Tanking up on patience

We brought the kids to the wedding because for days, Elijah's first question in the morning had become, "Mama, today we go to Wed-ding?" Upon arrival at the old grand church, we found prime seating first row up in the balcony. The kids could people watch without being watched. Only, once the pianist stopped playing I also acknowledged the acoustics of this old church when people turned around to see the source of our quiet whispering to our 3 and 4 year olds.

Elijah was quietly active. He hustled around, as quiet as a 3-year-old could intentionally be, stepping up and down the stairs in the balcony in his black rubber soled "wedding shoes." It was prime testing ground for "how much can Jen let go of control." I wanted to control his movements. Thinking back prior to kids, I probably would have sat a few seats over thinking, "that kid needs some discipline, those parents are permissive, letting him stomp around like that!" But I've been working through what people think and I care far less than I used to. This was just... a well, we just don't want to cause a scene... so ok, I didn't say I totally worked through the people pleaseing stuff. When he was folding the well greased wooden chair seats up and down and testing if they made drumming noised, I was feeling a little stressed. After some encouragement, he was very good about putting them down quietly and raising them quietly. But I was fearful that he wouldn't be able to control it every time. So I was trying to direct him away, yet he resisted. As I looked around for "this kids is bugging me cues" I didn't see any, so I decided to let him continue practising being quiet. Heads were not turning in the front row by the stage so I figured we were doing ok. When various family members were being seated, (a quiet moment) Elijah marched up the stairs in the balcony to where I decided to station myself (with Graham in the first row giving a play-by-play for Hannah). First he went from the front seat to the top step and curled up in a ball hiding, then returned to the front to do a few things, then returned to hide on the top step. After a few times, he walked to the back looking like he had something cupped in his hands. He placed it at the top of the stairs with a quiet sort of construction machine sound, and went back for more. He was scooping "dirt" from the first row beside Daddy to the back row beside Mommy. Though out this 30 minute period, any attempt I made to make him stand or sit still was going to cause an eruption. I decided not to rock the boat at the back of the church. As the bride was walking the last section of the aisle the music the moment approached when I was going to have to remove him... the music had drowned out his "Mama, I got go pee!" I acknowldged him, but I was hoping he would hold off for me to witness the next few moments. In frustration he said it louder, "Mama, I got go pee." The music had stopped, so I jumped to my feet quietly clucked down the wooden stairs with my heels while holding my 3 year old. I was a broken quiet record repeating to him, "we must whisper..."

When we returned I was surprised to hear the pastor introduce the exchange of vows. As I was deliberating whether or not to bring him back upstairs, he was insistent as he dragged me toward the stairs while the service continued before the open doors down the aisle before us. He saw the big cross beside us at the bottom of the staircase. With great eagerness, and spiritual sensitivity, he whispers, "Mama, A coss[cross]." I nodded and started to play my quiet broken record, "ok Elijah, shhh, we have to whisper ok?" A nod is not sufficient for an eager 3-year-old. He repeated again in a whisper, "A coss, Mommy. A coss." With each repetition it started to get just faintly louder. I started to repeat myself faster. He then said it again with what I heard to be a shout "Mama, A CROSS!" I quickly diffused his frustration whispering, "Oh, yes, I see a cross." His volume dropped back to a whisper. I breathed a sign of relief and realized that I was sweating. Elijah insisted upon walking up the hallow sounding wooden steps back to the balcony to witness the exchange of vows. It was a relief and sweet to watch Elijah's intriuge over the moment. Then the sermon began and the hustling started again, up and down the stairs. Since I was so hot, I decided to take him outside the church for both of our sakes.

After sweat dried off and the service was over, I was relieved to spend 6 hours sans kids to socialized with adults. At the very least, it's nice to, once in a while, eat without the necessity of hopping out of my chair to prevent a huge spill or someone hurling utensils across the table. I was so engrossed with conversation we were delayed significantly. I often return from such times with great anticipation to be a better mom because I've been recharged. I was greeted with a bear hug and a snugly little one on my lap and kids running laps in our friend's house. We decided to just revel in the moment and embrace the good company of friends and happy kids. It was past their bedtime but we "counted the cost" (so to speak).

As we pulled out of the driveway with 2 very disappointed screaming children we were reaping what we sowed. It was a very profound moment. It seemed like there was no 6 hour break from the kids. I felt my temperature rising back to the sweaty moment of attempting to keep an eager and excited 3 year old quiet in an echoy church seated full with wedding guests during the exchange of vows. I had a profound moment.

Sometimes I think that time away from the kids is like tanking up on patience. I've learned that there is no tanking up. I might have gained perspective, but no matter what method I've used to tank up, whether retail therapy, reading my Bible, journaling, coffee with a friend, coffee alone, reading a good parenting book ... I have a preconceived notion that I would get tanked up on perspective and patience to make me a better parent than before I left a few hours before. Those are sobering moments because I almost always return to face a patience trying moment. I am thankful for God's grace to give me these disatisfying times. As the van was filled with stress inducing screams from 2 exhausted children I came to a realization for the first time. I cannot work up any patience of my own accord. Whether I've had 6 hours away from the kids or have spent 6 weeks with them sans break, all patience is God's gift of grace.