I'm not puffy anymore. Hooray!
To keep my mind off of things, I painted my kitchen cabinets this week. Pictures to come. I had company coming in for the funeral on Wednesday, so I pulled the cabinets off on Monday. Actually my big boys pulled those cabinets off, proud to use Daddy's tools. They even sanded those cabinets for me. And, in case that didn't keep my mind busy enough, I decided to repaint the bathroom. Pictures to come. By Wednesday, I was still painting and desperately trying to get everything back in place. Wanna hear an embarrassing for me but hugely complimentary story about my sons? Oh, good, cuz I'm dying to share.
Okay, come Wednesday afternoon, my sister (who keeps a perfect house and raises perfect children and whom I'd really like to see my house in order just ONCE) was already landed and on her way....one hour to go. The bathroom wasn't finished painting. The cabinet doors were not on. I walked down the hall and my girls had trashed - no I mean T-R-A-S-H-E-D their bedroom. It was spilling out into the hall and I had just helped them clean it to perfection the night before. It should not have been possible to do what they did to that bedroom. I had a hissy fit. Then I walked into the kitchen and watched my 8 year old spill a gallon of paint on the floor. I screamed. Not at him, at the paint puddle. I stopped screaming and walked away. Then I turned back around and screamed at the puddle for existing once more. I jumped up and down while screaming. Then I scraped it up the paint with a spatula, scoop by scoop. While scooping, Grace started howling from the bedroom. She had diarrhea. All over her. And all over the floor.
I cried.
I bathed the babe, scrubbed the floor, and got back to work on the paint....feeling rather mentally unstable I must tell you. Chris called on his way back from a computer job to ask me what Joel's message said - what was that? Mama needed a green pepper? Huh? I racked my brain trying to figure out when or why I'd sent the boys to call Chris for food and then it dawned on me......Dr. Pepper? My sweet boys had left a message for Daddy saying Mama needed a Dr. Pepper. She'd had a rough day, the message said.
How sweet is that?
I mean, totally embarassing that y'all get to hear what a misfit I am and humiliating that even my children know I need carbonated corn syrup as an emotional crutch. But wow, what awesome boys I have. I hugged the snot out of them and thanked them a thousand times over for being so helpful and so sweet this past week and apologized for being so grumpy. I'll work on the food-as-a-crutch lesson later.
5 comments:
Aw! That is sweet! And you, my friend, are crazy. :-) It always happens that way, though. Murphy's Law, or some such. I think it's just God reminding us that we've gotten our priorities messed up.
I'm glad you're feeling better, too!
OH MY GOODNESS.
Jenn...I would have needed something IN that Dr. Pepper to end that day.
WOW.
Bless your heart and your precious sons!
that is so sweet! see, there's a reason i told you i wanted my kids to be like your's someday: they're so precious!
i'm not so good at painting, but i'm good at cleaning up. call anytime. :P
It's so sweet the way the knew exactly what you needed and that they took the initiative to get it to you. I hope the rest of the day was a bit less eventful.
Dr. Pepper is NOT a crutch. It's an aide.
Monster is a crutch.
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