When I got up this morning, Liberty and Eden were up already. Liberty was working on math, and Eden had finished her math and was putting baked oatmeal together for breakfast. Perfect. It was almost finished baking when I got into the shower.
Twenty minutes later, I was finished in the shower, all the kids were up, and breakfast was… still baking. Why?
It wasn’t done yet. Confused as to why it was taking so much longer, I went to check on it.
The pans were nearly overflowing. What happened?!
Turns out, Liberty had taken a new recipe card and copied down the recipe we always make and had written the amounts in double. It was clearly marked that it was doubled, that it needed to go into two baking pans. Eden, in all her daydreaming glory, took that recipe this morning and doubled the recipe. Again.
Sixteen eggs. A POUND of butter. Half a gallon of milk. Twelve. Cups. Of. Oatmeal. In other words… a large portion of my grocery supply… for breakfast.
In two 9×13 pans. Essentially, four batches in two pans instead of two batches in two pans.
The top was burning. The inside was raw. The batter was starting to pour down the outside of the pan. When I finally just took it out and called it as good as it was going to get, it fell.
I didn’t offer grace. I stared at the mess that was my kitchen, the pans over filled and threatening to spill over to the bottom of my oven, and I had a temper tantrum the likes of which could put my three year old to shame.
I had plans for my morning. Cleaning up a disaster wasn’t it. We’re on the last dozen eggs. I didn’t have time to go to the store today. Butter costs a small fortune lately.
I. Don’t. Want. To. Do. This. Not today. Not just before co-op. Not when my fun fabric I’d ordered two months ago and waited for it to be back in stock for two months was delivered last night and was there, mocking me to make a baby wrap in time to wear it at co-op.
But.
What’s important? Walking all over my daughter’s emotions, knowing she was trying to help? Getting angry and pitching a fit to show my tantrum-loving son how it’s done? “Don’t do as I do, only as I say?”
I’d love to say I took the high road, that I extended grace and we laughed at the stress of the moment, but I didn’t – not until later. But I find myself convicted. Convicted to make my response what I want theirs to be when I mess up. When I undercooked the potatoes, they didn’t complain. When I didn’t cook enough for seconds and everyone wanted more, we made pudding. When they have to wait for me to finish a subject with one child before helping them with theirs. If I need someone to change a diaper, help a baby, or start a load of laundry, I need grace from them.
It’s hard to remember, sometimes, that with the the craziness that is my life, grace must abound all the more.
Even when it means eating baked oatmeal for a week.
No one said that God doesn’t have a sense of humor, or that He won’t use our mistakes to teach us lessons. It’s when we can admit our sinful ways and learn from them, no matter our age, that real growth happens. And the lesson for your children when they have that example is priceless.
It’s a good thing He can use our mistakes. Some days, He has a lot of them to work with!
Beautiful.
Today I was thinking how HARD it would have been to be Mary, mother of Jesus. I’m so imperfect. I’m such a sinner. And my kids see it all. How hard would it be to parent a 100% sinless child? A sinless teenager? It was a very humbling moment for me, and I have to say in all honesty, I don’t think I could’ve done her job.
I know this post far too well, I’m afraid; a beautiful reminder of the sweetness of grace. Especially after I lose it.
Oh my, something I’d never considered. My tendency is to think my sin in parenting is often directly related to my children’s sin – but remove their sin from the equation and I’d still be sitting here an absolute sinner. Sobering.
We all have had similar moments. I am sure your children learned from your repentance. Oh yes, GRACE!!!!
They routinely get a firsthand look at how to sin… and apologize… and hopefully move on from it. Thankful for grace.