Swim goggles and caps. Baseball uniform belts, socks, and hats. And sippy cups and water bottles. Just a few of the “necessities” around our house that are never in their place and are nowhere to be found when we need … Continue reading
It’s been a bit of a tough week. Work was busy for both Kory and me. I had briefing deadlines, and he had a week packed full of meetings. And then, in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, I woke from a sound sleep with a ferocious, but unmistakable, stomach ache. I laid in bed in total denial of what I knew was about to befall me…for hours. And then it hit like a ton of bricks. The stomach bug.
Kory quarantined me to our bedroom all day Tuesday. He took our youngest to church with him, and my mom came in the afternoon to help with the kids as usual. (She’s our nanny when I’m working). By Wednesday, I was returning to the land of the living, but I had no energy. So I drafted the brief that was due to be filed at the courthouse from the comfort of my bed and billed a 10 hour day. In. My. Jammies. I was toast by the time the sun went down and went to bed at 8:30.
I limped my way through Thursday. Though all of the worst stomach bug symptoms were long gone, for most of the day, I just wasn’t myself. I was dizzy and weak. But I was optimistic that no one else in the family was going to fall victim to the virus. Friday, I spent a full day at the office to catch up, and by the time I pulled into our driveway at the end of the day, I was exhausted.
Fortunately, Kory had fed dinner to the kids before I got home, so I nestled into the sofa to eat dinner alone and watch some TV. Our two oldest children were watching a movie upstairs in our playroom. And our little one was in bed. Finally, some peace and quiet and a weekend to really recover and get back to myself. Thank goodness!
And then I heard the unmistakable sound of the playroom door opening with a sense of urgency that only brings bad news to a mama. Someone was sick. Or in trouble. But who was it? And what was wrong?
Turns out the stomach bug was still lurking in the cracks and crevices of our house. Yes, no amount of Lysol, Clorox disposable wipes, and Germ-X could defeat it. And believe me. We had tried.
But despite our carefully orchestrated military operation to confine the germs to the master bedroom, the stomach bug had found our middle son and taken him down. And because I had already had this virus, and because Kory needs to stay healthy enough to preach on Sunday, I got clean up duty.
Well, I can tell you what didn’t happen. I didn’t glide up the stairs with the grace of the dancer I once was. I didn’t put on my nursing apron and approach the playroom with a spoon full of sugar and a dose of nurture. And I didn’t have a smile on my face.
No, it’s sad to say. Jennifer left the building. And in her place? Someone, from somewhere, deposited Ursula the Sea Witch. My children gasp when this ugly creature appears in our home.
She stormed up the stairs huffing and puffing. And I’m pretty sure she made some snide remarks in the direction of my innocent husband who had done nothing wrong.
And to my son, instead of asking, “Are you OK?” she asked, “Why didn’t you make it to the toilet?”.
Yes. It’s confession time. Instead of looking at this as an opportunity to serve my family and demonstrate the love of Christ to my son, I allowed my alter ego to take over.
And I chose to look at this whole ordeal as My Burden. My Cross To Bear. My Misfortune. And I was mad. Not at my son. But at the scene. At the couch cushions I had to strip down and wash. At the carpet I had to clean. At the furniture I had to bathe with disinfectant. And at what I knew this meant for the rest of our weekend.
Our youngest son’s birthday party? Cancelled. Our invitation to a Super Bowl Party with new friends? Declined. And church on Sunday? Missed.
And, as if I was having an out of body experience, I could see and hear myself acting like a four year old, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop behaving like an idiot. (Well, four year olds aren’t idiots, but you know what I mean.) Looking back on it today, it was so ridiculous, I blush at the thought of it.
Geeze. I hate it when that happens. Does this ever happen to you? Or am I the only one?
But the funny thing was that the longer I cleaned, the better I felt. And I found myself acting my way into a new way of thinking. Something I hear Kory reference in sermons all the time.
And by the end of it all, I was able to get my son in the bathtub for clean up and put him to bed with a smile on his face and mine. I was able to console my daughter who was very upset that the birthday party was being cancelled. I was able to take the note from Kory to take and shower and get some rest (“notes” aren’t always easy for me). And I was able to crawl in bed next to my husband and ask him to forgive me for behaving like a four year old.
Will you forgive me? For the “choleric” that I am (a/k/a Lion; Extroverted, Sensing, Thinker, Judger; Gold/Blue), those words are really hard for me to utter sometimes, but I’m always so glad when I finally get them out.
And today? I have a new outlook on my “lot” in life this weekend. Despite the fact that I have one sick boy and another telling me he doesn’t feel good, we’re having a great day. I’m getting caught up on laundry and dishes. I’ve got dinner on the stove. I have a date with my oldest to teach her how to play a new game tonight. I’m getting to blog. And if my youngest gets smacked between the eyes by the stomach bug today…I’m prepared!
It really doesn’t get much better than this!
“Do all your work in love.”
1 Corinthians 16:14
Happy Saturday, everyone! If you haven’t already done so, will you take a minute to give us some “like” on Facebook?