Therapist 911

If I could have a dollar for the number of times I said the phrase "Hello? Child Protective Services?" today, I could quit my job and stay at home.

Seriously.

Today there was a "Nanny 911" marathon on TV. Because I'm a good wife and mother, this is what I spent my day doing. Okay, so I did other things too, like go to church and take a nap (this was basically one of the best weekends ever). But I digress. I spent my day watching what could only be described as a domestic Chernobyl. A mother babying her pet pig and neglecting her children (who were, much of the time, eating pig food and drinking out of the cat bowl). Another mother who made her husband do everything because she was so convinced that she would fail that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Another mother who didn't care what happened with her kids and wouldn't let them hug her because she didn't want them "hanging all over her all day." A father who dragged his kids down the wooden staircase on a blanket--for fun--then put them all on an ATV and sped down the street. Another father who spent all of thirty minutes a day with his six kids and used church as an excuse to never be home.

And none of them thought they were doing anything wrong.

I can understand how these things happen. I don't excuse it--but I can understand. Sometimes parenting can be so overwhelming, challenging, and taxing that you are tempted to either completely check out or just lose yourself in anger and frustration. I get this--I teach middle school. I sometimes find myself at the end of the day snapping at the kids for stupid things, or being far from kind and respectful when they ask me for the ninetieth time what they're supposed to do with their quiz when they're done. And, while my son is only just turning three months old, I have found myself in that scary place before. I can see how the habits form. Ben had a phase where he would cry when I put him in his crib. He'd sleep anywhere but the one place I wanted him to sleep. And it was so tempting to just let him. But I stuck with it. It was hard, and there was a lot of crying and frustration. But now naptime is a piece of cake, and the two weeks of hard work paid off. And when I see these couples whose marriage has pretty much disintegrated because their seven, five, and four year olds still sleep in bed with them, I feel even better about the decisions I've been making thus far.

And now I can go spend time with my husband and enjoy my evening, because my son is asleep in his crib, content and loved. I will never love a pig more than him, or give him a donut when he cries because it's the only thing that will appease him, or spend every night away from home serving the church because it's easier than parenting. I will do my best do to what's best for Ben. I will make many mistakes. But in those times, I pray that God keeps people in my life that will keep me on the right track, and that he gives me the humility and wisdom to accept the help.