I Farted!

 I keep thinking that I need to write about happier things.  I’m just not that good at it.  All I want to do right now is vent about Marie’s non-understanding about the basic difference between a lie and truth over something as silly as a fart.

Farts are funny in our household.  They’re gross.  But they always make us laugh because of how gross they are.  I can almost tell who farted just based on the smell.  Sometimes I can tell what was eaten to make such a stench.  This is good reading material, am I right?

Marie does not seem to have a clue what the difference is between a truth and a lie.  Mr. Sexy tells me all the time that Marie will always give the answer she thinks will make that person happy.

“Marie, did you fart?”
“Marie, it’s just you and I in the room.  Did you fart?”

“Marie, tell me what happened.”
“I did not eat peanut butter.”
The peanut butter was all over her nightgown, her sheets, her face and in her hair.  The empty jar was hidden under her bed.

“Marie, did you pee your bed?”
The entire room stank like urine.

“Marie, did you poop your pants?”
There was a huge rock looking thing in the butt of her pajama bottoms. (She was sick.)

Okay, now you’re thinking, Sheesh!  Lay off the girl!  Obviously she is embarrassed or doesn’t want to get in trouble because she knows she did something wrong.

Yeah, I tell myself that too.

But then things happen that I can’t be sure of and I have no way of knowing whether Marie is telling me what actually happened or just what she wants to have happened.

For instance:

“Marie, what happened to your book?”
“I did not rip it.”
She was by herself, in her room and reading.  What else could have happened other than her ripping it?
“Marie, I think you ripped your book.  Is that what happened?”
“So now you have told me two different things and I don’t know what to believe.  Did you rip your book?”

I can’t tell you how many conversations I have had with her that went exactly like this.  Although what you don’t see displayed is the heat in my chest rising and my gut telling me to get out of that room and that conversation before I blew up about something she didn’t even understand was happening.

And that’s the truth of it.  She doesn’t get it.  SHE DOESN’T GET IT.  You can tell me that every day.  I can write it on my mirror.  I can write about it on my blog.  I can read it in my notes.

Emotionally, however, I feel like she does get it but chooses to give the best answer she thinks possible like what Mr. Sexy said.  I want her to learn to always tell the truth which is a hard thing to do.  I still struggle with telling the truth sometimes because I’m concerned with how it will affect me.  Marie has the same concerns, no doubt.  I just want her to get past them – even in the simplest form such as coming clean about a stupid fart.

Just a reminder: I have been Marie’s mom for only a few years.  Part of my blogging journey is to figure all that stuff out.  It’s complicated, messy and highly emotionally charged.  Constantly.

The truth is, I see huge potential in Marie.  But there is so much of this other stuff that I feel sets her backwards.  Stuff I don’t know if she will get past and therefore her future won’t be what I picture.

This is a good time to remember that her future really isn’t my concern.  It’s not Mr. Sexy’s either.  God has her future all planned out.  I think He just needs Mr. Sexy and I to continue parenting and teaching Marie to the best of our ability and trust that God will provide missing pieces.

Just, please God, give her the discernment to understand what a lie is and what a truth is.  Today that would really help me out.  Thanks!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s