Back to reality funk

I'm one of those annoying people that cheerfully pop up from bed no matter how early the hour. Today I woke up and laid in bed for at least 30 minutes. For some reason I just couldn't get my gumption going to pull the covers off and creep into the cold bedroom air. I could hear the rain pouring down outside just warning me of another dreary, cold, midwestern day. The cat was curled on my chest, purring, encouraging me to stay in bed just a wee bit longer. So I did.


When I get home from a visit to our families, I struggle getting back into my routine. Today I blamed that for my funk. The responsiblity of being "mom" was weighing heavy on me, and it only got worse. In an effort to feel better I emailed my loving husband. He is not naturally an encourager. I would go so far as to say that he is the worst pessimist I know, he obviously read too much Pooh as a child and decided to mold his personality after Eeyore.

Here's what my message said:
I feel discouraged in "all things having to do with my life" right now. Something about the expanse of time before summer comes, perhaps? The weather is depressing, we have no referral, have no plan for our future, have a stinky smell in the fridge that I can't identify (I tried to), have a dead mouse in the garbage can in the kitchen, and, finally, we have some sticky residue covering the entire kitchen due to the madness of canning that went on before we left.

I should probably explain some of that. It was really just a boohoo fest for me, but the unknowns were pressing down on me as I spent time in prayer this morning. Then the reality of my responsibilities as "mom" cracked me in the head when Eli told me that there was a dead mouse under the table. Whoa, you mean I sat for an hour this morning with a cup of coffee, God, and a dead mouse?! Wait a second, what do we do with this mouse, since I'm the only adult here? See, if I was still at my Mom's house some other adult would definitely take care of this. Probably my dad, if not him then maybe Seth, or my mom, but I would be the last on the list. Because I'm still the child at my Mom's house, and you don't expect a child to clean up a dead mouse. Wake up call for me, as I try to formulate a plan to scoop up the dead mouse. All the while Everett is lamenting the death of the mouse and moaning about "why can't the cats just let them live so we can keep them as pets?"

After I dispose of the mouse body, I look around the kitchen and notice that it just seems dirty. After trying unsuccessfully to slide a canister of granola over on the counter, I realize that the dirtiness is indeed sticky applebutter/juice/sauce residue from the chaos of canning 2 bushels of apples in the last few hours I was at home. Though I thought I cleaned it all up, it was merely a facade of cleanliness. Then it sat all weekend to harden and possibly attract the mouse? ACK--too much to think about on a Monday morning after a holiday weekend. I need to walk away from the kitchen and convince myself that math is important enough to call my children downstairs and start school.

All the while I'm wondering, will we get a call about our children today? Will I even HEAR news of our kids before Christmas, because I honestly thought that maybe, just maybe, we would HAVE our five children together in our living room tearing through gifts this Christmas. I haven't thought this for a long time, but it was depressing to think that we have been waiting for a referral for OVER six months...ugh. So I sent Seth that email. This was his reply...


When I opened the fridge here at work this morning, I noticed it was QUITE stinky, but not to worry it's not my responsibility to clean it out so, whatever. Later, when I went back to reclaim my chicken I realized that the light was out and that the reason for the stink was that the fridge was dead. So, not only was my salad dressing rotten, but my chicken was now in questionable condition. On my way down to eat (and share the possibly rotten chicken) with Andrew in the break room that we've always wanted to eat in but never have because there's an unwritten rule that we have to work through our lunch hour and enjoy the possibly rotten left over pot luck thanksgiving gravy to go with my possibly rotten chicken down there, our boss verbally attacks us (I guess because we didn't invite him).

Oh yeah, and then we ate the rotten chicken anyway...so far so good! If you need more encouragement, I've got more.

Isn't it a blessing to read that? When I tallied it up, I think he may have me beat, because eating rotten meat is far worse than chucking a dead mouse into the garbage. God knew what He was doing when He paired us together. On a bad day, Seth still makes me laugh.

And, by the way, I'm over my rotten attitude. I'm thankful that I've got a cat to kill the mice who sneak into the house, thankful that I have dozens of jars of canned apples, thankful that I have three great kids who actually love math, and thankful that I can trust God with our future.