Sacrifice

This week I had an epiphany.  Unfortunately, it wasn't the kind I had been hoping for. Mary didn't float on celestial clouds with the message that I, out of millions, had been given special dispensation--that I didn't have to stick to my lenten sacrifice.  There was no tempting pot of peanut butter to be found in her spectral hands.  No, like everyone else, I'm still on track and am abstaining from my addiction-- second only to Diet Coke, peanut butter is my all time fav. You can bet your biscuits that come Easter morning you will find me in the pantry with a big spoon and a full jar of Jif. It will be mine! Oh, yes, it will be mine! (insert maniacal laugh)


No, the message didn't come in the form of a holy vision, instead it came in the form of a question.

On Wednesday, two of my kiddos had their annual doctor's appointment.  Everything was going as badly as I'd feared, if not worse. As the nurse went down the standard list of questions such as: do you have safety gates, do you have the poison control number, do they eat their veggies, etc... my four darling children ran amuck. Wrestling, arguing (rather loudly), on the examination table, off the examination table--shredding the paper. One's digging in the trash can in search of old lollypop sticks to suck on while another watches a cartoon on the ipad (again, rather loudly).  Six people in one very small examination room is never a good idea, especially when four of those people haven't mastered the skill of remaining still for more than three seconds at a time.

It was all I could do not to run screaming from the room, claiming I didn't know who those impudent, savage children belonged to- but their mother really needs to get a handle on them. Maneuvering my kids two at a time is nothing like all four of them at once without the expanse of a house to buffer the volume. Anyway, shouting above the mayhem, the nurse asked about television. How many hours a day do they spend watching TV or playing video games. And the question gave me pause. Because the answer, in all honesty, is too many. Countless. I had to wager a guess, and it wasn't pretty. I mean, my four year old was currently watching Tangled over on the examination table--the telly followed us everywhere.  Had I turned into one of those moms who uses TV as a sitter? I must admit, it's much easier to be around them when they're staring zombie eyed at a screen instead of punching each other and yelling for help every time I turn around.

Yet that simply isn't good enough.  Like any other caring parent out there, I want my children to not only have what I had as a child, but I want it to be better.  And as of Wednesday afternoon, they had so much less.

So Thursday I made a tough decision.  Television and video games (and yes, even including the Nintendo 3DS, thank you very much) are restricted during the school week.  They've been banned.

With collected resolve ( I practiced this in the mirror before going to pick them up from school) I notified them of the new house rule. At this point, all hell broke loose in the car. To my dismay and alarm, I would have to say I actually witnessed gnashing of teeth through my rear view mirror.  Apparently the lack of Pokemon and Olivia being piped into our living room was the end of the world. In no uncertain terms I was told that I was "ruining their life".  This actually made me smile.  Finally, I'm doing something right.

The lamenting continued all the way home, at which point I sent the two eldest to their rooms until they could speak to me in a courteous tone.  Despite the closed doors, I had the displeasure of hearing them up there, hollering and howling.  You'd think I'd chopped off an appendage or something.  I began to view it as some kind of detox, like their little bodies were being purged of some sort of poison.  After a few minutes, my eleven year old braved leaving his room but couldn't still his tongue, so had to be sent back two or three times, the eight year old didn't come out for hours.

I was stoic, refusing debate or discussion. Last night my house was ruled by a dictator.  And I'm fine with that, because after the crying and belly aching, after the shock of the news wore off, something wonderful happened.  My kids began to play with each other.  It was as if a veil had been lifted and they suddenly noticed there were other potential playmates in the room.  The fond memories I hold dear from my childhood came to mind. Climbing trees, riding bikes, reading, running and rolling in the grass, frolicking in the sun, each day promising a new adventure.

With this new opportunity, my children will have this, they'll have those warm joyous memories of carefree days, and because of this one solitary 'sacrifice', someday down the road they may find themselves bestowing the same precious gift upon their own children.