Wednesday, August 27

The no good, very bad, horrible, awful day (from the perspective of a suburbanite mom)

"I'm NEVER going to be nice! So I'm NEVER going to come down! So I won't eat and I'll DIE!"

This was Braden's response to my love and logic quip that when he was ready to be nice to Mom, he may come down from his room. This has been my day. Okay, now I'm the one being a little overdramatic, but truly, it's been one of those days (think Alexander, the children's book character).

Owen, as he calls it, has had "sticky gooey stuff" coming out of his nose all day and a low-grade temp. He does not do well with snot. The hanky helps momentarily, but then the whine returns and I'm required (for the 933rd time) to wipe his tender nose. As a result of this, I can't go to the volunteer appreciation dinner at church (oh well, I hadn't found a sitter for it anyway, but had still been hoping to!) That is where Karl is.

To add to the chaos, in a valiant attempt to be a good dad and husband, Karl drove 25 minutes home to be here for app. 30 minutes before he had to be back at church. It was precious and I really appreciated the effort. However, while he was home, he made Braden mad by accidently hurting his hand in a light sabre dual and managed to knock Kole's light sabre out of his hand which flipped up and sliced him right above the eye. It was a good one, too. Twenty years from now, Kole will still be able to point to that scar and recall the mishap caused by Dad :)

Add to this a "[Neighbor boy] isn't my best friend anymore!" by Braden and a stomp up to his room after I assign natural consequences to his snotty comment about us having popcorn shrimp "like everyday now" (his favorite) and you understand why I'm ready to curl up with a book (or maybe just going to bed at 9 p.m. instead of the 11:30+ that I'm used to.)

Having recounted all of this, though, I can't help but be reminded that these petty "bad days" are nothing in comparison with the days of orphans in Ethiopia or China or Vietnam or the United States, that my worst day imaginable will still leave me suffering (if I can even use that word!) so much less than many of the children in Africa. And that helps put things in perspective.

1 comment:

Jori said...

It ia all about perspective huh?! I just love those days when nothing makes anyone happy and everything you do gets you the "worst mom"award. And good intentions gone bad! I am sure the boys thought it was great to sword fight with dad ( my son LOVES it) and the scar will be worn like a badge of honor!! :):) Hang on momma - you got more kiddos comming! :):)
love, jori