I'm a Poet, Not a Planner-Herein Lies the Evidence

My sister-in-law asked me tonight how last night went...she wanted to know if I accomplished what I had planned.  The truth is I did something that was much more important.  

I've written about how I feel about making plans.  It's not my favorite thing to do.  I really rebel against schedules (I took a family a meal this afternoon even though I didn't sign up on the online calendar to do it and someone was already bringing them a meal for tonight-mine was frozen, homemade, but I didn't want to sign up on the calendar and feel locked in, committed!)  And usually if I do make a plan and things don't go how I thought they would for some reason I get frustrated.  Or even mad.

Yesterday I made a commitment to stay off of the computer in the evening so that I could work on a few areas in the house that have gotten a wee bit out of control.  The desk where our computer is would be one of those areas...did you know that if you leave your papers alone for long enough they begin to multiply?  Yes, they are very naughty.

I did not get around to cleaning the desk last night, nor did I put away or even fold the laundry, but God knew that I would need the time to connect with someone who is important, someone I needed to talk to.  He had a plan that trumped mine, but used my plan at the same time.  I'm so grateful that He is in control, that I can rest in His grace, and that one day my plans will line up perfectly with His and I'll no longer be a rebellious child.  I'll always be His child though.  What blessings are mine!  

I'll take one day at a time, and one mess at a time.  I'll take comfort in knowing that my heavenly Father loves me even though I have a hard time keeping house.  I'll try to be cheerful rather than weighed down by my own feelings of failure. It's so easy to recognize how important the relationships in my life are when it's late at night, quiet, and peaceful, when I can reflect and focus on the sweet moments of the day rather than the unpleasant ones.  It probably seems like I'm writing haphazardly...in some ways that's true.  A bit of stream-of-consciousness. 

It started with a plan.  But the plan didn't stand.  Still it didn't hit the fan.  I'll tell you what, man.  You just do what you can.  Love on your clan.  Clean up your van.  And keep makin' plans.

What can I say?  I live to rhyme.  I do it all the time.

All right, all right, now I'll say good night. Sorry, sorry.  I'll stop. 

Really I will. Do you love me still?

An Update: This Just In-Please Don't Gag

It's been a while since we spoke of my toe...well, I got my stitches out today.  The nurse said it wouldn't hurt, not a bit.  He is a fibber.   And the doctor said that it was all healed and looked really good.  The eye of the beholder, right?   So here is my scarred toe-you can even see the holes where the stitches were.  I don't think this appendage will ever be the same.

It's still sore.

If you haven't gagged yet, you might do it now, because I'm going to show you yet another picture of what I have done here in the unpacking category.  The reason I know you might want to gag is because I do.  I am thoroughly sick of the subject...however, since misery loves company I invite you to share in this my ridiculously long experience of getting settled in our (no longer) new home.

Here is an area that earlier today was ENTIRELY covered with stuff.  One box had lost its bottom (hey, I wish I could lose my bottom) and the contents lay scattered on top of and amidst other boxes and super random weirdo junk.  I started by making eye contact with one thing, picking it up, and finding a new spot for it.  Not everything ended up in a proper location, but things are at least in more reasonable locations...closets or shelves.  Here is the result... (I would have done more, but Eliana woke up from her nap-after only 50 minutes!)

It's likely that only my mom can really appreciate the magnitude of this moment.  This was truly one of the worst areas in the house.  It's such a small space.  Yet, it was such an immense disaster. A few more boxes unpacked...a little at a time.  I feel like I am cutting down a California Redwood with a toothpick.  But even if it is 2013 by the time we're settled, at least we will have made it.

Just for fun, what is the kookiest accident that you have had?  I have talked ad nauseum about my toe...I'd love to hear some of your stories!  I need a distraction (like I need another needle in my toe!  But it would be fun to hear!).

A Free Ride

I feel pretty good about getting some things accomplished today.  Unfortunately they are the kinds of things that if someone showed up for a visit, said visitor would never know I had done a thing.  I cut down a million about forty boxes that have been hanging around for too long.  I also took them out to the recycling pile.  One small step for following through to the end of a project, one giant leap for Christina. I vacuumed a great deal of the house, and swept the dining room at least three times.  I also washed sheets today.  That takes a while...

I don't know why I would be putting this information out there for the world to see, considering several of the people who read this website don't even know me in real life, and just about everyone who reads my intriguing narratives (?!) lives in another state.  And it's just not worth the 10 or 18-hour drive to see the clean sheets on all our beds.  This stuff is so mortally mundane that only my mom might read it and get warm fuzzies.  

Furthermore, just because I'm so good at random, the kids made several forts today, got cornbread spread to the four corners of the earth throughout the entire dining room (but then they swept it up as a surprise for me which I have to say made me cry), I ran to CVS for milk tonight because I used it all up this morning making a double batch of pancakes, and on the way home I was like,"Man, I can't see; we have GOT to clean this windshield!" and then I realized that in addition to cleaning the dirty windshield I needed to turn my lights on which would probably help a lot, I finished off some brownies tonight, I haven't had a Coke in over a week (I confess to about three sips of the last 7-Up in our fridge several days ago, but it wasn't what I wanted and I didn't even finish it), I took two showers today because of how yucky I got at two separate times while taking a bunch of icky boxes out to the garbage, I now have a gigantic pile of laundry because of all the bathing that went on here today, there are two gnats flying around my computer on purpose to drive me insane.

Wanna come along?  Shotgun!

The Toe Follies

Do you know how many times I have hit my toe against something, or one of the kids has stepped on it?  Fortunately the pain medication works so these incidents have not brought me to my knees.  But I am super jumpy lately. I have hit my toe on a bag hanging on the back of Eliana's stroller twice-once with the needle still in there and once after it had been removed.  The first time the bag had groceries in it, canned goods to be exact, and the second time the bag had library books in it.  It hurt. I have hit my toe on several table legs, including the table where I sit at the computer, and the table where we eat.  These are large tables.  I don't even sit close to the legs, but rather in the center of the tables.  My legs must be longer than I thought-whoopee! I have even hit my toe on a small chair that was under our dining room table.  Why was this small chair under the table?  Well, Michaela had a sore knee and she couldn't bend her leg and she put this chair under the table so that she could prop her leg up on it during dinner the other night.  I crossed my legs this morning while eating breakfast and hit the little chair right where my stitches are.  I then used my heel to shove gently push the chair out on the other side of the table.  I didn't say any bad words. Each one of my children has stepped on my injured toe, and not just once.  I have said the words,"Watch out for my toe!" so much that they only hear,"Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp...whomp, whomp!"  I have learned to stand like a flamingo, and jump back and forth quite a bit.  I feel a little like Peter Stuyvesant trying to do the Bunny Hop. My toe has bumped into the tub while I'm bathing Eliana and it has bumped into the step onto which I am stepping. These things reveal what is seemingly a contradiction.  I can execute a move with such speed and precision that a needle will slide into the meaty part of my toe rather than under my toenail (I just heard at least one of you scream) or into my bone; then again, I can be so clumsy that no matter how hard I try not to or how careful I am, I will hit that same toe in that exact spot again and again, mostly on very large objects, while it is trying to heal.  I wish I could say that my toe was swollen to the size of a watermelon...that would give me an excuse.  No, the truth is I am a klutz.  Yet there are times that my klutziness is absolutely stunning. Mom, you must be so proud.

A Friendly Public Service Announcement

This is my brain... This is my brain on drugs... First there is the fact that even in all of its glorious clarity my reading level is the same as that of a three-year-old these days.  Second there is the fact that things get a little fuzzy when I am taking pain-killers that manage to disguise the natural consequences of  a doctor poking and digging a magnet around in my toe like any good cook mashing up some potatoes, which while once were intact are now a mixed-up mess.  I believe that when I read one of the pages of Eliana's story it went something like this... "Whatever, look!  Corduroy, horse, in wagon, what?" Eliana looked at me from her bed and hollered indignantly,"Read!"  Because that just wasn't quite right.