The Power of 45 Minutes of Crying

This morning, I had a 45 minute meditation on the agony of wearing play clothes when you would rather wear pajamas.

Ian had an accident in his pajamas, so we had to move on to the clean clothes that were handy! "NO WAY, MOM! I'm NOT wearing clothes-es!" Calmly I reminded him, well, actually son, you are...and if you want to continue wearing your favorite pajamas, next time you have to make it to the potty...as far as I know, all the pajamas are in the laundry, anyway! So I put him in his play clothes.

Then the crying started. Powerhouse, angry crying. At first, I tried to rationalize with him, but every word out of my mouth was met with an emphatic, "UH-UH! NO!"

Instead of grunting back in argument, I told him to go to his bed, and when he calmed down we would talk about it some more. Considering we just got out of bed, personally, I needed the space before moving on to the next step!

I came back here to the computer to wake up, and wait for peace to settle. Ten minutes passed...twenty minutes...thirty minutes? (Sometimes, I'm not sure how long these things last, but sitting right in front of a clock helps).

At first, it was easy to ignore the crying. Woohoo, I thought...I'm a pro at ignoring this tantrum stuff! I began repeating things to convince myself of things that I know to be true:

-It will end. They all do!

-He is not dying, even though it sounds like it.

-A giant monster did not sneak into his room and is not eating his leg off his body.

-I already established that he can come talk to me when he's calmed down, and he has mastered what this concept means already.

-He is not dying.

-It will end.

But as I listen to him at minute 33 over the baby monitor SCREAMING in his room, I'm wondering...is he EVER going to stop crying?! Surely he's got to figure out very soon that I'm just not buying the dramatics. Do I go in and tell him to stop and threaten further punishment? How can I possibly just make the crying go away?

Are you one of those parents that's thoughts drift to duct tape, dog kennels, or special noise-insulated padded cells for children? I'm not really there until 4:30pm. But this was pushing it.

Did I mention we just woke up?

(You moms know that there is an unspoken rule that any and all temper tantrums must be thrown after breakfast. Before breakfast is simply absurd. Wait, the rule is actually no temper tantrums at all, ever. Hm, something a little fishy with this rule book).

My mind was thinking of a lot of possible scenarios and how they would play out. Then the process shifted from intensity to peace.

God made Ian a boy with an incredibly strong heart! He is so committed and dedicated to the things he believes! You can't just give someone tenacity and a will for standing up for things. Any strength can also manifest itself in a less-than-productive way. This is just an example of that in action. I'm such a blessed mom to have such a wonderful little person in my charge! One day, he will have tools for discerning what things are worth fighting for, and will be one of the world's unstoppable forces for Truth.

Almost in synch with my thoughts, he stopped at 44 minutes and 22 seconds. Please feel free to round up, it did feel like longer.

Completely calmly and with a smile on his face, he approached me with a pair of clean pajamas. "Mom," he touched my arm softly and sweetly, "I'm sorry for throwing a fit. I don't want to wear my clothes-es. Please can I wear these? I found them."

I want to remember this train of thought forever. Because I think it's important that I hang on to what this tantrum, like a lot of other frustrating moments, has shown me about Ian. I love the man he is growing up to be. Passionate about life, I pray for God to never let me squelch that energy, only to point it in the right direction. Oh, the power of 45 minutes of crying. :)

Therefore, my dear brothers, be steadfast, unmovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that the work that you do for the Lord isn't wasted. -1 Cor. 15:58