Thursday, February 18, 2010

When Mama Yells.... ain't pretty.
I had a woman tell me once that she could not imagine me ever yelling. All I could think was, "Wow. I sure have you fooled!" I certainly do not like to yell. It gives me a headache and often makes someone cry (usually me). There's usually a better way to communicate. But it does happen. Let's take today, for instance...

We've recently been battling the tendency of children to leave stuff everywhere pretty much all the time. It's disorganized and ugly and dangerous. But no amount of lecturing or disciplining seems to make an impact for any extended period of time. So today I was determined to get at least one room clutter free. MY room. Your stuff does not go in my room. Not your shoes or your toys or your dirt. Out! Out! Out!

As I stepped off the bottom step triumphantly carrying a large box of organized old kids' shoes (that I'd been graciously sharing my space with) I stepped on...a toy. A little plastic petit four to be exact. (Presumably to be consumed with plastic tea.) The box of shoes scattered everywhere as I felt that oh-so-familiar pain of an ankle sprain. I've been here many times before but it generally happens while doing something that's actually supposed to be somewhat risky.

The first thing I want to do at the moment of crisis is to throw out every toy within sight but I cannot effectively do so from my seated position. Then I yell loudly and randomly about little toys and little boys and what are you going to do with an injured mother since I'm the only one who picks up your stuff and makes your food and other silly (and loud) things like that.

This is all perfectly Lenten. An opportunity to take a crash landing in the middle of the day for a good dose of humility. I don't want a disorderly home. I don't want to yell. I don't want a sprained ankle (even though it isn't really that bad). Is this getting a little whiny? I don't want to whine either. Back to the foot of the Cross I go where I can remember His strength by remembering my weakness. I am not stronger than my temper. And am glad for the 20 minutes to ice my ankle, my anger and my pride as I remember that I'm always leaving things on God's floor for other people to trip on.

 He took over anger to intimidate subordinates, and in time anger took over him. --St. Albert the Great


  1. I broke my dominant hand on Monday night...a direct result of a fall on the steps from stomping after a disobedient child. Another great way to begin Lent. I hope you're up and about soon. :)

  2. Molly-I'm laughing but not AT you...just in understanding and gratitude that our weaknesses don't always take such a visible form. lol! I'm so sorry to hear about your hand and do hope it heals completely and quickly. I also hope the child in question is repentant and ready to serve mama breakfast in bed (or at least give big kisses)! :)

  3. I have to laugh a tiny bit here, because I feel your pain. One time when the kids were very little and my husband was overseas (for a year of duty) . . . it was one of those days where their mess (even in their rooms) was sending me over the edge. I tripped going into Rachel's room and lost it, stomping on a couple of her Barbies until their heads popped off.

    I know (head hanging). I've lost my cool on many occasions. I sit at the foot of the Cross a lot!

  4. LOL! Sarah-That is a really hysterical image! Poor little barbies! LOL!!! I have stomped Barbies but I've done my share of insane mommy things:)


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