Stop Beating Yourself Up - With Her Own Hands

So then.. you've got this old lady... Mrs. Older... sending you blogs about how you are tearing your own house down with your own hands.  And you see some stuff.. and it's not pretty... and some of it is truth in your life... And...all you can see are your mistakes.  And well... "Perfect" Mrs. Older... she doesn't understand....

It's good to be honest about yourself, dear wife and mother.  BUT...in this blog.. I would like to say one BIG THING:  You can make mistakes as a mommy and your kids will turn out to be JUST FINE.  TRUST ME, TRUST THE LORD. He's got your back.   RELAX. 

You are hearing these words from a mother who:

• Went to a church camp conference with her husband when her son was 9 months old. We were reconnecting with  friends we hadn't seen in years and years.  At about 6 PM my son became "SO FUSSY." --- "Of all days for him to be fussy" ( I said in selfish exasperation to my husband).   Finally my son, my beloved only child, the joy of my heart, fell in to an exhausted-from-crying sleep.  Later, at midnight, when we finally got back to the car, I saw, on the backseat the reason for his hysteria -  HIS DINNER.   His jars of baby food. Unopened. The kid was crying from starvation- he wasn't being a brat  - he was HUNGRY - and I'd been too busy socializing.  What kind of neglectful mother FORGETS TO FEED HER BABY HIS DINNER???????? The kind writing this blog.

• He's 14 months old.  I am ironing. I unplug the hot iron and put it up on the shelf and turn to take the ironing board down.  In 2.6 seconds...he pulls the HOT IRON down BY THE CORD and on to his PERFECT forehead. I thought I'd SCARRED my sons' face for life. Drove to the doctor's office. It didn't scar.  What kind of distracted mother doesn't see her toddler grabbing at a hot iron? The kind writing this blog.

•  He's 9 years old.  I have recently won the victory over my nails.  They are long and polished on my fingers. This is miraculous. I cannot stop staring at them even when I am driving.  He says, politely, "Mom, I get kinda scared when you hold your hand out the car window and stare at your fingernails and forget to look at the road" What kind of bimbo mother stares at her fingernails more than the road even when her son is in the car?  The kind writing this blog.

• He's eleven. He's in junior high school and asked me to make him some crinkle cut french fries when he gets home one day. I put some oil on the stove and cover the pot. I forget about the oil on the stove -  until -  the exact moment in time it EXPLODES all over the kitchen.  I do not have baking powder. I cannot put the fire out.  I grab the burning pot and ask MY ELEVEN YEAR OLD SON to HOLD THE BACK DOOR OPEN while I WALK IN FRONT OF HIM with a pot of BURNING OIL so I can THROW IT ON THE GRASS.  Inside the fire rages on in the kitchen.  Black smoke is pouring out every window of our home.  A neighbor calls the fire deparment. Oh... and... BTW.. this happened two days AFTER the all white new furniture was delivered to our home.. We had to have those "like it never happened" people there for weeks to clean the soot. What kind of mother forgets about a pot of boiling oil on the stove? The kind writing this blog.

He stuck things in the electrical outlets because I hadn't bothered to cover them.. he came walking out of his bedroom one day with a PLASTIC BAG over his head...like I was filming a Public Service Commerrcial about the dangers of children suffocating to death on plastic bags.and yet.. somehow (?) my four year old son found one that he could use to look like Spiderman.  God in His mercy toward me.. allowed my son to survive his mother.  My son is fine.  Considering his wackoid of a mother.  He's  happily married man with three PERFECT children.

I cannot list the mistakes I've made.  I cannot tell you the agonized hours of beating myself up for being less than I thought I should be. I tried my best. Often it was less than I expected
You cannot do this on your own.  Thankfully, God does not expect you to. The only place to look is UP.   Psalm 121:2-3 explains (Mrs. Older paraphrase)

"Where does a wife and mother's help come from? Her help comes from the Lord,
 the Maker of heaven and earth.  He will not let your foot slip— over mountains of laundry, shoes in the living room, dishes in the sink and piles of bills piling up - and you can just sleep in peace because he who watches over you will not slumber."

So. even if you make mistakes... STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP.   God will preserve you when you ask for His help.  He will. He wants to. LET HIM HELP YOU.
If you keep beating yourself up... I may have to come there to your house and cook you some crinkle cut french fries....... in YOUR kitchen. 

XOXO,
Mrs. Older