Mama said

Mama said there'll be days like this. 
There'll be days like this my mama said...

...except she didn't.

I think her brain turned to an ecstatic pile of mush the day I told her I was pregnant.  With the knowledge of a soon-to-be grandchild taking up so much residence in her mind that all the memories of her own child-rearing days seemed to go out the window.  And once that little bundle of baby love arrived she was too busy swooning to think about giving me a heads up on things to come.
It wasn't until she began to get teary phone calls from her daughter that she realized her sweet, innocent grandbaby had grown into a little boy with an iron will...determined to push his mother to within an inch of her sanity.  It was only then that she began to see the error of her ways. ;)  I remember calling my mom in tears for the first time when C was not yet two.  I had been forced to drag him away, kicking and screaming, from a playground yet again...the swing was what he wanted and he refused to do anything but stand next to it and scream bloody murder until he got his turn.  My husband was working (and living) two hours away and my child was suddenly changing into someone that I didn't enjoy being around all the time!  To be honest, I downright wanted to escape from him sometimes.  I cried as I asked her, "Did you ever feel like this?!"  And then she began to regale me with stories of the exasperation she herself sometimes felt as a young mother. (stories that never featured me, of course)  Oh, how those stories have sustained me.  I don't know what it is about moms these days.  It seems most of us are too busy comparing our parenting styles and making judgements to say, "Hey, you know what?  We're different.  Our kids are different.  And, by the way, isn't being a mom the hardest thing ever?!"  I don't want to paint an inaccurate picture here (I know I have one friend without kids who reads and I don't want to terrify her!) ;)  Being a mom is also the BEST thing ever!!!  There are so many moments that make me think, "this could not get better."  Unfortunately, they are tempered with moments that make me think, "this could not get worse." 

Like last night.  C was watching an episode of Animal Atlas while I was getting in my run on the treadmill.  He decided to misbehave.  I told him that if he did it again his show was going to get turned off.  Can you guess what happened next?  After a bout of crying he did calm down and kindly ask me for another chance.  I told him that we could try it one more time, but if he repeated the misbehavior the show would be turned off permanently.  And all went well...for the next 3 minutes.  The show was turned off as promised and I continued my run.  For the next 15 minutes I ignored the hysterical child and just kept running.  He started up the stairs telling me he was never coming back down...pausing at each step to scream, "I hate you!"  He only made it halfway up before he came barreling back downstairs changing his tune to, "Oh, she hates me!  What's wrong with my mom?  She won't listen to me!!  She hates me.  This is all my fault."  I resisted the urge to agree with him and kept on running.  The louder he screamed the faster I ran.  I have never...and I mean never in my life people...run 3 miles in less than 30 minutes.  Just think of the shape I could be in if every time he began a tantrum I jumped on the treadmill. :) 

I've called my mama in tears more often that I'd like to admit these past few weeks.  Again, my husband is gone and my child is bringing new meaning to the word challenge.  Now that her sweet little grandson has turned into a skilled and determined warrior who wages battles of the will daily in our home, my mom seems to be able to recall more and more about the challenges of raising her little ones.  She offers me encouragement and orders me books like Dare to Discipline and The Strong Willed Child.  And even in the worst moments I can't help but smile at the irony that one day...one day, I will be on the phone with C as he sighs in exasperation and says, "I don't know what to do with him."  And I can offer him advice and encouragement because I will have been there.  Lord willing, I will be able to say something like, "Take heart...it'll get better...you turned out just fine."   

Later in the evening, after discipline had been doled out and reconciliation had occurred...my little man and I laid in his bed together after reading bedtime stories.  After a few minutes of silence, he popped up and declared, "We forgot to pray." 

"You're right.  Do you want to go first?" 

"Yes.  Dear Lord, thank you for this healthy day.  And thank you for forgiving us and love.  It's not so good when my mom does bad things.  Could you forgive her please.  Yes, you could?  In Jesus' name.  Amen.  Your turn." 

"Dear Lord, please grant me patience."
And then, since he doesn't care to hear it yet, I told myself...take heart...it'll get better...he'll turn out just fine.