I hear unmistakable hacking proceeding dog vomit before my eyes are open. Jolting from my bed to the living room in a single bound doesn’t help; I am too late. The nastiness missed my easy-to-clean hardwood floors by three inches. Now I am on my knees, Cinderella-style, cleaning the rug.
This would be so much easier if I had put my glasses on first.
There is not one scrap of toilet paper to be found in this house and I cannot avoid Wal-Mart another second. If I hurry, I can make it back before my family starts waking up.
I think my glasses are on the table downstairs.
Cold sweat and nausea tell me the fever I fought yesterday has returned. Note to self: buy medicine at the store. And maybe check the nightstand for my missing glasses. As if this morning couldn’t get any worse, it starts to rain. Sigh.
Great. Wal-Mart. In the rain. With a fever and prescription strength sunglasses.
Navigating the super store is challenging enough. The mild delirium caused by this fever isn’t helping. Neither are these vision darkening shades. I wander the store, in the dark, and buy all the things.
Three of the five bags rip as I unload the cart in the rain. I search the scattered contents for cold medicine and mini-cooler-check-out-line-Dr. Pepper. As I choke the monster pills down with caffeine and carbonation, I notice the lack of toilet paper in the buggy. Sigh.
Three boisterous kiddos (and one happy dog who has been miraculously healed of any and all tummy trouble) meet me at the door. They are grateful to have toilet paper. They’d be even more grateful to have breakfast. Apparently, it is unreasonable to require a preschooler to eat her eggs before eating a donut. She finished off the morning with a temper tantrum.
With breakfast out of the way and cold meds kicking in I start to unload the dishwasher.
What is this? How in the world does a bowl break inside the dishwasher? This was one of my new ones too. It would be so much easier to clean up these little broken pieces if I could see. Where are my glasses?
I have three hours until our guests arrive. All ten pounds of the pork barbeque is warming in the oven when an eight-year-old angel enters the kitchen with a treasure. “Mom, don’t you need your glasses?” The short-lived victory hug is interrupted by the realization that we don’t have any deli buns for the meat. Hubby makes a quick trip to the store while I get dressed.
Twenty-seven years of applying mascara and I still manage to stick the wand directly into my eyeball. Sigh.
The Holy Spirit is here though. Unlike this morning, He is gentle and calm, encouraging and quiet. He whispers, “Let’s think of some things that are going right. Together.”
I am thankful for eyelash curlers and mascara because these puny lashes will take all the help they can get, for an understanding husband who is willing to work this life with me, for a sweet son and his sassy sister, for all seven of my new bowls, for Dr. Pepper and over-the-counter drugs, for Wal-Mart and rain (because where would we be without either?), for substitute sunglasses, and for toilet paper. Glorious toilet paper. And yes, I am thankful for heart-warming, humble Labradors.
Today, this day, I choose thankfulness.
Philippians 4:8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable; if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.
Blessings to you and yours,
Angelene at www.unqualifiedmom.com