31 Days to Becoming a Happy Mom by Arlene Pellicane

Author:Arlene Pellicane
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780736963510
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers

Day 17

Praying When Your Kids Are Going Haywire

From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out from him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.

ACTS 17:26-27

My friend Rhonda Rhea and her husband had five babies in seven years. She jokes that the Lord gathered the angels around Him, pointed to their family, and said, “Guys, watch this! It’s going to be real funny!” Like the time Rhonda went out to dinner with her husband, leaving their fourteen-year-old in charge at home. During the date, she received a call from her twelve-year-old.

“Mom, what gets blood out of carpet? Should I use Lemon Pledge or bleach?”

“Put down the chemicals and step away from the carpet,” Rhonda said. “What happened?”

They ended up going to the hospital since one of the kids had fallen down the stairs and needed stitches.

Family life is full of the unexpected. When you think everything is going well, the phone rings, the cat wanders into the living room covered in pudding, and your toddler throws up in the toy box (yes, that happened to Rhonda too).10

Whether it is behavior issues, messes to clean, destructive choices, or health problems, our kids can go haywire. Haywire is defined as “not functioning properly, disorganized, erratic or crazy.”11 Sound familiar?

You Are Not Alone

When we were brand-new parents, we lovingly referred to our firstborn as “the lump.” Ethan was like a sack of potatoes, not moving an inch unless we helped him. That lump was seven pounds of pure heaven on earth—well, until he cried and went haywire, which happened to be often.

I remember when he was about six weeks old, and he was crying and crying upstairs in his crib. I had all my parenting books cracked open, sprawled across the kitchen table. Was he hungry? Wet? Needing to be held? Too hot, too cold? I trudged up the stairs, and by the time I reached his bedroom door, he had raised the volume a few decibels. I walked over to his crib and stood over my little screaming lump.

“How are you doing, little one?” I asked.

To my utter surprise, he stopped crying immediately. His chocolate-chip brown eyes connected to mine. His body relaxed and he melted into his sheets. He blinked a few times, then closed his eyes. Slowly and gingerly I backed out of the room, pausing in the hallway to see if the tirade would begin again. It didn’t. A few minutes later, I peeked in to find my lump fast asleep.

That was the first time I remember Ethan being soothed simply by my presence. He didn’t need to be fed or diapered. He didn’t need the heat turned on or off. He didn’t even need to be held or touched. He only needed the reassurance that he was not alone.

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