Breaking Patterns

Today is a do-over kind of day. Yesterday was not one of my shining moments as a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom. It was one of those days where I think that my husband is going to come home, survey the scene and tell me to go get a job because I am clearly not "working out" as a housewife.

It began when I was actually on the phone with my husband. We were discussing a tree that we want to get for our front yard since the free hand-me-down ones we planted last fall died in the unusual Florida freeze this winter. My toddler somehow got his hands on a permanent marker and marked on my new couch. The couch I waited 2 years to get. The couch that we have only had for 6 weeks. The couch I love and look forward to sitting on. That couch. Deep breath.

The realization was that my house was cluttered and "stuff" was in all sorts of odd places. So I snapped. I set my older two to work picking up and putting away all their belongings that were anywhere in the house. They understand this process. I have sat with them and helped them through this process in their room countless times. They have a bookshelf for books. They have buckets that are designated for little items like Pol.ly.Pock.ets or cars or blocks or Bar.bies. We may not have a lot of room with 5 people in 980 square feet, but everything has a place.

My two lovely hardworking children came to me and declared their room was clean. "Clean where I can go in there and I won't find stuff I need to take away?" Can you hear the chorus of "Yeeeeesssss, Mommy"?

Only they hadn't. They just really wanted to go outside to earn money raking leaves (Florida is backwards that way and we have to rake in spring). So I did what my mom always did to me. I took their stuff away. I threw out little odds and ends of pieces and parts. I gathered every sock and stuffed animal and book that was not put away and tossed it into a laundry basket. My children screamed and whined and carried on. My toddler was woken early from his nap by the wailing. I stomped and grumbled and acted like my children as I scurried about collecting the things they love.

Then I set it out in the hallway and sat on my comfortable, delicious couch that is now permanently wrecked and realized I wanted to puke. I hate that I do this. I can't stand that I don't have a better technique for making them clean well. They actually don't have a lot of toys comparatively speaking. Truly- my oldest son has blocks, le.go.s, cars and one erec.tor set. My daughter has 3 baby dolls and a small drawer of clothes for them, a small drawer of kitchen play stuff, and a small bucket of plastic dolls. Its not like they are spoiled rotten and there are toys overflowing. We work hard at birthdays and holidays to get rid of the things they don't play with very often and they are very giving in that way. So to me, getting rid of much of what's left for them is painful for me. And even worse, I don't think it teaches them any real lesson. (maybe some kids, but I don't think it works on mine)

I feel like the mean ogre instead of a loving disciplinarian. But its my default mechanism for dealing with the messes. And I hate it.

So today we started over. We sat down and talked about grace and mercy and I apologized for snapping. I set the timer and had them put away everything they wanted to keep out of the baskets I took yesterday.

Next week when their room has thrown up on itself again, I will try once again to break the pattern that I have for dealing with this. Thankful that the mercy and grace I extended to my children today, my Father grants me in moments like this.