A Day In My Life As Mama, from A to Z

This is a mini writing challenge I did for Faithwriters a little while back. I thought it would be fun to share here, since it is singing my lifesong (well, a somewhat dramatized and exaggerated form of it) in the form of the alphabet.

The A to Z Challenge

1) Use the entire alphabet - A to Z
2) 26 lines - it does NOT have to be a poem - and try to stay on one topic!
3) Alphabet letters can appear at the beginning, middle or end of the words--for example: Xerox Example Fox
4) No word limit

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Austin, AnaLee and Allison, aka, the “A” Team, are part of the sanctification process for me. Before I say much else, please don’t hold the following information against me or report me to the authorities.

Caring for the “A” team is a blessing, but it isn’t always a picnic. Drama—our home is all about it, as I am probably considered the capital "D" Director of it. Except for an occasional calm day, there is almost always some sort of ordeal.

For one, my oldest child—my new GIANT son (now taller than me)—is beginning to seem a little like Jekyll and Hyde. Growing into a Gigantor overnight isn't easy, I'm sure, but it has to be easier on him than it is on me. He used to be my little compliant baby boy, but now I’m compelled to keep all eyes on him—even the ones in the back of my head. I know I can’t be there every second, but I regularly remind him that God sees, even when I’m otherwise occupied.

Just when I think I’m getting through to him, it’s time for my second child, AnaLee to work the drama. Keeping an eye on her is not a problem at all, as she makes sure she is in my constant view (and earshot). Lots of love can be lost between the two of us if I am not loving her God’s way. Maybe that’s because we are so much alike. Needing extra time in the spotlight, she regularly belts out her favorite song.

“Open the eyes of my heart, Lord" will bellow from her throat voice loud enough to open my ears wide, too. “Pretty, sing pretty,” I remind her. Quick to earn my praise, she then sings the way God made her to sing, bringing this mama to tears.

Running around the house all the while—or should I say “RrrrUFF”ing around the house, is my youngest, as she is a dog freak. Speaking in Spot’s language, she will beg all of us, any of us, to pull her around on her leash as she dutifully plays her role of ‘Man’s Best Friend.’ To add to the chaos, our REAL dog, ABBY (yes, another “A”), decides to snip and snap at Ally-Spot, because she doesn’t like the competition. Unruliness can become an issue, so I often have to step in before someone ends up getting bit by ONE of the dogs in the family.

Visiting friends regularly comment on the less than ideal noise level in my home, but they are kind to stop before making me feel too terrible about my parenting skills, or the lack thereof. What’s this desperate, dramatic, David-like mama to do? X-rays of the head may be considered in my near future, but I'll have to keep you posted on that idea.

You may be thinking about calling ‘Super-Nanny’ on my behalf, but first let me request a favor: Zoom out, and you will see a mama who loves her kiddos, all the way from A to Z, and I’m so thankful that God never stops parenting ME.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, 

that we should be called children of God! 

And that is what we are!” 

1 John 3:1a

How bout ya'all? Any of you need a blog post to write? Give the challenge a try if you dare!

In the Key of HE,

Worship On My Mind

***Posted for Patty Wysong's Fiction Fridays. For more great fiction, click here: http://pattywysong.blogspot.com

hurry, Hurry, HuRRy, HURRY UP! My thoughts were racing as I lugged my six-year-old across the church parking lot with her wrist in my tightly gripped palm. “Mommy, this shoe isn’t tight enooooough!” she whined while stomping her foot on the pavement for dramatic effect.

“You’ll live! I’ve tied it three times already, now hurry up!” My barking softened to a whine, “Come on, sweetie, I don’t want to be late for worship time.” We funneled through the crowd inside the building, somewhat lopsided from her dragging and me pulling. Oh boy, lots of familiar faces. “Hi, I’m fine. How are you?” Boy, can I fake it when I need to. “Hey there!” Big plastered smile.

The smile quickly turned upside down. “What!?! Her room is full,” I huffed to the check-in lady, What’s-Her-Name. “You’ve GOT to be kidding!” Oh, what’s the point? Great, now my daughter is crying, and I am fuming, but we will not miss the worship time, no sir-ee! I scooped her up in my arms, set my eyes straight ahead as to not make eye contact with anyone and darted into the church service out of sheer determination to get my fix. I yell-whispered a “HUSH IT” into my daughter’s flushed ear, and she dug her head into my shoulder to end her whimpering.

Bummer! It’s already started, I complained inside my mind. Down one aisle, nope, no seat. Down the next….So much for being discreet. Oh, there was a spot in the middle…I wish those people would move in. No such luck. “Sorry, excuse me,” I half-heartedly uttered through my clinched teeth while trying not to step on anyone’s foot or purse or Bible.

There. I released a deep breath, thankful that it was finally time to worship. My little one decided that it was finally time to tighten her shoe. I tightened it, alright! And put a triple knot in it. She looked up at me with those red eyes and started to plead…. No way! After seeing my “don’t you dare” glare, she changed her mind about asking me to attend to the other shoe.

Everyone was clapping and swaying as I dug desperately through my purse to find something with kid appeal. If she will just leave me alone, then—THEN I can finally sing. “Here, sweetie, draw me a picture of worship,” I pleaded as she grabbed the notebook and pen I had found. There. All settled. I began to praise with a grin as big as Texas on my face. “It’s all about You,” I sang. It repeated once.

Wow, those drums are loud...Oh well. “It’s all about You, Jesus,” I belted out…until I noticed my Bible study leader across the aisle. I wondered why she wasn’t singing. That’s strange. I couldn’t help but hope that my mentor would notice me giving my all to the Lord in robust praise. The last chord of the guitar strummed, and I was so bummed! I reluctantly took my seat along with the others. It’s time to sit down already? I just got here.

Oh good, they’re starting another song. Ah, yes, “We fall down, we lay our crowns at the feet of Jesus….” In the middle of this worshipful moment, right NOW! What are they talking about? I restrained myself from tapping the shoulders of the two ladies conversing in front of me. The guy two rows up to the left took a drink of his out of his shiny silver coffee mug. We’re worshipping, people!

As I sat heartbroken in that spot bravely holding back the tears, I looked down at my daughter, fully expecting to be interrupted by her again. And I was.

She sat there melted into the pew with her head and her hands raised toward heaven. On her lap sat her sketch—Jesus hanging on the cross with thorns on His head and nails in His hands---The top read, “My Pikcher of Wership.” It wasn’t a sketch—no—it was a MASTERpiece! Lord, forgive me. My heart has been so selfish!

In was in that unexpected moment that I finally got to worship, and it had nothing to do with the music, nothing to do with the crowd, and it especially had nothing to do with me.

In that true moment of worship, it was finally ALL about Him.

“I will thank the LORD with all my heart
as I meet with his godly people.”
Psalm 111:1 (NLT)

Mom's the Bomb!

Oh, how I wish I meant that in a good way!

I bombed.

My ten-year-old daughter lost her tooth last week, and she was so excited about using the money she would get from it for Vacation Bible School. She wiggled it and wiggled it, trying to get it loose enough to fall out before the last day of VBS approached. She succeeded in her part of the plan. But...

Imagine her surprise, when she woke up and found her tooth under her pillow instead of a dollar the next morning. Ouch! I bombed.

Morning #2:

My daughter came down the stairs with a HUGE grin on her face: "MOM! The tooth fairy left me a dollar!"

I didn't flinch at all, but I thought Oh no, I forgot again. I looked up at her and she's holding a dollar. Maybe there IS a tooth fairy.

"That's great, Sweetheart!" I couldn't let her see the panic in my eyes.

AnaLee had an ornery look about her, and that's when I wondered..."Yeah, Mom, and she left me a note too." She cleared her throat and read the note written on wide-ruled notebook paper:

Dear AnaLee, Sorry I was late. I had so many places to go! I hope you lose more teeth and grow bigger and better ones! --Tooth Fairy

Okay, I was onto her. (I'm a quick one...) She had manufactured the note and used her own dollar to test me. I decided the best plan for now was to ignore the subject until I could think it through. That evening, she came to me and asked, "Mom, is the Tooth Fairy real?"

"Why do you ask, AnaLee? You got a note and a dollar from her this morning?"

"But is she real?"

"Do you want the truth?"

"Um...yeeeeeessssss."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

I worded it very carefully. "She's real if you believe she's real."

"I knew it! YOU're the tooth fairy!!!!" Her face was beaming, and she was so proud of herself for solving the mystery. I guess it's better than her finding out from another child. Then she'da been mad instead of happy.

So, yeah, I blew it. I used to be the Tooth Fairy. Now I'm the Bomb!


PS. I shared with her the "Rule." We don't share with ANYONE, no matter the age about who the Tooth Fairy may or may not be. Otherwise, she'll never get to be the Tooth Fairy when her time comes. ;)