Things I Choose

Yesterday was one of those days.  Nothing atrocious happened.  It was just a bunch of small stuff but enough small stuff stacked together can lead to an overall difficult day.  I had one.

After I had comforted myself as best I could with British television (I'm a nerd) and shed a few therapeutic tears, I managed to get a little sleep.

I woke early to a crazy Monday morning.  Isaac's sister had a field trip and had to get to school early. I had a nasty headache which was the only gift I had received from my self indulgent pity party the night before.

So now...the scene is set.  I have an auspicious decision before me.  I have a choice and the power to determine the quality of how this day and possibly this week will shape up for me, my sweet husband and my four children in this one instant.

I could... give into the pain in my skull and the panic of the morning.  I could yell at the kids and be short with my husband.  I could let the darkness of my mood seep into the room and infect my family.  I could poison their day and be repayed by their tears and watch them retreat into themselves as they attempt to avoid my gripes.  

That would be easy.  I just give in to what I'm feeling.

But there are repercussions even beyond the obvious.

Isaac has emotive echolalia.  Those are the big fancy words meaning he reflects back the emotions presented to him.  If I approach the morning as I may instinctively want to, I will be repayed not only by tears and sullenness from my typical children but also with an array of aggressive and difficult behaviors from Isaac.

Not the way to go...

I choose....to take responsibility for my own mood.  My Monday morning issues are my own and do not belong to my family.  I will not make them suffer for my ill spirits.

I choose...to warn.  I do tell my kiddos that I have a headache and let them know that this may not be the morning to speak Ewok or sing loud good morning songs (those activities having been popular around here lately).  I watch my words and my tone as I warn.  I'm not giving this information to be mean but rather just so they know.  Children should not be responsible for reading the minds of the adults around them.

I choose...to get to work.  My work is nurturing.  My calling is caring for these children that are mine. I hug my littles.  I wish my daughter well on her field trip.  I thank her for feeding the dogs.  I help my husband and I help my little ones as they prepare for their day.

I choose...to smile.  It isn't fake.  It isn't huge but it's a smile.
I choose...my tone.  My voice is light and encouraging as I help to wash Isaac's face and brush his teeth.
I choose..to look past my mood and towards their need.

and

I am rewarded.  The littles get on the bus happily after snuggling into a last goodbye hug.  Isaac and I blow dandelion seeds across the driveway as he talks about Easter presents.  The two of us together identify clover flowers and pluck two of them.  He holds them and then gives them to his bus driver and her assistant.  Her face lights up at my son's simple gift and his smile.  Her eyes shine and I can tell that she was affected by my son's gift of love.

Her day is brighter because of my choices.

I cannot choose what is given to me....but I choose my response...for Isaac.

Love you all!