After today I'm pretty sure I lost any hopes for ever obtaining any future "mom-of-the-year" awards.
Unless, of course, you count the time I locked myself in my bedroom, laid on the floor and stared at the frozen image of Josh as we tried another failed attempt to FaceTime from Haiti to America, all while ignoring the knocking and calls to mommy through the crack under the door by two Colony members, as "mom-of-the-year" material.
Or maybe the dinner that consisted of scrambled eggs, toast and chocolate pancakes...and even that was a stretch to muster up. (Good thing Zeke knows how, and LOVES, to make toast! He had that one covered.)
Or maybe you could count my annoyance at the child who refused to pee in the drain on the outskirts of the pool, just so I didn't have to gather 5 kids...FIVE...F-I-V-E kids and herd them to the bathroom to pee. It wasn't even a poop emergency. For goodness sakes, just pee in the drain and jump back in the pool to rinse off! Oh no, he would rather yell, "No mom! I want to pee in the POTTY!!!"
Or my manipulation of the naptime timer that somehow managed to skip 15 minutes.
Or gosh, maybe the moment I yelled at the top of my voice at all five voices asking me different things as I begged them to just.be.quiet.for.a.second.because.mommy.is.beginning.to.freak.out.just.a.LITTLE.BIT.
Or the fact that I kept reciting my stupid memory verse that I posted the other day, but my stubborn brain refused to fix itself on only the pure and lovely things around me because, quite frankly, everything seemed to be invading my personal space and by golly, I just wanted to sit and fester in my grumpiness.
And then Zeke reminded me that he didn't freak out that morning on the way to school. And when I asked him what the difference was he told me that he talked to God before he got out of bed.
It didn't help that Jude woke up at 6:30am and refused to go back to sleep. He wasn't thirsty or hungry. He didn't necessarily want to cuddle. He just wouldn't go in his bed. And that time is so very precious to me. And I didn't get it. I read the chapters for the day, but I couldn't mentally allow them to sink into the crevices of my being. I had some prayer time, but it was constantly interrupted. And wouldn't you know, naptime this afternoon, didn't go much better. I found the isolation on the lawnmower my prayer closet today. I begged Him to throw me a bone. I needed some air. I needed a second to breathe.
I'm so thankful God hears our prayers, even in the midst of our big-to-us-but-not-really-a-big-deal kind of days. I'm so thankful for forgiveness on God's part, as well as my children. I'm thankful for the end of hard days that bring a fresh new start the next day. I'm thankful for do-overs. I'm thankful for the communication we allow in our family to be able to communicate freak-outs to each other. I'm thankful for the fact that my kids can respectfully put me in my place when need be. I'm thankful for their gentle reminders that God can change our ugly attitudes if only we will ask Him to.
So, I may not get the "mom-of-the-year" award, but I did get grace. Free grace. Undeserved grace. Humbling grace. And a restart with tomorrow.
Thank you Jesus!