making my day.

it’s amazing, the bedtime education, isn’t it?

wait.  i mean the things kids bring up at bedtime.  stay with me now.

tonight at bedtime, as we snuggled into his bed alongside ours, kieran, 4, dug in with an anatomy lesson for me, beginning with the food pipe & the water pipe, which i didn’t know about.  then there’s the music box, that mystical place in your throat where your voice comes from.  i didn’t know that, either.  all fascinating.

you’d think anatomy would cover it, enough topic for the evening, but he apparently had stored up his latest big questions, because before he fell asleep we went over How God Made Clothes & What’s Inside Your Chest.  at one point, i thought we actually were going to snuggle & get down to the business of sleeping, when kieran off-handedly says to me, zero fatigue showing, “how do you build a house?”  my word.

i’m telling you all this because it makes me happy, & because the rest of the day was a study in keeping my head on without slamming something into the wall.  i swept the floor ten thousand times.  the toddler sincerely won’t eat anything, though we try everything, in cute purple bowls & on spoons with balloons decorating the handle.  [not eating equates to not sleeping, just so you know.]  he’s willing to try everything, too, or at least smash it around the room.  or, because he is my child, he’ll graciously bring me whatever he’s spit out of his mouth, carrying it happily in his hand to launch into the kitchen sink.  or as was the case tonight, carrot bits all over the clean dishes.  thank you, honey.  mommy loves you.

i hope you’re laughing by now.

i’m finding that if i’m not laughing by the now in my day, i’ll most likely feel like crying.
& i’d rather not do that.

the truth is, this bit with 4 little-ish kids & a house, dinner to make & laundry to fold, a self to actualize & a husband, with friends & siblings & parents, & a hefty side of emotions & expectations, of hopes & dream & failures, is no small deal.  most days i feel like i’m running into the same wall over & over, hung up on the same corner in the maze & not finding my way out.

i don’t suppose i’m alone in this.

also, i suppose we aren’t really living unless the living is a little bit difficult.

well then, i might be wholly alive.

anyway, what i’m getting at is that when the day goes awry before i’m even out of bed,
i have to make an effort to set the day straight.
i don’t like being bossed around, but plenty of days, i let myself be run over, from self-pity to a sort of depressed-ness, to anger to overwhelm to despair.

wasn’t i meant for more than this?
yes, yes, i think so.

but if i’m looking closely enough, i will have an amazing conversation with a little boy who thinks i am the whole world, while he’s got his tiny pajama-clad arm slung around my neck.

& that?  that’s the effort that makes my day, that rooting around in the muck to find a gem.
that’s the gold in my pocket, the I’ll-be-with-you-though-there-will-be-trouble that Jesus mentioned.

because my days don’t have to line up like dull soldiers reporting for duty.  they can shine & gleam in the Light.
“there,” i can say.  day made.

2 thoughts on “making my day.

  1. You’ve got a post dedicated to you, you know. You and your awesome life were what pushed me to start living and writing about my own.
    Inspiration, party of Jill.

    1. vanessa, i’m writing your comment on my soul.
      when i read that blog post of yours, i smiled all the way to the bottom of myself.
      you know how to make a girl feel valued, you do.

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