kinks in my armor

Some friends of our's here were trying to explain to their teenage son one night a while back why they wouldn't let him stay up and watch junk on TV after they went to bed. The conversation, as I understand is typical between teenage boys and their parents (since I know teenage girls don't converse like this), went something like this:

Dad: What happens when it's dark outside?
Son: I KNOW!
Dad: Okay, then what happens?
Son: I KNOW!
Dad: Okay, then just say it! Sin happens!

Yeah, well, sin happened last night in this household. Funny how Satan can take advantage of a tired-and-stuffed-up-and-sore-throated mom, a tired-and-stuffed-up-and-one-day-post-puking dad, a restless-and-flailing-and-sobbing-and-clinging toddler, and a tired-and-stuffed-up-and-unable-to-breathe-well baby. Okay, so maybe Satan's the only one laughing (except for maybe all you folks reading this, to whom I say, "Get behind me, Satan!"). Let me tell you, I didn't exactly "do all things without grumbling and complaining." Chris, on the other hand (good man that he is), went from rocking the baby, consoling the toddler, and watching the mom leave to try to go sleep on the couch, all without saying a word (although I think he said his fair share today when he had to watch the boys while I was working). I guess I figured that parenting didn't require keeping my armor on 24/7. Maybe by the last child I'll know better.

And then there are the parenting moments on the other end of the spectrum when we get to experience things like hearing Sean saying to Ben, "HI, MEN! I YUV YOU!" Or watching Sean fall down on the floor over and over again in front of Ben in his ultrasaucer and hearing the two of them go off in peals of laughter every time. Or rocking Ben to sleep (even when he's stuffy). Or laying in bed with Sean and listening to a spring thunderstorm outside and telling him that God made the rain and the lightning and the thunder. Or having conversations that consist of funny things like asking Sean where his food went (after he ate all of his supper) and having him look anxiously under the table for it. It's easy to have my armor on then and to think I'm a good parent in moments like that. But I'm sure by the last child I'll know better.