Delicious Ambiguity

When I was younger, I always wanted 11 kids.  11 just seemed like a good number and besides, I already had 22 great names picked out (firsts with middles) that sounded really good with "Scharrer" for a last name.  That's right!  When I was in 4th grade, I decided that I would marry Erik Scharrer.  Our families went way back and even though I really wasn't boy crazy at all, I decided to start writing about my future spouse in my prayer journal every night.  Luckily God answers prayers in many ways, "yes," and, "no," being two of the most popular.  "Yes," I married my childhood crush, but, "no," we did not (or will not) have 11 kids.  Thankfully, the later is good news because lately I have been feeling like I am not doing a good enough job with the ones have been given.

"Skogen, when you feel evil in you or around you, you can just say the name of Jesus and it will go away.  When you are mad or scared or naughty.  Just say, 'Jesus.'  You can even whisper it or say it in your head.  Say it over and over and over to make the evil go away from you."  My precious Maida gave Skogen a pep talk on the way to school this morning.  He had had a rough morning (which seems as though rough mornings have become a bit of a habit of his lately) and I was losing my sanity just trying to get them to school.  Usually my kids are sleepily getting on the bus at 6:45 each morning, but some mornings (when mom sleeps through her first couple alarms), I give them a, "special treat," and drive them to school.

They have to be at school by 7:45 and you can expect that I roll in, still wearing my pajamas, hair undone, teeth not brushed yet, and still slightly groggy from sleep.  I am amazed and downright jealous of the mothers coming into school, showered, dressed, make-uped, and made-up for the day.  Their children are perfectly dressed, right down to the shoes and bows, and I'm sure she's freshly pressed their uniforms before school that morning.  They walk into school without tantrums or meltdowns and the mother never forgets her son's snow boots or her daughter's show-and-tell.  These moms, they seems to have it all together.  I have no idea what part of the motherhood manual I'm missing, but I just can't seem to pull it off, and I'm getting my butt kicked in the process of trying.  Right after Maida's pep talk to Skogen in the car, we jumped out and headed into the school.  Not only was I in my pajamas, but I was still sporting the same pajamas from the day before.

Skogen and Maida have lockers down the same hallway.  I always stand at Skogen's locker and get him all set for the day and then I stop by Maida's locker, where the social butterfly is usually still lingering.  Today was different, though.  As I was encouraging Skogen not to kick another hole in a school wall and to remember to wipe his face when he ate lunch, I glanced down the hall at Maida.  Our eyes locked and I saw her mouth form, "MOM!!!!" accompanied with a very devastated look in her eyes.  I quickly gave Skogen a knuckle bump and hair ruffle as he grabbed me around the waist for a big squeeze and then I approached the disaster waiting for me at the other end of the hall.

"Mom, LOOK!!!!  I forgot to take off my pajama shirt and put my uniform shirt on!"  Maida stood hiding, half-in/half-out of her locker, as she quickly opened the zipper of her jacket a few inches to reveal the top of her pajama shirt.  Her face was pale, her eyes filled with tears, and she was looking at me [the dumb mother who actually let her child unknowingly leave the house in a pajama shirt instead of her uniform, the mother who hadn't showered since the day before, and didn't even think twice about entering the school in the same pajamas for a second day in a row] for an answer.  Flooded with emotions, and not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I zipped her jacket back up, and held her close as I apologized.  We decided to talk to her teacher and together come up with a plan.  Unfortunately, it was just 24 hours before that, that she and I were standing in front of her teacher, coming up with a plan for the shoes that we had forgotten.  Luckily, Maida's teacher is very understanding and a plan was made.  Then I hung my head and ashamedly walked through the hall, weaving my way through the sea of amazing, perfect mothers. On my way to the car, I distracted myself from the stares of others, as I prayed a day of blessings on my children.

This evening before bed, right after the kids accused me of playing a joke on them by sending them empty lunch boxes (luckily I had also signed them up for school lunch today), Maida declared that she had made something to share with our family.  She wanted us to gather together and listen to her read a writing she had spent the last few hours working on.  She hoped we would take it seriously.  Wearing her red western hat with the big red carnation on the side that we purchased at the thrift store over Halloween, she cleared her throat and read,
"This is the Scharrer Speech:
S - Serious schedule
C - Covering to protect
H - Helping
A - Always nice
R - (fast) Runners
R - Regretting sin
E - Eager to learn
R - Really educated"
Maida also shared with us that she hoped we can take these things she has written and apply them to our lives.  She told us that we can work together as a family and help each other through, even if it's tough like today was.  Sometimes I really wonder who is parenting who here, and what I would do without this little girl!

Just moments ago, I kissed her soft sweet cheeks as she slept under the glow of her pink flower nightlight.  Luckily as I kissed her, I remembered her yelling immediately after waking this morning, "THIS DUMB ELF ON THE SHELF!  HE HASN'T MOVED IN FOUR DAYS!"  ....I guarantee I won't be winning, "Mother Of The Year," anytime soon and I probably won't ever be that perfect, has-it-all-together mother.  I can, however, at least try be better than the mother I was the day before - and on days when I feel like I just can't handle the insanity that comes with my blessings in the form of four sassy, little, oh-so-incredibly-cute human beings, you might find me whispering softly under my breath, "Jesus. Jesus."