Peace in the eye of the hurricane {or grace at the peak of frustration}

I wrote this post on Wednesday evening {7/15/15}, while cooking dinner... in the middle of a dramatic hormonal breakdown.  We all spaz out from time to time.  I hope someone else finds comfort in knowing that it's okay to kirk out, just as it is okay to give yourself a pass.

I am smack dab in the middle of one of THOSE days... if you know what I mean.

Nothing catastrophic has happened, and I've been counting blessings the whole way, believe that.

It's not what I would call a BAD day.  It's been quite the opposite, really.  I am just--frustrated.

Frustrated with the doctor who spent a good hour trying to convince me that I didn't have strep throat (which I've probably had half a dozen times in my life and could practically diagnose myself, WebMD be damned), just because the rapid strep test came back negative--which has always been my experience. 

Frustrated with the 2 loaves of banana bread that I found 4 perfectly ripe bananas at the store for, and dumped my last 4 cups of flour into... which wound up burnt.

Frustrated with my general lack of energy (courtesy of the aforementioned strep throat).

Frustrated that this is one of those days when I have to tell my kids something several times before they tune me in to listen.

Frustrated because I've been sweating like a beast for at least three days now, and it's been about that long since I last had a shower.

Frustrated because we are leaving for the longest vacation we've ever taken as a family--next week--and I am totally overwhelmed with what I want to accomplish around the house before Sunday.

Frustrated because the everyday things just feel so difficult to get through sometimes.

  • The dishes are piling up again (didn't I just wash them yesterday?).
  • It's taking SO long to prepare this meal.  THIS one, the one I've made at least a hundred times--the one I could probably throw together in my sleep.
  • It's taken me three days to fold and put away one load of laundry.
  • Sweet Baby K dumped out the crayon box... the toy box... the pan lids... my lipsticks... for the umpteenth time.
  • {insert your own ridiculousness here}

I finally broke down because, I'm really just frustrated with myself and the way I am handling--or not handling--this day--which has not been a bad day, I'll remind you.

In the midst of my tears I can see my O-boy.  The one I was just yelling at {not the best idea when you have strep throat, in case you were wondering} for doing something I've repeatedly asked him not to do.  He slowly approaches me and, in that sweet, small voice, says:

"I know sometimes things are hard to do, but sometimes all you can do is your best."

And I can't even fathom how he could possibly know how much I needed to hear that in this very moment, because I'm not really talking anymore at this point.  Just crying.

The Princess asked if I was cutting onions.  I said Yes, Mommy's cutting onions.

I can't help but to thank God for not nagging me or yelling at me, like I do with my kids sometimes.  He always speaks in a sweet, small voice--small, but full of grace enough for me, and enough left to share with my kids... and even enough for myself.

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