-been pooped on
-been thrown up on
-had my new, wool coat pee'd on by the cat
-had my dinner boycotted by a strong-willed 2 year old
-spoken to the vet once
-spoken the the pediatrician's office twice
-cut my thumb
And...if you think it sucks to be me; try being Roo; she's got:
-a viral rash on her torso
-a yeast infection diaper rash
-2 top teeth coming in
-a double ear infection that is on its 2nd round of antibiotics
-a nasty cough and stuffy nose
So if you're wondering what the above picture has to do with anything?? Well, its just a funny metaphor for everything I just wrote. I had just pulled a chair over for Samuel to help me make muffins when the phone rang (it was call #2 from Dr. Baskin's office). I was focused on my conversation with Nurse Julie and paid no attention to Samuel shoving everything he could possibly find into the microwave. I realized what he was doing when I heard the beep of the buttons. I suppose had he burned the house down I could have added "made 911 call" to the list.
And now for my moment of Zen at the end (thank God) of this day. I made a yummy new dinner tonight (recipe to follow tomorrow) that Samuel refused to eat. After talking calmly and rationally with Samuel, Hot Jeff gave him the option of either eating dinner like a big boy or going to bed right then; Samuel said he wanted to go to bed. When Hot Jeff called his bluff and actually took him up to his room with pajamas in hand all hell broke loose. Samuel started crying/screaming/kicking all the way up the stairs and telling his Dad he wanted to go downstairs and eat his dinner. Hot Jeff, bless his heart, calmly told Samuel he would give him a second chance because God gives us second chances. Down the stairs they came, Samuel asking for forgiveness and for his dinner. As I warmed it up a touch in the microwave I thought, "I should make the little scamp eat it cold". Ok here it is friends, you've been waiting patiently, the moment of Zen: the Holy Spirit softly whispered to my heart, "In the temper tantrums of your life, after you've sincerely and tearfully repented, does your Father serve you up cold leftovers?" Of course not. He's the loving Father who runs to the embarrassed child and gives him the highest seat of honor at his table. He lovingly says, "Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals for his feet...Let's have a feast...for this son of mine was lost and is now found."*
I am so thankful I have such a loving Father who does not treat me as my sins deserve; what a humbling example of how I should love and treat my kids, the little tyrants.