We eat out on Tuesdays. It started out as a matter of practicality – the girls go straight from school to choir on Tuesdays and have a 45 minute window in between, so we dash somewhere and snag dinner on the way. This semester has been a little different, though. Because of the various extra kids we’ve had in our home, Craig’s been running the choir shuttle most weeks, so he just snags dinner for the girls on their way. For a while he was then meeting up with me and the extras and we’d eat somewhere different. But lately, he hasn’t really had time to do that, so the extras and I have been on our own.

And lo, Tuesdays can be long with just me and the boys at home all day. And this week has been a super rainy one, so going to a park was out. I thought Chick-fil-A sounded like a good idea because it was family night which means crafts or some such. And it was a good idea – the boys loved crafting and I got handed a tissue paper flower for my hair and a new bracelet made from pipe cleaner and beads, both courtesy of A4.

But I had to be the bearer of bad news not too long after we got there when another kid hauled off and popped A4 in the mouth with his fist. I had to break it to the kid that that was not an okay thing he did and then I had to break it to the kid’s dad, who wasn’t really paying attention. That was all kinds of fun. Then, as we were eating I thought it would be a good chance to talk to both boys about how to behave in the play area (ie: what happened to A4 was bad and they couldn’t go in there and do that to anyone else). What I forgot was that giving a direct command to R3 gets translated in his brain as “do the opposite” so not even five minutes passed before he went in there and hit another kid. So I had to bear bad news again when I made him sit at the table for the rest of the time we were in there. A4 got to play some more, but R3 did not.

This has been a heck of a week with the boys, to be sure. But I’m trying to love them in spite of themselves.

Just the way I need to be loved myself.