someone knocked into you right as you were getting ready to bounce the ball and
everyone playing the game knew,
"Hey - that's not fair - let's give her another turn since clearly she was at a disadvantage...
I would have liked a chance to do over this morning.
Somehow the fact that Jack has shot up over night and his pants are so short they look like knickers,
the amount of bills due today,
the lack of sleep,
the fact that Addison still cries when he goes to school,
the guilt over the fact that I work and send Addison to school 4 full days out of the week when I only sent his brothers 2 half days when they were the same age,
the state of my bangs - they are so long I can almost chew on them,
(I want to cut them myself but I am holding tightly to the no-cutting vow I made Scott after the bangtastrophe of 2008),
the lack of clean clothing and largeness of the laundry pile,
the neediness of my children when it comes to getting ready for school,
(why am I the only one who can find clean socks in the morning?)
and the thought that Will and Addison are both wearing underwear one size too small for them,
sent me right over the edge this morning.
I did not handle this morning's pressure with aplomb. I handled it mostly with anger.
I'm pretty sure even Jesus was caught off guard by my poopy pants attitude
After howling at the children because, for crying out loud, I can't do everything around here and can't they get their own breakfast beverages...
that always adds a nice touch to family meal time...it was my turn to cry.
Which is never good when you are making lunches...it makes the bread soggy.
I felt like taking a good step back and saying,
"Did anyone else just see what happened?
This is not who I meant to be when I climbed out of bed this morning.
Can I get a do over?"
After apologies all around, (Sorry, Jack. Sorry, Will. Sorry, Addie.)
The 4 boys in my family chose to love me anyway. With some grace and forgiveness.
With some hugs and kisses and questions,
("Why are you so sad this morning, Mom? Are you crying? I love you, Mom.")
and a starbucks picked up on the way home from taking the boys to school,
(Scott knows that coffee is my love language.)
From where I sit mid-morning at my kitchen table, even after the chaos,
a morning soaked with grace and forgiveness seems an awful lot like a do over.