I had to write a post about this. You just can't make this stuff up.
I've been told by many a wise believer to "never pray for patience", because God will then put you through situations that will require patience. Usually, I know better, but I ended up staying up until about 1:30am with a heavy heart. Things have been immensely stressful lately, and I haven't exactly been Christ-like towards my family during all of it. God finally pegged me down on it and I spent a great deal of time praying and repenting. This is where I made that catastrophic error. I prayed for patience.
Rob comes bouncing into my room at the crack of dawn. Half lucid, I remember my late night lesson and get up, attempting to be pleasant and compassionate. We make our daily trek out to the living room and I land hard on the couch and try to snooze a little longer while he watches cartoons. But this morning, he's full of demands and questions. "Mama, what's in all the boxes (we had just started packing last night)?" "Mama, I'm hungry." "Mama, are you awake, yet? The sun's up." "Mama, are you sleeping again?" Each time, I had to bite my tongue and answer every single inquiry with nothing but puppies and sunshine in my voice.
By the time Drew woke up, I was a bit frazzled, to say the least. I told Rob to go play in his room until breakfast was ready. So, he bounced away and I laid there a little longer, trying to compose myself again before facing the breakfast debacle. I roll over onto my back and take a deep breath. "I can do this. I can do this. He will help," I say. All of a sudden, I feel my hair moving. I think, "It's only the A/C fan blowing it or my mind messing with me." Nope. Something's crawling. In my hair. I go to feel and it's confirmed. Yep. Something's definitely crawling. IN MY HAIR. I scream and jump up off of the couch, roughing up on my head like some sort of mad person, all the while screaming, "OHMYGOSH! OHMYGOSH! WHERE IS IT?! WHERE IS IT?!" It was fun sight to witness, I'm sure. Thankfully, I was alone. Besides whatever creepy-crawly that was joining me, that is. I frantically start ripping through junk on the floor and I finally find the culprit. A GIANT (okay, hyperbole, but he was big!) earwig! YUCK! I quickly grab a nearby napkin and try to squish him into it...but he escapes! And starts trying to crawl on me again! I freak and start pounding on the napkin (I'm so glad I was alone) and then sprint to the bathroom, where I flush the little jerk. Take that, nature!
I admit at this point I'm slightly shaken and need a moment, once again, to compose myself. I go in and pleasantly greet Drew, who's still in his crib during all this, probably wondering what kind of conniption his mother is throwing, now. I change him and we wash up for breakfast. Breakfast isn't fun in this house. The boys are constantly under my feet in the kitchen, endlessly reminding me that they're hungry. After countless times of ushering them out, I finally manage to get their pancakes from yesterday heating up in the microwave, the boys settled at their table with their said pancakes, and I start on my coffee. I go to empty the filter, when I accidentally bump into some dishes on the counter. I hear them shuffle a bit, and I think everything's okay. No, not okay. A plate falls, and as it's in mid-air, I think, "Oh, it's just a Corningware. I've dropped those countless times in the eight years I've had them. It'll bounce." (How I thought all that in the split second the dish took to travel from the counter to the floor, I don't know. Just go with it.) Well, it didn't bounce. It shattered. In a million tiny pieces. All around me. In my bare feet. At this very moment, the boys start squawking for drinks. Not even kidding. Did they seriously not hear the shattering of glass just now?? I pleasantly explain through clenched teeth that Mama broke a plate and now has to sweep up all the broken glass so they don't get hurt and that I couldn't possibly take their request at that very moment. Puppies and sunshine! So, I'm praying that I don't end up slicing and dicing my feet and I have to somehow make it through the mine field of broken glass to make it to my shoes and a broom. Somehow, a tiny piece of glass sticks to my foot, which somehow rubs up against my leg as I'm walking, slicing my leg open and causing me to bleed down said leg. I admit - I used a colorful, four-letter word, but I felt it fully conveyed my true feelings at the time. I stop and take a breath and proceed to put my shoes on and sweep up all the glass...which somehow spread itself EVERYWHERE, including into the hall. I then realize my vacuum is currently at the new house, so I have to settle for my kitchen vacuum - a crappy little Shark that's on it's last legs and does as much verbal complaining as I am doing right now. 10-15 minutes later, the glass is finally all picked up and the boys finally get their drinks. I sit down with my cereal and start to pray. The phone rings. It's Matt. I set my bowl down - because this story is just too good not to share with him, of course. (I love him, but soggy cereal is gross.)
He's having a tough day, too, and has a HUGE day ahead of him. I feel guilty for complaining and tell him I'll pray for him if he'll pray for me. I finish up our conversation and my breakfast and head into the kitchen to pour myself some coffee. The boys are done eating, but Rob's still begging for food. I tell him to wait. Mama needs a moment. So, he disappears into his room and I head to to sink to rinse out my mug. I turn on the water, which hits a spoon perfectly placed on the bottom of my ridiculously-shallow sink, sending water flying out and onto the counter. It soaks a bunch of papers nearby. I start sobbing. I scream at the ceiling, "What do you want from me?! You won't even give me a chance! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!!!" A small, but loud voice calls from the other room, "I WANT A PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH!!!"
During the writing of this blog, I've had to stop several times for various reasons. Drew's playing with the fan. Rob's playing with the monitor. Drew's eating coffee grounds from the trash. Rob needs some water...
It's 12:50pm. An hour and ten minutes until naptime. Matt still has atleast three more stops left to do. I still haven't gotten to even touch my coffee. Lord, please get me through this day.
