Last Wednesday was one of those days.  You know the kind of day I am talking about.  The one where you want to go back to bed, wake up, and start the whole day over again.  The kind of day where you are lucky that everyone in your house is alive by the time dad makes it home.  The kind of day where I was reminded over and over again of how desperately I need the Lord to help me every second because I cannot help but get angry, yell, and get frustrated with my children.

I had a meeting early that morning with a fun lady who is mentoring me, then I headed to Harris Teeter for triple coupons week (where I scored big!), and then I headed home on a high from my big haul I got for oh so cheap.  I came in the house and all was well.  The girls were awake, half fed, and everyone was happy.  What I was not told was that Ed had already reprimanded and disciplined Kinsley a few times that morning for not listening.

Ed left for campus, I finished feeding the girls, and was eating myself, when Kinsley started disobeying.  She pushed Emerson down, she hit the buttons on the washer that she knew she wasn’t supposed to touch, and just disobeyed multiple instructions (to which we had to take time to discipline).  She started asking about what we were doing in school that morning and if we could go ahead and do it (normally we wait until Emerson is down for her morning nap and Kinsley has a snack in hand to keep her happy and occupied).  She was getting out all her supplies, trying to cut things she clearly knew she wasn’t supposed to cut, and making a huge mess.  I was excited that she was excited so I said okay to getting started (I also was tired of telling her not to do this and not to do that only to turn around 5 minutes later and find her doing it anyway).  First mistake.  We started school and it wasn’t long until she decided that she did not want to do it after all and threw a huge tantrum.

Fast forward.  We finished school, got changed, gathered up clothes for laundry, put Emerson down for a nap, and went downstairs to put in the laundry.  Remember earlier when she touched the buttons on the washer and I walked by later and just turned the power off?  Well, she actually started the washer.  But I didn’t know that.  So when I opened the washer to add more clothes to the clothes already inside and to start it, water started pouring out.  I could have related it to what we were learning in school that week about Noah and the flood and it would have been a perfect example of a flood.  But I didn’t.  I got angry because this had happened because she had disobeyed.  I should have just let the washer finish it’s cycle (second mistake) but I was too panicked about the water all over the floor, so I started getting water out of the washer into a bucket and then figuring out how to clean up the floor.

After multiple calls to Ed (he was in a meeting but realized after the second of third call in a row that it was important and he should pick up), lots of tears (not because it was that big of a deal but because it was the tip of the iceburg), and lots of yelling (yes, I wish I could say I remained perfectly calm and talked about the flood), I was able to move the washer out enough to get behind it to start cleaning the water off the floor.  Fast forward 15 minutes.  Still behind the washer, Emerson wakes up (she isn’t supposed to be up yet!) and Kinsley comes around the corner with an ink pen in her hand trying to write on the door.  Yes, an ink pen writing on the laundry room door.  Another no-no.

Fast forward another 10 minutes.  I am moving things back, finishing wiping up the floor, and Emerson is playing in the living room with Kinsley nearby when I walk around the corner and see Kinsley take a little person (aka a small really hard object) and hit Emerson on her forehead at point blank range. Again, something she knew better than to do.  This momma hit her breaking point.  And yelled.  And then felt guilty for yelling.  And then had to ask for forgiveness, of the Lord and of Kinsley (after discipling her of course!).  And then thought “how much longer until daddy is home?”.

I opted to feed the girls an early lunch (I don’t know about most kids but mine are so much better with full bellies) and put them down for a nap.  Ed had his last discipleship appointment over the phone on the way home so that he could come home a little early and look at the washer (which I forgot to mention started spraying water everywhere from the hose in the back and which we determined meant that the hose was busted….after I had already cleaned up all the water once).

When Ed got home, I said “We haven’t had a day this bad since before Emerson was born.”  He responded with “Well thats about once a year then.  You have had it, now tomorrow will be better.”  True.  And it was.  So much better.  Course it doesn’t have to be much better to top it.

I was reminded that I don’t want to be a mother that yells, loses her cool, and disciplines in anger.  But it happens.  I am not perfect nor will I ever be.  And the only thing I can do after it happens is ask forgiveness from the Lord, from all involved, and ask Him to help me.  What a good reminder.  But next time, can I be reminded without the flood?