Stripey Strikes Back

A little while back I wrote about my son's meltdown re his beloved blanket, Stripey, being left at my mom's house one night. Well we had another freak-out the other night, and I'm starting to wonder about the merits of comfort objects.
My husband and I are watching a movie after putting the kiddos down and it's at least 10:00 so I'm fairly certain they're out, and then I hear a knock on my son's door. Ben has been snoozing next to me because he's an old man and apparently can't stay awake for a whole movie (side rant) and so I tap him and tell him Jude's knocking. And then I hear it, a scream, a cry so horrific that I thought something had either torn off one of my son's limbs or a troll was trying to get in the window. Normally, I would be running already, but as I was already tapping on my husband, I just intensified it until I was hitting him a little frantically and saying, "Jude's crying." And this part is pretty comical, despite my son's distress: Ben leaps up wide-eyed and scrambles/stumbles/runs out of the room. He looked like one of those cartoon characters running around the corner, where it takes minute to get the traction to actually move forward. I still laugh when I think of that image.
Anyway, I decided to join my husband when I hear Jude is still crying because I am actually a little worried that he may have gotten hurt somehow. After I scoop him up, it takes me a minute to decipher the hysterics, but I finally understand that Stripey has been inadvertently mutilated. And Jude is panicked, so distraught that he unknowingly has ripped his beloved right down the middle. From what I make of his cry-talking, he was asleep when he must have pulled Stripey, who was already starting to get a couple holes, when the unthinkable happened. What gets me is that Jude actually seemed angry at himself. He's three for goodness sakes!
In the aftermath, trying to calm him down and make him feel better, I promised to sew up Stripey the next day, and that seemed to have the desired calming effect. One problem, I'm not a seamstress in any sense of the word. I barely understand the basics. But a promise is a promise, and Jude doesn't seem to mind the crude stitch up the middle of his darling blanket.
So, all is right with the world. That is, until the next Stripey debacle occurs.

What I Need to Learn

I think one of the most important lessons I am learning right now is dependance on the Lord. Apparently it's also one of the most challenging, because, darnit, I just keep trying to do things on my own strength...
I know that self-reliance is really valued in our culture, but I'm not so sure it should be. You know how the Bible tells us not to lean on our own understanding? Well, I can't quite seem to get that concept down. I mean, for a bit I do, but then, there I am again, back to trying to do it on my own.
Even in day-to-day life, I have a hard time asking for help. (I think my husband would tell you differently, but I'm not counting him in this)...
And so occasionally it hits me that I'm floundering, fighting, struggling to figure something out or fix something, and I have forgotten to turn to the Lord. It's ludicrous, really. Thinking that I can do it all, succeed without HIM. Of course, it's not that I haven't prayed, but many times I've worried my prayers instead of going to Him with confidence that He hears me and will act on my behalf.
Prayer is a beautiful thing... magical, really. And yet, I rarely utilize this gift. I tuck it away, pull it out when I'm desperate or need something, and away it goes again, forgotten instantly...
Prayer should be my first response, not my last resort.

Hmmm...

Jude has been FIGHTING his naps. Hard-core. Like pretty much every day. And I have been fighting the fighting, because honestly, I'm just not ready for the glorious mid-day nap to be over. So he frequently calls my name in between loudly pulling his closet apart and destroying his room, and I pretend I don't hear him. Occasionally I'll go in to remind him what exactly he's there for.
Today was one such day, and as I sat with him on his bed he informed me that he was hungry... so so so hungry. Something about my maternal makeup won't let me ignore my child when he's asking for basic human needs. He may be playing me, but I don't want to take the chance that he actually is so so so hungry. So, I tell him to wait there and I go to the kitchen and cut up a pear, sans skin, just like he likes it. I bring it to him and tell him he can eat it, but then he has to take a nap. As I sit with him on his bed, he's letting all his adorableness loose, and we're giggling and cuddling and being affectionate. And then he tells me, "I'm gonna call you Hot Lover Mama."
Hmmm. I don't know what to say to that, so I do what I always do when I want to downplay something. I say, "You're silly..." and then I ask him where he heard that because I have some fear that my husband has used those words in front of him. But he reassures me that he "just made it up."
Somehow I'm not quite reassured. And then I remember that he's three and pure-hearted, and probably just liked that combination of words...
Seriously, the things you hear coming out of your child's mouth... you can't write this stuff.