And it’s not even noon…
Argument with the husband first-thing…which woke the baby, two hours earlier than normal. Not great news any day for a night owl, particularly not when said owl was up and down in the night with what’s turned into a three-day stomach ache.
Lay awake for over an hour, nursing a squirming baby who likes digging his toes painfully into my legs as he feeds, rehashing what led to the argument and battling with forgiveness…replaying constantly in my mind Max Lucado’s quote, “Forgiveness is not admitting the other person is right. It is trusting God to do what’s right.” Wonder if we’ll manage to resolve things tonight, or if it’ll follow our usual pattern of late, which is to just keep going around the same mountain again. And again.
Baby and I doze off, but we’re awakened an hour later by Zach and Eli starting their day out with argument of their own.
Eli forgets to feed the cats so Lily has a hairball in the hall. I love cleaning up hairballs and streams of cat stomach acid in the morning.
We start schoolwork with reading a Bible lesson about treating each other with love. My sons commence in telling me everything I do wrong. Nice. I excuse myself for a time out before I blow up again.
Walk into my bedroom to sit alone for a minute. I drag my fingertips along the footboard and straight into a puddle of cat puke. It’s all over my bedding.
I make Eli strip my bed, to drive home the point that if he neglects to do his job, the cats get sick. (Our cats are weird that way.) I’m sure I score a few more points in the “Mom doesn’t love me at all” category.
It’s chilly this morning. I go into the laundry room to pull a warmer shirt out of the dryer. As I shut the dryer door, I accidentally drag the shirt sleeves in the dog’s water bowl. I discover this when I raise up and the cold, wet sleeves slap against my legs.
Made ramen noodles for breakfast because it’s the only thing that sounded good for my stomach. Now it’s cramping again and I want to cry.
Zach just brought me a card he and Eli made. It had the sweetest poem, and ended with, “We’re sorry, Mom. We love you.”
And a little beam of sunlight pierced the clouds.