*In a Nut Shell

Pride’s Destruction

Why are some days just bad days? And, why do bad days just drag on?

I rolled out of bed to move straight up hill in a battle of life. I should have retreated back to the covers when it was ten minutes pass when school starts and my kids still hadn’t finished breakfast and they were whining because they’d rather fly to the moon than have home study. I should’ve called a holiday right then and there. WHY DIDN’T I SEE THE SIGNS?!

And then it began. The bickering. “He called me a brat” “She is trying to teach me how to do my school” She is looking at my page”

And Felicity crying because she can’t draw a perfect pony for a picture she had to draw to go with the sentence she wrote about racing with her friends to see ponies that then led to her not being good at anything and she should just give up.

And George deciding that writing his name and practicing his hand at writing a ‘j’ and the numbers 2 & 3 was dumb so he was never going to write anything.

And Faith having it so stuck in her head that she can answer any question in any format she sees fit. Why did Sonny have to keep lots of wood near the fire at all times? “Because I have to gather wood” she says. When you ask her to elaborate in order to better understand her perspective so that you can help sway her in the direction of the proper type of answer that is actually affiliated with the question at hand, she has a melt down and says she likes her way better.

So, we had to have a pep talk and explain it is okay! to not be able to draw a perfect horse and that Felicity is very good at everything she tries. Who cares of George says she is a brat, was it true? No. Being defeated is not Christ-like. Let’s put on a smile and do this. Then, basically the same kind of talk with George about it being okay he doesn’t do it well, but this is why we practice: so we can do it well and to practice our best is Christ-like. Let’s put a smile on and do this. It wasn’t so easy getting through to Faith. I still haven’t gotten through completely, but I got through the day with her. She is just in her head so much. Her comprehension is there, but to put forth effort in explaining a point in a story is, seemingly, too hard. She has the one-three word answers down, but a whole sentence or two she fights to tears.

Did I mention I am really hitting potty training hard with Phillip this week as well? Yeah. Amidst melt downs and pep talks, I was doing potty runs and handing out small awards for a potty-job well done. Oh! And, Karolina gets around everywhere in her cast without an issue, but is still SO needy since she has been casted. So, she sat with me pulling papers or sat on the floor next to me crying because I wouldn’t let her sit with me so she could pull papers.

I am prideful. Far too prideful for a mother of five kids. Or for anybody for that matter. I should be humble and be humbled. Perhaps this prideful flare is what got me in trouble with this day at all.

My pride stood in the way of just letting it go and calling the class “Dismissed!” We were half way through and there was no reason to not see it to the end.

We had lunch and the girls went back to the books. The boys went out in the yard and turned on a spigot near the driveway making mud and floods. When I brought them in, they tore my couch apart and started jumping on it like it was a trampoline. Karolina found my pile of half folded laundry and unfolded it for me. The girls ended up with an attitude adjustment but finally ended their work way too late in the day.

Now, I am making left over chili for dinner and then we are off to soccer practice. My couch is still being used as a trampoline and my laundry is still scattered everywhere. My pride has been crushed, with good measure, but I feel defeated by this day. Why? Because I lost my cool. I lost it bad. My pride in seeing the school day finished was so important that I yelled instead of calling it a day. I was the smaller, mean man instead of the bigger, better one who would send their kids off with smiles. Mine walked away with relief and a smile because they finally finished, but it wasn’t the same. Because I yelled.

I failed them in a way. I did not heed my own words to them earlier in the morning. About being Christ-like. About it being okay that I am not perfect, and that a school day doesn’t have to be perfect. About doing my best and letting my anticipated goal to not be reached.

Here is to a fresh beginning to begin with leftovers and fun at soccer practice. :) We will get our rosary said on our way to/from so that will help heal the wounds of this day. And, then showers tonight and tomorrow we will have a truly fresh beginning all around. The sun will set on this day and I will never repeat one like it again.

Lord, help me to be open to the graces You so lovingly bestow on me in order to be the mother I know You want me to be and I know I can be. Amen.

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