Since we aren't just parents and professionals, since we are also humans, sometimes we lose our cool. Sometimes we lose it in a big way, and it feels good to dismiss that fruit called self-control (Galatians 5:22) for a few minutes and wail on a Little Tikes basketball goal. But only for a few minutes, because when the dust settles, all we are left with is a broken toe, an icky feeling, and a mess to clean up.
It was after one such incident that Dave and I were discussing punching bags and how we would love to have one for these moments when we just can't contain ourselves any longer. We said we would think about buying one. We thought we would both use it. I've wanted a punching bag since highschool, and now we actually have a place to put one. We thought maybe we should do it.
Then, the very next day, Dave came home after a very frustrating work day and started his recap with, "I just want to hit someone." Without a word, I grabbed my laptop and ordered a heavy bag and a pair of gloves. He said he didn't need gloves. I told him that I do. If he wants to walk around with busted knuckles, that's his business, but I do not. I do intend to wail on that thing.
I failed to order gloves for the kids, but I've since decided that they need a pair, too. I'm just giddy with the thought of interrupting a tantrum or a fight with, "Here are the gloves. Go to the basement!"
Actually, I probably need two pairs so they can both hit the bag at the same time. Yeah. Two pairs it is.
I can't wait until the next time Dave tells me he just wants to hit something: "Oh? Go to the basement."
I can't wait until the next time a kid yells "Ma!" thirty times in a row as I'm tripping over the dog and trying to talk on the phone. I'm going to send myself to the basement.
This might be a stroke of brillance in our lives.
|Our new addition.|