Forks and Flying Shoes

Friday mornings are a challenge. Maybe in your house, too. After a week of the getting-up-to-get-ready-for-school-and-out-the-door routine, patience and nerves are frazzled; and that's just me. Imagine how my kids must feel after holding it together (for the most part) in school every day for the week.

And Friday mornings are earlier-than-usual mornings due to before-school activities. Last Friday morning went off without a hitch; however, last Friday afternoon we - me and my FireBall - paid the price of holding it together: it was harsh, ugly, tearful, painful.

Our FireBall is blessed with an inordinate amount of ambition. If not for this fight and drive in life, FB would probably not have survived such a tenuous beginning of life. What probably saved that little life, now sometimes puts the rest of us at points where we just want the fight to stop. The drive to be right and win at any and all costs is often difficult to contain, but that's a mom's job, right, to help her children learn to appreciate how they are created and to find ways to channel and control that strong sense of driven-ness.

Unfortunately this Friday morning, despite my deep desire and desperate hope, was not a repeat performance of last week. It was a knock-down-drag-out-out-and-out-battle-to-win. Me trying to win a smooth morning and a peaceful household; FB fighting at every turn. It was forty minutes of sheer will-power to not raise my voice or resort to cutting sarcasm to try to make my point. All glory to God for keeping my mouth in check!

Now that the house is quiet(er) there is time to process the events of the morning - and of course what the fitting, helpful, and appropriate discipline will be. It strikes me that there were many points at which FB had a choice to make. It began with shoes.

On school mornings, our children are expected to come to the breakfast table fully dressed - including shoes. FB came in bare feet. When reminded to find shoes, FB found the step stool to climb up and reach the shelf in the laundry room to retrieve a pair of shoes that had been put there after FB had thrown them at me the week before.
Fork #1: FB could have complied and found another pair of shoes.

I returned the shoes to the shelf and FB found a pair of boots, for which socks are necessary. A short heated discussion ensued in which FB accused me of being a "sock freak" and me explaining that I don't have time or money to make doctor's appointments for sore feet. FB refused to go upstairs to get a pair of socks and instead threw one of the boots into the wall.
Fork #2: FB could have gotten a pair of socks.

The boots joined the other previously thrown shoes on the laundry room shelf and I followed FB up the stairs and through a slammed-in-my-face door. Amidst a torrent of angry words and more thrown shoes, a pair of socks was procured. While FB half-way shoved the socks on and continued to kick and throw things, I went around the room and gathered shoes and took them to my room. From the hallway I heard, "Well, I can just get them back. I HAVE MY WAYS!!"
Fork #3: FB could have put on socks and chosen any pair of shoes in the room.

The only option left were the sneakers left downstairs from the day before. With two minutes to go - before Daddy was leaving with the other kids - FB dragged down the stairs, slid into the sneakers, and demanded breakfast. When met with the response of, "You are out of time for breakfast," FB blamed me for "not letting me wear what I want."
Fork #4: FB could have pulled it together quickly enough to grab a piece of toast. (I thought it wise to not point that out at that particular time.)

The threat of the car starting was enough to spur FB onward. With much banging and bumping of walls and gathering the needed school items, my FB stomped out the door threatening to remove the sneakers while enroute to school.

I held my breath and waited for the next fifteen minutes to see if Stan would be returning a shoeless FB back home. No one returned. Whew.

For me, writing is thinking and processing. It does not matter to me who, if anyone, reads this post. The illumination that I have received while writing this morning is helpful as I move forward with my FB.

I, too, had forks, choices at each point. I could have chosen to just allow FB to wear those shoes from the laundry room shelf so there would be time enough for the breakfast that I know a growing body needs after a long week of school.

I could have allowed the boots to be worn without socks. Really, would one day have resulted in problems?

I could have left the flying shoes remain where they landed to be cleaned up at a later, calmer time.

I could have offered to fix breakfast while FB went to get some socks, and at least sent along a piece of toast.

At any point, I could have forced a hug on my FB; sometimes it breaks the cycle, sometimes it exacerbates it - it's always hard to tell, but always worth the effort.

The forks I chose this morning were based on a long history with FB, and on recent events, discussions, and choices. Standing my ground, while (by the grace of God alone) remaining calm and even-keeled seemed to be the best course of action.

So I will spend some time today charting out our morning so that FB can spend some time this afternoon reviewing the forks that were chosen and the ones that might have been but were not.

I will also spend some time wondering why this child has so many shoes...