Strep Throat and Hard Truth
A couple of weeks ago, Barrett got his yearly dose of strep throat. Kill me. There is nothing worse than a toddler suffering from a raging fever, a sore throat, and a case of the weepies. I spent the better part of a week as a couch-hostage. Our days passed watching episode after episode of Team Umizoomi. (I do have to say, my math skills have improved.) At night, I was not sleeping. I was STILL on the couch, begging my miserable son to relax and try to sleep so that Grant could get enough rest to function at work the next day. That week was both a blur and a hellish experience. ("Savor every moment", they say. HA!)
Last week with Barrett feeling more like his normal, rambunctious self, I tried desperately to catch up on laundry, cooking, cleaning, and a stack of mail that had been neglected. I'd get him set up with toys in the playroom and tiptoe into the kitchen only to find my toddler standing in front of me. Creepy. I tried desperately to cook with him pushing me away from the counter and whining at that pitch that can make the ears bleed. I tried to fold clothes on the bed and he'd roll in the middle of the pile, howling, like a beat dog. I'd try to sneak off to the bathroom for the pee I'd been holding all morning. Barrett would barge into the bathroom, climb up in my lap, and totally ruin what sad little moment I had to myself.
I was FED UP. I had so much to do and could not seem to shake my tiny, angry shadow. It was after one particularly ugly bath and bed-time where we had to just turn off the monitor until the screaming subsided that the truth hit me. Grant and I were sprawled on the couch in matching zombie-like states. I managed to mumble something about not knowing who that miserable wretch in the crib was...I didn't recognize him and I missed my happy little man. Grant, very gently, said, "Why don't you try putting that to-do list away and spend some good one-on-one time with Barrett every day? You are very serious about keeping this house in order, but he obviously doesn't feel very secure right now and needs more of you." There are times in life when I know that what I've just been told comes straight from the good Lord, Himself, and there is no reason to argue, cry, or fight. I immediately felt my frustration from the past weeks lifting and it was replaced by a compassion for my son who only needed some comfort from his mama.
The next day, I made a very concerted effort to put down my phone, leave the dishes in the sink, and plop myself on the playroom floor with Barrett. We played with blocks, I hugged him like I couldn't get enough of his squishy little self, and we laughed together. When it came time to cook dinner, he did come to me and start to whine. I got down to his level and plainly asked what he needed. He answered, "A hug?" and I made a point to stop what I was doing and hug that boy. We had a few more rounds of "A hug?" that day and those that followed, but the quality of our days was vastly different.
Usually I'm dense enough that God keeps the lessons simple for me. This time around, however, I came away with two things. I realized that the minute I get too busy for my son, I have failed. The house is clean? Doesn't matter. Dinner's cooked and on the table? Who cares? I am responsible for tiny one's security and I need to take that more seriously than anything on the to-do list. In fact, screw the to-do list. That other thing I learned? I don't give my husband enough credit for his insight with raising our child. I pigeon-hole him as the one who makes the bucks and pays the bills. I figure I'm the kid-expert. In reality, I'm actually an idiot. I need to listen up and take in more of what Grant has to say on the matter of our child. He loves Barrett just as much as I do and sometimes that means calling me out when I've lost sight of the privilege of being a mama. And now I'm off to catch a child running through my living room with what he thinks is a "hat" on his head. Sigh...it's my bra...
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