It's been a while since my last post. Time has gotten the better of me. Alas, summer has begun at the Vieyra household! Both the boys are out of school and my school year has ended. My poor wife has to deal with me being home all day. Since the boys went on break, they've had a difficult time adjusting to their respective changes in schedules. I've been trying to keep them busy by taking trips to the park, the library, and the local coffee shop, but there's only so much of that you can do before it becomes monotonous. Which begs the question: Since when did fun become the modern cultural quest in parenting?
Last week my oldest son had a night-time fit. It all started during the bedtime routine. After dinner, my wife and I go into superhero mode; we clash knucles and shout out in unison, "Wonder Twins activate!" Depending on the mood, she might say, "Form of: bathing mommy!" And I, in turn, might say, "Form of dish-washing daddy!" Well, I had taken the form of dish-washing daddy that evening, while she had taken the form of bathing mommy. After their showers, the kids brush their teeth, get dressed, and get a couple of stories. In the meantime the dishwasher is storing the leftovers, cleaning and putting away the dishes. This is when my son took on the form of Blair (that's an excorsist referencence, in case you were wondering). I don't know exactly what set him off, but I was not pleased with the way he was speaking to his mommy. She was tucking him in when he decided to demand something from her in a very dishonoring and disrespectful manner. I could tell that my wife was becoming exasperated, so I decided to shut off the water, dry off my hands and have a little talk with the head-spinning-regurgitating-six-year-old in the next room. As I was making my way to the kids' bedroom, I heard my wife forcefully deny his demands and I heard him scream at her, "I"M MAD AT YOU!" In my best dad voice I said, "Hey! I don't know what's gotten into you, but no one speaks to mommy like that!" (At that instant, even my wife straightened up). I continued with, "If I hear any of you screeching at mommy, telling her 'no', or saying that you hate her, or that you're mad at her, there will be serious consequences! Do you understand?" Then I capped it off by saying, if you continue to scream and throw a fit, you are going to be sent to our bedroom to sleep!" I kid you not when I say that I was expecting social services to show up on our front steps. This child was screeching so loud, that we had to close our windows so that the neighbors didn't think we were abusing our kids. This went on for a whole hour. The event caused me consider the way God responds to us when we sin against each other and we sin against him. In that moment, I just wanted to temporarily separate myself from him. I had no desire to give him audience or gentle love. This reaction is totally contrary to the way we are treated from the Heavenly Father. Even though I did not know how to respond in a godly manner, I knew I was dead wrong in my reaction. All I could do was pray that God would restore that relationship with my son. And I prayed that God would make him genuinely sorry for the way he had spoken to his mommy. Within minutes I hear him call out to my wife, "Mommy! Mommy! I'm sorry for speaking to you like that! I'm sorry for being disrespectful! I promise I won't speak to you like that again." All we could do was look at each other and cry. She was touched by his sensitivity to his own fallen nature; while I was humbled by God's response to my own demands as a father.
I confess that I've always envisioned parenting to be a fun venture. Sure there are moments of enjoyment, like the sound of your child's first laugh, or their first step, or their first day of school. Those are moments that you would never trade for your wildest dreams. However, parenting is serious work. It is a realization that we are a broken people in serious need of heavenly intervention. I'm not at all saying that we roam this life as wimpy creatures with shoulders shrugged and heads down waiting for God to zap us with a measure of parenting pixie-dust. All I'm saying is that if we desire for our children to be people who desire to proclaim His love to the ends of the earth, it's going to take more than waking up in the morning, going to work, playing catch, firing off a little prayer to the "big man upstairs" and putting them to bed. I pray that God would grant us the discipline and wisdom necessary to form a generation that will live out Christ's love for mankind.