A Day of Unrest

Sorry for the lack of new material yesterday. You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. My Sunday, the Lord's day of "rest" did not turn out that way for us. I woke up much later than I normally sleep in a blind panic because somewhere in the dark, foggy recesses of my mommy brain I thought I remembered committing to teach my daughters' Sunday school class on that day. I rushed to get myself and my girls ready for church, throwing us all together in such a hurry that I'm surprised someone didn't arrive at church with no shoes on. Or even worse, do what I did when Sheridan was very small and we were attending a church that started much earlier - realize in the middle of the service that I had forgotten to brush my teeth! Talk about couldn't get home fast enough.
As it turns out, my brain let me down once again. We arrived at church on two wheels only to find that their regular teacher was indeed there and had no memory of ever asking me to teach the class. Did I dream that conversation? Make it up? Frankly, I have no idea. I told you my kids suck my brain out bit by bit while I sleep.
After church, we did our standard Mexican Sunday lunch, then headed home for what I thought might be a relaxing afternoon of napping. Needless to say, my children had other plans. Since they refused to let us nap, I ended up working a barrel horse and running. I only "wogged" a mile, as the point was to test out my new running gear. I am happy to say that the clothes worked fine; however, my lungs did not. I had been assured that running outside was different than running on a treadmill, and I have to say that I agree. It sucks worse, it hurts worse, I gasp for air sooner, and I do indeed run faster. I have already begun to assure my husband that he needn't expect too much out of my first race. My goal is simply to finish, even if I have to walk most of the way. I know I'm capable of at least that!
My big girls went back to school today, and I have to say that I miss them, even though it is rather nice to have the baby playing contentedly by herself in the other room and no one screaming, "This is MINE! Now give it back!" Wailing generally follows, along with something like, "MOM! She hit me in the face!" I daydream about a time in which I go an entire day without hearing the sound of someone trying to beat the crap out of someone else in my living room. Or better yet, a day in which everyone is happy with the item they got, be it a cup, pair of underwear, or clothing item. What if everything was exactly the right color and the right size? I would be contacting the Pope, because a miracle would have happened in my very own home.
Thinking about the mundane things in my life makes me so very thankful that I have the privilege to complain about the little things. Mostly I am extremely grateful that my husband is healthy, my children are healthy, and I am healthy. That in itself is an enormous blessing, as I found out this week that my high school classmate's leukemia has recurred. Our family has so much to be thankful for, both the public things and the private ones. Our life may be a three-ring circus most days, with a ringmaster who isn't truly the master of anything, but at least we are here to live it. Bring on the clowns!