It's been one of those days today. You know the one I'm talking about. Wake up late, coffee is barely to your lips when it's time to rush out the door and get the kiddos off to school. It's freezing, and you mourn the probable loss of your new plants you forgot to bring in overnight as you unlock the car in your slippers and realize your kids have no jackets on, and refuse to grab them. You start an argument and realize that the day you wear slippers out and start the day with the littles on a bad note is a day that - although you live like .25 miles from school - you just probably will get in some kind of fender bender that insists you get out of the car, slippers and all, and show the entire student body and their families that the crazy lady in the speeding minivan really is insane. Luckily, I remembered my cell phone, which to us OCD-laden folks, is a safety net. The crash is 100% going to happen if you forget your phone at home. Guaranteed. Still, i go back to get shoes on, remembering it's the big einsten's turn to be interviewed in opening ceremonies today, I look like crap-o-la, but whatever, and rush back out. It's one of those days that you have so much to do that it's overwhelming. If you wrote it down on paper, on a schedule of every minute of the day, it wouldn't fit. No way, no how. It's a big ol' "Ah-HELLZ nah!" and hands thrown up in the air, asking yourself why you always overbook yourself. again. as usual. *hangs head*
I'm standing, waiting for the usual morning announcements to end and the songs to be sung, and the salutes to be be saluted, and allthewhile running the playlist in my head of things to do today. And that freakin playlist is on FF and RPT ALL! - Clean the house, you have a houseguest arriving this afternoon. Did you bleach the toilet? Change the sheets. Wash the sham covers this week. Finish caulking that trim. Do we have fresh towels even? What's on the menu this weekend? Do we have groceries for an extra person? Gawd, my house looks like shyt. Stupid Lowes better deliver my mower today or someone's getting an extra dose of asian-lady-gone-asian this afternoon. Closet doors. So hungry. Where the heck did I leave my coffee cup? It's totes gonna be cold when i get home. Dangit. Smoke alarms need to be hung up, not on the shelves of the rooms. Such a horrible mom. Trash and recycle carts were a little close together today, hope they still can get them. If I have a note saying they didn't...
The list went on and on and on until principal B announced the daily moment of silence. The minute in the day when the little students squirm and silently hit each other, the older ones bowing their heads or people watching, but today, that moment of silence was my lighthouse. I bowed my head like my neck had snapped, told that mind to shut it, and prayed. I always start my prayers with thanks, it always helps my day, and so it was. I thanked Him for the sunrise, for the health in our family, for the dependable car, for the coffee I can afford so well that I can let it sit in an unknown location for half an hour to get cold and throw down the drain later. For the house torn up and gutted, but it's because I had a choice to do it, not be forced to live in huts or shelters. For the dirty laundry that piles up so high because we have enough to wear for so long. For the clean water that people all over the world would thankfully drink for hours, yet I use it to take a poo in. For the hours of sunlight, for this day, for education, for teachers who love my babies, for friends that feel comfortable enough to stay in your house, even with parts missing. For our very first weekend to be at home instead of racing or soccering or venturing off in the unknown. For having a panic-stricken day of things to do, because I have things to do with my working legs and hands and lungs. for tolerance of my strange ways and thoughts. For loving me anyway.
The moment ended before I could ask for help, for calmness, for a deep breath, but it didn't matter. He heard me anyway. Because when i opened up my eyes, principal B was there, asking if it was okay if we postponed the interview since the microphone wasn't working properly. I was totally fine with that. Next time I'll wake up on time. I'll remind others more than an hour ahead of time. I'll have that coffee while it's still hot! I'll be able to start the day with singing and hugs and kisses and not arguments over jackets and wearing knee socks and running shorts for an interview. I was great with it.
Afterwards, I headed back to my car to head home when my friend calls to say that she's gonna have to cancel our meetup this morning, she just had to get a couple things done at her shop, and I hung up the phone thinking "wow. He really listened.". This whiny, ungrateful at times, stressball of a holy child had been given a pacifier of time. Time to find that coffee (it was behind the hand towels in the bathroom - dont ask), time to strip beds and change sheets and caulk floor trim and worship loudly with itunes radio for a spell, and sit down and think "I'm gonna stop, and sit, and I'm gonna give You a direct minute of my day. I'm gonna let Your light shine through my words. I'm gonna remember this."
So, here I sit, taking note of this morning, because one day my einsteins will have a morning JUST like this, and they'll think "I hate days like this! No one's ever had this much to do and no time to do it!" and they'll be able to look back and see that, yessir, momma bird did in fact, have several mornings like this. And every time, we made it through together. Just like they will.
I'm heading back to the checklist, and I'm gonna stress, and I'm gonna panic, and I'll race around like a crazy chicken, but I know that it's all for nothing. I'll get it done. I always do. (It may not be in the precise timing I wanted, but...)
Have a happy weekend!