It's Almost Time To Haul Out The White Flag

My Mama always taught me that if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all.

So, I haven't blogged lately!

Seriously. Job called. He wants some of his problems back.

The B&B (Buzzard and boys) headed out for a scouting campout last weekend. That meant big plans for the girls and I for cleaning, organizing, and sewing. I'm certain it was the exact moment that I finished making those plans when Emma threw up for the first time.

I'll skip the rest of the weekend details since I can't figure out how to make me washing a king sized comforter in a garden tub interesting. But I will tell you that the outside of our house was being painted and all the gutters were being replaced, so all my windows and doors were shrouded in dark plastic and there was sufficient banging and pounding going on to more than account for my rising blood pressure.

There was also the small detail about the paint actually being WET when it was applied. So, a boy got covered in paint without knowing it and plopped on my denim couch. And a dog sniffed a paint can and now her ears are a new color. That would be the same dog who is sensitive to her brand new antibiotic and bright red food and is throwing up red foam on my carpets. I'm about ready to put her all the way INSIDE the paint can. And close the lid.

Did I really just admit that? To date, no dogs have been harmed in the making of this blog. But there's still time.

Sunday I got in our van and the check engine light came on.

Monday I got in Hannah's car and the check engine light came on. (At this point, my options for making a grand escape from this house of horrors were drastically dwindling.)

Tuesday, Buzzard forbade me to get in his car. :-)

The sick kids and sick dog and sick cars are the "extras" in our schedule that we are tucking in and around rehearsal times for a Christmas production at a neighborhood church. Hayden has been in choir this year with several of his friends, and for the first time ever, 300 kids were invited to participate in a HUGE Christmas festival. I volunteered to help, because, as I was explaining to my friend Sandy this morning, I lack the basic principles of common sense and time management skills.

My (original) job was make-up artist to fifteen 5th and 6th grade boys. My modified job description became crowd control/costume coordinator/babysitter/escort to fifteen boys. Our room is on the 3rd floor, and the kids are not allowed to use the elevators. I can make it half way up the first flight of stairs by the time my fifteen boys are up three flights and in the room doing what fifteen boys do, which is something that I am at a complete loss to explain to you. What I can tell you is that they can smell my fear. Every last one of them. Now tonight, since it is full dress rehearsal, I will have the added benefit of tackling one boy at a time and applying eyebrows and blush. The fact that they have four costume changes and that they wear all white clothes will bring an added flair of adventure to the evening. I'm no math expert, but by my calculations, 15 boys in full make up + six performances doesn't equal white costumes. But what do I know? I'm just the lowly Mom who tries to keep 300 angel army kids in white choir robes out of the horse poop that the live stallion just deposited in the foyer.

Seriously. Is this really happening?? All in the same week?

My Mama also taught me to always, ALWAYS count your blessings and never lose sight of a little thing called perspective. I have been following the prayer journal of a beautiful young girl named Rachel this week, who is in Children's hospital with a brain bleed. I don't even know this girl, but I know her parents, and my fervent prayers for her full recovery have consumed my thoughts. I know her mother would give ANYTHING to be doing all the things that I am doing with my kids this week, and that at this time she would find gratefulness, not stress, in the busyness of the season.

I also know that when I stood in the worship center last night and listened to one thousand voices sing the hallelujah chorus I was moved to tears. It was a much needed four minute vacation on the heels of me having a mini melt down before I left the house last night. Silver confetti spilled from the ceiling and floated down around me and for the moment, praising God for who He is and what He has done was the only thing that mattered in this world.

So.....there's the rub for me. My Hallelujah moment, in figuring out that it isn't the tidal wave of life that I should be surrendering to, but rather I need to surrender the tidal wave of life to the important things that really matter. All while applying eyebrows! :-)