Whew. This was one for the record books. Thought I would capture it in all it’s hilariously horrible glory. Hopefully…no, prayerfully…no, just please God NO more Good Fridays like this one…well…or any days. No more days like this one!
Let back up a bit. This week I have purposely crammed our schedule with friends…lots and lots of play dates…lots and lots of distraction from and for the mama. Oddly, I can find rest for my introvertedness in a crowd better than at home where I am the star of the Mama show. Anyhoo, I was beginning to see the wear and tear on my two “bigs” who just needed more mama time. And so, I set aside most of Good Friday to be at home…lots of time to huddle and cuddle as a family…to talk about the meaning of the day…blah, blah, blah.
Oh, and speaking of Holy Week and Maundy Thursday and all the great lessons we would engage in as a fam…the foot-washing. Nada. None of it happened. Every once in a while I’d throw out something like, “So, this is a big week historically…with Jesus…and love…and God’s redemption…blah, blah, blah.” I’m sure my words buried deep within their spirits…or not at all…cause “Snacks! We need more snacks!” and “Esperanza pinched me. AGAIN!”
So…Good Friday. It began sweetly! The girls and I volunteered to do registration for Good Friday Day Camp. We’d be done and home by 11:00. And we were. And that’s when all hell broke loose.
Little ones were napping. Big ones…well…were likely just craving more of me than will ever be available. Ever. Milk spilled. Doors were slammed. (Big no-no…fingers and all that.) And so…I put both of my darlings…after yelling like a crazed…well, Mama who is in over her head…out of the house “Until your mother can behave herself!” Yep. Put it on them. Put the consequences of my behavior and my bad choices…on my kids. Eh. It was a tense moment.
And I locked them out of the house. In the backyard. For…probably too long. So, if you are following along with the story, this day was intended for reconnecting as a family. And I threw my kids out of the house. Ahem.
So, once I gained my perspective…I ventured outside…to pull them close and explain…THIS, this is why Mama needs Jesus. And to ask for their forgiveness. And all was sweet and hugs and kisses. For a good thirty minutes.
And honestly, I don’t know what set me off…but as I was shooshing my two bigs out the back door…again…Eden called out, “You need to say you’re sorry for yelling,” to which I quickly retorted, “NO! Get outside and PLAY.” Door slammed. Did I mention that was a big no no? I wonder where these kids get it.
So, take a breath…or 500, and after…too long…I went outside again…and this time I was just moved to tears at my…well…my need for a redeemer. If I have Jesus…WHY…why don’t I let HIM live and move in my spirit when my kids push every button in my entire body? Anyhoo, I tried…again…to tell them…it is not because of them or their behavior that mommy is insane. It is because Mama gets overwhelmed and scared and just doesn’t know what to do…so she yells…cause it seems to release all that pent up feeling of inadequacy.
Of course, they sweetly forgave. Of course, in the back of my head I am counting up the thousands….maybe millions…these girls will spend on counseling. Eh. I love counseling. Everyone should get counseling. (Truly.) I’m just making sure my kids have to have counseling. That’s all.
And so…Phil comes home…with Bailey’s ashes. Great day to spread ashes. Right? Good Friday. Discuss death. Our bodies. The earth. Eternal life. New bodies. Blah, blah, blah.
Phil did give a quick spiel on Adam…being created from the dirt…and we lost ’em there. So, Bailey’s ashes…this Saturday…after Good Friday…are still on the piano. Awaiting their auspicious return to the earth.
And Good Friday? We put that baby to BED. Early.
That, my friends….that is why we need Jesus in this house.