Any boy moms out there? Or moms of 4-year olds? Or just mothers of small humans, period? I mean, it's like, when did they develop OPINIONS about life? You used to not care about what clothes I put on your body because, heck, you were clothed.
Nope. Not anymore.
The green Paw Patrol shirt better be clean. Every. Single. Day.
You used to be okay with the food I put in front of you because IT'S CHOW TIME, MAN. Now, if it's not Chick-fil-A nuggets, smothered in cheese, or processed junk from a package we either throw a fit and cry real tears or flat out refuse to eat. (Let it be noted: my children have gone to bed hungry on more than one occasion because I for one, refuse to make them a WHOLE OTHER MEAL rather than eating what the family eats and something healthy I already spent time preparing. I'm sure I'm scarring them for life. Insert sarcastic emoji.)
Every now and then my husband is later getting home for various reasons and I end up doing bedtime duty solo. My husband and I have different aspects that we take care of (Ex: he reads the Bible and I sing the songs), but when he's not there I do it all. And you better believe it - if the bedtime routine isn't exact, I get reprimanded.
"No Mom, this is the Bible we read out of. We have to use this Bible."
"No, not that blanket. I want my Paw Patrol Blanket."
"Daddy and I kneel down to pray. No, you sit there and I sit here."
"No, I don't want to sing 3 songs, let's sing 5 songs. And we have to sing Away in a Manger and Joy to the World." (All. Year. Long, people.)
"Mom, I need the baseball cup, not this cup."
"Did you put ice in it? Big ice? Or little ice?"
For the love.
And the newest challenge I've faced? Shoes. Who knew shoes were such a BIG DEAL???? Why oh why oh WHY would my sweet, 4-year old darling want to wear classy, brown loafers with his Sunday best when he instead, can wear his ratty, plastic flip flops??? (Did I mention half the time they're on the wrong feet and slipping off? Oh, but he doesn't care.) Sigh. The struggle is real, folks. I used to fight him on this and demand he wear the shoes I chose, because heaven forbid people see my child and think he grew up in a trash can or worse, we shop at (gasp!) Wal-Mart.
And then one day, I decided to get over it.
For some reason, his flop-flops seem to bring him so much joy and I thought, "it's just not worth it." They say as parents we have to pick our battles and you know what? I decided that more than my son wearing cute shoes with some designer label (or not), I want my son to love Jesus. No, I don't want him to look like he just rolled out of the dirty laundry pile each morning, but I don't want him to be so consumed with his outward appearance that he neglects to guard his heart. I want his affection to be for the Lord and His word more than the latest trend or popular fad. I want him to dream big dreams and love what God loves and see people as they are because, JESUS.
I figure, as a Mom, if I can keep him alive long enough to see adulthood (!), teach him how to match his shirt and pants, share his things (dear Jesus, help), AND point him to the cross, then it's a win. (Am I aiming too high? Maybe his wife will have to teach him to match...)
So, there will still be days where I get to choose his clothes and shoes because I'm the Mom and those are some of the cool things Moms get to do, but on most days, when it really just doesn't even matter--wear the darn flip-flops. I'd rather spend time and energy helping develop his love for Jesus, the gifts God has given him, and a heart that loves others as himself.