Day 42: Annoyed with children

I was ambitious for holy week.  

20 hour fasts

No caffiene

No take out,  fast food or even grocery visits. 

No phone use except communication.  

I really wanted to finish Lent with a strong fast from my modern life and lean in to the questions this week demands I wrestle with. 

Monday morning. Lacing up my sneakers to run.  Trains packed to take to daycare. Zander loaded into his stroller.  I turned on my headphones with the worship jams I've been running to all through Lent.  Time to start this holy week with a good long run. 

I head down the block towards day care. Cross the street at the busy intersection and turn left. Suddenly there's shaking in the seat below.  I stop, pull off my headphones. 

"What's wrong Zander?"

"I wanted to go to Donald's before daycare. "

Going to McDonald's on Monday before daycare is a tradition we have sometimes to ease into the week.  When leaving mom is hard, sometimes we soften it with a special breakfast with just the two of us before drop off. Mcdonald's is close to our house and not very far out of the way on our run to daycare. 

So. Annoyed. 

This is not a week for McDonald's. I want to listen to my music and do my spiritual practice and do holy week.  

But to be compassionate to Zander I should have our special breakfast. That is love. That is the selfless thing to do in this moment. 

I turn right instead of left.  We head to McDonald's. I order his breakfast.  And mine. We eat together.  He says hi to all the regulars lighting up the room with his bright happiness.  

In the silence, I wrestle with my decision.  Was there a way to make Zander understand Lent?  Should I have insisted on carrying on with my run? 

Crossing lines I draw for myself, even abirtrary one like these,  brings reflection and pondering on personal failure and the definition of sin.

Was this an example of Jesus healing on sabbath? Breaking a rule (self imposed in this case), for the sake of love of someone else or was it personal failure to live up to a spiritual practice.  

The next day I faced a similar situation with Miles.  Miles is my most tricky little duckling. Autism pulls on him hard and his foods are limited so is his desire to speak about his thoughts.  I had prepped him over the weekend that there would be no stopping any day this week for any type of snack on the way home from school which we sometimes do on days when ha donne really well at school or hasn't eaten anything all day due to sensory issues. 

Today when I picked him up I asked about his day. He mumbled a few things then grew silent. Then he started crying. 

"We don't have any raspberry yogurt. "

"We have eggs and noodles and strawberries. " I offer.

"But the only thing I can eat today is raspberry yogurt. " He sobs.

I roll my eyes. Why on earth do I have to have children with such ridiculous eating rules. 

I try to reason with him and guide him towards foods that we have.  But it's clear ... his mind is stuck on raspberry yogurt.  

I try to explain holy week to him.  But to his 7 year old hungry brain, my explanation makes no sense. 

Annoyed I drive to Trader Joe's hoping they have some sort of yogurt in stock. We stroll in silently together. He anxiously looking for yogurt.  Me wrestling with the moral ramifications of taking my 7 year old to trader joe's.  

I left so annoyed. I had a plan.  I wanted to focus this week on my spiritual discipline.  I wanted a monastic week.  And these children just keep getting in the way. 

"My minivan is my monastery "

A devotion book that a good friend sent me one year popped into my mind. This is my season I resigned myself. 

I'm not giving up on holy week. I still have intentions to minimize the conveniences and quick solutions that I often turn to as a tired mom and turn my focus to the hard road to the cross. 

But... I am still a little annoyed, why are kids so able to zone in on the exact button that undoes my whole day?  I guarantee I'm not done wrestling with how far I should bend to meet my children where they are and how much I should push them to bend to understand that faith asks us to seasons of discomfort. Maybe I should just let them melt down.  That would be very Lent-y feeling. 

And yet,  I'm compelled to compassion. Jesus remained compassionate even to the bitter end. 

So cheers to a long week of hard choices,  big questions and life going on normally in the midst of a holy time.