Please grant me the patience not to send your children back to Heaven.
Help me to not throw plates, shoes, books, either at them, near them, or at walls.
When I came downstairs and found them still watching Harry Potter (a movie they are not allowed to watch for fear they will accept movies more readily than books,) a full 45 minutes after they were told to turn off the TV, thank you for helping me not to yell and instead giving them the Stare.
Bless the prompting I had to store my vases on another floor inside a deep cabinet so that they would be hard to find when I wished to pick one up and throw it through my husband's ginourmous computer monitor.
Thank you for the air I was able to breathe deeply during my son's hissy fit after I told him to clean his bathroom. Someday may they understand that those with appendages that dealt the damage are those that will scrub it up. And may he come to know when I say "that potty is not clean until it is its original color," that color is white.
May I be encouraged by Lisa's cleaning examples and try to maintain a cheerful attitude so that my children will learn to clean with joy.
If I cannot be granted the wish of object levitation, please remind my family I can no longer pick up things from the floor as it causes me great pain and loss of breath.
Although I have prayed in the past that I do not turn into my mother, I realize this is moot. Thank you for answering that prayer by granting me compassion for her Saturday morning ranting and raving, for now I understand.