Quick story: I signed one of my children up to volunteer at the annual Harvest Fair at our church. The fair fell on the same night the child wanted to attend the Guilford High School football game. I was willing to entertain the request for a little service work and a little football, right up until the pissy little bugger slammed the vehicle door so hard the car shook. That attitude bought ‘em an all expense paid ticket to working the Harvest Fair for the entire evening.

As I mentioned in past posts, I like to approach my role as a parent in a similar way that a farmer runs a farm. The farmer doesn’t care if the sheep want to spend all night out in the field grass guzzling, she knows that those sheep have to come in so they don’t freeze to death. But what I discovered this week is that fatigue (along with all its other negative effects) flusters Farmer Mags into thinking that she actually cares about her children’s opinions around circumstances such as these. 

My children’s feelings and viewpoints absolutely matter to me. They matter when those feelings and viewpoints are serving or honoring their character and the world around them. However, they matter little when they’re only serving their own cravings. When I’m overtired, I easily and completely unconsciously, confuse the two. Just another spectacular excuse to Head My Speed, if you ask me.

If this post tickled your fancy, you might also enjoy reading Mean Mama, Slow Me Down Lord and Take More Naps.