Well. True confession time: I never anticipated that third grade would be the thing to knock me off my high horse.
Oh my word. The anxiety this year has brought. The expectations, the homework...FRACTIONS. Let's not even go there.
A lot of mommy bloggers like to talk about how God uses motherhood for our personal sanctification. Let me just say that I think they might be onto something there. Nothing teaches me about dealing with my own anxieties like helping my firstborn prepare for his first presentation.
He practices his speech with his notecards, tries on his outfit, rehearses some more, but I that deer-in-the-headlights expression remains on his handsome little face.
My stomach clenches and I try to conceal my own emotions.
What if the kids make fun of him?
I should have driven all over town looking for a Fedora and bow tie. He needs a better costume.
He looks so grown up. How did we get here?
As I'm making dinner and breaking up squabbles, his anxiety is evident in his body language. Isn't there an easy button, a formula, anything to fast-forward through the hard stuff? Quick. Let's go back to sitting on a blanket and drooling over plastic keys. That was better than this. Easy. Comfortable. The desire to shield and protect, to enable him out of an uncomfortable situation is overwhelming. And I'm embarrassed at how easily I forget God's promises of His faithfulness. A good mom would bust out a verse from memory, probably even kneel and pray. But tonight I'm not that mom.
There's miles to go before we sleep and can't we just be done with this already?