Written by guest blogger Andrea Frazer
Last night, as has been the case once/week for as long as I can remember, my six year old daughter had a bedtime meltdown. My beauty can normally be described as self-assured, rational, organized, and down right elegant. But when her evening brain wires misfire, she’s a ball of emotional fire that even the most nurturing hugs and assurance can’t extinguish. No, when Pip starts hurling flames of frustration, the best thing I can do is listen for a moment, cluck-cluck sympathetically, say a quick prayer and stop, drop and roll the heck away from her, letting her smoulder and crackle to her heart’s content.
Last night, the madness began at the end of Open House. “I wanted to see all the big kids classrooms!” she moaned on our way to the parking lot. “Sweetie, you spent a half hour playing with Laurie on the Kindergarten/First Grade yard,” I offered.
“You should have reminded me,” she blubbered back.
“Honey, I can’t remind you about what I didn’t know,” I retorted. “So next year, I’ll be sure to give you the nudge before hand!”
To this she replied, “I’ll be in second grade next year! I’ll be too big to play on those slides!” (Logical and emotional – her teenage years are going to be a true joy!)
On the ride home, as well as during her night time routine, I heard all about how she didn’t have enough dinner (it was a tragedy that she doesn’t like tomatoes in her chili) she only had two small bite sized pieces of chocolate for dessert (mind you, her brother doesn’t get any, so this is a special treat for her) and she would have to get up early to finish her Friday homework (since she had ballet class Thursday and a friend joined her for dinner – hence the not eating too much or seeing the big kids classrooms since they were too busy giggling hysterically in fake English accents about missing teeth and Polly Pockets.)
Lest you think my daughter is a downright brat, I’ve been in that dramatic pit myself. In my personal blog, I write often about finding the balance between play and work in my marriage. In my most recent post, I spoke about a less than stellar conversation I had with Rex last Sunday. I was in “a mood” to say the least. What I wanted was a magic wand to clean my house and prep my meals (and, like my daughter, even that probably wouldn’t have satisfied me) but what I needed was a schedule.
Even more than a schedule, I needed wisdom. Where exactly would that wisdom come from? (Hey, don’t look at me! I’m the one who thriftstore shops like crack addict – spending $50 on an untuned piano and then spending $300 to move it into our home.) I needed the wisdom of Christ.
“Dear Lord,” with my hands elbow deep in dish soap, “I’m due for my period any day now. (Yes, I went there.) I’m drowning in laundry. I’m freaked out about bills. I am embarking on a gluten free/caesin free diet for our family and I’d really dig it if the meals I prepared didn’t taste like rocks mixed with cardboard and didn’t cost me my mortgage, my kidney or one of my children… though if I had to choose this week, take my daughter. I don’t think I can get this all done without an intervention from some HGTV show. Please let me come home from the carpool run to find some hot decorator standing in my geraniums. But if not that last part, guide me toward a plan.”
So He did.
It was quite radical and something I never thought I was capable of doing. But that’s Christ for you. He’s a cheeky little fellow, isn’t He?
Stay tuned for the next installment of “Andrea and Pip’s Emotional and Domestic Makeover – Sponsored by God TV.” It’s quite the exciting show.
More my writing can be found at www.lifehappins.com
* Photo is one of our Christmas outtakes. Notice my daughter’s straight back and poised expression. This was the case, unlike my goofball son, for every single shot. It’s just at night time that her hair turns straight up and the coal goes into her stocking.