Late-night Laundry Folding

As I sit here folding laundry in the quiet darkness of the living room, I review my day. In summary, it had been a long day, and I could have handled myself better. I had made more than half of my children cry as the day progressed, but one incident was more striking than the others. This child is old enough to tell me, "You hurt my feelings." All six of the children are sensitive to some degree, but this one is the only one with the same anxiety issues that I have. Meaning, the more upset she is, the harder it is to calm her down.

Picture the scene: This is the sixth day of no school due to a statewide teacher walkout. After 5 "school" days of living like it's summer break in the Oklahoma "spring," I decided my children should do some academic work. Said children are fine with this schedule change, but end up goofing off, skillfully avoiding their chores and homework. By 7:30 pm, after having waited in a stinky van (dang gassy dog) for two hours while trying to keep the baby from sitting on the super sensitive horn on the steering wheel and startling unsuspecting passersby, and hearing the question "can I have (gum, a mint, water, a tissue, gummy worms, another mint, etcetera, etcetera...) I was done. Just. Done. And I wasn't at all gracious about it. I tried to fulfill another request to fill a water bottle for one of my sweet children when I couldn't do it. The kitchen sink was piled high with dishes. Dishes that I asked them to help me take care of. So I yelled. I found the perfect punishment for the nine year old. No timeouts, no spanking, no taking away toys or other beloved items. I was going to get her good. She was going to learn her lesson.

Still on a rampage, I called on the eldest of my brood. This child is no stranger to our sometimes extravagant expectations. He knows I'm a tad upset. He knows exactly what I'm upset about (to my amazement). I find myself in a pickle because I don't know how to punish this one, but it didn't matter because the nine year old is now on the verge of hyperventilating. Sigh. I call her in to sit next to her sibling. I breathe. I look at these two. One sad that he disappointed me again (or maybe because he's here instead of still at baseball practice), and the other shaking, sobbing, and won't look me in the eye. What have I done?

So I surrendered. I let goodness in. And I remembered that just yesterday we celebrated Divine Mercy Sunday. Just yesterday. And I thought to myself, why can't you show them the same kind of mercy and love that Jesus shows you? I can do that. And I did. I let them know my expectations clearly, took away any punishments and threats, forgave them, and apologized.

There was a certain amount of healing this evening, mostly for me. Hopefully tomorrow is better. I reminded them of a phrase from yesterday's homily that has been in my mind - "You are not your past."  I told them that they need not worry, for today was at an end, and God's mercy would be new in the morning.