A lesson for Mommy

Most nights, it takes almost 2 hours before Gabe will finally close his eyes and go to sleep. Luckily, he only comes out of his room just a few times and asks questions like, “I need to tell you something,” or “I weally weally weally weally weally weally weally,” and then he’ll never finish because he forgets what he really wants to do. The rest of the time he’s in his room, playing with something or talking to himself while sitting in his bed and staring at the wall. When this all started, I figured he was getting too much rest, so I cut out naptime. This decision was a HUGE mistake and backfired in ways I cannot explain. I would rather have a little boy who fights bedtime than a little boy who spends every minute from lunchtime until bedtime, WHINING!!!

This particular night was no different than most others. As usual, Gabe was fighting sleep. However, unusually, he was very quiet in his room. I went up to check on him, hoping he wouldn’t see me. I was wishful that he may have just stayed in bed and went to sleep. That was NOT the case. I found him sitting up in his bed and staring at the turtle tank. “Wook at Punkin,” he said with a sly grin. Poor Pumpkin. He was being forced to the bottom of his home by about 5 pounds of toys, games, and stuffed animals that had been strategically piled on top of him. That poor little guy had no chance of surviving, had I not checked in on my sneaky son. I carefully removed a Gone Fishing game, a Webkinz, a cowboy hat, a Beanie Baby, and a almost empty (luckily) piggy bank. All the while, I’m telling Gabe how disappointed I am in his choices. I feel like I have this discussion with either him or Nate, sometimes both, almost everyday. Now, I’ll admit, I was raising my voice, but I would most definitely not consider myself yelling. There was no doubt that I was angry and I knew Gabe could tell that he had touched the one and only nerve that had not yet been tested that day. I threatened to remove Pumpkin and give him back to Uncle Rodney if he ever dropped anything in his home again. I covered him up and said good night.

This last Saturday Matt, the kids, and I were all in the kitchen. The boys were eating chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches at the bar, Adri was devouring a chicken nugget and peas in her highchair, and Matt was preparing lunch for himself. I was sitting at the table looking at the mail. Gabe says to me, “God doesn’t like it when you yell.” “You’re right, Gabe, he doesn’t,” I added. “But you yelled at me duh utter day when I dwopped stuff in Punkin’s tank.” “Yes, I did, because I didn’t want to throw all of those toys away that you ruined.” I was feeling guilty. My 3 year old was pointing out that I did the exact thing that I try to teach him daily not to do. In my head, I heard myself saying things to the boys like, “Just because Gabe doesn something you don’t like, doesn’t mean you can yell at him,” or “If Nate hits you, you cannot hit him back.” “You should ask God to furgive you.” “I will, Gabe. Thank you for reminding me.” That night when I was putting Gabe to bed, I prayed with him the usual prayer. We thanked God for our family, friends, toys and a warm house to live in. He asked that God send us someone to buy our house so that we could build our new one with a club house, chickens, and foe wheeder (all of this came from Matt). He added that he wants to grow up faster so that he can go to school with his brother and that Adrianna stop tearing up his fire station. I then asked God to forgive me for raising my voice and yelling when Gabe makes bad choices and finished with, “Please help Gabe to make better choices in the future.” This lead to a fairly detailed conversation about how it’s important to ask forgiveness for the things we do wrong and how amazing it is to be able to forgive someone when they ask us for forgiveness. I asked Gabe to forgive me for yelling and he promised to try to make better choices. Moments like these make being a mom even more amazing.

I’ll confess, I’m not perfect. I got loud this morning when Gabe wouldn’t eat his lunch. I told him that if he didn’t eat, he wouldn’t be able to have any more strawberry milk. He started crying and the chewed up chicken and noodles that were still in his mouth fell out on the floor. “You’re done,” I said. I took him by the arm and lead him to his bed for a nap. “You’re taking a nap now and you’re not having anymore strawberry milk for the rest of the day.” I don’t know for sure that I yelled, but I was talking very loudly. He was pretty upset and was still crying at this point. “You need to stop crying or you’ll wake up your sister,” I added. He quieted down and within a few minutes he was asleep.
He woke up a little bit ago and headed downstairs to the kitchen where I was putting away the dishes. “You yelled at me again,” he said as he started crying again. Guilt…the worst of all emotions…in my opinion. I sat down the floor next to where he was standing. “Yes, Gabe, I did get angry and raise my voice. I’m sorry.” “We need to pway,” he said. So we did.

Without another word, he went back to his room and went back to sleep. Thank you Gabe, for teaching me these important lessons, and for keeping me in check!