Lemonade Pants

It was one of those days. I was at the campground helping Kerry with an event when my wild and rambunctious 3 year old son jumped, jumped, jumped and then bumped, bumped, bumped his very full cup of lemonade into my lap.  My entire lap was soaked with lemonade.  Now, spilling things on your clothes is never comfortable, but the feeling of soaked jeans--soaked sticky jeans--is super unpleasant.  I was angry.  Deacon immediately looked up at me with his big brown eyes and very softly said, "I sorry mama."  I didn't care, I was annoyed. Yes, I know I sound really mean.  It's okay to judge me...I would.

I grabbed Deacon by the hand and said, "Let's go, mama has to go home and change clothes since you spilled lemonade in my lap."  I know, sweet, patient, merciful mother of the year here.

I harshly explained to my husband that I would be back after I went home and changed.  I loaded my son in the car and home we headed.  All the way home I was still annoyed, stewing in my lemonade pity party pants.

I got home, changed clothes, and then realized the shorts I picked out to wear didn't go with the shoes I was originally wearing.  Now, I would have to paint my toe-nails really quick because my toes looked awful and un-manicured.  I just knew everyone would be staring at my feet.  "Awesome...just one more thing to add to this day," I thought.  Yes, I can be this self-absorbed...I'm not proud of it.

I quickly painted my toes, slipped on my flip-flops, and headed out the door.  I got into the car where my precious son was waiting...patiently and happily watching his movie.  As we took off down the road Deacon started up conversation.

"Mama, I want a Cars bike for Christmas."

"Oh yeah, I thought you wanted a Toy Story bike?"

"Mama, I-I-I want a Toy Story bike, Toy Story, yesth (yes) Toy Story."

"Okay, we'll ask Santa for a Toy Story bike."

"Mama, I get you a present."

"What are you going to get me?"

Long pause.  "I get you a tape measure...a big one!"

"Oh Deacon, I would love that."

My stupid anger over him spilling lemonade on my pants seemed so stupid and wrong in this moment.  I almost cried; I felt so horrible.  This precious child didn't mean to spill his lemonade all over me.  I am, of all people, incredibly clumsy which should have resulted in me extending him mercy and grace over the incident.  Instead I was mad and rash with him because it inconvenienced me and caused me a temporary discomfort.  Lord, forgive me and help him forget my hatefulness.

"Deacon, what about Daddy?"

"I get Daddy a scooter."

"What about sissy?"

"Um...I get her a doll."

"I tell Santa when he comes to the fish store." (Bass Pro)

With that last line my heart broke.  I felt like a selfish baby.  I knew I owed my three-old son an apology.

"Deacon...Mama is sorry for getting mad and being ugly to you earlier.  You are a good boy, and I love you."

He smiled and went on with his Christmas list--not for himself mind you, but what he wanted to get others.  I sat and soaked up the rest of his words the entire ride.  I asked God to forgive me and help me cherish each moment with my kids and stop fretting over things that do not matter.