Under the Weather

Stuffed-up Audrey with voice-less Mommy

We have been sick, sick, sick since before Easter. At various times, various members of the household have battled ear infections, pink eye, hacking coughs, sore throats, explosive sneezes, gross diapers and the accompanying diaper rash (that one wasn't me, I promise), and just about any other cold symptom you can imagine. Just as one thing would get bad enough to consider more intervention, it would dissipate and be replaced by something else. We aren't dying, we have no definable diagnosis, we're just sick.

And with that comes short tempers and zero patience that has far worn out its welcome. If I hear one more blood-curdling scream in my (still aching) ear because I won't let Lucian have a piece of candy, I may just pack up and move. The whining, oh the whining! The blaming Mom for everything! Just this afternoon Max informed me that he was moving out to the garage because "You say too many things that I don't like." All of this is, of course, exacerbated by the fact that I should be able to kick the kids outside to play in April without first bundling them into their snow gear! Come on, thundersnow?! Is this some sort of sick joke?

At book club on Wednesday, in the midst of all of this unwellness at home, my friend Sarah brought up a blog that she reads about a mother of six who is expecting number seven. This woman apparently has it all together. She homeschools, she keeps her house immaculate, her children are well-dressed and well-behaved, and she seems to be a truly joyful and prayerful person. I found myself fighting back thoughts of jealousy (Why can't I have it all together like her?) and doubt (I'm sure there's something we don't know about. She must be putting on an act). But on my drive home, I realized that the only correct response to someone that is "getting it right" is humility and thankfulness for God's blessings on them. Yes, I'm sure she isn't perfect. No human being is. But she's doing a lot of things right that I'm not doing right, and instead of jealousy I should be trying to emulate her.

So as I drown here in a pile of dirty kleenex, I am attempting to ask for God's grace every minute... because ohhhhh man do I need it.  And just as the snow will melt someday, we will be well again and this whole mess will seem like a foggy, highly-medicated dream.