The Nature of the Beast, A Problem to be Addressed, or Failure as a Mother

I end up feeling abused, unappreciated, unloved, and taken for granted. I get very angry inside and fight a feeling of walking out on the whole lot of them! How’s that for godly motherhood emotions? Yeah. I am being very real here. I do. I want to walk out the door, catch a bite to eat somewhere, catch a movie, and leave them to tend to themselves—something I am sure they would love and they would not truly miss all my work and ministrations for days and days to come! So if I think that leaving them is some sort of painful lesson for them to learn, well it would be long time in coming. But I weary. I weary. I weary in well doing. I weary in teaching and instructing and rearing up godly men. I just want to throw up my arms and say, “Who cares?” The thing is, I care.

Why? I truly don’t know, but I do. And messy rooms with clothes all over the floor make me edgy, nervous, irritable, and not as joyful as I could be! That is the fact of the matter. I wish it were different. I wish I could ignore the mess, but truth is I can’t! I do sometimes go down the hall, peer into the pits, see the mess, give a heavy sigh and simply close the door. I do that a lot actually. Sometimes you just don’t have the energy, the chutzpah to deal with it! Sometimes you just know that today isn’t the day to pick this battle. So you let it go. I think to myself of the parents who have lost their children and would long to have this problem to deal with. I thank the Lord for my sons and ask forgiveness for my murmurings and complaining. I truly do that more times than not. Then there are days, like this other Monday morning, and well, let’s say I don’t do that!

So what did I do? I called them all into a bedroom. I told them up front that I truly didn’t know what to do. I told them that I struggled with understanding if it is the nature of the beast that is teens, or a problem to solve, or a failure on my part; but that I knew I couldn’t handle it any longer. I told them that when they have their own house they can live like slobs all they want, but for now while they are under my roof they must, they must take better care of their rooms. I told them I didn’t think I was asking too much for each son to pick up after himself; and that if they would do JUST that they would find that there isn’t a lot of work to do.