The last two days have been... shall we say... awful.
So far it has been one of those bad-Mama-weeks where everyone is cranky, nobody naps, nothing gets done and I begin to doubt my sanity and faith in humanity.
I always find on days like these, that God sends me sweet, little messages of hope and encouragement, usually by way of precious Bennett (in-between whines, time-outs and meltdowns, of course). Here's one from today. It came just in time: right before I was about to drink 5 cups of coffee, eat frosting out of the tub and cry my eyes out. It might not sound like much to you... unless all you've listened to for the past 72 hours is a whining 3 year old and a screaming baby. Only then, can you probably appreciate how this sweet little moment changed my perspective today.
It happened during breakfast this morning...
Bennett HATES eating. We all know that. Therefore, I dread mealtimes. Whining ensues, discipline abounds, nerves are frazzled. How many times must I say the words, "STAY IN YOUR CHAIR!" before they sink in? So this was how my morning was spent, doing everything I could to stay positive and make eating oatmeal fun! But try as I did, we had several "time-out-for-getting-off-our-chair" situations.
Enter Diego. Bennett has this toy called "Diego Knows Your Name." It is programed with a timer, and at certain times in the day, Diego will just randomly call out things like: "It's time to sleep, Bennett! Animal Rescuers need lots of rest. Good night, Bennett!"
Bennett has been getting really irritated with this toy lately. He doens't like Diego's assertiveness or his suggested activities. He'll say things back like, "No De-go! I'm not tired!"
Then this morning, right after I told Bennett to get back into his chair for the 5 bazillionth time, at a moment when we were both pretty testy, Diego chimed in from the other room:
"Come on, Bennett! Al Rescate! To the Resuce!"
Bennett turned to the toy and said in a very firm voice, "No De-go! I eating breakfast right now, and I do not want another time out!" He said it with such conviction, all I could do was laugh. I had to stop right there and applaud my little man for not giving into "peer pressure."
Even though my mealtime-ettiquette training hasn't quite sunk in yet, this little event got me thinking that other things are sinking in. Like doing the right thing even when your friends (or demanding action-figures) tell you not to. There is hope. All my work is not in vain. And that little reassurance was all I needed to put the frosting tub down and keep on keepin' on.