Last night I was all set to write a big post of complaints. I was feeling pretty down and I thought public complaining would make it better. Tonight I'm glad I didn't do that and I'm reminded of a favorite quote by Jeffrey R. Holland, "No misfortune can be so great that whining about it won't make it worse."
The short of it is that I have been spending many, many hours planning and doing the leg work for the coming school year. This is no small undertaking-- curriculum choices, piano schedules, home organization planning, extracurricular activities for 6 children, book clubs. Lots of decisions to make, but not a lot of the relief of actually executing any of my grand plans. All the expectations building in my mind and it can feel overwhelming. Actually doing the work seems easier than thinking about doing it. Rather than dreading the school year, I usually feel a sense of relief when it finally gets underway.
Instead of complaining, I'll just say that I am SO very grateful for the Sabbath day. To go to church, be spiritually nourished, spend time with my family and have Abe home from work-- these are things that make me very happy and explain why I am considerably more relaxed Sunday evenings than Saturday evenings.
We think this poor little thing got trapped in the tent during the day and couldn't find it's way out. It exhausted itself. So sad.
And frankly, that might explain the series of unfortunate events we've been experiencing today.
Like when Faith accidentally let a gallon of milk fall out of the fridge and it busted open all over the kitchen floor. You never realize just how much liquid a gallon really is, until it spills on the floor. The gallon milk spill was the largest, but only one of four significant milk spills today.
Then this morning, when poor George fell on the stairs and seriously bit his lip just before church. Prepare yourself for this picture-- it's a little graphic.
I get it. Boo--hoo, my hair is so thick and beautiful-- it takes so long to do! Woest me!
But there you have it, it can be a burden at times. It's a beautiful burden to bear.
Needless to say, I didn't get to sit and watch the movie in the theater. And as I walked the movie theater halls with him and felt sorry for myself, I vowed not to take him to another movie theater until he was at least five years old.
I have had babies I could take to theaters, but Peter is not one of them. That's okay, he has other gifts-- like climbing stairs, gagging really easily, and chewing Nerf bullets. Good times with Pete.