This post is part of a month-long series. You can read the rest here.
I was definitely a bit edgy yesterday. I tried to control it so that it wouldn’t spew out all over the kids, but my voice got a little too thin when I had to repeat directions and my patience ran a bit short while I waited for those instructions to be followed. Too many sighs of complaint, ya know?
My 3 year old is, well, a 3 year old. His “I wanna watch mooooore TV” whine, preceded by kicking his sister and laughing at her and succeeded by a firm “NO!” to my go-brush-your-teeth command set me off like a lionness bitten by one too many flies. And a few minutes later, he apologized, ’cause he’s sweet, too. I apologized for losing my temper. Then he slowly approached me, put his hand on my shoulder, and carefully asked, “Mom, what did the doctor say?”
It melts my heart that even though many people will not understand the fluctuation of my symptoms and subsequent ability/inability, my kids get it. During prayer on their beds, my 6 year old reached over and rubbed my back. It hurt like crazy because she was hitting a sensitive patch, but I wasn’t about to stop her from showing compassion.