It was our first day of youth sports with our littles. It was a stressful situation for my two loves in foster and my own youngest daughter, as well as me. I've never been a fan of chaos, the lights, sounds, all the motion. Even when my husband and I got married, he told me from the get go, "Our home will be a home of peace." And for 20 years it has for the most part. I had my own daughter in tears as she tried to defend a boy in basketball that was much taller than her and his size scared her, along with the fact that the coaches are yelling directions to each kid in the young league, the buzzer is going off each 5-10 minutes for quarters or breaks to end. Then, my youngest little love looking shell shocked that her moment to play Tiny Tots Basketball had arrived and was not frightened to even try to follow directions from a stranger, even when she had played basketball with my others already. And my next to youngest little love looking every bit confused and not sure where to look or focus or what to do, generally overwhelmed but the whole experience.
So, after all that, I did manage to get some smiles from them as they got their end of games snacks. Almost like it was a reward for enduring that hard exercise. I can only hope that this dive into youth sports gets better. The time factor was what always held us back with my older teens, but no choice when CPS is forcing your hand to involve them in something like this.
Naps, ahhhh, my moments of joy. Got a long 4 hour nap in for them all after basketball. Thank God!
To which we woke, made and ate dinner, then went to the park for some sunset playtime. And then the chore of shopping with three kids under 7 years old and a teenager. As tedious as grocery shopping can be, I actually enjoy the task of making the list, marking it out, and preparing the meal list each week. It speaks to my organized side. And I'm really good at saying, "No" at the stores to all demands and requests from my group.
It's the last hour of today that has sent me into Tough Love mode. When I give in and buy the carrots and celery and ranch you ask for, and you eat much of it, and then choose to spit on another's snack, then get removed from the kitchen table without getting to finish your snack. Or when I then tell you to help push the wet laundry into the dryer, that's all, and you stand there screaming and crying at the top of your lungs without stop. And I escort you to your bed for the night, and then after 30 minutes of crying and screaming at the top of your lungs in your bed, to which I sincerely hope the neighbor's aren't playing in their pool, where her bedroom window faces, so they won't hear that I'm really not touching or hurting you, you try to come and give me a hug. Tough Love sucks sometimes. I can't reward you for misbehaving or screaming. But I can't also reinforce some weird idea that your love can be earned, because I will love you through the misbehaviors and craziness that has been done to you by others.
Add to all this, having a sick husband since Basketball this morning, who has slept for now 12 hours straight, minus the 10 minutes he came to the dinner table, looked at it and made himself a grilled cheese and went back to bed.
I finally leaned against the kitchen sink in exasperation only to realize that both sides are overflowing in dirty dishes, even through the dishwasher is running. And my teenager is busily creating a masterpiece cookie dough recipe with Christmas music playing. It's in that moment that I see that I am blessed, even in the craziness. I'm not perfect, and Thank God for that! And even though I may look through other's highlight reels on social media, I know they too will have rowdy and disorderly days.
So, to today, I say "Not Today Satan", because I will still praise the Lord in my hot mess of a day. And I will still apply tough love and love all my kids in all situations. And forgive me if I sit at the kitchen table and listen to Christmas music in June in Houston, while I eat my slice of apple pie, Nutella cookie that my teen made, and sip on my glass of ice cold Coca-Cola.
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| My Teen Baker |
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