peaceful way after I found doll hair under her dresser as well as several other treasures from her brother and sister's room. "But I was hiding them to wrap them up for them for gifts!" Nice try. And, of course, after being in trouble, she "rearranged" her art picture, posted above, and left it outside her door for me.
The next morning conversation went like this: "Mom, today is going to be a good day, right mom? Mom, you were in such a sour mood last night. Like the sourest I've ever seen. But I think you're better today, right mom? MOM!"
It just takes me a few minutes to answer right away in the morning. It's a firewall of questions that just take me a minute.
But eventually Lily and I had a talk. We talked about her middle name: Joy. I told her that she is a delight to me, and even when we have really bad days together, she's still a Joy. Just like her middle name.
"Oh, so it's like you have to decide on joy. Like today...I'm going to be joyful today."
Out of the mouths of babes. Decide on joy. I think she's right. I think there's a lot of rather difficult days here on earth, but man, oh, man, there is no doubt that if we are in Christ, we can choose joy no matter what the circumstance. No matter what the circumstance: A kid who won't listen, a rambunctious toddler, a pile of bills, or even a terminal illness. Lily's right: I can decide on joy. It doesn't make the difficult go away, but it certainly changes my perspective. And sometimes it's all about perspective.
Lily ran through the common area (ran) in the care center where my mom lives yesterday. It was like watching a video game where the goal is for the a kid to make it to the room without running into wheel chairs - but unfortunately it was real life. She jumped right on the hospital like chair and began using the remote to lift herself up and down. And then the chair literally catapulted her out. And then it was the chair's fault and thus began the commentary on why Ya Ya needs to get a new chair and why everything was wrong with everything. And thus the new gray hair. It has been a long time coming.
Today, my friends, I choose joy. In the midst of the gray hair.
Lord, You have chosen me and redeemed me, crowned me with love and compassion. I can do nothing less than overflow with joy at Your great love for me, for those I love, and for the world.
Our Daily Bread
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