Tuesday, June 18, 2013


If I were a little less conscientious, this post could also be titled "Re-Entry is a Bee-Otch."  We had a great time on our trip, and today was the day that we got back to reality.  It started off pretty well.  I slept til almost 8, got up and got myself and all kids ready.  We headed to a play date with good friends, which was a definite win for the day.  (Side note - a little boy that I didn't know was looking at William and said, "That is a brown baby."  Then, he realized there was another one and said with great excitement, "There are two brown babies!"  He seemed genuinely thrilled, which was really sweet.)   I had a good friend that had offered to come over and help with the kiddos this afternoon so that I could get some stuff done and get our lives back together after the trip.  What a gracious offer.

What an afternoon it turned out to be.

After my friend Harriet arrived, I left to do a quick round of grocery shopping.  We needed the basics, and that is what I got.  As I was checking out with my full-ish cart, I had that awful moment of realization.  Where is my wallet?  I thought I put it back after I had it in the diaper bag.  Where could it be?  The guy bagging my groceries noticed my empty hands and grimaced sadly at me.  I begged the cashier to use my memorized credit card number to no avail.  No, they said - you must go home and get your real credit card and ID.

Home I went.  I walked in and told Harriet what was going on.  We laughed and commiserated at how annoying that is, and I began looking for the missing wallet.  I did eventually find it.

In my purse.

That I had with me all along.  Because I am losing my ever-loving mind.  Truly.  I drove back to the grocery store to pay for my cart of bagged goods that was waiting at Guest Services.  Then, I drove to the post office to mail our tax check that was two months late (a major whoopsie we figured out yesterday that had happened in the midst of babies coming into our family).  I didn't want it to be two months and one more day late, and our post man comes in the morning.  When I arrived at the post office, I could not find the envelope containing said late tax check.  Nowhere.  I assumed that I left it at home, even though I had just seen it in the car.  I did buy stamps for birth announcements, so it wasn't a totally wasted journey.

When I pulled into the garage, Bella ran out to greet me wearing only a diaper with Harriet trailing behind her trying to get her clothes on.  Her diaper had been so dirty and crazy that Harriet needed to give her an impromptu bath.  Bella had also managed to pull out most of the baby clothes in the dresser, though she knows she is not supposed to do this.  Which is great, because I really wanted to organize those clothes again.


Harriet and I brought in the groceries.  What would I have done without her?  Then I discovered that my precious Baba Ganoush (a delicious mediterranean dip made of roasted eggplant) had spilled.  I mean all of it spilled.  I had gone for the big container, because I usually eat this stuff every day for lunch.  And, it managed to spill in the most awful spot ever - the place where the seat attaches to the floor and can be moved up or down.


It was in and under the carpet.  So, Harriet and I did our darnedest to clean it up.  We used almost a whole roll of paper towels, because I am so green.  Ha.  I was on my stomach hanging out the side door after having removed a car seat to be able to move the bench up and down.  We were sweating a lot.  We were overpowered by the smell of garlic.  We were amazed at how it had gotten everywhere.  It was bad.


It took forever.  (John had to remove a piece of the car later to get the rest of it, because the car still reeked of it later.)  Harriet is the true hero of the afternoon, because instead of thinking and/or saying a stream of curses at the Baba Ganoush, I was able to (mostly) laugh through it.  I had someone to help with all the kiddos who were in full effect.  Thanks so much, Harriet for your kindness and willingness to serve our family - it was such a rich blessing.

And like all things good or bad, the afternoon came to an end.  Though I did not accomplish half or even a quarter of what I thought I might (i.e., my bag is still not unpacked, mail was piled on the coffee table and the kitchen was a mess), the afternoon that went downhill had come and gone.  John came home and we changed into our swimsuits and headed to a swim birthday party with lots of friends - it was the spoonful of sugar that helped the afternoon medicine go down.

I am left realizing that having four little peeps is a lot of work, and it is mentally taxing.  Obviously it is taxing enough on me that I can't find the wallet I have, I can't find the tax check that is already late, and I spill things everywhere.  I read this blog post this evening by a fellow adoptive mom who has gone from two kids to four in the last year.  It was a breath of fresh air, and a great reminder that my strength comes from the Lord.  I am nothing without Him.  I cannot do this in my own strength.  Clearly.

I'm so thankful that tomorrow is a new day and that God's mercies are new every morning.  I probably won't feel fresh in the morning after feeding babies in the night, but God has fresh grace for me that I can choose to lean in to.  I'm hoping and praying and begging to be able to depend on Him more tomorrow than I did today.