Yesterday I hit my parenting low. Not to say that it will not be exceeded, as my child is only 18 months old and I have many more years Lord-willing, but as of date, yesterday was lower than my previous lowest. After starting back to work on August 1, I’ve been noticing a huge behavioral change in the Bean. It seems as if she is punishing me for going back to work. She is breaking my heart. With each day, her resistance towards me increases and her excitement to see me when I get off work decreases. Her current favorite phrase is “no mama” and she’s not saying “no, mama, I don’t want to do X, Y, or Z”: she is straight up saying “no mama” with the meaning of “I don’t want my mama/go away mama.” It hurts. It stings. It is tearing me apart.
Well, yesterday we both hit rock bottom. I’ve been trying to get inventive and make my time with her after work fun and intentional; attempting to put aside the laundry list of things I need to do, to truly spend quality time with her. As she is my daughter, Target is her favorite store [side note: I can never go on a secretive shopping trip as she is now labeling everything we buy from there “ Target _________.” She loves telling complete strangers that her bow is from Target and is now requesting her “Target water” bottle when she needs a drink], so I decided that yesterday when I picked her up from her Memere’s house (French Canadian for Grandma], we would go to Target and just have some fun girl-time. Well, when I walked in to pick her up, she immediately started with “no mama” and running to hide behind her memere. Then when I told her we were going to go to Target to go shopping, to my delight, she perked up a little bit and seemed down and excited for the adventure. Well, when we pulled into the Target parking lot, that little girl firmly said “No Target.” [Ok, another toddler power struggle, but this one we can make it through. I mean, after all, we are at Target!] Once inside, she was excited to go for a cart ride and to see Bullseye the Target Dog wagging his tail in the [what-used-to-be] dollar section. Ok. Win for mom. We made it in the door. HAHAHA. Spoke to soon. Once I put the first item in the cart, the poo hit the fan and she started fighting. The “no mama’s” and the requests for everyone, but mama just started rolling out. I can’t even recall the number of times she screamed “out there” and pointed to the door. With my education and behavior management background, my everything told me to suck it up and work through this... so I did… like a boss. I withheld attention, I offered choices, and I stuck to my guns. Well, the Bean stuck to her guns, too. Right there in the middle of the clothes racks, she tantrummed SO HARD that she made herself throw up. The first batch I caught in my hands, the second batch all over the carpet, and the third batch all over me. Right there by the changing room counter, I lost my loving mind [that is the nice way of saying it]. I was crying in Target with a handful of throw up, cleavage full of throw up, and a baby girl screaming “hold you mama” but what she really meant was “get me out of here mama.” I all of a sudden recognized that an older lady had commented to me in the midst of getting my shrieking girl out of the clothes racks before she blew chunks. All she said was “miss, she’s choking” as I carried the throw up in my hand looking for a paper towel and an employee at the changing room counter. It dawned on me and I immediately felt guilt and shame that I rudely yelled at that lady “I know” and made some snide remark about how my daughter was choking on her own throw up as if the nice lady knew me and my situation. With this moment, came even more crying as I stripped down my baby in the middle of Target, apologizing profusely to the employee calling some code meaning “bodily fluid exposure.” I was hot and flushed from embarrassment and from the throw up still coated on my body. I couldn’t believe I treated someone like that. I couldn’t believe I let my own daughter get to this point. I couldn’t believe in me.
Needless to say, once I baby wiped the Bean down the best I could and apologized to the Target employees at least 5 more times, I charged straight out of Target, my face matching the color of all of the employee’s shirts. Instantly, I had a chance to redeem myself when I heard the voice and saw the eye contact of another sweet older lady who simply offered a “how can I help you?” Thank you Jesus. I reassured her we would be ok, but I greatly appreciated her concern and offer. I exited Target, tears welled-up and immediately dialed Jeff to come home immediately before I lost it again.
I don’t know if words on paper describes the events that led up to such a distraught mother. The personal conflict of being a full-time working mother is something that only my heart can truly understand: those are my feelings and nobody is allowed to take them from me nor do I need anyone to validate them for me. Just know that it’s been hard on us all and that this was the boiling point for all of us. So what now?
Well, first we came home and took a shower. Secondly, we cried some more. Thirdly, she wanted nothing to do with me once daddy got home. But finally, after she went down to bed, I saw the grace and beauty.
Last night Jeff and I prayed together for the first time in a long time. We prayed about work, about our relationships within the family, and for our daughter. This time together was an answered prayer within itself. Then it really hit me. Jeff said “Jesus. We throw up on you and you still love us.” YES!!!! This is EVERYTHING. A reality sunk in and I thought about how as my daughter was throwing up on me in Target, I was simultaneously throwing up on Jesus by not showing His love to that first lady who told me my daughter was choking. I am so full of sin: my anger, my shame, my pride and my doubt frequently are ways that I throw up on Him. How many times have you thrown up on Jesus? How many times has He wiped you clean?
It doesn’t matter how many times we throw up on God, He still loves us, forgives us, and hurts for us. Even though it hurts Him for us to throw up on Him, He never stops fighting for a relationship with us. Now, my sweet girl has reflux and as an infant, she threw up so much that we had to do a load of wash every single day for the first four months. Needless to say, I’ve been thrown up on a lot, and each time I cleaned up the mess, cleaned up the baby, and we all got fresh outfits; however, I guarantee that for each time I’ve been thrown up on as a parent, I have thrown up on Jesus an exponentially increasing amount.
Thank you Jesus for always wiping me clean with the blood you poured out on the cross. I know it hurts You when I throw up on you, just like it hurts me when my child throws up on me. Thank you for your never-ending, never-failing love that I don’t deserve, but wholeheartedly accept. You truly are a good, good father.
"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me." Psalm 51.10.
Selfie of me in all my glory once we all got safely in the car. Note the throw up plastered on the chest. Needless to say, I rolled the windows down on the way home.
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