Tables Turned


What better way for Fall to announce its arrival than with a gift of sneezes, congestion and a headache? Feeling quite useless so I thought I should just write. {Yea, that’s where most of my thoughts come from.}


One day just before school started, I asked the boys to clean their rooms. Much later that day, and after countless reminders, my wonderful sons had yet to clean their rooms. But I decided to let it go for a bit as I needed a break from my nagging.

So I asked J to practice his violin instead. Gave him two hours. E worked on his summer packet. Gave him two hours as well. By the end of the allotted time, the two were barely controlled masses of repressed energy. So I gave them permission to go kill some bad guys on the TV screen.  They ran screaming with joy down to the basement.

Which was why I was surprised to see J come running back upstairs after a few minutes. I was even more surprised to see him head to his room and start cleaning.

“Ah,” I said to myself, “my nagging did work!” It was a proud mom moment. So I let the boy know: “Thanks for cleaning up without me having to remind you again.”

He looked up from fixing the bed, “I just wanted to make E look bad, Mommy.” Then he went back to his task.

His words stopped me short, however. I told the boy I took my words back, I didn’t think his motive for cleaning was that admirable.

He responded, with no hint of apology, “Well, I’m just telling you the truth. I cleaned for you, but mostly to make my brother look bad.”


From pride to indignation. Seriously? I resolved to have a good talk with the father of my son, from whom it was likely he got the gene for this kind of thinking from.

But of course, God got to me first. He whispered, not in an audible voice to freak me out, but into my thoughts, “Don’t you do that, though? Don’t you, at one time or the other, feel good about what you do because you know so-and-so is doing less?”

I hate it when He’s right. Which, if you know me, happens 100% of the time.

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