Mama Was Beside Herself

Tuesday night was just an all-around rough night, but when I found myself admitting to a car salesman that, “I was feeling the urge to punt my daughter (the one who he had just emphatically described as “ADORABLE”) across the sales floor,” I knew it was more than a rough night. It was a BAD night.

Seriously!? Did I really just have diarrhea of the mouth (again) and openly admit to a complete and utter stranger that I wanted to punt my adorable, toe-headed daughter across the sales room of a car dealership?


This man had absolutely NO context for my words.

“UNBELIEVABLE, Jessica…unbelievable! Maybe you should have thought about how those stringed syllables would sound outside your head and into the oxygenated air! SHEESH! For all he knows, you’re a flaming-psycho and not just a weary mom with a head-cold who has had a long, hard day with the punted one your daughter who seriously (no joke) probably whined for  89.99999% of the day and when she wasn’t whining, was demanding a snack!”

SHOULD…HAVE…THOUGHT. Story of my life.

(Side note for others who have no context for my words: Yes, I love my daughter VERY, VERY much and no, I would NOT punt her, but I did ponder it.)

Needless to say, my brain and body were fried and the very last place I wanted to be, while feeling feverish and light-headed, was in the middle of a car dealership with lots of SUPER-BRIGHT lights and with two children who were running around like fools, mercilessly begging for lollipops.

It was no good. 

And from there, it only continued to get worse.

The car that we had researched was not the car we thought we researched.

The car we researched was not the car they had.

The car they had was not the car we wanted.

The car we wanted was no where.

The man was slow.

The man was very slow.

The man was nice and very, very slow.

Oh, and did I mention that my children were begging for lollipops and running like fools?

I did?

Okay, good. Because they were.

So when the man smiled and said 1 1/2 hours later, “Well, I’m glad you came in anyway,” I wanted to scream-cry. Ya know? Like wail really loud to the point where no one knows if you’re terrified, sad, or somewhere in between. Seriously, my kids do it all the time.

Mama was beside herself. 

It has been a hard, long day; I didn’t feel good; and we had just spent 1 1/2 hours at the car dealership on my only night off from work.


And to make matters worse, when we were leaving the dealership, my phone beeped to notify me that I was supposed to be having Bible Study with a friend in 10 minutes. Folks, I was 20 minutes from home.

I immediately burst into tears but not before my daughter did…because, of course, she had just dropped her pacifier mute button  in an unreachable spot in the backseat and was yelling, “Mama! Mama! Help me! Help me!”

Clearly sensing that something was wrong, my observant and thoughtful four year-old said, “Mommy, I’m sorry you’re day didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

And if that wasn’t empathetic enough, he then said, “Evie, I think you’re being too loud. You just need to be quiet.”

I was a mess…a mess of hot, silent tears. 

When we got into the house, I pulled my dear boy aside and said, “Buddy, I want you to know that it means a whole lot to me that you saw a need of Mommy’s and cared. I really, really appreciate it.”

To which he then said, “Mommy, I think we should go pray about it. Can I pray for you?”

Grabbing my hand, he pulled me into his room and onto his floor. On his knees with his hands covering his eyes, he prayed the following prayer (exact words…I wrote it down when I left his room).

“Dear Jesus, please help Mommy to feel better, and please help her to stop crying. Please help her to know that you are with her, and help her to know you more. And Jesus, help her to feel better in the morning. Amen.”

I had no words, so I did the thing you do when you have no words, I reached out with my arms and held that little boy as tight as I possibly could.

“Thank you, buddy. Thank you.”

As I left his room, my cold hadn’t left; the car hadn’t appeared; my daughter hadn’t stopped whining; and my Bible study wasn’t happening, but none of that seemed so big anymore.


Because just like He has done (a hundred times over), God met me in the form of my son…gently reminding me that He is the ONE I need the very, VERY MOST at my very, VERY worst. 







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