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The Lost Weekend

Wondering where I’ve been the past
couple of days?


Do you really need to ask????


Yes, we had an idyllic few days last week, with Maddie off in
gymnastics camp one day, and me and the girls getting plenty of
outdoor playtime and picnicking. We were all healthy, seeing
friends, having a wonderful time.


Then my husband started puking.



Yep, we got ANOTHER stomach virus, him
getting hit first with me following a day behind. We limped our way
through a few days, made all the harder with my mom out of town,
though Nana and Papa did bravely jump in and give us a hand for one
especially difficult evening. Saturday morning came, and though
neither of us felt like eating, Brian and I cautiously claimed
ourselves on the mend and went to the zoo.


Listen, going to the zoo is easier than entertaining the little
dears around the house, I promise.


Unfortunately, I relapsed Saturday night and went down even harder
the second time around, so Brian was Super Dad on Sunday, going
completely solo until Gamma mercifully returned Sunday evening. I
felt better the end of Monday and am hoping it’s behind us.


Of course, my biggest prayer these past few days has been that Cora
and Maddie stay healthy, and so far (please God) they have. My
second biggest prayer was that the house would somehow miraculously
hold itself together as we tried to simply survive from hour to
hour. Food got thrown away because no one had the strength to put
it in the fridge after the girls’ dinner, and I simply closed
my eyes as I walked past the sink every time.


And let’s not talk about the rest of the house – with
no one around with the strength to reinforce the rules, the house
was in shambles, toys strewn everywhere and every square foot
littered with debris. I kept promising myself, “It’ll
get cleaned up eventually. It’ll get cleaned up
eventually.”


But the house’s falling apart was just a minor tremor
compared to the 9.7 earthquake that was the disaster of the girls
and their discipline. In just a few short days they devolved into
little brats, whining and hitting and crying and shouting,
“NO! I WON’T!” I understand that they were partly
just scared and insecure, with both Mommy and Daddy acting so
scary, not being there for them all the time, not reinforcing the
comfort of their routine.


I understand all that, but I also know that they got a little slack
on that disciplinary leash and they ran for the fence in a big way.
It was once again brought home to me how much children need
discipline – and I don’t mean physical punishment, I
mean consequences – and how much they benefit from
consistency.


Monday I began tightening that leash back up, and man did they
choke a bit. Maddie had to take several breaks before she was even
dressed for the day, but by the last one she was in her break for
less than a minute before coming out contrite and calm. Tightening
up my action point was difficult – you know, when
you’re sick, you let them get away with a lot because
you’re simply too freakin’ tired to get up and go over
there and right the wrong. So they’d begun to feel as if
Mommy’s warnings or promises were empty, and went into shock
when I immediately followed through on Monday – no warnings
or second chances. By the end of the day, though, I could see a
glimpse of my beautiful girls coming back.


I think Sunday night summed it up best for me – my chat time
with Maddie as part of her bedtime routine. “Why do you think
you had so much trouble today, honey? Why do you think you were so
disobedient?” I asked her, after she’d lost every
single magnet on her responsibility chart – magnets like
Patience, Obedience, Being Nice, No Hitting, and No Whining.


“I don’t know,” she replied, clearly bewildered
herself. “I can’t even remember what I did to lose each
magnet, Mommy!” “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like all
those wrong choices were really worth it, then, were they?” I
asked.


“No, they weren’t. I want to be good, but I just
couldn’t do it today.”


That led to a chat about her inherent goodness, and how sin is in
her but not who she is. I had a great talk with her, though I know
it’ll come back to me in our next theological debate. But by
the end, she could see how God has made her new heart to be good,
and that gave her hope for the next day.


It gave me hope, too – because I didn’t think I could
live much longer with those two little tyrants. I want my beautiful
girls back.

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