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Sister, When you Cry, I Feel your Tears Run Down my Face


I always try to be brutally and painfully honest here, so I won’t hold back this time.  I have a confession.  I am a control freak.  It is probably my single biggest flaw, because it manifests itself in horrible fits of anger, anxiety, and impatience.  I’m not good with things not going my way.  It is a true battle of faith for me that I struggle with every single day, but never more than when Pumpkin referred to me as “grumpy mama.”
Specifically we were joking about Hubby being grumpy and Pumpkin’s matter-of-fact response was, “Daddy doesn’t get grumpy, only mama is grumpy.” Well, that felt like a hundred well-deserved knives in my heart.  I do not want my children growing up with a grumpy mama, or one they think is grumpy. And how dare I be grumpy in light of my innumerable blessings each day.  My battle is now one for my children’s happiness. Ironically, it is a battle that I can only win by laying my shield and my sword before God and surrendering to him. The hardest battle I have ever fought and the most precious prize on the line.

I vowed that day not to be “grumpy mama” anymore.  I vowed to them, out loud, right there at the dinner table.  They have been faithful in keeping me accountable.  Unfortunately, now even when I am legitimately frustrated or needing to discipline, Pumpkin’s sweet little voice asks “I thought you weren’t going to be grumpy mama anymore?”  It’s like I have my own live-in probation officer insuring that I am keeping up my end of the bargain.

Even with a few grumps, we had a wonderful weekend. I took the girls back-to-school shopping yesterday, with Pumpkin dressed from head-to-high-heeled-Cinderella-slipper-foot in a princess costume. The true beauty of her traipsing around town in the get up was that in her sweet little mind she was not in costume at all, just a dress. Her choice in pink everything only confirmed her royal birthright.

Boo-Boo was determined to buy only one thing – shoes. She said it to anyone who would listen “I wohn shoooooes.” Come to find out I had been shoving her fat little foot into a shoe two sizes too small.  When the shoe salesman put her in a size 7 she literally jumped into the air over and over for joy.  And by jump, I mean squat all the way to the ground and throw her self up and her head back without her feet ever leaving the floor.

While Pumpkin is my brilliant, brooding artist, Boo is my joyful, sweet girl (albeit it with a little bit of a temper, but one that is as fleeting as it is fiery). In church Sunday, the girls were marching in a circle around one of the rows of chairs during the sermon, seemingly in their own world. As Mother Boo spoke to us about the Word, she mentioned that the phrase “Abba, father” was a familiar way of referring to God, “almost like saying ‘daddy.’” Without missing a beat or a step, Boo Boo shouted out “DADA!!!!” for the entire congregation.

Then last night we played a family game of keep away from Boo with a big pink balloon.  Boo was having a delightful time, giggling and chasing the balloon squealing “meeeeeeee.” At some point, our dramatic Pumpkin tumbled over on her wrist. The cry that ensued made Hubby and I certain she had broken a bone. She held her wrist limply and was screaming so loudly I couldn’t even communicate with her. Finally, I told her that I had to figure out how bad it hurt so I could determine whether she needed to go to the hospital. At the top of her hysterical lungs she says “IT ONLY HURTS A LITTLE BIIIIIIIIIIIT.”

Hubby and I fall apart laughing.  I turn around to find Boo standing there with a trembling lip. I asked her where the balloon went and she just says “sis-sis, sis-sis”. I see the closet door is now shut and ask Boo whether she shut the balloon in the closet and she nods dramatically and says, sadly, “sis-sis.”  Sweet Boo was convinced the balloon had hurt her sister and while we tended to sis-sis, she got rid of the balloon.

This morning Pumpkin tried to play with the balloon, with Boo-Boo, and dear Boo burst into tears saying “noooo, sis-sis.”  I finally convince Pumpkin not to torture Boo with the balloon and when she gets rid of it, Boo hugs her waist and says “sis-sis.”  Nothing has ever melted my (sometimes grumpy) heart more.


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