Ok, so yesterday was rough. Rough with a capital R. It’s about 100 degrees with high humidity, so I can hardly stand to be outside for more than 5 minutes. Seth has been harassing Evan more than normal for the last few days, and that really frustrates me. And naptime was short because a good friend dropped by on her way through town during it, and the boys didn’t stay down well as a result. Sigh. By the time they got up, I was begging them to play the “Mommy’s Eyes Are Closed While She Lies On the Couch Game.” It wasn’t terribly successful. Oh, yes, and Seth pooped in his naptime diaper for the first time in months, didn’t tell me that, and somehow tracked poop down the carpeted stairs. We’re learning how to use the steam cleaner that’s become a piece of downstairs decor tonight.
I told David that I was really wishing it was the weekend. He remarked that that wasn’t a good thing because it was Wednesday. I know, oh, I know.
So this morning, when I woke up, I was dreading the day. (It didn’t help that it started before the alarm went off with “Mommy, Evan’s out of the bed.”) So I spent some time praying for patience and strength and joy and supernatural amounts of energy.
And ya know, He came through.
I had to take them with me to the dermatologist to get a couple of tiny warts on my hands frozen off. Yeah, I know, TMI. But, my point is, this had “gigantic disaster” potential written all over it. You know, small doctor’s office, no way to know how long the wait will be, an inadequate amount of snacks, frowning elderly people with magazines, etc.
We were in the parking lot, and as I was getting out of the car, I swear the Holy Spirit started saying to me, “Ellen, take the huge, heavy stroller. Do it. If you don’t, you will regret it. Seriously, listen to me. I’m your friend.” So I did. It was all I had, and I don’t like using it in small spaces. I knocked into a few doors, and it wasn’t easy to turn around, but 5 minutes of Evan on the loose in the waiting room was enough to remind me how thankful I am for the Holy Spirit in my life. The 3 and 3/4 of us already look like a freak show as it is without 2 of us climbing and diving off plastic chairs.
Evan settles down and stops screaming to “get out of stroller!,” the dermatologist explains about skin to Seth, and I find out that the burst blood vessel smack in the middle of my forehead will probably heal after Trey comes out. Win, win, win! We’re in and out quickly, and I praise the boys to high heaven and promise them a treat at Target.
Off we go to Target, where we get backup carpet cleaner in case the steam cleaner gets mad at us for actually wanting to use it. Seth is hanging onto the side of the cart and making train whistle noises through a plastic straw that he found in the cart. (It was covered with the paper when he found it. I’m not THAT laid back.) Evan joins in. I don’t care because the only people in Target are wealthy middle aged women buying organic incense burners on their way home from the gym and other moms with kids. They smile at us; it’s all cool. My boys are behaving angelically.
They get Bugles in their snack trays on the way home. I used to love Bugles as a little kid. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree apparently.
We get home, and they eat lunch nicely and play well together. Seth and I discover that he likes playing catch now that we’ve unearthed some velcro catcher's mitts and a velcro ball. Who’d have thought that this would be the answer to every game of catch ending in tears? (I’m really looking forward to him getting better at playing catch, y’all.)
Now they’re down for a nap, and I’m soooooo thankful. So if you’ve just had a REALLY bad day, take it from me, tomorrow could be a whole lot better….