Who's In Charge Here?

Yup. I voted. That has nothing to do with this blog, however.


It's my household that has me taking stock tonight. As we wait to find out who the president is, I'm wondering who is running our home. It should be my husband, as head of the house. It could be me, by virtue of the fact that I spend the most time here with the kids. Unfortunately, I have strong suspicions that one of those kids--probably the 22 month old, at the moment--is the one really in charge.



Then there are those other obligations, the ones that regard 'democracy' as a word in a foreign language. I don't get to vote on whether or not I want an electric bill increase, I'm just supposed to find a way to pay for it. I have no say in tax policy, PMI, or the value of my home, which is of course less than I need for it to be. My working conditions would appall most unions by the time you factor in all the dirt, pee and barf that a mom of 3 and 1/2 kids deals with. And yes, I have a vehicle in my driveway without plates. It is also without a transmission, but that apparently doesn't matter. I am caught somewhere smack in the middle law of the land and the tyranical tantrums of toddlers and teenager.



If I had to give a state of the union address, I would say that between pregnancy hormones and pressing priorities, my spouse and I have barely enough time to accomplish the needs of the day. There seems to be no money, no energy, and no opportunity left to spend time together as a couple. It makes it hard to stay on the same page, let alone in charge, when you're so worn down by work and worry.



If I gave a state of the "nation" address, it could be summed up as anarchy, rather than democracy. Our finances are foundering along with the current economy. Despite the fact that I spend the balance of my day caring for my kids, they keep complaining. The toys seem to multiply every time they hit a surface that is not the toy box. And dirty laundry breeds everywhere, even more proliferate than the dust bunnies.



We deal daily with the moodiness of the little ones--so frequent and predictable that we have deemed it the "Five o'clock Freak Out." It could best be compared to a 3-on-1 power play, if hockey had such a thing. Today it hit a little early, and usually lasts through dinner and sometimes until bed. Since this is my husband's late night at work, that leaves me the lone defensemen against a team of seasoned screamers, whiners, and all-star grouches. I even called in reinforcements from the bench--but grandma had to eventually go home.



Tonight--serious politics aside--I longingly cast my ballot for book, bath and bed. Of course, foreigners can't win elections, so I can call the results of my private little run-off early. See, the winners--the ones who have solid citizenship in our house--are kids, chaos, and collection calls. It has me in a state of seeing red, and feeling blue.



I really have to remind myself that Someone bigger than my baby is in charge here. My trans-less van isn't voting. My money doesn't corner the market on who the Master is (it doesn't corner the market on much at all, actually). Whether president or parent, I'm persuaded "there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by Him" (Rom 13:1). And if I've been appointed by His authority, I'd better axe the apathy. It's time to run a quick campaign to convince the kiddies. Then I'd better deal with all this domestic destruction. It's time to move out of anarchy, beyond democracy, and into God's supremacy. He, after all, is in charge around here.