I wager a guess every mom at some time or another has
done it.
When the girls were little I would flee to the bathroom, not
to use the john, or sit on the naughty chair, but to hide out. Time-out for
mom, I called it. Another word for that is “coward time." Hiding in the
bathroom to escape the tyranny of childish ways. The whining. Fussing. Arguing.
With door closed and locked, my charges
would sit on the other side begging mom to come out while I ruminated on the
throne. It wasn’t all bad, really. I had the place fixed up quite nicely. Linen
hand towels. Sweet-smelling soaps and lotions. Candles. Miniature lamps. Home
decorating magazines. Soft, thick toilet paper, just right for making out
grocery lists. I was a queen in her castle. And for a few brief minutes of
privacy I could breathe free, recharge, regroup, and reconsider how to deal
with my children during those times when tempers flared and tongues wagged.
When all grew quiet on the other side of the
door I knew it was time to leave my refuge. Quiet could mean either trouble or
bliss. Of course, I hoped for the latter which would reaffirm in my mind that
my little exit to the bathroom had been sufficient to redirect the girls. More
often than not, when I would crack the door and peek out, the girls would flood
out of their rooms and surround me with sweet hugs. Mischievous imps in angels’
clothing. I knew this, but the hugs always threw me for a loop and I would
succumb to their endearing ways.
Hiding in the bathroom offered a respite for
me and redirection for the girls. Time alone ushered me into the throne room of
God where I could vent my frustration and seek God’s wisdom. I became the little
child running to her Daddy, climbing up in His lap and throwing my arms around
His neck. His face so full of love and patience in spite of my many childish
fits and complaints. His arms so strong in spite of my weakness. His hands so
gentle in spite of my folly. His smile so warm in spite of my coldness at
times. And His heart so full for me. I leaned in to Him and heard His quiet
song of love. I heard His words of comfort and direction. A Father talking to
His daughter. In that moment, all was well. I could face my charges once again.
The parent had been parented.
I
always knew that room of the house was good for more than one thing.
~~
2 comments:
Hahaha.... not sure I remember ever hiding out in my bathroom. I was one of those lucky moms that only had to discipline her kids once in a while. When they did act up, I would simply give them a strike (3 strikes and they were grounded from something). Any 'fit throwing'(which was rare) caused the child to stand in the corner. No, no bathroom refuge for me...if I needed alone time, I sent them to their rooms for quiet time while I had the rest of the house....Today, seeing how out-of-control my grandkids can be sometimes amazes me.
Good advice, Debbie!
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