My Wet Hiney
Boys will be boys.
This phrase is so very true.
The other day we had a play date. A major play date.
My kiddos are now 7,5, and 3. Two boys first, and then sister friend.
Our best friends live across the street. Huge blessing. They have three small kids too, ages 5,3 and 1 ½. All boys.
Today, one of my very favorite friends came over. Her kids followed her. They’re 7,5,3,2, and 6 months. Yep, that’s right – five kids in seven years. Five children of her very own, here people. Four boys and then baby sister friend.
So, is anyone keeping track here?
I know I am.
That’s eleven children under the age of eight. Eleven little rascals running around like crazy monkeys.
Now you know why I called it a major playdate.
Technically, her baby sister friend isn’t mobile – yet. But, still. Even ten kids under the age of eight is nutso. See!? This was just a simple race. We started with ten competitors…
And within four seconds, we lost two. Sheesh.
I’ve known my Super Neighbor since I was nineteen. Gosh, that’s been juxznclf-ish years! And my Fav Friend and I go back at least four years. I actually can’t remember exactly when we met. I had two kids and she was pregnant with her third. You do the math. I’ve always loved hanging out with each of them. But then I introduced them to each other and now they’re great friends too. You’re welcome. Hmmm, maybe they should buy me a thank you gift.
So, when we all get together, we do our very best to have at least one full conversation before we part ways. About parenting, about Jesus, about stinkin’ stretch marks – maybe not in that order. But, even though we mean well, it generally ends up being a little like this…
Me: “Oh my goodness gracious, did I tell y’all about…”
Super neighbor: “Buddy, you cannot pee-pee in the wagon!”
Fav friend: “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10…ok, they’re all there.”
Me: “Anyway…so it’s the funniest thing…”
Fav friend: “No sir. You know you cannot drag your brother around with the jump rope.”
Me: “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9…10…ok, good, I thought we lost one.”
Super neighbor: “Ya, that would be bad. Wait, who was talking?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
Super neighbor: “Was it me?”
Fav friend: “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…wait…1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…..uh-oh…which ones are missing?”
Me: (looking frantically) “Shoot! Why can’t it ever be one of the oldest, responsible ones we lose track of? Why does it always have to be the little ones who eat lawn fertilizer?”
The kids play. We count to ten. Everyone gets dirty. We count to ten some more. And we each go home thinking, “My husband is getting fixed.” “Didn’t I have something I wanted to tell them??”
It’s pretty awesome.
This day was no different as we sat outside and enjoyed the glorious weather.
It was loud peaceful. The view was stressful beautiful. The conversation was non-existent meaningful.
This joyful bliss was only interrupted by the occasional pee-pee dance. You know the dance. Boy starts bouncing a little…grabs his crotch…bounces a little more…now two hands holding tightly as he screams to whomever is in earshot…”I gotta go peeeeee.”
Whichever Mama wasn’t nursing baby sister friend (For the record, we don’t help her with that, we ain’t ‘that kind of friends’), bandaging a knee, or giving a lecture to a time-out victim, automatically had potty duty. As luck would have it, that was most often me.
I took two of my kids, ten or twelve of their kids and even myself inside a few times to go potty. My sister friend is potty trained but never seemed to have to go that day, so these trips were all boys, all the time.
Do you know what I found every single time I went into the bathroom? Mothers of boys do!
That’s right…the toilet seat was up.
Every. Single. Time.
You would think I’d know to look for this, since I live with two little boys and one man-boy myself. But, to be honest, my man-boy is a very faithful seat-putter-downer, and he is teaching our boys well. For the most part, they remember. And for the most part, I remember to look before I leap.
That day, I didn’t.
That lack of knowledge cost me two wet hineys. Not one. Two.
As I recovered from the second dunk, I wondered how many times a day us three Mamas say “Put the seat down!!” all added up together. Ten? Twenty? A thousand?
Every time I got in there, I was reminded of the fundamental truth of our jobs of being a stay-at-home Moms — very few things we get done, stay done.
No that wasn’t the sound of the toilet seat going down…remember, I forgot to do that.
That was the sound of God’s loving 2×4 to my head.
I can’t speak for my friends’ sin, actually I can, but I won’t, hehehe but I know the junk in the deep, dark closet of my heart. I can’t even estimate how many times God has worked on a thing in me, and then three minutes later I’ve forgotten it altogether.
Don’t envy your friends. I know, Lord, I won’t.
Bang! The toilet seat goes back up.
Nothing good you say or write is of you. Yes, Lord, I know.
Bang! The toilet seat flies back up.
True submission is not only by action but by thought. Yes, Lord, I know.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The toilet seat shoots up quickly and repeatedly on that one.
Nothing God does ever seems to stay done with me, either.
Can you relate at all? Please say yes.
I used to think that these two friends in particular couldn’t relate at all.
Super neighbor, I saw as the direct descendant of Martha Stewart, Emily Post and Rachael Ray all in one. Her cooking was glorious. Her gatherings were heart-warming and memorable. Her home was directly from Southern Living. Darn her.
My fav friend has five kids under seven and she home schools…like, on purpose. I told her if she started sewing their clothes, we couldn’t be friends anymore. Her parenting is consistent. Her children can quote their weekly Bible verses. And she takes them to the zoo, the aquarium and the museum all in the same week, without needing seven additional adults anyone to help, like I would. Darn her.
They seemed to be Super-Moms and I wasn’t even sidekick material.
Fortunately, I have gotten to know them better. The more I got to know them, the more chock-full of sin I’ve discovered they are. They are cracking up right now!
My point is this: We all have things in life that God does, and re-does, and re-does again because we can’t seem to keep His Work done.
God puts that seat down, and we flip it up and leave it up…again!
Romans 7:21 “So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me.”
But, thankfully, if we repent to God, He doesn’t give up on us.
1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
And we don’t give up on His Work.
James 1:4 “Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
We read His Word. We behave accordingly.
James 1:22 “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”
We fight against the ways of the world.
James 4:4 “You adulterous people, don’t you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God.”
We humbly accept His grace.
James 4:6 “But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”
We begin another day, toilet seat down, hiney dry, heart pure.
Friend, we can do this!
I can’t wait for God to walk into my heart-bathroom, labeled ‘pride’ and see that seat down.
Never thought I’d type that sentence, but it’s true.
Strive for it with me, will you?
Say it to yourself, over and over if necessary – “Seat down! Hiney dry! Heart pure!”
But, not out loud…people will think you’ve lost your ever-loving mind.