“I love meatloaf.”

droppedImageThese are the words that warmed my heart after the kind of day that made leftover meatloaf a luxury. My day was no different than the kind millions of moms better than me pull off everyday: cousin sleepover, pancake breakfast, zoo with 4 kids, meet your kindergarten teacher open house, and the Mt. Everest of motherhood: taking your children with you to IKEA. (Okay, I’m being overdramatic, but it really is in one of my least favorite outings with kids.) So, when we staggered into the house at the time I would really like to be getting them ready for bed, my weary mind thought through all of my pathetic, one-day-left-until-payday-and-no-groceries-in-the-house options for dinner. Finally I remembered some leftover meatloaf from a more ambitious day earlier in the week. (Yes, for some of us moms, meatloaf is an ambitious meal.) So, knowing it would not be well-received, but at least it’s better than nothing, I microwaved my way to dinnertime. I called up the kids who squealed “hooray!” on their way to the table until they saw what was actually served.

Grant asked “Is this meatloaf, mom?,” and Clark piped up and said “I love meatloaf.” I wanted to hug him for being forgiving on a long, exhausting day. It made me think that this is why Heavenly Father wants us to be like a little child, “submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father [or mother or a bad dinner].” Maybe I should try to be some of those things next time we go to IKEA.

(This entry was originally posted on August 28, 2009.  I’m still rebuilding my lost archives.)