Day 27: Groundhog Syndrome

 Hello again. I fell off the face of the earth, seriously, sorry about that. We had friends visiting (traveling through from Hawaii to Colorado) last week, and we have friends visiting this week, too. I'm thankful for the distraction, honestly, because lately I feel like it's Groundhog day, just a continuous day, repeating itself over and over and over. I'm thankful this day I'm reliving doesn't include any sickness, but oh my word does it ever get annoying! I've been struggling lately, not reading my bible as much, not praying as much, and it's made me painfully aware of how fragile (read that in Francesco Bernoulli's voice, it's much funnier!) our flesh is! How weak and desperate we become when separated from the word. It's pathetic, really.

The dessert!

I mention this because if you happen to stalk my Facebook wall, it might appear that I have it "together" - smiling faces, instagram snaps of some amazing dessert I whipped up (recipe on the box, people!), cute stories of things the boys have said, our bulldog peacefully sleeping at my feet....it's not a true picture of what goes on here day in and day out. I read an article about how facebook is ruining people's lives, making them feel bad about themselves because everyone else's life looks "perfect." Don't believe for one second that I wake up with a smile on my face, quoting scripture, and baking fresh banana bread. Hardly. Don't get me wrong, I would love that to be the case, but 90% of the time, this is how things go:

1. Sometime around 2 or 3 am: 5-yr old comes into room (he may or may not have had a potty accident, and may or may not have changed his pants). He sneaks into bed and snuggles in. I try to feel if he is wet or just had a bad dream, if he's wet, I try to wake him up and get him to change his PJ's (I avoid walking around once I've been sleeping because my feet hurt so bad). I go back to sleep.

Boys being Boys!

2. 7 am: Reveille sounds right outside our window. This may or may not rouse the 3-yr old beast who is currently sleeping in my closet (I made his room into a guest room while my friends are visiting). If it does, he wakes up and does his best to be as loud as he can while voicing his concern over his lost binkie and misplaced blanket. Sometimes, by God's blessing, I find both of them and he goes back to sleep. Sometimes, if he wakes up, I can convince him to come into bed with me and sleep (or at least sniff).

3. 7:30 am: My Fitbit silent alarm goes off. I press the button and mentally debate getting up while my body drifts slowly back to sleep. I bribe my brain by promising coffee. It doesn't always work. My feet are still hurting from the 7 am limp to find the binkie blankie.

4. 8:12 am: I open my eyes, sort of. I can't see anything because my glasses have fallen off the table beside my bed. I feel around for my phone like a mole. (Thus my husband's nickname, "my little mole"). I try to get up quietly, as to not wake the two little warm bodies that are nestled in amongst the pillows of our Cal King.

5. 8:30 am: Limp painfully from bathroom to kitchen. Search for shoes so maybe my feet won't hurt as much. Think about exercising. Think about reading my bible. My brain starts to circle these thoughts: Maybe I could do both at the same time? Maybe the kids won't come out right away and I can have some quiet time? Maybe I should have woken up early and gotten my quiet time in already? Why am I so lazy? When are my feet going to stop hurting? Why didn't I buy cereal? Why didn't I buy creamer? Why is the commissary closed on Mondays? Did I make coffee? I don't remember drinking coffee. Where are my shoes? Do I smell poop? Did Frank poop?

"May-dough" with PPR

6. 8:32 am: I hear movement in the hallway and then a pair of eyes peeking around the corner. I can tell by the curly locks that it's Isaac. He is in sniff mode, and he runs to my perch at the computer. He asks to play a game on my iPhone. I tell him he needs to eat breakfast first. Amazingly, he acquiesces and pads into the kitchen to forage in the pantry. I still haven't read my bible. Still can't find my coffee.

7. 8:37 am: I've become a one-person cereal assembly-line. 4 bowls, 4 spoons, 4 cups. I like to color-code, but it doesn't always work out. I keep lustfully eyeballing my Keurig. I try to avoid direct eye contact with the sinkful of dishes I abandoned last night. There's someone trying to scale my leg. Someone is hunting for food in the pantry and telling my how much they don't want cereal. Again. I tell them they are blessed just to have food and think of all the children in the world who go hungry. This doesn't phase them. I contemplate withholding food until it ripens their compassion, but I don't think I could handle their whining.

First Injury of deployment!

8. 8:42 am: After major coaxing, everyone brought a cereal bowl to the table and we are all seated together. I forgot my coffee. I should probably eat, too. We pray (well, I pray, the boys take turns trying to make each other laugh). I get angry and reiterate the "why we should be quiet while we are praying" talk. I try to not get too mad because I know they are just kids. I get up to get coffee. No water in the Keurig and it has to be filled again. I think that it should be connected right to my fridge. I wonder if I'm really that lazy. I don't think I would make it on a missionary trip. I wonder if I will ever go on a missionary trip. I daydream some more, and the water overflows all over the cup, down the fridge, all over the floor. I'm not mad. The floor needs to be cleaned, anyway. I know I will never get to it today.

Pool shower Fort!

9. 8:47 am: The loudness level tells me the kids are done eating. I haven't even gotten the chance to sit down, haven't eaten, and now I'm searching for my coffee cup. I remember that yesterday, while I was packing the kids up in the car while breaking up arguments, I hit my head on the rear lift gate, dropped and shattered it. I nearly lost my testimony and almost said some choice words, holding back tears. Now I'm reminded of yesterday's failure and I feel helpless and defeated again. The dishes in the sink grow, so does my apathy. Coffee is growing cold now, of course. I remember I don't have creamer. I root around in the fridge for a substitute. I settle for Tru Whip. It's good. I cradle my warm coffee and retreat to my computer. The boys are settled in watching Justin Time. I think I might have 10 minutes of  blissful quiet. My bible is not within reach. I read my daily verse for the day. I want to read more, but now I'm caught in email.

10. 8:53 am: The boys are done watching and are now wrestling. My quiet time is over. My apathy is not. I glare at the dishes that won't wash themselves. I start my mental to-do list.

So, you get the idea. Trapped in my own small little, world. This is an easy day, I'm not complaining, my kids don't wake up early, we have enough food to eat, we have a wonderful house, it just gets to be overwhelming and I'm tired. I miss Jeff! :(  I've been trying to think about others I could help, because that makes me happy, but I feel like I'm drowning, myself. I know this is not where God wants me to live, feeling like this, but it's like I'm caught in this circular pattern sometimes and I can't seem to break free. Just keep praying for us!