I woke up this morning with a headache. I ate Frankenberry cereal (that I bought for Halloween, but my children had already ripped into it by the time I got out of bed) and Aleve for breakfast today. [Hangs head in shame.]
I keep wandering around my house in a fog. It looks like Toys R Us threw up on my playroom floor. Mount Kill-me-now-jaro is piled high in my laundry room, and two beds in this house were peed in last night (luckily, neither was mine).
Natalie asked me for a sippy cup, so I found one, along with the one clean lid that was accessible. Does anyone else have a 3:1 ratio of sippy cups to lids? I paced back and forth in the kitchen looking for the milk I know someone opened this morning and then said, “Oh, it’s still on the dining room table,” to which Natalie quickly replied,
“Silly mommy. You are a disaster.”
Yes, yes I am. Bless your bright, perceptive and evil little heart. But you know what? If God can take matter unorganized and make worlds without number, then I’m going to have faith that He can help me make something productive out of this day. Mark my words, I will go to bed tonight patting myself on the back for a job well done.
I really think that someone who understands life as a mother of small children should invent a “stink detector.” Lately, my days have been riddled with phantom odors that I can neither find nor identify. It’s making me crazy. If there were some kind of contraption with a raunch radar that could beep when you’re closer and closer and give you some kind of bacterial analysis and tell you what’s causing the smell, THAT is what I would call making the world a better place.
(Now wasn’t that appetizing?)
Main course:
Matt and I went out on a date last weekend and played this free “game” at Borders. We had 12 minutes to go find a few books that the other person would just love, then we met up, showed each other our books, sat on a couch and perused them. One of the books Matt picked for me was “Mother Teresa, in her own words.” Anyway, I read almost the entire book while Matt flipped through tomes about Chinese characters, the founding fathers, and Native American historical sites. She had so many great things to say, that Mother Teresa, but one that really jumped out at me was this (paraphrased, because I didn’t actually buy the book):
“God doesn’t expect us to be successful. He expects us to be faithful.”
I’ve been thinking about that for days, and how true I think it really is. God can be successful with or without our help; he’s omnipotent for heaven’s sake (no pun intended)! He only needs our faith, our devotion, our heart. Then He can work out our salvation. It made me reflect on how much I’m always trying to “accomplish,” when really I should just be increasing and acting upon my faith in Him. It was a quite liberating moment of enlightenment that ties in nicely to all the thoughts I’ve had recently (and we’ve discussed here in the comments and beyond).
And there was one other thing, too. Mother Teresa worked with lepers and poor people tirelessly. One person commented to her that they wouldn’t touch a leper “for a million dollars,” to which she replied (paraphrased again), “I wouldn’t do it for a million dollars either. I wouldn’t do if for two million dollars. But I would do it for the love of God.” How cool is that? It made me think of how so many women today opt out of motherhood because they wouldn’t make all that hard sacrifice even if someone paid them to do it. I’m no Mother Teresa, but I have to agree that I do the hard things I do because of the love of God… the love I feel for Him, and the love I feel from Him when I do what he asks of me.
Dessert:
Behold, a little Clark video we made to share with grandparents. Please do not tell me what a stellar mother I am, or how I’m doing a great job and all that other nice stuff you might be compelled to say (and that grandmothers are obligated to say), but you really should see this because it is SO sweet. Also, don’t be distracted by the sound of a dropping toilet lid in the background.
This is seriously just a simple case of great kid. (His idea, his testimony, his conviction.)
I came downstairs the other day and found this paper on the playroom floor:
At first I didn’t know what to think, so I decided to assume it was a spelling error.
After much thought, I realized that my children were beginning to take after me. You may recall these photos from previous posts:
I make signs. To quote my earlier post… “When something does not make me happy, I make a sign. Oh yeah?… Well, (scribble, scribble, grab tape, slap on wall) take that!”
Oh, and charts, too. Here’s what my kitchen wall looks like now, with daily schedules for each of my children. (Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as prison camp as it might appear.)
So, I figured out pretty quickly that the party, thank goodness, was really for making signs, not sins.
And when I came home later that day after some child-free errands, that’s when I knew for sure that my children were becoming little mini-MEs in training. Behold the party favors I found on walls (and refrigerators) throughout my home:
Get half way through your shower and can’t remember if you already washed your hair or not? Or wash your hair and then not remember if you used shampoo or Summer’s Eve?
Spend 50% of your budget in the first two days after payday? Because you’ve been showing spending restraint for ten whole days and just. can’t. hold. back. any. longer.
Buy something you know is nasty for your kids (like Spaghettios) just in the hopes that they might like it and you will have one more less-than-a-dollar and less-than-two-minutes-to-fix item to add to your list of lunch possibilities?
Stock up on clearance items that are two sizes too big for your kids even though you know it will make your budget tight this month, but you convince yourself it will save you a lot of money in the Spring of 2011?
Have more pajamas and lounge pants than “real” pants?
Carry on imaginary conversations in your mind with people that you don’t even know?
Secretly wish that all your ex-boyfriends had a blog so you could pop in occasionally to remind yourself how lucky you are (and make sure that you’re cuter and more clever than their wife)?
Buy something that is obviously unhealthy (like a small package of Lindt milk chocolate truffles, hypothetically speaking) and eat all of it all at once so you can just throw away the wrapper(s) and eliminate all evidence that you purchased/ate it?
Ignore your children while they ask something over and over and over again because you hope they’ll just give up and think about something else? (Admittedly, not very nice.)
Just look at your husband, your children and your life, and think “HOW did I get this blessed?”
Because I do. And I was just wondering if that was normal.
Am I the only mother whose children stand outside the bathroom door and want to know exactly what’s going on in there?
Please tell me I’m not.
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When your daughter is potty training and is a big-girl-underwear rookie, it is not wise to let her sit on your lap while you type an email. Just a little advice you’ll thank me for someday.
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What does it mean when your husband looks at the dinner you made and says, “Do we have any Beano?”
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Why do night-time diapers cost like $1.50 EACH when they are just glorified newborn diapers? And will my children still wear them in high school?
Diapers and Divinity 