It's been a long week. A week filled with sinus infections and ear infections and little sleep. Crabby children. Crying children. Clingy children. A week of running to appointments; doctor, chiropractor, ENT, audiologist. A week of broken baby doll arms that caused such heartache that tears flowed for an hour. A week that if being a stay at home mom came with vacation days, I'd be cashing them in. Maybe just a mental health day? No? Okay.
And yet I was still not prepared for what happened when my oldest arrived home from book club today. The way Eva devours books signing her up for book club once a month at the library was a no-brainer.
Usually she comes home bursting at the seems with excitement but today she went straight to her room. I called out "So how was book club?" I received an "I don't want to talk about it." Now, I have three girls. I knew one day I would encounter this response. I did not expect it at almost seven years old.
Eva appeared from her room a few minutes later stating we should probably get her homework done. So we did her timed reading test where she got her best score yet but there was no joy. On to spelling words. When I couldn't immediately locate the list of words to quiz her on there were tears. Something was definitely up. I tried to pry but she told me her stomach hurt; stating that she probably ate too much cheese and crackers at book club.
In her perfectionist way she aced her spelling words and declined a high five. She asked if she could play on the tablet and lie in bed. I conceded after determining she was not feverish and she was not going to puke. I perched myself on the edge of her bed and said "Did something happen today?"
And then the story flooded out of her. She had gotten scolded at book club. Her and a friend were trying to do hand stands. Yes, she knew she should have been paying attention. And yes, she knew the library wasn't the best place to be attempting a hand stand. And yes, she was sure the beloved librarian was quite upset with her.
I finally realized how my mom had felt, raising me. She always told me she could never punish me because I would beat myself up worse than any punishment she could have doled out. And that was true. I remember being grounded...once...for like an hour (maybe less).
I was raising a mini-me. Where was that mental health day when I needed one?
I consoled Eva by telling her that while the beloved librarian had probably been frustrated with her and maybe even a little disappointed in her behavior that she wouldn't hold it against her. She wouldn't be upset with her forever and it was probably already forgotten. I offered to take her to the library so she could apologize and see for herself but she thought she was to nervous for that. Instead we drafted a note of apology.
I then explained how even though mommy and daddy get frustrated with our kids (which had been happening a lot this week) we still love them. Always. And that nothing would change that. Before I could even connect the dots, Eva said "Like God loves us." Exactly. I was thankful that she caught on quick because this mama is spent.
Yet it reminded me of the devotional I read just this morning. God said "This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased." And God said that before Jesus did anything great. Before he did any miracles or died on the cross. He loved him because he was his son. Period.
And God says "You are my daughter, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." Delighted in who I am. Not what I do or what I don't do. No matter how I may have failed this week. Pleased because of an unconditional love I sometimes still can't wrap my mind around. An incomprehensible gift, simply given.
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