Discovered @ Lunchtime . . .

There are days that find me struggling.  Most days it's just with the little things--things like locating my coffee cup after setting it down for the 82nd time before 8:30 a.m. only to find it cold and full beside of a malodorous but neatly rolled dirty diaper.  I struggle too, with little stabs of guilt about not finding even a small moment to read a story to the diaper filler.  My days, are full of little struggles as I trying to do all of the "house-wifey-super-mommy" tasks that demand my daytime.  

And there's always the struggle du jour, which this week entails keeping the baby out of the foil-baggie-plastic-wrap drawer where, once she gains entry, she empties all 95 sandwich baggies (which are very slippery when stepped on) from the box and all over the kitchen floor.  Last week it was keeping her out of the computer disks and the week before it was keeping her out of her daddy's briefcase.

Mothers worldwide agree when asked (at least, mothers in a few states that I've happened to question) that being a mom is a tough assignment.  It's tough for all of the predictable reasons.  Kids are needy little creatures (just like adults) and even when they aren't immediately needing you, you still feel like you ought to be doing something to enrich their existence.  Then there are those jobs that, upon completion, only begin to need your attention again, a few hours later.  We all know those jobs: the dishwasher, the laundry, the vacuuming, the dusting, the laundry. . .

Then there are all of the mental aspects.  Always feeling like your day could have been better spent, like your handling of a situation was definitely sub par, like if you were smarter, better organized, or maybe nicer, your day and the day of those in your care would have been more spectacular.  Oh, the woes of the common mom!  Let's not even talk about the lack of privacy in the bathroom, the laundry room, behind the couch, or even under my bed. . .

A morning or so ago I was in the midst of a struggle or two.  I thought lunch time would never arrive.  Actually, I thought my Man would never get home for back up lunch, which thank The Dear LORD he does most days.  On struggling days, the sweetest most beautiful sound to my ears is that of my Man's vehicle pulling into the driveway--my life's narrator might as well be yelling, "The Calvary is coming!"

When the Calvary did come home for lunch, he suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea for this common mom to jump into the truck and ride off to procure a nice quiet sweet tea--you know, the kind in the special Styrofoam cup.

I was outta there before his sentence was finished, as you may well imagine.  It's not so much that the sweet tea makes it all seem better, it's the trip to the tea maker's that seems to do the trick.  Fifteen short minutes are all it takes to give my weary mind a little jump start.  Fifteen minutes to ride in a vehicle alone with talk radio and a cool beverage. . .this little respite usually serves to turn a rough morning into a much better afternoon.

On this mini retreat, however, I discovered something else to listen to that made my little heart take an extra pitter patter. . .

(...to be continued...sorry, really very sorry.  )