An Israelite Kind of Day

Wednesday was a really bad day. It was a frustrating, exhausting day full of Whinese and overreactions.  By 7 p.m., I was pretty much done with the kids. Done with listening to them whine. Done with answering questions that had no answers (why do I have to read?). Done with requests that were stated as demands. Done.

I was.

They weren’t.

So on the way to church, Mamasboy piped up for the 44^th time that day that he didn’t like reading, didn’t understand why he had to read, wasn’t supposed to read books that were too easy, didn’t have any appropriate reading material among our 156,000 books for all ages, and didn’t like reading. Did I already mention that he doesn’t like reading? I’ve considered electric shock therapy. Truly. This is all just as wrong as it can be. At any rate, this little miniature tirade from the back of the van on the way to church set me off. I was the camel. His speech was the straw. My back broke. I think I actually heard the bone snap. And as I am prone to do on occasion, I spouted off at the flapping gums. What happened next is a perfect representation of every single member of the family. And here is how the next 3 minutes went:

“Mamasboy, I don’t want to hear another word about this. I am so tired of talking about this. All of you guys have been ridiculously whiny today. I can totally understand why God just got mad and smacked the Israelites around when they started whining. I understand why He sent them into the desert for 40  years. In fact, if I could send you guys into the desert right now, I would.”  Wow, right? I know. Not that I need to clarify this point, but I was the speech maker here. Todd was shaking his head at this speech and I think maybe his hand was on his forehead in exasperation.

There were four distinctly different reactions to my speech in this exact order:

AG: Did not react at all. Silence. He blew me off, as he probably should have. He knows enough now to know that sometimes moms get mad. Just let them be mad. Let the moment pass. Don’t speak. He’s a smart boy.

Mamasboy: “You would send ME into the desert to wander for 40 YEARS??!!” He was now wailing so hard he almost couldn’t get the words out. I felt terrible. Mostly.

Snuggle Monkey: Mama would never send ME into the desert. She would not do that ever.

Beloved, looking over at Snuggle Monkey, said in the very firm, rhythmic voice of authority: Oh, yes she would.

Right about then, Todd pulled into the parking space in the church parking lot and said:

“Get out. All of you.”

And we did.