And A Child Shall Lead Them

Have you ever had one of those moments when you are stopped right in the middle of your tracks? You're going through life, planning dinner, washing clothes, feeding the cat, lecturing kids... doing all those things that keep us so busy and feeling important and what would the world do without us stuff.

Or maybe I'm the only one with that last issue. I don't know. I do know that being a mom to kids that would struggle to eat something besides ramen noodles and a husband who would stare in disbelief at an empty sock drawer has tended to feed my ego over the years.

And there I go again.

For the record, my kids could take care of themselves food-wise. Between their grilled cheese and muffin-making skills, they would survive. And my husband is the kind of man that does what needs to be done. An empty sock drawer would not scare him. He. Is. Awesome.

But maybe you can see what might get me in trouble. My mouth. And to be more specific, my mouth that knows only one method of talking.

Sarcasm.

Oh, I try to fight it, but that tone always comes ringing through. I hear it so clearly in one of my own children and at times I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sarcasm does have its place in life. But that's the key. Its place.

Lord, help me to keep my tongue in its place.

So here's the deal. Yesterday between picking up two kids from tutoring/school and picking another one up from play practice, we had some time to kill. Seeing as how I needed a fast trip to get some stuff for supper, this was not a problem. The problem is that I like to calculate everything: I pre-plan my route through the store, I consider time spent waiting in line, I think about traffic and stoplights. I knew when we needed to be pulling out of the store parking lot so I could be pulling into the school parking lot right on time.

I wonder how my kids will reminisce about the pre-store huddle:

Thirty minutes.
Garden center checkout.
Be there.
Break!

Okay. Possibly not that extreme, but you get the idea. So when I was already checked out and in the van with one out of two kids, I was getting a tad bit agitated. I made a phone call, was told the missing one was in the checkout line, and expressed my impatience with Hurry up!

I saw that kid running though the parking lot and as he jumped in the car breathless, I looked at his bag with the unique logo of Twizzlers shining through the earth-unfriendly plastic.

Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

Boy, typing these words just does not do them justice. Picture the same words above dripping with sarcasm with a particular emphasis on the word wisely. Say them out loud while looking down your nose with a superior, mom-like attitude.

Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

That child looked at me speechless. When he did find his voice, he simply said, I wish you hadn't said that.

He pulled out a package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. My favorite. And not the little candy bar-sized package, but a big package, like the kind you would buy to give away at Halloween.

I got these for you.

So I attempted a feeble attempt of covering my tracks. With a smile on my face and no sarcasm to be found, I said once again, Glad to see you're spending your money wisely.

Yeah. No banana. We both knew I was busted. Feeling very much like the idiot I had made myself out to be, we went on our way, picked up the third child, and went home. He kind of laughed about it later saying that while he was in line waiting to check out he was rehearsing what he was going to say when he handed me the package.

For the best mom ever.

The best mom? Who cares if it's sappy and cliche' and he'll forget that this weekend when I'm harping on him to clean his room. The point is that for a brief moment in this infinite universe in which we live, he thought it.

And my big mouth ruined it.

So to Nick, my seventeen-year old son who has been reading his way through the four gospels and thinking about college and trying to do something nice by buying his mom peanut butter and chocolate, I am really really sorry. You taught me a very painful lesson about watching not only what I say, but how I say it. The funny thing is that I was the one always teaching you about the power of words, but you turned it around and taught me a thing or two.

If anyone thinks himself to be religious

 (piously observant of the external duties of his faith)

 and does not bridle his tongue but deludes his own heart,

this person's religious service is worthless (futile, barren).

 James 1:6, Amplified Bible