For forever and ever

We have entered the phase of toddlerdom that is horrible.  The only thing keeping me going is the fact that at some point, all of this will be a distant memory. 

Today I spent a cumulative three hours sitting on the bottom step with Grace.  At one point, after poking her brother in the eye for no reason other than she thought it was funny, she put herself in time out. 

I worry that I'm raising a psychopath.  She will slug Henry and then grin as if to say, "I know I'm too cute to be punished."  I will say, "Hitting is wrong.  Hitting hurts," and she will giggle and say, "No, it's not wrong.  It's funny."  And she is just so danged cute that for a little while, I believe her.  But then she slaps me as I take her hand to go back to the steps and I remember that no, it isn't funny.  At all. 

Raising a girl is different than a boy.  I remember the trauma of Henry at this age.  Grace is no more disobedient, but there is this added bossiness and sass and desire to be in control of every situation at all times that is just a part of who Grace is as a female.  It also happens to be a part of who I am, and well, there's really only room for one bossy girl in this family.

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my son-in-law.  I tried.  Really.  All I can say that if you just do what she says, no one will get hurt.  I'm counting on the fact that during those three hours on the bottom step we prayed each and every time for Jesus to give her a calm spirit and kind hands to at some point kick in.  To say that I need Jesus to redeem my parenting is quite possibly the understatement of the year. 

Parenting any child is hard.  Providing appropriate consequences and discipline is yucky for both parties.  But parenting an adopted child of a different race adds to its complexity.  Once I add two kids who spent part of their life in an orphanage, it is going to get even trickier.

My saving grace is the fact that I see Jesus at work in Henry. 

Henry woke up with a sore throat.  He spent all afternoon cuddled on the couch, shivering in his pajamas and fleece robe watching Mary Poppins.  Grace would hit him or sit on him or toss a remote at his head.  We'd go back to the stairs.  Talk about why God gave us hands.  Pray.  Come back and apologize to Henry.  And each and every time Henry would respond, "I forgive you, Grace."  At one point, at that time of parenting when I was checking my watch wondering how early was too early to put her to bed, and he told her, "Grace, I will always forgive you.  I love you.  You are my sister.  So I will forgive you for forever and ever."

Dear Jesus, Thank you for showing me in Henry that this stage will pass.  I pray that you work in Grace's heart just as you have in Henry's.  Thank you for your continued faithfulness to our family.  Thank you for loving me and forgiving me for forever and ever.