Writing for me has always been a form of therapy. There is something satisfying about turning all of my swirling thoughts into a tangible work. I started this year with a goal of writing something once per month. Why I thought this was likely to happen, I really don’t know. I may have left my daily office job for bibs and diapers but my amount of free time has anything but increased. Life with a 6 month old baby and 1 year old puppy is in constant motion with little sleep. I foresee my midlife crises being the need for an amazing bed and sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.
At some point in my recent hours of half consciousness a phrase came to my mind – a distant blessing. I have no other words to describe this current phase of my life, especially as I often find myself falling asleep while sitting still. Yet, so often these three words fit points in life. It the difficult moments it can be hard to keep our situations in perspective. Distant blessings can seem much too illusive and distant to emotionally hold on to. As we push on through the struggle, I think it’s our past successes that remind us of the triumph or just plain relief that lies ahead. God thoughtfully gave us the gift of memory to encourage and inspire us on to victory.
As Ecclesiastes 3 says, to everything there is a season. I look forward to future joys and know that without the trying moments I would not enjoy the happy ones near as much.
With small children, there is never such a thing as having a plan for the day. My mixing bowl full of muffin ingredients had been sitting on the counter gelifying as the healthy oatmeal I added so thoughtfully had begun to absorb all liquid in the batter. The baby was no longer happy to play on the floor with her toys and the dog was incessantly begging to go outside and partake in the beautiful weather. I figured at this point what would a few more minutes hurt the muffin batter.
So, I embraced my inner monkey and managed to scoop up the Bumbo with my foot and headed out the back door. I now see that I made the very critical error of bringing the baby outside first. As I dashed back inside to grab a bag of frisbees and a hat for the baby, a great wailing came from outside. My baby had realized she was now all alone. Thankfully, after a few moments of consolation her alligator tears ceased and frisbee playing could commence. My dog happily flew through the air after her favorite toy and after a rather hard crash into the grass it looked like I had thoroughly tired out the pooch. I thought that I might now get to take a breather and sit in the grass next to my little one. It was at this moment that I noticed mosquitoes swarming my dog. A deep fear began to rise from within as I realized my poor child had been sitting stationary in the grass. I quickly gathered up our things and dashed inside only to be followed by said evil flying creature.
I was on high alert, but after no sightings of the mosquito, I lit a few citronella candles and hoped for the best. On my way to fill up the dogs water bowl I glanced over at my little one who was happily playing in her highchair only to see a mosquito the size of Mississippi on top of her head. My arm attempted to stretch across the dining room table and as I ran to squish the living daylights out of this evil creature, I did not think about the glass of water that I was sitting down on the highchair. As the mosquito and I entered into battle, I heard a loud clunk beneath me and soon felt a cold sensation pelting my shirt. The shock on my baby’s face, from the recent tidal wave that had soaked her, quickly turned to delight as she realized her tray was now full of a liquid substance.
Realizing that there was really nothing else I can do at this point, I let her play and splash and returned to my neglected muffins. The highchair and surrounding floor are now cleaner and the water provided such an excellent source of entertainment that I may have to do it again. Oh, and the muffins turned out moist and delicious.