Family Home Fight

Last night was Family Night. Many Mondays I race through the day, never giving any thought to what we will eat for dinner. Yesterday I thought it through and was prepared. On the menu: cedar plank-grilled marinaded salmon with lots of other accompaniments. I made sure there was something each family member would like. And then, I prepared a lesson. Ahead of time, and even with visual aids and an object lesson. Obviously, I was dooming myself to failure.

First, dinner. Everything was hot and on the table outside, ready to eat. Dan wasn't home yet, so I called him. After a few tries, he answered and said that he was sitting at Olive Garden. After interviewing a new administrator, the management team was taking the new hiree out to dinner. It wasn't his idea, but he couldn't get out of it. So, strike one. We would eat without Dan.

Then, it really began. An unnamed child started to wail at the food offerings. Loudly and with great emphasis on the whine. I found myself mildly fuming and forbidding said child to go make herself Ramen soup instead. I mean, really.

After about 40 minutes of fighting, I mean DINNER, we cleared the plates inside. Before the family night lesson, I told everyone to hurry and get their daily chore done. (Each week the three oldest kids rotate between dishes, garbage, and vacuuming the hardwoods). Even at their worst, the chores only take 10 minutes max. A child-who-will-not-be-named was in charge of gathering garbage from around the house and dragging the cans to the curb for garbage pickup day. Said child was very unhappy with the prospect of doing the chore, and screamed mightily. Did I say screamed? That might be an understatement. My frazzle level was rising rapidly. I was silently repeating to myself, "I am the mother. I am calm." No amount of reasoning with the child or with myself helped, so after 15 minutes of torture, I brought out the punishments. I was rapidly removing privileges and leveling threats I wasn't sure I could follow through on.

Finally, finally, all chores were done, dinner was completed, and it was time for the spiritual part of the evening. The only problem? I was in charge, and I wasn't really feeling very spiritual. Mostly I was ready for some good chocolate and a walk around the block. Because Dan still wasn't home, I was running the show, and I had been busy being Enforcer Mom, Drill Sergeant Mom, and Punisher Mom. Somehow I now needed to morph into wise, calm, Inspirational Mom.

We forged ahead. I really should have stopped to video it. Next week I am going to tape family night, I swear. The four year old bounced off the ceiling while everyone else intermittently ignored me.

On with the lesson. The topic was "improving the quality of our Sabbath observance." I pulled out the object lesson - ice cream that I topped with pepperoni, lemon pepper, french fries, etc. Finally, I had everyone's attention, just in time for the conclusion of the lesson. Then, Dan walked in, we said the closing prayer, and had some ice cream (without pepperoni , etc. this time).

The ironic thing: after I stopped trying and was sprawled on the couch, filling Dan in on the evening, I heard the three oldest having a really cool gospel discussion while eating ice cream.

I really love being a Mom. I never would have guessed how much I would love the constant work of mothering. And our kids are really great kids - they occasionally have a bad moment or day, but then, so do I. But, there are some moments, and last night was one of them, when I feel like a colossal failure and I find I have to laugh, or I will surely cry.

I have a scripture printed and posted on a mirror I look at daily. It says, "Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great. (D&C 64:33) I guess that sums up motherhood for me. For I am often weary, and busy doing many small things (often not very well), but I hold onto the faith that eventually great things will come of my efforts.