The Green Room
There’s a sign that hangs in our breakfast nook that says, “God grant me the patience to endure my blessings.”
There’s no question I’ve been blessed.
There’s also no question I have my patience tested.
I can endure batting helmets worn to the grocery store in case there’s an errant pitch in the produce department. I have no idea why two pairs of sunglasses are needed, though.
I can endure digging the purple cat multivitamin out of the bottom of the bottle when a yellow bear just won’t suffice. And a yellow bear never suffices. (Anyone want to buy some yellow bear vitamins really cheap?)
I can even endure the yogurt handprints on the furniture, the early morning pickle requests and the high heels strewn all over my closet. Hey, somebody should wear them.
What I have a harder time enduring is bedtime. By eight o’ clock on our totally nap-free days (which is every day, since 2008), the cranky factor is high (both the girls’ and mine) and the patience is oh so thin.
So after our nightly devotional and tuck-in, Pea Daddy takes over, planting himself in the hallway between the girls’ room with a book, and I retreat downstairs to relative peace and quiet.
One of my blessings falls asleep immediately.
One of my other blessings puts up a bit of a fight.
Pea Daddy can handle most requests for water, extra stories and lullabies of “Soft Kitty.” But some nights I have to gather all the patience I can and head back upstairs to diffuse The Bomb.
And this week, things got nuclear.
“I DON’T WANT MY ROOM TO BE GREEEEEEN! I WANT MY ROOM TO BE PURPLE!”
“Lu, it’s almost nine o’ clock, you have to go to sleep,” I explained.
Yeah, like that was going to work.
“BUT WHY DOES GIGI GET HER ROOM HER FAVORITE COLOR AND MY ROOM IS GREEN?”
I tried to be logical. Again, a dumb, dumb move.
“Well, we painted both of your rooms before you were born. It just turned out that pink ended up being Gigi’s favorite color.”
I should have stopped there.
“We didn’t know if you were going to be a boy or a girl, so we decided to paint your room green.”
Then, an ear piercing scream.
“THIS IS A BOY’S ROOM?! YOU PAINTED MY ROOM A BOY COLOR?!”
Stupid, stupid, stupid me.
“Lu, I tell you what, we’ll paint your nails purple tomorrow, okay? Then when you want to see purple, all you have to do is look down at your hands. But now it’s time to go to sleep.”
“I DON’T WANT TO GO TO SLEEP IN A BOY’S ROOM! I WANT TO GO TO THE PAINT STORE AND GET PURPLE PAINT NOW!”
I mentally took inventory of the amount of money in my wallet that was available for the Swear Jar before saying,
“The paint store is closed, Lu. Tomorrow we’ll paint your nails. Maybe this summer we can paint your room.”
Sobs. A snotty hug. And finally a little peace.
Until the next morning.
A little before 6 a.m.
I heard a small voice call out,
“Mom, my favorite color isn’t purple anymore. It’s red. Let’s paint my room red!”
We started with her nails.
God grant me the patience to endure my blessings.