Redemption.

Wednesdays are pretty predictable in the Grimme house, and usually a favorite day for all. It's trash day which means every Wednesday morning I get about 20 minutes of -quiet (key word here)- reading time while Luke stands at the front window watching every garbage and recycling truck come through the neighborhood. And to top it off, the bus stop is right outside our house so that adds another minute or two of sheer bliss for my truck lover, Luke. Then, something wonderful happens at Eva Perry Library. Mother Goose story time. It's not the story time Luke is in love with, it's Miss Martha. Or, "Mish Marph," rather. Luke talks about it all week, retells what he did at the library in his own way, recounts the songs and nursery rhymes we've song and watches intently for 15 minutes every week as Miss Martha leads the way. After library time the day is pretty much a shoe in - run a couple errands, have some lunch, play outside and voila, it's 1:15 and the boy is ready for nap.

I should have known today would go a little differently. I had time to get dressed this morning, and eat breakfast before throwing up a couple of times (yes, I am 18 1/2 weeks and still throwing up - do not tempt me with another, "Oh maybe this will be the week it ends!"), and even managed to have a very peaceful devotional time with both fellas in which Luke joyfully recited half of Genesis 1:1. He even sent dad off with a very "happy heart" as we call it without one tear and enjoyed every garbage truck as usual. And then it happened. We got to the library. And he walked in, dropped off his books and the whining and crying began. Tearing books off the shelves followed, by a very impatient little boy who did no feel like waiting for Mish Marph any longer. Finally, she appeared and I thought, "ok...back to normal." Well. Miss Marph. If you sing a song about a horse every week for a month, then take it out of your story time, the one 18 month old in the room that actually remembers every song you've ever sung will likely have a meltdown. Insert Luke here. Thankfully she redeemed herself and said a new rhyme involving a flannel horse on the board, which commenced the meltdown for the time being. In all my naive - this is going to turn around attitude - kind of way, we head over to the tables where they have a lovely spontaneous craft that involves coloring. Coloring is Luke's happy place. Until my child refuses to go color. Instead, proceeds to have yet another meltdown about the fact that there are no cozy pillows on the couches in the libraries. We finally make it to the coloring table - note to self, don't force your child to do an optional craft that he isn't interested in doing. About 5 minutes into coloring, I turn around to snag a cute board book off the shelf (mind you, I'm still sitting right next to him) and just in time for me to turn my head back around every last crayon of about 400 have been launched onto the floor by none other than ... Luke. So, me being so patient and pregnant thinking, "well, just another teaching moment I suppose," Luke and I proceed to talk about all the crayons on the floor and pick up every last one. There's a little redemption here - he did help put them all back in. Ahhh, now on to the check out counter. I'll spare you our adventure to the car.

In an effort to redeem our morning and avoid going home with a whiney child for the next 3 hours - sidenote: I probably should have gone home with a whiney child for the next 3 hours - I decided to see if a friend and her son wanted to meet for lunch somewhere and let the boys play their little hearts out. Selfishly I was thinking: contained area, boys play, mommies talk, get caffeine. So first we squeeze in one more errand - huge mistake resulting in yet another meltdown about getting in the shopping cart and completely soaked pants for Luke. Did I mention I forgot my diaper bag? But hey, Chik Fil A is always a win so this morning WILL TURN AROUND. We make it through 3 chicken nuggets and almost all fries and my boy is happy and ready to play. The boys head off to go play, I'm ready to take my first uninterrupted bite of chicken salad and then it happens. Somehow, in some way, Luke gets traumatized and does NOT want to play in there. Screaming from the inside of a tunnel I make my way in to get him and so ends uninterrupted lunch and mommy time. A few minutes later he changes his mind. He goes in on his own, I'm thinking this is a good sign. Until the 7 and 9 year old boys barge in pretending they are characters from Lord of the Rings and scare my child to a million pieces. Ahhhh...time to refill my cherry coke that I splurged my extra calories on today..... So. Library: fail. Joanns: Fail. Chikfila: Epic fail.

Moral of the story: Fathers, do not exasperate your children. I should have listened to my son. I shouldn't have pushed him past what I knew his tiny mind and heart were capable of for today. I know him, I know this is not normal, but I wanted what I wanted which was a guaranteed long nap for he and myself. So I confess, I am selfish. And thankful for the God who forgives me of that and then He alone redeems my day. And gives me patience for the next 2 1/2 hours of time with my son before daddy comes home.

Nap time is over folks :)