The OpinionNater

Alright, I warned some of you that I was going to do this post. AND that it would probably be my longest post ever. So here goes...

If two year old Nathan were to write me a letter about a day in the life, this is how it would go:

Dear Mom, pray for patience today. The morning will begin like this...I will come bumbling into your room with my carpet hair sticking out all over and Bear tucked under my arm and demand to nurse RIGHT THIS SECOND. I'll also insist that you sit up immediately to do so. Upon the granting of my request (after you've required me to calm down and ask nicely) I'll look up at you with my big blue eyes and then wave hello with my little hand. After giving me fair warning you'll get up to take your shower and I'll either scream until you're done or bug my sisters until one of them ends up in tears because I swatted them with my new T-ball set.

When you try to get me dressed I won't be pleased with any shirt you pick out. When offered the option to choose my own, I will kindly live in my race car jammies all day, thank you. Which would be fine except that I'll rip my bib off at breakfast and subsequently spill my cereal on myself. Then I'll get mad and demand that you remove my wet jammies immediately.

When it's time to get ready to leave, I'll refuse to get my socks on. If you pick blue socks, I'll want red and vice versa. Even if I pick my own I'll still complain that they hurt and that they're "buggin' me." And good luck fixing them. It's anyone's guess as to how many adjustments it will take to satisfy me to my foot's content. But then I'll refuse my shoes, too. I may agree to my rain boots, on the wrong feet, though. And my coat...only if I can zip it up myself...except that I don't know how to zip it up myself.

And carseats. I don't like mine. The buckle and harness really cramp my style so I'll be sure and let you know. And the music you pick, mom, I won't like it. But if there's no music, I won't like that either. Once we find a song I like, I won't like the volume. And good luck trying to guess what I want because I get "turn it up" and turn it down" mixed up.

Once we arrive at the store, I want to walk. You'll inform me that I either have to hold your hand or be carried through the parking lot. Given the options, I decide to kick and scream and make a scene. You'll be thankful for the kind elderly gentleman in County Market who says with a knowing smile "stick to your guns, Mom, this too shall pass."

Once we're back from the store I'll now want to stay buckled in the aforementioned once dreaded carseat and not come in the house. Once I'm lured in, I'll insist on helping to put the groceries away. But I don't want to put the milk in the fridge. I think it belongs in the cupboard instead. When it's time to wash my hands for lunch, I'd rather lick the germs leftover from the shopping cart. Don't want to waste a good cold virus I might be able to catch. And when you put the foam soap on my hands, it had better look like a snake. No other animal substitutions will do, mind you.

By the way, when you're halfway through typing this, I'll be sure to hit the off button on the computer and erase the whole thing for you. Then I'll want to climb up in your lap and snuggle.

We might have some good times reading books or doing puzzles, but then the rest of the afternoon will continue along the same vein as the morning. I don't want my teeth brushed before nap. And if I pick the bubblegum toothpaste, once it's already on my brush I'll be sure to scream that I had actually wanted the mint instead. Too bad, you tell me patiently.

Don't even get me started on my diapers. One minute I've pooped and want to be changed immediately, but if it's not my idea, then I don't understand why they need to be changed at all. I'll also be sure to demand "medicine" (ointment) on any imaginary owies I might dream up for random places on my legs. Then I won't want my pants back on either. Thanks for creating the game where I get to at least pick which leg goes in first.

I know my sisters still slept 2-3 hours for nap time at my age. I'm sorry you have to wake me after an hour or I won't go to sleep at night. I'm sorry that I have a hard time staying in my bed and always seem surprised when you put a gate in my doorway after I've attempted my escape. And I'm sorry that I almost always wake up crabby after the naps you have to wake me from.

Mom, with more of the same from me at supper and bedtime, it's a good thing you pray often. I hear you taking deep breaths, counting to 10, and asking God to help you parent me with loving discipline and secure boundaries. Please remember that I am a toddler, and am trying desperately to figure out how much of my world I have control over. I haven't figured out yet that the world doesn't revolve around me, that I have a sinful nature, or that impulse control is even an option. But please be patient, God isn't finished with me (or you for that matter) yet.

Love,
Nathan


P.S. You're right, Mom. It's a good thing I'm cute.

Confessions from Mom:
After my first two kids, I sort of thought I had the parenting thing down--at least with toddlers anyway. (Yeah, go ahead and laugh.) Oh sure, I had challenges with the girls too (like hour long screaming fits), but I don't remember them testing me incessantly on absolutely everything. And I thought we had a pretty good system of expectations, obedience and consequences for the lack of. I'd read all the parenting books--even studied child development in college, and thought I was confident in my parenting style. And I admit, when I'd see other mothers whose kids acted the way I've described Nathan, I'd think to myself "lazy parent. She needs some backbone. Her kids are running the show. She needs to step up and be the parent. She needs to have firm and consistent consequences, etc. etc." While I still do think there are plenty of cases where that assessment is probably accurate, I have also been humbled. It's not always that simple. I am not kidding when I say I often have to pray my way through my days. (Shouldn't it be that way anyway, though?) This parenting thing is hard. On so many levels. And I need God and his wisdom to get us through to the other side! I'm so thankful He promises to give wisdom "generously to all who ask, WITHOUT finding fault." (James 1:5)