When I was around 10 years old, my sister and I (and our cousin as well) would attend VBS during the summer and I remember thinking it was magical: the songs we learned, the crafts we made, the ride to VBS without our parents...we were growing up.
My three sons are growing up now as well. As they grow and learn, form opinions and make educated decisions, I pray that this time serve as a reminder to them always of the fun and the awe of Jesus: their first love.
Funny, this post is not about VBS exactly....
It is about something said during VBS, something not pertaining to Jesus. Something said in the confidence of five other women and myself when we were nursing our own babies, and rocking babies of other mommies.
One momma made the comment about the trials of potty-training her firstborn (been there and survived, read my tale here), and another mommy made a rather comical comment on the potty-training subject. She shared that she felt it was wise to teach her toddler daughter to keep her fun panties dry because wet panties would be thrown into the trash (where momma would later fish them out).
Unfortunately the point was lost on her daughter who declared that "mommy can just buy me new panties".
This conversation started my thinking process (I could literally see the gears moving inside my head) and it reminded me of a
When the laundry simply piles up the wall and I cannot make clean laundry "happen", my go-to is resorting to Big Strong Man with a loud, angry grin on my face and a "if I stop cleaning your underwear, and you had to clean your own, then you'll realize how hard I work" on my tongue.
We were married for a week the first time this disagreement arose. I felt in one week's time that I had "had it up to here" with laundry and declared a strike.
BSM told me he would be ok, he also told me that he would be buying new underwear.
If BSM had a new pair of underwear for every time I had a conniption fit over dirty laundry, he would have 100 pair!!!
So what do we do about this friends? Short of buying new underwear every time our toddler wets a dry pair or our husband's refuse to do some laundry*, we remember that we are a team.
Team Mcfive (our family with our sons) but first and foremost, Team McTwo (husband-wife).
Although I may have cleaned a zillion more dishes than he ever has (that is an exact number), and I practically live in the laundry room, when I finally do leave the kitchen and the laundry rooms I do see my first teammate: mowing the grass, fixing the front door, painting the walls and repairing the hole from the curtain rod.
Big Strong Man, I SEE YOU.
And I know you see me, too.
*He does not always refuse...just sounds more dramatic when I say he does :)
I made the magnet above for giggles. I find it rather genius.
-
No comments:
Post a Comment