My coffee cup is my security bunny

Today is one of those days that has me wondering how much we look like the screaming toddler to God's loving father. The coffee is still brewing and we're already into the second or third meltdown of the day. The toddler does not want to finish her banana. Or get cleaned up from it. Or stay in her high chair. Or get down. By sheer force I manage to get the banana slime wiped from her hands and wrestle her out of her high chair. And what does she do? Lift her arms to be picked up and held. She doesn't know what she wants. She doesn't like what Mommy's doing. But it will all be okay if she can just sit in Mommy's lap . . . at least, until it's time to get dressed and everything repeats.

I'm thankful that God holds us. I'm thankful that God doesn't ever say, "Wait--I need a cup of coffee before I can deal with this." It makes me wonder how much my coffee cup resembles my daughter's grubby security bunny in the eyes of God. And there must be days, I'm sure, that God's reactions to my meltdowns is much closer to my reactions to my older daughters--"You're four / seven years old! You don't need to throw a tantrum like this. " But as a parent, I know that my "big girls" are still little children too, and if they get pushed too far, they melt.

That's what I feel like right now. There are days that, as a family, we have to do things that I know are going to push my kids too far. When I have to delay dinner two hours, or keep them up until eleven at night. It gets ugly, but I go into it expecting it, and I try to plan recovery time in afterwards--a quiet day at home, a morning when we don't have to get up for anything. I feel like I've been kept up past my bedtime and fed too late. I know I've been overreacting and just can't help it. I pray that God has built recovery time into our schedule.