*Warning: if you want to be uplifted, don’t read this post. You’ve been warned.*
So I just got home from working late to an empty house. Matt and the kids are at Kids Worship at church. Dinner is Special K with Berries only tonight’s menu is not so special as my son has swiped all of the berries from the box. Oh but that’s not where the sadness ends, my friends.
How about yesterday when I found myself all alone in the ER with my severely dehydrated daughter and hungry two year old son. At naptime. It took multiple tries in four different limbs to get an IV in the poor girl. Minutes after they got one into her foot, it slipped right on out along with what seemed like liters of blood. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find to hold pressure to the site- Carson’s napkin from McDonald’s- and simultaneously tried to control Carson’s terrified screams of “what did Mary Gracie do? What did Mary Gracie do?” After finally getting another IV in Mary Grace, the nurse asked me repeatedly, “Don’t you have help? Can’t you know anyone who can come over here with you?” I wanted to yell, “Listen woman. Don’t get me started about how much I wish I was in Virginia right now with my family. The closest family we have is an hour away. My husband is in class an hour away. And all of our friends are at work or live an hour away. Back off or else I might cry in your face.” Long story short, I kept my cool, Matt left class, and Mary Grace continues to slowly improve.
Then there’s the sad story about the courier who never made it to the Rwandan Embassy to pick up our dossier this week. He reports that it’s not ready; the Embassy has told me that it is ready. Regardless, it’s a holiday weekend and we won’t know anything else until Tuesday.
Or how bout the one about the wife who was going to be left all alone on Labor Day with the kids while her husband got to attend a hugely exciting football game in D.C.? You know, the wife who swore up and down to her husband that she would not hold a grudge if he went to the game (because she really does want him to go, pinky promise) but still feels a twinge of jealousy over the entire thing.
And then there’s the girl who kept forgetting to schedule a haircut appointment to manage her unruly head of hair until it was too late on a Friday afternoon and will forever have to endure ponytails and headbands.
Now that I got all of that off of my chest, it’s time to crash on the couch and wait to tuck my babies in bed.
Funk, be gone!