Charlie-1, Parents- 0

Oh ya'll!

So last week, we went to a missionary conference in Bamenda, Cameroon. I was very excited for the conference for the following reasons:

• Worship and teaching in English
• wearing clothes that do not look like a mumu or have an elastic waste band- aka jeans
• meeting new missionaries and catching up with missionaries friends
• friends for Charlie to play with
• some time for relaxation
• shopping for things we cannot buy in Banyo like powdered sugar and shampoo, even Honey Nut Cheerios!
• Childcare

 

Childcare. Ok, I am going to be honest here- I was most excited about childcare. While Charlie has a nanny during the morning, that is my working time. In the last 4 months, I have not had a baby sitter during a stretch of time that allowed for any quality “me time.” Momma is tired, ya'll.

Well, sadly I returned from our conference tired even with the glorious child care. Why? Well, my child is “that child.” At one point I overheard someone say, “that is why God makes puppies and kids so cute because if not we would go crazy.” Yeah, she was looking at my child who was dancing on the stage like it was her own personal rock concert. In comparison to the African children that sit like serene statues in church, I knew my child was a little more “spirited.” I chalked it up to cultural differences. At the conference however, there were 4 American children in the 2-3 year age range. Again, these kids were perfect little angels- don't get me wrong, they had their tiny toddler moments too- but only just enough to disprove my theory that their parents had sedated them. Their children sat quietly through an hour of adult sermon time- my child ran circles around the building like Forrest Gump. She fled from her parents at every opportunity. I would talk with someone for a minute than spend 20 looking for her- only to find her half way across the campus with someone asking, “You didn't know where she was?!” My child also found the sugar bowl next to the coffee and proceeded to help herself to handful after handful of the sweet forbidden goodness. Another, more responsible, 2-year-old stood by pointing at Charlie so that some adult would intervene and correct the situation. I felt like I spent the whole time chasing after, threatening, putting shoes on (because she refuses to wear shoes- ever), restraining, pleading with, and putting my child in “time out.”

I know this is a “season” and it too shall pass. The terrible two's are almost over and then we will move on to what many people call the “terrifying threes.” Oh Lord have mercy! In the meantime, I will focus on what one of my friends said when I was comparing Charlie to the other well behaved kids: “So she was the fun one!”