Cooking and cleaning and homeschooling and working and studying. Meal planning and shopping. Trying to use all the veggies I bought before they rot. Spending quality time with the kids, playing, talking, read-alouds, outings. Errands and paying bills. Church callings and scripture study and service to others. Making use of my gym membership and taking care of myself. Trying to be the best mom I can be while trying to maintain some semblance of myself apart from my 'momhood'. All of these things I have to do and more go spiraling through my mind while I ponder how I'm going to do it all.
Then the 3-year-old walks by trying to screw the lid back onto a tube of black paint. My instantaneously frustrated thoughts are not supporting of the kind of mother I know I want to be. I think, "Where on Earth did he get that?!? Who left it out?!? Doesn't he know that's not an acceptable thing to play with?!?" I stop what I'm doing to get him cleaned up and to try to scrub what he spilled off of the recliner. "I don't have time for THIS!!" If I allow myself at this moment to be open to the spirit, I can hear him. "He's only a curious little boy. I can try to teach him without making him feel frightened or unloved. Those feelings won't help anyhow. My relationship with my little boy is worth so much more than an old recliner anyhow." The paint came off the recliner easily, by the way.
It's hard though, it's hard when I'm under stress from so very many obligations, responsibilities, and pressures, to remember to listen for the promptings of the spirit. As I write this, the 10-year-old has broken the chandelier in the dining room with the broom handle. My frustrations rise instantly. "Seriously?!? Can't he pay attention to what he's doing? I really can't afford to be replacing things every day just because my kids don't watch what they're doing!!!" What would the spirit be telling me? He was only trying to help. It was an accident, he's a good kid. If you don't swallow that frustration, you're going to have a broken chandelier AND a broken relationship with your gentle-hearted kiddo." It's an ugly chandelier anyhow.
I don't know why it's so hard to parent from a place of love and yet so easy to let frustration take over almost instantly. Actually, maybe I do. Maybe it has something to do with the pressures we put on ourselves. Maybe it has to do with having plates so full that one more little thing - like taking a little longer with dinner, cleaning up some paint, sweeping up glass, or helping a curious kid find the answer to his questions - just can't be squeezed in. Of all the things on my to-do list, I don't know exactly what to get rid of or how to rearrange things, but I do know that something must be done, for the sake of these happy little kiddos, for they are really happy kids, and I'd like them to stay that way.
One of the kids says, "Mom, can I help you cook?"
My internal voice says, "Must you? It takes so much longer to get anything done when you 'help'." The spirit chastises me. Every parenting book I've read plays over in my head. Working with you is how they learn. You want them to be proficient in the kitchen, don't you? Of course you do, so you've got to put in the work. Besides, this is quality time. Are you the "I'm busy, go away" kind of mom? Or are you the kind who will gather her children in, make them feel loved, and use this moment both to teach a skill and to build a relationship? In this moment is when you decide.
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