Little People

There are currently two little people running around our home.  This time three weeks from now, there will be three.  Three little people.  Three heads to wash.  Three faces to wipe.  6 shoes to put on.  A bazillion outfits to throw in the laundry.  Sometimes I wonder how I will do it.  Two is hard enough.  But three?  God, help us!

You see, our kids are not spread apart much at all.  When we dove into parenting, we ended up getting it all out of the way at once.  :)  Our bio kids are 18 months apart.  Maia is older, but will developmentally be younger.  So we will essentially have three kids ages 4 and under.  Three kids who still need LOTS of help.  Three kids who need grace, discipleship, and Jesus.  Three kids who will know exactly how to push ALL of Momma's buttons until she explodes like an atomic bomb.

Parenting is hard.  It would be so easy to hire a nanny to train up our children.  I'd be much less tired and frustrated that way.

You see, I tend to forget that our children actually require TRAINING.  They don't join our family knowing how to eat tidily, put their bodily functions in the potty instead of the floor, and get along with each other.  They don't know how to say "yes ma'am" and "no sir" and "thank you".  They don't come out knowing that we say grace before meals and go to bed without 50 trips to the potty first.

They also don't come with instructions manuals.  Each one is different and each one is requiring different methods of training.  And as much as I forget it, this ISN'T when the problem comes.  THEY are not the problem.

I am.

The problem is when Mommy forgets to train.  Or Mommy forgets to train according to their personalities.  Usually though, Mommy just forgets to train.  I expect them to read my mind and know exactly how I want them to behave just by giving them "the look".  Reality check, Amy.  They are clueless to "the look".  It doesn't work that way.  I actually have to WORK at this parenting thing.

Instead of complaining that the toys are on the living floor for the SIXTH time this morning, I need to remind myself to be thankful that the toys are ON the floor to begin with.  Those toys give me the opportunity to teach my children about responsibility.  Those toys give me the opportunity to practice grace as I show my kids (for at least the 60th time) how to clean up after themselves.  They also give me a reality check when I blow up.  Because really.  Are toys on the floor a tragedy?  Nope.  They are NOT a reason for this Momma to lose her marbles and blow a gasket.  And when they do, I know I need to get it together and remember that my littles are watching.  They are learning from me.  I am training them.  Grace.  My kids need it.  But I need it so much more.

They will only be little for so long.  I don't have an endless amount of hours to train them.  The time has come for me to suck it up, stop stressing over the chaotic house, the messy playroom, and dirty fingers, and train them while I can.  Enjoy them while I can.  And remind myself to practice grace every waking moment of the day.  They give me great practice.  And I couldn't love them more for making me a better person.