Praying For Remote Controls

Breakfast was bananagrams.

I try to ride the waves of mayhem, but if I’m honest, I usually wipe out. Especially if it’s Swimming Lesson Day, and the baby has the makings of an early ear infection and the boys are doing their best to gallop into the morning with adventure in their pocket.

So I turned around and came face to face with two green beards. One was a dignified, trim beard, curving gracefully from one ear to the other. The other beard was a close cousin to the Wolfman. Green marker decorated every inch from nose to chin. There was even some on this boy’s eyelids.

I didn’t take a photo. I was busy. Getting ready. To take people to a pool. I also didn’t bother washing it off. I figured the pool would do that for me.

 Thankfully my Mother and my Great Aunt came hoofing over to watch the baby. He was still in his pajamas and feeling cranky. I was holding him tightly as I roamed the house looking for towels.

 Then I noticed Wolfman had decided to relax/drool on the couch. My couch had turned green in protest.

I growled.

Sometimes people look like wolves, but they’re really sweet things that like to relax and watch Dinosaur Train and eat fruit snacks.

Sometimes people look like mommies, but they act like wolves.

Some days it’s hard to remember who I am.

I would like to be less wolf-like.

What’s a green couch in exchange for a small person who sweetly asks their swim teacher, “Pwease, don’t yet me drown”? The couch isn’t green anymore and neither are the children, but I’m still, a little.

And maybe boys bring me more than messes and loud screams and surprise attacks from the closet. Maybe there’s more than mashed up bananas and missing socks in the life of a mother. Maybe this whole job is a means to show me I need more self-control, more Spirit fruits.

Parenting shows me my rough, wolf-like edges.

Tonight I’ll hold hands with Shel and together we’ll pray that we taste the fruit of the Spirit. Then he’s going to argue with me for about five minutes.

You see, he’s convinced that we should be asking for “remote control”. It’s one of the reasons I drink wine before bed.

9 thoughts on “Praying For Remote Controls

  1. Swimming lesson day–a lot like purgatory for mothers, if you ask me.

    Seems like a long, long time ago to me. I was pretty wolf-like back then, too.

    Wine is a good gift. Love you.


  2. Bahaaaaa….I often feel like a pacing caged wolf. But yes…wolves can be trained you know? Domesticated even.
    Or so I've heard. I still tend to growl more than I should.
    LOVE this Joanne!


  3. Any mother sooooooo understands this! But trust me, it really does get better. It's been a good 6 months since I felt the wolf, and my youngest is 11. (And that's because he and a friend were standing out in our busy road playing chicken….)


  4. “Parenting shows me my rough, wolf-like edges.” I know exactly what you mean. But at the end of the day, your children know they are loved. So loved. I often ask my daughter, now 22, to forgive me for the days when I was (am?) a Nazi-mom. She always replies that she remembers the love. Also, I'm wondering if “remote control” isn't an apt metaphor (or is it allegory? I get them mixed up) for the Spirit's work in our hearts…


  5. the crayon on my walls says hi to the green couch.

    and the wolf inside me wishes for both of us that we become more like the Lamb. somehow i think the little-wolves are what help us in that process?

    love and hugs to you, mama-friend.


  6. Grace Grace Grace…..

    One of my kids told me not too long ago that she used to be afraid of me when she was little. But then on a different day she told me she feels bad for kids that don't have moms like you know… me. It all works out in the end. It is clear that you are a fabulous mother.

    When my five were little and people asked me 'how I did it? ” I said, Tylenol, Wine, and Prayer. Still applies.


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