It's a lot to pack into the first couple of waking hours, but I thrive on it because that's how I'm wired. Yep, I rocket through the morning like a cannonball climbing through the heavens - a lady on a mission. Then, like that same cannonball, as the day goes on I lose momentum and altitude, eventually landing with a thud on the couch, capable of thoughts no more complex than to ponder the offerings of the television.
But lately I've really been struggling. My days begin with their usual bang, but I'm finding myself deflate as soon as my toddler arises. Mind you, I couldn't love this little girl any more. She's absolutely precious, and her smiles and giggles are so contagious they melt the coldest of hearts. But her days haven't been starting out with those smiles and giggles. It turns out Katie isn't the morning person her mother is.
As soon as I come into her room with her cup of milk and approach her crib, a bleary-eyed Katie announces, "Jammies on." That's basically an admonishment to me that she has no desire to get dressed and ready for the day. We struggle just to get her nighttime diaper changed - which I don't have to tell you is a immediate must - involving slight of hand on my part and lots of explaining that we have places we have to go that morning. "No church," she screams, shaking her finger at me, no less. In the end, my comparative brawn wins out over her will and energetic flailing. But wait - there's tooth-brushing yet to do and this child knows this is where her wily little body can match me minute for minute. After all, it's tough to brush the teeth of a moving target. Oh sure, I could just let her do it herself, but then she'd just suck all the toothpaste off the brush, effectively cleaning maybe two teeth by sheer happenstance. So daily, we end up in the floor wrestling over a Winnie-the-Pooh toothbrush. Katie is red and sweaty from her attempts to fight me and I'm the worst mother in the world.
It's 8 a.m. and I already feel like a failure.
Every mom tells me this in normal, but that doesn't make it feel any better. I mean, this is my baby. I love this child with everything in me and I yearn to spend our days together laughing, singing and playing together. I want to teach her things and feel all those warm fuzzies you dream about having with your kids. But that just isn't how it works. Kids have to be corrected, and Katie is showing that her sin nature is fully developed.
My husband reminds me that despite how it makes a parent feel, such discipline for a child is absolutely necessary. Hebrews 12:11 says:
"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."
It's that "later on" that I have to look forward to if I'm going to make it past 8 a.m. with my will to live intact. I have to envision that teaching Katie to trust and obey me as a parent is going to translate into her trusting and obeying God as her ultimate authority. Even though Katie isn't a morning person like her mother, she is just as strong willed as I am, and that's a quality that's gotten me into more trouble than I care to remember. And it's OK if she doesn't grow up to be a person driven to tick off a half dozen tasks before sunrise, but I do want her to be a person who stays the course with eternity in mind. Lord, please don't let my cannonball approach to life get in the way.
