finely aged tantrums

LaLa takes ballet every Friday afternoon at 4:30-5:15. It is possibly the very worst time of day imaginable to wrangle a dozen four and five year olds into tights, tutus, slippers, and expect them to cooperate in the process of disciplining their squirmy bodies and energetic minds into submission in the form of plies and releves. Friday. In the late afternoon, when kids have energy to spare, dinner is being prepared and the last thing they want to do is settle down, listen, and do what the teacher says.

Largely due to LaLa's distinctively stubborn and highly charged emotional personality (gee, I wonder where she may have inherited this genetic trait from?), there often ensues quite a battle of wills to inspire her into class with a semblance of decorum. Minor fits are thrown, complaints of the evil rigors of ballet class abound, and incessant whining and crying ensues.

Pleasant.

But God, with traditional brutal grace, allowed me a new glimpse into this phenomenon today.

You see, I work part time as a Real Estate broker. It is an occupation I have held for almost a decade, and usually manage to juggle as healthily as possible with being a full-time Mom, running an out of state family business, singing in worship team, taking care of our home and the 724 other daily things involved with managing daily life. It can also be stressful, demanding, and time intensive. However, there are days like today when the demands of the job crank up to the highest notch and the sheer volume of required activity, the pressure of the expectations and needs of others crushes in on me until I flirt with the kind of exhaustion that wages war for the victory over my spirit. On those days, I feel myself struggling to stretch myself to meet the requirements I face. I tend to ebb into a general sense of crankiness, of short-fused malaise that translates into a bit of grouchy frustration with myself and others.

On those days, like today, I become frayed and impatient. Time is my enemy, there are few moments of rest, and seemingly endless streams of people~tasks~commitments that I felt quite a bit like an obligated yo-yo. Today, by noon, joy was struggling to break through the clouds. I was SO emotionally upset at having to work so hard just to tread water - just to make it through the day without letting my children down, my husband down, my clients down, my church down, our business down, my home down... I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and allowed it to seep in and collapse me. Stress flourished. Tempers melted. I was broken and frustrated. I *hated* work. I did not want to spend one more moment of my day invested in serving the needs of anyone other than my children, didn't want one more phone call, one more appointment, one more email, one more task - ACK!! Hitting the end of my own ability and running on empty just plain depleted me and lashed at my soul. Basically, I am ashamed to admit, I threw my own little tantrum today. Granted, it cannot be seen with the naked eye - but it's a tantrum nonetheless.

This rather crummy realization of myself is such a blessing. LaLa and I share this particular failing of stress-induced emotional frustration. We are identical - broken, imperfect people who each throw our own little tantrums. Only she is five and to a certain degree, hers can be expected. Mine, at 33, though not openly demonstrative, are much harder to justify. But we have so much in common, she and I. My precious daughter who echoes so much of myself. This new discovery about frees me to more adeptly, humbly, patiently, and with more focused care - LOVE my little daughter.

And work on lengthening my own fuse on those tantrum-risk days. Lest I need to give myself a long time out.