For the last few weeks, I’ve been really aware of how I respond to my kids. I don’t remember what set my thinking down this road.. but I don’t want my kids to see me as the angry mom. I have a tendency to hear one of them, usually ds4, ask me something, or call me…. And being wrapped up in what I’m doing, I don’t respond. So whoever it is keeps at it, getting louder and more annoying every second until I finally respond, usually through my teeth, that I heard them and I will deal with whatever in a minute. I don’t know why… Maybe on some level I’m hoping that if I ignore it long enough, it will go away. Whatever the reason, it needs to change.
I’ve also been thinking about this… If I died today, what would I have left with my kids? Do they have lots of good memories to think about… or will they always remember mom as the computer geek? I’m trying to get better at dropping whatever I’m doing to read or play with them. They are only going to be this little once. Before I got married, I used to love working with the 3 year olds in the church nursery. What happened to me after I had my own? How did I forget all the little songs and games to play with them?
There is a poems that I’ve been thinking of lately that addresses this… I’m really not sure where to start, but I know something has to change. *S* that’s the first step isn’t it? Acknowledging there is a problem?
Here’s the poem… emailed to me a few years ago, don’t know the author…
FAMILY
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
“Oh excuse me please” was my reply.
He said, “Please excuse me too;
I wasn’t watching for you.”
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said good-bye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
“Move out of the way,” I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn’t realize how harshly I’d spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God’s still small voice came to me and said,
“While dealing with a stranger,
common courtesy you use,
but the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You’ll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.”
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
“Wake up, little one, wake up,” I said.
“Are these the flowers you picked for me?”
He smiled, “I found ’em, out by the tree.
I picked ’em because they’re pretty like you.
I knew you’d like ’em, especially the blue.”
I said, “Son, I’m very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn’t have yelled at you that way.”
He said, “Oh, Mom, that’s okay.
I love you anyway.”
I said, “Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue.”
FAMILY
Are you aware that if we died tomorrow, the company that we are working for
could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind
will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.
And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than into our own
family, an unwise investment indeed, don’t you think?
So what is behind the story?
Do you know what the word FAMILY means?
FAMILY = (F)ATHER (A)ND (M)OTHER (I) (L)OVE (Y)OU
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