Getting My Grin Back
This morning, with water, Zone Bar and computer in hand, I found my “little room” upstairs awry. The kids had listened to The Mouse and His Motorcycle in ~ a little space off our guest room that we don’t really know what to call~ yesterday afternoon. Curtains were askew. Books and shoes were scattered on the tiny bit of floor space left between bookshelves and a comfy chair. My index cards had been spilled. And I couldn’t find my regular devotional books. Anywhere. It was not the ideal way to begin a quiet morning of Bible reading. I was so distracted {irritated} I couldn’t read.
And the morning went on.....
With a Veggies Tales tooth brush and a hodge podge of chemicals, I labored over Julia’s bedspread and crib quilt that had 2 silver dollar sized ink stains on them. In any normal household those might be from some faulty ball point pen, but that just won’t do over here. We are talking bonafide Civil War ink. Think onyx. Abyss black. As she was crying last night she said, “I can’t even turn off my lights to go to sleep because all I see is big black blotches of ink in the darkness!” I have the stain to a faded state but I think the memory will linger on her baby quilt.
Next, I covered my boy with Calamine lotion. He has poison SOMETHING all over him. All. Over. Him. Yep, there too. It starts at his hairline on his forehead and the last patch is midway down his calf. After taking several pills just fine yesterday, this morning his prednisone, somehow, kept showing back up. Not simply, mind you, but with chokes and gags, tears, spews of water, much spitting in the sink, crying and more drama than is acceptable for a boy.
After a few mouthy tussles between the two of them, I gave them a little math to do and a couple of jobs to complete and told them not to speak to each other. I had reached my limit of refereeing for the morning. {I refuse to settle arguments over pencils.} I needed to get ready so I could attend a luncheon for Tarrant NET with Jeff.
And 45 minutes later, I was sitting at a table adorned with white plates and silverware in their proper places on a crisp white tablecloth....
I saw friends I hadn’t seen in a long while-- a few of whom have been with Tarrant NET from the beginning. I got to hear about grandchildren, weddings, aging parents, graduations, and family vacations. When a kind man seated across from me started talking about how awesome Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech was earlier that day, I thought, I need to get out more.
Over the next 45 minutes, a friendly man named, Benny, brought me a salad, a basket of hot rolls, a plate of hot food and when he saw that I was thoroughly finished, he delivered pecan pie and a cup of really hot coffee. Sigh. I couldn’t help to think of what I would have had at home. I can’t even bring myself to type it. And the best part--I loved hearing my husband talk about what he does and all the why’s behind it-- and that truly boils down to his burden to mobilize the Church (notice the big “C”) to reach the lost of Tarrant County.
My heart felt lighter. I began to relax. No one had argued around me. No one whined. No one had asked me what they could eat. No one had asked me to scratch them. No one interrupted me. No one followed me when I excused myself to go to the rest room- neither did they knock on the door. I enjoyed my one hour and fifteen minutes.
When Jeff prayed to dismiss us, I looked down at my hands and thought they looked awfully strange. I focused my 40 year old eyes a second time and I could see in my cuticles and on my nails, traces of black ink and the chalky residue of Calamine. I grinned as I thought how important those two things were to two little people at home- Momma’s scrubbing a bad memory off something special and Momma’s hands rubbing a tad of relief on to a very miserable boy. I determined to take the grin home. I talked a bit more (with my hands securely fastened behind my back), hugged a couple of ladies goodbye......
And 30 minutes later, it was time for B’s second rub down and Julia’s bedcover’s seventeenth dousing of Oxi-Clean, bleach, hairspray and Dawn.
And I got my grin back.
Temporarily.
And the morning went on.....
With a Veggies Tales tooth brush and a hodge podge of chemicals, I labored over Julia’s bedspread and crib quilt that had 2 silver dollar sized ink stains on them. In any normal household those might be from some faulty ball point pen, but that just won’t do over here. We are talking bonafide Civil War ink. Think onyx. Abyss black. As she was crying last night she said, “I can’t even turn off my lights to go to sleep because all I see is big black blotches of ink in the darkness!” I have the stain to a faded state but I think the memory will linger on her baby quilt.
Next, I covered my boy with Calamine lotion. He has poison SOMETHING all over him. All. Over. Him. Yep, there too. It starts at his hairline on his forehead and the last patch is midway down his calf. After taking several pills just fine yesterday, this morning his prednisone, somehow, kept showing back up. Not simply, mind you, but with chokes and gags, tears, spews of water, much spitting in the sink, crying and more drama than is acceptable for a boy.
After a few mouthy tussles between the two of them, I gave them a little math to do and a couple of jobs to complete and told them not to speak to each other. I had reached my limit of refereeing for the morning. {I refuse to settle arguments over pencils.} I needed to get ready so I could attend a luncheon for Tarrant NET with Jeff.
And 45 minutes later, I was sitting at a table adorned with white plates and silverware in their proper places on a crisp white tablecloth....
I saw friends I hadn’t seen in a long while-- a few of whom have been with Tarrant NET from the beginning. I got to hear about grandchildren, weddings, aging parents, graduations, and family vacations. When a kind man seated across from me started talking about how awesome Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech was earlier that day, I thought, I need to get out more.
Over the next 45 minutes, a friendly man named, Benny, brought me a salad, a basket of hot rolls, a plate of hot food and when he saw that I was thoroughly finished, he delivered pecan pie and a cup of really hot coffee. Sigh. I couldn’t help to think of what I would have had at home. I can’t even bring myself to type it. And the best part--I loved hearing my husband talk about what he does and all the why’s behind it-- and that truly boils down to his burden to mobilize the Church (notice the big “C”) to reach the lost of Tarrant County.
My heart felt lighter. I began to relax. No one had argued around me. No one whined. No one had asked me what they could eat. No one had asked me to scratch them. No one interrupted me. No one followed me when I excused myself to go to the rest room- neither did they knock on the door. I enjoyed my one hour and fifteen minutes.
When Jeff prayed to dismiss us, I looked down at my hands and thought they looked awfully strange. I focused my 40 year old eyes a second time and I could see in my cuticles and on my nails, traces of black ink and the chalky residue of Calamine. I grinned as I thought how important those two things were to two little people at home- Momma’s scrubbing a bad memory off something special and Momma’s hands rubbing a tad of relief on to a very miserable boy. I determined to take the grin home. I talked a bit more (with my hands securely fastened behind my back), hugged a couple of ladies goodbye......
And 30 minutes later, it was time for B’s second rub down and Julia’s bedcover’s seventeenth dousing of Oxi-Clean, bleach, hairspray and Dawn.
And I got my grin back.
Temporarily.
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