One Weary Father
Cruise Missiles and ICBMs of scorn, aggravation, and ridicule rained down on all 6 of us just like in the old school Missile Command game.
Being a father of four, I’m very accustomed to the good days/bad days paradigm that parenting unapologetically offers, but I’ve got to admit, there are seasons that literally feel out of control. Here’s an example of what our more recent nights together as a family of 6 entail:
After a day that never seemed to never end, I sat down at the head of my dining room table surrounded by all 5 of my family members. Before us were all the pseudo-Mexican fixin’s (where does that apostrophe go?) necessary for a KILLER taco salad dinner. I even had my favorite Crystal Lite flavor (Fruit Punch) in my Yeti knockoff cup. Aaaah…sounds all perfect and stuff, right?
Might I offer a little transparency, perhaps?
Well, if you’re visualizing, let me tell you what you can’t see…what happens when you have 3 kids who have been cooped up in the house today & who are STILL trying to finish their homeschool assignments (at 7pm) after working on them ALL DAY; one kid who literally spent the entire day cooped up in the spiritual repression that we call public school & who made it very clear he quickly wanted to finish dinner to go “do homework” upstairs away from the rest of us; and two parents who are frazzled from working part time jobs, job hunting, blog writing, mediating between the “rabid cats” aforementioned, and facilitating the labors of a homeschool schoolhouse?
Emotional WWIII. There were no Geneva Convention protections offered, no mercy was extended and there was no taking of proverbial prisoners as we communally sat around our olivewood table. Instead, Cruise Missiles and ICBMs of scorn, aggravation, and ridicule rained down on all 6 of us just like in the old school Missile Command game. Each of us were preoccupied with furiously pushing the ominous, blinking red button that launches irretrievable and irresponsible words in the midst of the sour cream and jalapenos. Near the end of the onslaught of the meal we “shared,” I just sat back and observed, utterly defeated, now looking out at a battlefield replete with a half-empty salsa container with accidental shredded cheese in it and the seething glow of emotional damage done.
I was so disappointed all of us could not get it together during the only sliver of a day we’re all together in one place and yet, neither my wife nor I could fix it. Whew…said some silent prayers and just chalked it up as a lost cause.
Onward to tomorrow.
Jesus, thank You that even though we lost the battle last night, with You, our family has already won the war.
Landon <><
