I kid you not, our morning started off with hysterical sobbing. Shoulder-shaking, nose-running, stomach-heaving sobs. 8:22 AM, and there are tears all over the place. And over what?
She was crying about “my lots of sneezes.”
Yes, you read it right. She was crying over sneezing. Our daughter was sobbing over snots. I keep trying to repeat it because maybe, just maybe, it will start to make sense. She was hysterical over the act of sneezing. Nope. Not making any more sense than it did to me 6+ hours ago.
The crying was ridiculous.
And as I got her settled enough to walk down the stairs and face the light of day, things only got worse.
From where I was upstairs (putting away the endless baskets of clean laundry), I could hear the next breakdown.
It was my son. SCREAMING at the top of his blessed lungs.
“MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She just spit on me. I can’t believe it!!!! She just spit on me in anger!!!!”
Are you kidding me?!?!
We started the day with sobbing snots and now she’s spitting?!?! WHAT IN THE WORLD? It’s 8:29 AM, only seven minutes after the last scene of drama. What is this? A scene from the Bachelor?!?! I can’t deal.
Shoving the last pair of socks in the too-full drawer, I headed down the stairs.
(Side note: I wish it was perfectly acceptable to get rid of dressers and live out of laundry baskets. I truly LOATHE the putting- away step.)
In another puddle of tears, I find our Evie at the bottom of the stairs.
“Evie, is it true that you spit on your brother?”
Sobbing (again), with snot pooling at her nose, she wails, “I have too many sneezes!!!”
Are. You. Kidding. Me? Did she just blame the spitting on the sneezing?!?!
This is NOT real life. Okay, so maybe it is, folks.
This. is. My. Real. Parent. Life–the life where we blame spitting on sneezing.
Immediately, I escorted our blame-sneezing, blame-snotting, blame-shifting princess (yes, she was already in a Rapunzel dress) to the time-out chair.
Folks, the child had been up for less than 20 minutes, and we are ALREADY engaging in disciple. The struggle is real. VERY real.
As I left the princess to think on her actions, I bolted for the Keurig.
Mama gonna need herself some strong brew to deal with this mess.
And as I popped that k-cup into its hole and hit the big-ounce button, the Spirit started to prod in my own heart.
If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that what you did to your husband this morning? Didn’t you play the blame-game, too?
Really, Spirit?! You gotta be movin’ this early, too?!
It was true; I had.
Maybe I didn’t blame my spitting on my sneezing (because only small children in the throes of two-ness do that kind of stuff), but I did pretty much the same thing…only two hours earlier.
“Babe! Why did you leave the door open to Caden’s room?!?! He heard us wake up, and now he’s awake for the day! It’s 6:30 AM, and now I’m gonna have to deal with the fall-out for the rest of the day!!!”
“But you said his room was cold. I left his door open because I didn’t want it to be so cold in there.”
(insert a bunch of other communication…communication that involves bringing up and blame-shifting ALL kinds of things on your husband that have absolutely nothing to do with leaving a door open and a child awake at the butt-crack of dawn)
Hearing the last drip of my coffee, the time-out timer went off (because no mother is EVER to drink a hot cup of coffee).
After discussing the sneezing-spitting drama with our littlest and after helping her to make her
spits wrongs right, I grabbed for my phone.
“Babe, it’s me. I’m really sorry I blamed you for Caden waking up early and for all the other unhealthy and unhelpful finger-pointing I did this morning. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
And he did. Because he’s gracious like that. And probably because he has to do it. A lot.
Sitting down with my re-heated cup of joe, I sat in silence and uttered a simple prayer.
“God, thanks for that moment. Thanks for attending to all kinds of snot in this house. Heaven knows we got it ALL OVER THE PLACE.”
Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. Matthew 7:3-5
You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things. Romans 2:1