Wednesday, December 10, 2014

For the days when you stare into a boiling pot of chicken and wonder how you got here and why your kids can't do math

You know those days when you stare into a boiling pot of chicken and wonder how you got here and why your kids can't do math?  And those days where you've talked to every teacher about this and that and laid down just about all you're worth to ask for help to keep your kid from failing and ending up a bum on the street?  And those days where you've challenged the 5th grade science teacher on her grading policy and now you think she hates you and might poison your kid's lunch for revenge?  And still after all is said and done, all it really proved, after multiple scientific trials, of course, is that science fair is stupid.

Then you get an email from another teacher asking you to ambush surprise your kid in action in class so you can see what the teacher has to deal with on a daily basis.  And then you e-mail  said teacher in reply saying you both understand and feel his pain because you've lived with it at home for the past XX years.     But how you would prefer he handle his side of the business and let your mind forget about motherhood for those few precious school hours of the day.  Not really.  Because thinking something is not the same as saying it. 

Then you drop off your fireman husband at his fire station for a few minutes to wait for you while you run an errand because he doesn't think it's much fun to return a comforter to Kohl's.  And when you pull out of the station a young policeman follows you all the way to Kohl's when you can't even figure out how he knew where you were going, and he wants to discuss your expired car stickers.  So then you call your husband at the fire station to tell him what he's missing, along with an I told you so, and then hand the phone to the young policeman to have a man to man discussion about car registrations and inspections.  Then you talk with the young policeman about how his wife forgot to get the oil changed in her car and went about 1000  miles over what he would've preferred, and also his plans to go home to Washington to visit family for Christmas and how thankful he is for the time off.  Because it's always nice to get to know your first responders in the neighborhood, and really he was just lovely.  Then you finally go in and return your comforter. 

Then you sit down with your 8th grade son to do some algebra after talking to his teacher and learning that he has done far too much girlfriend hand holding in school as of late rather than math.  And then you find yourself  eating too many chocolate chip cookies for strength of mind and body to add polynomials at way too late an hour on a school night.

And this just says it all.  How I'm feeling these days, how our Christmas season is going, and how we might just be the family that leaves Christmas off the calendar altogether this year. 

We do have half a house of outdoor lights up thus far.  But only on the back side of the house.  So only the trash men can see them  - or maybe our garage burglar if he comes back to do some Christmas shopping at our house. 

So welcome to another round about tour of all things Walters, volume whatever.  Y'all I had a friend point out to me recently how I tend to make light of a lot of things on this blog.  Which is far better than crying about it, I like to think.   And you do know that I would never really sell my kids to the gypsies or give any of them away free to a good home for more than a temporary arrangement, right? 

But this much is true.  I do regularly have to step back and take a neutral view of our family.  This coming from a gal that was raised in a home where people didn't.  No one stepped back and considered.  No one counted to 10 and paused their words.  And no one took the time to look deeper - at each other - than what was seen with the eye.  And I need to do some things differently so we can be a different kind of family.  

Is it working?  I don't know.  But I tend to rely on time and the goodness of grace to soften my eyes to quite a few things.   And a husband who regularly reminds me that the world isn't ending in a blaze of fire brought about by one or more of my kids. 

I can do all things who Christ who is my strength.  Phil 4:13

Right?  We all know that one.

But I think more often than not, we think about it all wrong.  And we use it all wrong.  Because if these really were magic words, I would be a crazy rich super model/ super mom/gourmet cook all in one taller and tanner package.  

But - my non Biblically trained eye and heart at work on this one, of course - I think this isn't a promise to make us more than what we already are.  Because we are already all that God wanted us to be - once we trust him to bring it all into view.   Instead, I think this verse is a promise to make us more for himTo make us more for the glory of God in all that we set out to do.  Not to win a race or a job promotion or a contest of wills with our children.  But to make me the best me that I can be for the jobs that God has put before me.  Specifically for me.

And right now that involves algebra. 

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