The Zone

Illumination came crashing down on me in the middle of a burger joint. It came with such force that Cherry Coke squirted out my nose.

Kevin was out of town, and I took the kids out to dinner. Putting all thoughts of coupons and food sharing aside, I let them go wild with burgers and shakes for everyone. We were there for about an hour, having a jolly time, when I decided it was time to go. Then we stayed for 10 more minutes, and I was REALLY ready to go. Kids were getting squirly, uneaten food was flying through the air, and mommy was done. That’s when I entered The Zone. It looks something like this: I have an agenda. I’m ready to get on with it already. Quickly and efficiently. The kids have an agenda (to have fun) pulling with equal force in the opposite direction of my agenda. I become hyper-focused and irritable and fall more deeply into The Zone. It’s now to the point at which someone could be holding their bleeding, severed toe between their fingers and I wouldn’t even see it. I am blinded and consumed by my own agenda.

My agenda was to leave the restaurant. Brooka’s agenda was to find a mint in my purse. So while I’m picking up trash and hosing down the chocolate-faced two-year-old, out come my wallet, my keys, my phone, my lipstick, and various and sundry other personal items from my purse. The dialogue goes something like this:

Brooka: Do you have any mints in here?
Me: I-don’t-know-wipe-your-face.
Brooka: But I want a mint. Don’t you have any?
Me (now working on the ketchup layer that was hiding under the chocolate layer on the two-year-old’s face): I-don’t-know-wipe-your-face.
Brooka: Why can’t I find any mints?
Me: I-DON’T-KNOW-WIPE-YOUR-FACE!!!

Now here’s the scary thing. I don’t actually recall saying anything about the mint or her face. I remember the face chiseling and passing out wipes all around, but I had no idea what words—or, more important, what tone—was coming out of my mouth. Braden, my 10-year-old, was kind enough to help me. He said something like this:

Braden: “What’s your phone number?” “I-don’t-know-wipe-your-face!”
“What’s the capital of Argentina?” “I-don’t-know-wipe-your-face!”
“What’s the square root of 91?” “I-don’t-know-wipe-your-face!”

I laughed hard enough to induce my own style of Coke snorting. I laughed so hard that I cried, so hard that my kids thought I had lost my mind because to them, it wasn’t all that funny. Truthfully, while it was funny, it was sad more than anything else. It was a sad revelation that jerked me out of The Zone and brought me face to face with the ugly truth of it: I want what I want. I want people to do what I want them to do. I want it done now.

But that’s not the way the world works. God is too kind to give us our way. He’d rather make us better than satisfied. Ouch.

Ironic end to the story: As we made our way to the van (picture me carrying five drinks and a kicking toddler with an agenda of her own), a young mom came up to me and said, “I was watching you inside. You’re really good with them.” Ugh.

People are watching. My kids are watching. God is watching. It’s time to get out of The Zone.