My kids drive me crazy.
If you find yourself condescendingly judging that statement, you’re either not a parent or you’re a hypocrite.
I love them. I’d step in front of a bus for them. But let’s be honest, when Jesus said “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them!” Every parent knows it’s only because he didn’t have to take them home at the end of the day.
They argue, they’re selfish, they whine, they’re ridiculously messy. They lie about silly things like brushing their teeth or using shampoo in the shower. Their inborn sin nature can make them incredibly difficult to deal with some days.
But if I’m really honest, there’s another reason my kids frustrate me. They interrupt my fascination with “me.”
They barge into my adult conversations with analysis of the latest SpongeBob episode.
They fill the car with Indian war cries while I’m trying to hear the latest Colts radio update.
They dance in front of the TV while I’m trying to watch the evening news.
They ask me to jump on the trampoline while I’m mid-chapter in a great new book.
My kids frustrate the heck out of me when they don’t fit neatly into my world. When they don’t play by my rules. When they force their way into my routine to ask me to come play in theirs. When they distract me from….me.
It hurts me to admit it, but it’s true.
So I guess you could say that some days, the thing that frustrates me most about my children isn’t their sin nature. It’s my own.
One way to lessen our frustration with our kids might be to lessen our fascination with ourselves.
Why do you get frustrated with your kids?