this week

Whew.  It's been a rough week.  Nothing in particular stands out.  Just that the boys have been...rowdy.  Testing me.  Pushing me.  Trying me.  To the breaking point.  To the moment where I feel like I am going to snap them like a twig.  I don't, but God help me, there are moments when I am just done. 
I thought that the baby stage was hard.  Sleepless nights, spit up, diaper blow outs.  But this stage is soooo hard.  And possibly the most important.  The discipline that I demand now will serve their demeanor in the future. "Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it." I believe in this.  Yet there are times, a lot of times, when I am too tired to argue.  Where it is just easier to let them win.  And to be honest, I don't want to be the bad guy.  I am with them all day long.  The burden of responsibility is daunting.  I am fully aware that I am mostly responsible for the behavior of my children.  How I react or don't react will impact their lives in ways that I can only begin to imagine.  They look to me for guidance.  They rely on me for instruction.  They need me for discipline.  But sometimes I just want to be fun.  Someone with no responsibilities. Carefree and spontaneous and captivating.
Parenting has been hard.  (I will say though that marriage has been harder.  Not that I don't love my husband, but there are days when I have to consciously chose to like him;) with parenting there is no choice for the adoration is there from the first breath you witnessed your child take).  Day after day I am brought to my knees.  Hour after hour I second guess myself.  I am my own worst enemy.  The judgement I bestow upon myself is far worse than anyone else could pass down.  Every day, every single day I buy a ticket on this roller coaster, strap myself in and prepare for the highest highs and the lowest lows.  Sometimes with only minutes between the two extremes.  I can go from laughter to tears to anger more quickly than most can tie their own shoe.  I can beat myself up so badly that my heart resembles the inside of a battered women's shelter.  At the end of the day I am exhausted.
And yet.  I do know that parenting is a gift.  A privilege.  An honor.  And while I do complain, I will never take for granted this opportunity to guide these souls into men of God.
I know that even if my children still are wearing diapers when they are four years old that they will not be wearing them when they graduate high school.  I know that one day my son will choose to eat a vegetable without bribery.  I know that eventually my sons will no longer head butt each other to get their way.  Just as I know that in the blink of an eye they will ask no longer ask me to hold them.
Time flies....lucky for us that the heart is wonderful at holding on.

And just so I don't forget....every time I begin to get angry with the boys for something they have done, Blake will look up at me and say, "Are you happy?"  Maybe that is God's way of showing grace.  Giving me a chance to catch my breath and reign in my emotions.  Of course, it could also be Blake just trying to distract me from getting in trouble;)