Have you ever fallen asleep on the job? I have, it was during my shift of late night parenting of teens. And that is where my story of war and peace begins.
As I tried to sleep, I heard thunderous bumping and crashing, but I refused to get out of the bed. The sounds of voices and laughter blared, but I was paralyzed by sleep. My teen boys had company and they were obviously wrestling.
It was after 11pm, I knew this because my cell phone dinged and I rolled over to see the time. The boys were loud, I wanted to scream to them to be quiet, but I couldn’t find my voice. Besides, I didn’t want to be wide awake.
The next morning when I arose, the house was quiet. I was faced with a dilemma…do I rush through the house like a herd of elephants, sounding an alarm signaling that day light had arrived? My other option was to tip-toe through the house like a soldier navigating through a mine field.
I chose peace over war. I wanted quiet over the clash of the battlefield of rambunctious teens. So, I let the boys sleep. As I made my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, I discovered the spoils of the battlefield from the night before. There was trash overflowing from the wastebasket and dirty glasses everywhere except in the sink.
The smell of fried chicken grease still emanated through the kitchen and living room. Scraps from the previous night’s dinner were on top of the trash. Birds were singing outside the window as they welcomed in the morning, but it was too early for breakfast. I just wanted that cup of coffee. Instant coffee.
While I waited for the tea kettle to give its signal of completion, I began to straighten up the kitchen. I refused to clean everything that was left by the sleeping cherubs, but I had to clean a few things…the mess was bothering me. Once my coffee was ready, I retreated to my little area that I called the quiet zone and devised my combat plan for the day.
My plan was simple-
· Fill the house with the smell of bacon as it sizzled on the griddle.
· Be sure the smell of biscuits baking drifted under the boy’s noses.
· And finally, partake of my daily bread and wait for them to ask for some.
It wasn’t long after initiating my plan that the boys were awake. As they wiped sleep from their innocent eyes, I told the boys they would have to help clean up before they could eat. The pseudo war was over, it was time for peace. The boys agreed to my terms and we lived happily ever after…for the moment.
Does anything unusual happen when you have teens around or even a small gathering of children?