(Fair Warning: This is a lengthy post. My lack of posts has built up and is now overflowing. Read it through…it’s worth it. I’m also biased!)
Yesterday (Sunday) is often considered to be a day of rest. Sabbath.
Not so in my world.
We are a ministry family. My husband is the senior pastor of our church and that means Sunday is a work day, and not just for him. I’m currently the children’s ministry director and even when I am not teaching on a Sunday, I am checking in with leaders, counting little heads, hands, and hearts, and collecting the change in our Children’s Change Jar. By the time the service is over and we have fellowshipped with as many congregants as possible, chased our almost 3-yr old son all over the sanctuary (altar rails, chairs, stage…), and consoled our now cranky almost 4-month old, we are wiped out.
But the day isn’t even over!
If it’s a good day, I will have a delicious crockpot meal simmering in the slow-cooker. The scent will tantalize our tastebuds as we drag in through the front door. We can sit and eat in relative relaxation for a little bit, but let’s be honest; we haven’t had a relaxing meal on a regular basis in almost 3 years. Hmmm, why is that?
If it’s a fantastic day we will splurge and endure the craziness of eating out with two children under the age of 3 and indulge in Mexican food. Pass the salsa and chips please!
Yesterday was a good day.
I had dinner on low and slow in the crockpot so we had gourmet turkey sandwiches for lunch. Micah (the 3 yr. old) wanted PB crackers and squeeze fruit. He ate the fruit and pushed the crackers around his plate. He was hungry later. Not surprised. All was normal and even calm in the Tiger house.
Then it was time for naps.
It needs to be said that Sunday afternoon naps are a sacred and time-honored tradition that Aaron and I treasure and have made a priority in our relationship for the past ten years. Come hell, high water, or a second kid, we will have our Sunday nap.
Unless there is a football game on. Or a ministry meeting. Or a family function. Or a preschooler with a stubborn streak a mile long.
You get the picture though. We don’t just like our rest. We NEED our Sunday refueling nap to sustain us through small groups, meetings, and any other church event that might be scheduled.
Aaron took Micah back to his room to settle down for naptime. I was nursing Kasen, ready to swaddle that little bug and get him drifting off ASAP so Mommy could settle in for a long Sunday snooze.
Both boys had other intentions.
Micah dug in his tenacious little heels and refused to settle, sleep, or even stay still. I was tagged in to take over for Aaron. Kasen was handed off smoothly with no fumble. Micah cared for the change in coaches about as much as the NFL is loving the fill-in refs. He yelled, he screamed, he kicked, and he flopped. If the Emmy’s handed out an award for Best Dramatic Tantrum, he would have it in the bag.
We ignored him. We talked calmly and soothingly to him. We carried him back to his room and shut the door (that does not have a lock?!) I held him tightly in a loving hold to stop the flailing. We gave him options. We attempted to reason, reward, cajole, and bribe the child to stop throwing the fit. We FAILED!!!
I even attempted singing a new temper song we had learned just that morning watching PBS’ Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, even though I knew I was messing the words up. “I’m so mad I could roar, but instead I’ll count to four. One. Two. Three. Four.” Something like that. It even seemed like that was working. Until it wasn’t. The fit resumed in full force after a few calmer, shuddering breaths. I should have sung the song to myself a few times. After a slap in the face (my face), elbow to the stomach (yep, mine), and a scream in the ear (mine too), I lost all my patience and my mind for a moment.
Savage Mommy Tiger roared. Right in the face of her little tiger cub. Continue reading