Brownies

It hasn't been the best day. So I baked brownies.

This morning, Sam and I waged epic battle over what shirt to wear. He insisted short sleeves, I insisted long sleeves. This led to an out and out refusal to wear a shirt at all. After about an hour of pleading, yelling, whispering, drawer slamming, bribery, guilt trips, reverse psychology, love & logic, and every other parenting maneuver (good, bad, and ugly)...he still was wearing no shirt.

So I did what any reasonable parent would do.

I picked him up, carried my shoeless and shirtless child to the car, and strapped him into the car seat, throwing a pair of shoes and a long-sleeved shirt into the front seat of the car. I put Ellie in her car seat and away we went. I naively believed that Sam would calm down during the drive and feel compelled to put on shoes and shirt when we got to school.

Ha.

He spent the whole drive demanding that I turn around, go home, and find him a short-sleeved shirt. We got to school and he refused to get out of the car.

So I did what any reasonable parent would do.

I left him in the car while I brought Ellie to her classroom and checked her in. I swung by Sam's classroom to let his teachers know that he would not be coming to school today. And I got back into the car. Never in a million years would I have ever believed any parent who said that their child missed a day of school because they wouldn't put a shirt on. I now have new sympathies for any parent who has ever been held hostage by a threenager. I drove Sam to church with me, because I was already an hour late, and had missed one meeting, and had two more meetings about to begin. Sam refused to get out of the car. He insisted that he could stay there by himself all day while I worked inside the church building. He also complained that he was cold. Of course. But refused to put on his shirt or shoes. Of course.

So I did what any reasonable parent would do.

I unbuckled him from his car seat, picked him up, carried my shoeless and shirtless child into the building, and plunked him down on a chair in my office.

He spent the next half hour complaining about being cold. And refusing to put on a shirt. And also, at this point, he was feeling sensitive, and crawled into my lap to snuggle while I answered some emails. He gingerly asked me curious questions about my work and started being kind again. But still no shirt. Thanks to the efforts of a fellow staff member, who promised him a tour of the Sunday School classrooms, Sam finally - FINALLY - put on shirt and shoes. And spent the next hour helping clean classrooms. Because, of course he's going to be a perfect kid when it actually matters.

He spent the rest of the day in my office, being kind and well-behaved, seeming to understand that a day in the office with Mama was not a reward, but an unfortunate side effect of the morning's battle. We had a lot of little family talks throughout the day and evening about being a good listener, and about appropriate clothing for the weather, and about being kind and respectful to parents. By all counts, today has been a huge parenting nightmare, and even though Sam was calm and kind for most of it (after the morning), I'm emotionally exhausted from a day that was all battle and fall-out.

There's not a chance that Sam, after a day like this, deserves brownies as a special treat.

But I wanted brownies. And I wanted him to help make them. And I want him to eat one before bed anyway.

Here's why.

Brownies are a way to say, "Sometimes Mama needs a treat after a hard day."
Brownies are a way to say, "I know that today was hard for you, too."
Brownies are a way to say, "When you have a hard day, I want to spend some extra special time with you because I know that your heart needs the love and attention."
Brownies are a way to say, "Even your worst days can end up okay."
Brownies are a way to say, "Even on your worst days, I still love you and want to give you the world."
Brownies are a way to say, "Let's turn a hard day into a good night, and let's make tomorrow even better."

I mean...I am tired, and I still feel frustrated and angry when I think about this morning. I won't pretend that Sam wasn't making some terrible choices this morning. I won't pretend that we aren't both limping a little bit. But Daniel Tiger, in his infinite wisdom, tells us "Sometimes you feel two feelings at the same time...and that's okay."

I feel frustrated with Sam's day. And I feel like I want to give him a brownie anyway.

I think this might be exactly what parenting is all about. And I think this might be what grace is all about, too.

Enough for now, though. The brownies are out of the oven and just about cool. It's time for a taste...

Brownie success: YUM!