Saturday, January 1, 2011

When Your Children Annoy You

Each morning my husband and I are woken by two children who have incredible deficiencies in the area of volume control.  They stumble out of their beds, exit their room, thud down the hallway bumping into walls and jostling each other for placement, swing open our door, announce Good Morning, crawl into our bed, and then talk -- daresay, shout -- as if they don't notice that Joel and I are burying our heads under our pillows, shushing them, and mumbling increasingly heightened orders to "be-quiet-before-you-wake-your-baby-sister-in-the-next-room."

They squirm.  They flop over and elbow us in the face.  They simmer down momentarily and then loudly ask for breakfast.  The baby wakes up.  It's abrupt.  It's loud.  It's like having an alarm set to chaos.  It's officially morning.

I go through phases when I have more patience with my kids.  (Feel free to infer from that statement that I also go through phases when I have less patience with my kids.)  The whining, the arguing, the incessant noise, the constant touching, the "accidentally" doing the exact thing that I just asked them not to do -- they can wear you down some days.

These are the days that my kids get on my last nerve, the days when my first nerve is my last nerve.

Yesterday I wrangled Brooke into the bathroom after she had run away from me, a floppy-haired, impressively elusive toddler who had thought it was great fun to wedge herself under the dining room table when all I wanted to do was plunk her down on the potty and get on with the day.  Can we not do anything in a streamlined fashion?

I waited until she was calm enough to listen, told her the importance of obedience, led her through an apology, and then waited as she properly used the bathroom.

Moments later, after we had washed and dried hands, she looked at me in the eyes, wrapped her arms around my neck in a close hug, and said, "I very sorry, Mommy.  I love you."

She reached up and touched my hair.  It was entirely unprompted.  My heart melted.  In the time it took for her to utter those sentences, my depleted reserve of patience was refueled.

Oh, you little noisy thing, you.  I love you, too.

5 comments:

  1. It doesn't matter how noisy they are, our unconditional love always wins through in the end! That was a lovely read.

    All the best for 2011.

    CJ xx

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  2. Laura KeiserJanuary 01, 2011

    Hey Robin! You taught with my husband, Craig, for a few summers at UBMS. I somehow saw a link to your blog through his facebook page and I am so glad that I did!! I love your blogs and love how you put into words how I am feeling! We have 5 children, so I totally understand your challenges and triumphs! I look forward to following along with you as we muddle though and help to shape these little people that God has trusted us with!! Happy New Year! Laura

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  3. Crystal, thanks so much for reading along -- I'm honored to have you, and I appreciate your comment.

    Laura, so great to hear from you! I just was thinking about your family, actually, and I'm touched that you took the time to write. Please tell Craig and the kids hello from me!

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  4. Hi Robin,

    My heart melted when reading this too. It is that unconditional love that can wipe away any negative feelings, thoughts, or worries. Your little girls are precious and I love reading your blogs. It keeps me in touch even for the slightest bit. Even for a 19 year old college student, these stories impact my life. Wishing you and your family the best for this blessed new year! Happy 2011 :)

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  5. oh my, I've been there. I've been blessed with a, shall we say, vivacious little girl. I'm sure she asks a question every fourteen seconds and some days I just lose it. But then she says something like that and I'm in love all over again

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