Mom Strike

One night, very recently, I called a Mom Strike. This was not premeditated or well-thought out, mind you. This was the snapping of an incredibly frustrated, incredibly tired mother. I saw the high road and I flipped it the bird. I just plain quit. But let's back up so you get the whole picture. I'm sure I can get you to side with me instead of calling CPS...fingers crossed!

With a six and four year old, I consider myself out of the "littles" season. No longer do diapers or sleep schedules take up residence in my brain. (Hugs and wine to those of you in that zone.) I've entered the territory of bad attitudes, whining, and sibling bickering. Oh the bickering. Fun fact: I've resorted to parking the car wherever we may be at the moment when the kids start fighting in the backseat. I don't care if I'm in an alley or at a busy intersection. I will find a place to park and will remove myself from the car while the kids stare at me with wide, terrified eyes. Let them think I've gone the way of Britney Spears circa 2007. I just want to put an end to the scrapping. It kills my soul. I now understand my own's moms plight with two daughters, close in age. Sibling fights are absolute torture.

On this particular night, the bickerers' dad was out of the country. I was drowning in things to do before we were to leave town for Thanksgiving. I needed to treat myself to a little self-care so I headed to the gym with kids in tow. Now to my credit, I've warned the minions before about having a good attitude when we leave the gym. (We're never there long enough. They can always play longer. They're hungry. They're thirsty. Can we just eat at a restaurant? She's looking at him. He wanted to hold the door. BAR.TEN.DER.) It's Chinese Water Torture. It's the straw that breaks the camels back. It's one too many paparazzi when Britney happens to be holding the umbrella. The dam bursts and all sensibility as a mother is lost. Goodbye, cruel world. Mama has left the building.

In that moment, post-gym, I'm out of ideas and mad that their ugly attitudes have ruined my endorphin-high. As I drive home with my window down, yelling loud enough for a passing cyclist to hear, I spit out the first punishment that comes to mind. "I'm not making dinner tonight!" My daughter's eyes almost pop out of her head. She is my eater and I know I've just dropped the nuke. I hear promises from the back. They'll be nice! They'll be good! They will eat whatever I decide to make. (How gracious of you.) Nope, sorry. I stand my ground and feel a satisfying calm begin to relax my previously-tensed body. 

As we walk into the house, the silence from both kids speaks volumes. They weren't prepared for such a drastic measure and they're treading on unfamiliar territory. I walk to the living and proceed to get comfy on the couch. One kid comes and tearfully asks what they should get for dinner and I explain that it is entirely up to them. Another pops in and asks if I can, at least, reach the jelly in the fridge. I solve this problem by reminding them that we have a ladder for just such an occasion. (Not even joking a little here.) As the minutes go by, a strange phenomenon occurs. I hear actual team work. One sibling has decided to set the table while another gathers food. Encouraging words flood the kitchen and unity prevails! As they sit down to eat, one reminds the other that they forgot to pray. I hear sweet thanks being lifting up for the food. Afterwards, the other cheerfully says, "Eat up". I enter the dining room to find two very civilized little people happily munching on PB&J's with immaculate table settings. Though I had been the one to declare war, I was left speechless in that moment.
Look at those immaculate settings!
As I tuck my cherubs into bed, I tell them how awesome it was to see them work together. I applaud their ability to problem solve. Even though I was floored at how well they'd operated as a team, I explain that I knew they could do it and wanted to see more. Was such a teachable moment part of my Mom Strike? Not even a little bit. Sinner that I am, I acted out of desperation and anger that night. I didn't stop to pray in my struggle. "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done..." (Genesis 50:20) Can I get an amen?!? It is so refreshing to know that there is grace for the stressed-out, over-taxed mother. Where we fall short, He will gently lead and guide us. God will turn messes into moments of tenderness. He will leave us floored and grateful as He brings our families together in unity. Be faithful, moms and dads, and rejoice because our Father never goes on strike! Even in our Britney moments...

Comments

Popular Posts