IF YOU PRAY I WILL SPANK YOU

That’s right, you know you’ve done it: said something bizarre to your kids out of desperation, sleep deprivation, or confusion. Parenting is no walk in the park, we all know that. I can remember sitting in a Dr.’s office before I had children and observing an unruly child in the waiting room. I thought proud, distasteful thoughts about his mother and about her pathetic attempts at parenting. I said to myself right then and there that MY children would never behave that way because I was going to be an awesome parent. I visualized myself in that same waiting room with a well-behaved, polite child, playing quietly with a toy in his lap while I would read him a story. (All the lovely reader moms are snickering to themselves as they read this.)

Pride goes before every fall and parenting, for me, has been somewhat of a… fall. I had no idea I had the capacity to be so impatient, manipulative, controlling, angry and rude. I have startled myself with my own humanity as revealed over my twenty years of parenting thus far. That future child that I imagined in the waiting room that day does not exist and neither does his mother. To be fair, I also had no idea I had the capacity to love so fiercely, pray so fervently, guard so vigilantly, and care so constantly.

Being a human parent is a terrible and beautiful journey that will change us into moldable, kind, humble and empowering people, if we let it.

In the meantime, we say tons of dumb stuff. By sheer necessity, sentences come out of our mouths that we never thought would be necessary. Phrases are strung together in shock and desperation to a) keep someone alive b) stop someone from doing something gross or c) regain control of a situation. Here are some of the things Barry and I have heard ourselves say to our children over the years:

“Get your penis off of the table.” (This one is a no brainer and falls under Category B: stopping someone from doing something gross).

“Get that snake out of your brother’s butt.” (Also Category B, not category A as the snake was only plastic.)

“We don’t pee on our hands on purpose.” (Category B as well… I’m detecting a pattern.) Ok, so we have three boys and one girl so most of the weird stuff we say is for Category B.

My most legendary weird statement, the one that my children will never let me forget, went like this:  “If you pray I will spank you.” This sounds scandalous and heretical, I know. There is not much I would spank for. But  there is a lot that I would SAY I would spank for, when I am at a complete loss and feeling so very out of control. Yes, I know how useless and manipulative it is to use the threat of corporal punishment so don’t bother giving me your two cents on that approach. I know. I also know that this one falls under Category C: regaining control of a situation.

Here is the story, as I remember it. We have taught our children to take a moment to thank God for their many blessings and we practice that every time we eat. We pass the task around, giving everyone their shot at speaking in gratitude to God on our behalf, one meal at a time.  When three-year old, Samwise, figured out he was pretty savvy at praying out loud, he started asking to be the one to offer thanks every single meal. Truly, it was adorable. He would wax eloquent and thank God for everything he could think of from the dogs to trees and when he couldn’t think of any more, he would crack one eye open and start thanking God for anything he could see with that one eye. This went on for a week or more, with Sam dominating the mealtime prayer market. 6-year-old Elliott started to want back in on the action after this long string of Sam prayers. One night, before dinner, Elliott complained that he never got to be the one to pray anymore and that he wanted to say the prayer before the meal that night. I agreed to designate him the pray-er of choice while Sam insisted that it still needed to be him. Sam whined a bunch about it while I explained that other people needed to be allowed to pray as well. He was mad about being dethroned and kicked his feet at the table and I told him to knock it off. Then he folded his hands in front of his face and looked across at Elliott over his pudgy little hands with this total “game on” look. I knew right then what was going to happen. Prayer wars. Elliott was going to launch and Sam was going to counter attack. Competitive prayer was about to take place across my table. I assumed my position to prepare for the battle. As they all bowed their heads and closed their eyes, I kept one eye cracked and pointed at Sam who was full on smirking by now. Elliott began with “Dear Lord…” and one millisecond after him, Sam, in his loudest pious prayer voice also fired off a “Dear Lord…” I slammed my hands down on the table and glared at Sam and heard myself saying “IF YOU PRAY, I WILL SPANK YOU!” There was a huge sucking of wind in the room as the rest of my family tried to comprehend what I had just said.

“If he prays you will spank him?????” said Russell in disbelief. Ivy stared at me with great big saucer eyes, and Barry slammed his lips shut to keep from laughing out loud.

“Well ok no, I’m not going to spank him for praying but for Pete’s sake, it’s not a competition!” I reasoned. Then they all started laughing at me and taunting me. “Guys, you better not pray or Mama will spank yer butt.”  “I wonder what she’ll do if I read my Bible!!!”  Haha. Very funny.

I tell you what, when I was sitting in that Dr.’s office waiting room, it never once occurred to me that I might someday be the referee at a pray-off. Where is the rule book for this stuff? How can one prepare one’s response for such an outrageous scenario? How can a tired, emotionally taxed human be expected to think fast enough to know what to say to get a competitive prayer session to cease? Cut a mom some slack, man. It seemed urgent. It seemed like I had a tiny little Pharisee in the making and he was about to use prayer as a weapon against his own flesh and blood brother. It just hit my tired mind as so very wrong and something I should stand against.

 Take heart, lovely parent readers. You are going to say dumb stuff. You are going to have to get good at apologizing. Let the process take it’s course and allow yourself to become softer and stronger. Discover your humanity, forgive yourself, and be kind to yourself. Laugh at your ridiculous foibles and let your children laugh at you too. Parents of older children: don’t hold to your guns if your guns are stupid, religious, oppressive, or rooted in your own fears and insecurities. You are welcome, that one’s on me.

We do our mealtime prayers with our eyes open now, and I am pretty sure I know why. Nobody wants to get out-prayed or spanked.