Write as if your life depends on it...

So my friend Amy says. "When emotions run so deep, they need a place to go outside of you." I should write more. Maybe I wouldn't yell as much if I wrote more. Maybe I wouldn't have the rare occasion when I completely lose it. Tonight was one of those occasions.
Having a 13 year old boy is not new to me. I've done it three times before. I'm still no good at it. My current 13 year old boy is no different than the others, in that, he is trying hard to work out in his mind whether he should be playing with the matchbox cars or driving a real one. One, he really feels too old for, and the other, well, he is still too young. He did, just the other day, get to sit in the drivers seat with the engine running and his foot on the brake, ease off the brake, and move backwards a few feet. He was happy to announce to anyone who would listen that he had driven a car. I'm not sure his hand ever even touched the steering wheel, but we let him believe he drove. He is in that place that all boys have to get through. Too old for matchbox and too young for the real thing. Too old for mommy kisses and too young to not need mom at all any more. Mom needs wisdom to know that this is just as difficult a time for him as it is for her and to not take his distance personally.
Today was a good day. Everyone seemed to be in a pleasant mood most of the day, more so than usual.  The two littles had oatmeal for breakfast, one of their regular favorites. We can't call him a "little" any more. He's taller than I am. He usually passes on oatmeal, but when I asked if he wanted some, he said yes. I took a moment to enjoy the agreeable-ness (I need a better word). After breakfast, I gave him instructions for two chores. He did one. I asked if he did the other one and he quickly went and did it and upon completion, said, "Yes." I took another moment to enjoy the willing-ness. I gave him his school instructions. He took them and went to work. He brought me the completed work to check. I checked it, returned it to him for correction. He corrected it and brought it back. I thought, "Something is different today." Sarah wanted to go to the store to get some things for a recipe she had seen on Pinterest. He went with her. I gave him his "free money" portion of his allowance and instructed him to only spend $1 on candy related items. He came back with no candy related items. hmm. We ate dinner. Dad came home and we all went to the park. We did one lap around the pond. Sarah and I stopped to rest while the guys went to the playground. The 13 year old came back in a few minutes and plopped down right on my lap! I thought, "Something is very different. This is very unusual." I soaked it up, until my legs could no longer stand it. He moved to the spot next to me and leaned into me, sweaty and smelly, but I didn't care. I soaked up some more. hmm. We came home. Sarah and I cleaned up the dishes and dad read to the boys and put them to bed. He came into the kitchen and hugged me and said, "Night." I looked him in the eye and said, "I love you." He came back with, "luhya." or some similar mumble, and went to bed. Sarah said good night and went to bed. I was switching between Facebook and email, when the littles came in arguing about whatever conflict they were having since they went to bed. I sent one back to bed and the other to sit by the wall for a while. Not long after, the one little who I sent to bed and the 13 year old came in arguing about their conflict. By this time, I was almost completely frustrated. Why can't "Go to bed" mean "Go to bed, don't talk or play or fight. Just go to sleep."?? I said to them, "Go to bed. Don't talk or play or touch each other or do ANYTHING else. Just go to bed and go to sleep." When they'd had time to get to their room, I heard a thud hit the wall. The younger one came in crying and explaining what the thud was. That was it. I lost it. I was mad. I won't say that he didn't need what he got, but he didn't need it while I was angry. He ran into the bathroom. I followed him. I explained that I did not enjoy having to correct him in such a way and asked if he had a suggestion for how I should have handled it, still speaking in a loud voice with a tone of justification. He didn't. He didn't say anything else. I told him one more time to go to bed. He went. I tried to read, but couldn't focus. I thought about what a good day we had had, a day that seemed to be a turning point for me and this boy, and the moment that probably set us back considerably. I went to his room and stood at the door. He pulled the comforter over his head. I sat down on the bed. I was quiet for a few minutes. I didn't know if I could even get any words out, but I knew I had to say something. I knew he was awake. I said, "I should not have corrected you while I was angry. It sure didn't make me feel better. I feel a little sick. I hope you can forgive me." I got up and left the room. I came into the living room and sat down and cried for a while. When I am sad about one thing, I can think of a million other things to be sad about, too. I cried for all of them. I so want to be in touch with the hearts of my children. I have failed in that in so many ways. I need God's grace and mercy and I need to extend it to others as freely as He has to me. This makes me hate Satan more, if it's possible, because I know that he saw what a good day we were having and he schemed to ruin it, and I let him win, because I didn't recognize him at work. Whatever our weakness is, he knows just where to get us. I have to remember that God's strength is made perfect in my weakness, not my own, and not Satan's. When I am weak (angry), I need to step out of the way, push Satan back, and let God be in control. Why is humility so hard? It's one of the most admirable qualities a person can possess, yet so hard for me to take hold of. I seem to be getting lots of opportunities to practice it lately, so maybe practice will make perfect! Or maybe I need to write more... Pray for me, please.