I'm writing this as I stand at my kitchen island. To my left is a large pile of sheets and dirty clothes. Behind me, there are toys scattered everywhere, and in front of me, on the kitchen island, there are piles-- everything from annual anniversary books (this year's has not been given yet, not even written, truthfully) to garden produce that was given to us yesterday morning.
This morning has been one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad mornings. As I stood there brushing my teeth, with my husband's toothbrush because I couldn't find mine-- because two little boys that I know absolutely love with a capital L brushing their teeth, so much so that they take all of the toothbrushes sometimes-- I was overwhelmed.
How will we ever have another baby? I cannot even handle the two that I have! What about our adoption plans? Will we ever adopt? I'm getting old! Lord, I would love to have another baby!
And then the same thoughts began cycling through again.
And in the middle of that recycle, I thought about the sweet couple that had us over for dinner last night. (I want to say this: having a family over for dinner is one of the best gifts you can give to a young mama. I believe that with all of my heart.) Our dinner started off on a wonderful note but it started to quickly unravel as the boys finished their plates. Graeme wanted to run and play. Job wanted out of his highchair and let us know in a matter of fact way by throwing, no, impaling a peach slice straight into the honey mustard chicken tray.
If I remember correctly, I sighed and looked at our host and said bleakly, "I'm so sorry. We are working on that". He was quiet for a moment, which made my nervous heart beat even faster, and then he said, with the kindest smile, "people pay a lot of money for 'spensive dishes like peaches and chicken".
And my tired mama's heart was healed.