God, Jesus, Help Me

I found myself repeating that phrase over and over. I was trying SO HARD not to blow my stack and say and do things to my children that would take years of therapy and traction to undo. Why do I get so angry? When I think about the attending circumstances, I'm chagrined. All Baby Redneck did was take of her dipe and pee on the rug. While eating a red popsicle. Wonderboy was trying to help, and he didn't mean to knock her down and make her cry. Tears and popsicle juice and pee. Great.


Wonderboy has autism, and when unexpected things happen, many times he will laugh hysterically. Why does that offend me so?

Where are Teen Queen and Pixie in the midst of this? Who knows? Some great mom I am.

The attitude of Christ? Hmmm. What would that be at just this moment?

I tried to discern it. That's how I ended up chanting, "God, Jesus, Help Me...God, Jesus, Help Me."

I guess it helped. They're still alive.