The meltdowns were coming in waves. Not like a gentle monsoon rain… more like a tsunami. It’s source was somewhere far out at sea. A complete mystery to the weathermen who were working overtime to try to predict the height of the swells and how much damage they would cause.
Crash… crash……..CRASH!!!!!! Our eldest boy was just hiccuping with sobs and flinging out accusations that made zero sense to us, the frazzled weather men trying to predict its next turn on its path of destruction.
“I WANT A COIN!!! I WANT A COIN!!!”
We were at a restaurant in Durango, CO, trying to shove food in our kids’ mouths while one of us bounced the baby who had missed his nap and was working hard at melting down. Vacations with little ones…just hard parenting made even harder by taking everyone out of their element.
Josh was demanding in a louder and louder tone. We discovered that Sammy had swiped a quarter earlier and put it in his pocket. He used it to get candy from a vending machine and now brother Josh was jealous and wanted the same.
Dave decided that, due to many issues (including the entitled demands and earlier meltdowns), Josh would not be getting a quarter.
We were struggling to keep our cool. We were that family. We had a whiny infant, a demanding four-year-old and a two-year-old trying to run out the door every chance he got. Dave felt the heat of the glares. I felt the heat of Josh’s repeated meltdowns and entitlement.
I had visions of just dumping all of the kids and running. Like running far away until my lungs burned. Which wouldn’t be very far because I need to be real about how out of shape I am. Plus, you know… altitude.
I took a deep breath. “OK, you take the other boys and enjoy the patio for a bit and I’ll take fit-throwing Josh to the car.” Dave nodded in agreement and took the other boys outside to enjoy the cool breeze on the patio and live music.
I dragged Josh to the car. He wailed the whole way there. “You’re a mean mom! I don’t like you and dad!!!! I want to play mini-golf!!!!! I WANT A COIN!!!!!!!” I really really really wanted to tell him to “Shut the f*** up,” but I didn’t.
“Your behavior stinks right now, but I don’t love you any different or any less.”
“THIS WAS A TERRIBLE DAY!”
“You are a Lin and you are a Son of the King. Your behavior does not reflect who you are right now.”
“I WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH!!!”
“You’re right. You won’t. Your behavior will never be enough to live up to your name. God gave us Jesus to take the blame for our sin… our bad behavior…. my bad behavior.”
I had tears running down my cheeks as I shared my heart with my little boy who had struggled so hard that day with attitudes and testing boundaries.
Josh, still hot with anger said, “MOM!!! WHY ARE YOU CRYING???”
“Because, my son. It’s my story. It’s my redemption. He’s my Savior.”
Dave arrived back the the car with the other two, who all joined in the wailing as we made the return trip to the motel.
We managed to wrangle the crew out of the car. I cleaned up the dirty little tear-stained ragamuffins and Dave attacked the laundry, going back and forth to the motel wash room. We got all of them in bed and asleep by 8:30 and I quietly slipped out of the room.
I walked down to the laundry room to see if Dave was still there and he had already left. I turned around and walked down the hall. I passed a series of rooms and to my delight, I heard no less than three rooms with toddlers screaming their little lungs out. The last one I passed, I heard “I WANT TO GO TO THE POOOOOL!!!!!!!!”
I grinned to myself and with a pep in my step, I stopped for some decaf at the little coffee station. A gentle rain had started outside and I sank into the couch in the lobby. Dave sat down next to me and he and I talked and decompressed together… laughing about how ridiculously hard the day was and what we could take away from it and do different etc. He went back to the room and crashed with the boys.
I got another cup of decaf.
An American humorist, writer and author. When boiling down the chicken soup of life, she finds those golden, fried nuggets of truth & writes them long after the kids go to bed.
July 23, 2018 @ 8:02 pm
Love this. We took Hannah years ago while I was preggo with Abby. I remember walking down the street looking at some shops while Hannah age 16mo was having a fit. One of the stores caught our eye, it had a onesee that said ‘Hello, my name is No-No’. Hannah was in her No, No, No stage. Love how you point your boys back to the King of Kings who died for our No-Nos.
July 26, 2018 @ 4:55 pm
I love this Jules. The King of Kings… he died for ALL of our no-nos. <3 I also love you and how you loudly proclaim that in your own life. I see victory not because of what you've done, but because of what He's done. And for that reason alone, I am privileged to call you a dear friend.