I swear, it’s going to be Mercy. There is a compelling reason God gave me that name for her. It is because I need an arsenal of HIS GRACE & MERCY to keep her alive until she turns 18.
That child.
Seriously. I could say just that and it should suffice. All of you have raised/are raising/are related to (have disowned…) a sweet little thing like Miss Mercy.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Is it bad that I want to yell that at her at least 10x daily? Probably. If I was still Catholic, I’d probably hit confession for that one. (Shoot, I was for 36 years, I can still confess, right?)
“MERCY ELAINE MCCAWLEY…” followed by a barrage of questions in regards to the latest adventure she has embarked on that results in the demolition of my MAC make-up, the destruction of my beloved school whiteboard, the flurry of salt on the school room floor (mixed with glue…), the PERMANENT stamp ink on the floor/wall/her clothes, the defacement of my walls..furniture…schoolroom…YOU GET THE POINT.
Oops, I should have named her IVY MARIE WETHERILL!!!!
Ha.
2 peas in a pod.
But, stink. She is so sweet, precious, loving, complimentary, gracious and cute. I just can’t stay mad for longer than, say, 23 out of 24 hours. So, that ONE hour that I’m not ready to jettison her to boarding school? IT more than makes up for all the crazy that is my Mercy.
Occasionally, I’ll be so up to my eyeballs that I’ll actually make her lie down for a nap. (I do this knowing full well that she will be a pest when I put her to bed for the night, but I do it to SAVE HER LIFE.) The other night, after she had napped, I was innocently watching brainless TV. I hopped up to go borrow some milk from my neighbor and, as I turned to leave my room, I just about died. There she was…a little statue, silent as stone, sitting in my doorway. SCARED the stink out of me!!
“MERCY ELAINE!,” I hollered. Then I picked that sweet little bean up, tucked her back in bed and changed my drawers, since I think I might have peed my pants…
I love that child.
love,
me