One of those mornings...

Sometimes you just have one of those mornings where if you don't laugh, you'll just cry...


Matt was up before the rest of us so he could go work the morning shift at the café, so that meant that today's my day to get the girls fed and dressed and out the door by 9:30 to get Abigail to school on time. Sometimes this proves to be a bit difficult, but this monring, there wasn't anything really out of the ordinary until we stepped out the door.


It's about a 12 minute walk to her school with kiddos in tow, and mind you that today it was drizzling. Isa's peeking out from under the plastic covering her three-wheeled stroller; I'm pushing it with one hand, have garbage in the other, and Abigail is holding onto the frame of the stroller. Right after I toss the trash into the dumpster, Abigail trips and lands on one knee in a mud puddle. Knowing there aren't any clean clothes at home, I do my best to wipe her off and calm her down - she's crying hysterically.


After she settles down a bit, we continue on for another three yards, and she starts crying again. I look over to see that she's puked up a bunch of snot that she's swallowed when crying earlier. Once again, I pull out the wet-wipes and clean her up and calm her down. Finally we're on our way.


Not really. About halfway to the school the stroller starts pulling fiercely to the left. After a bit of investigation, I see that a pin has fallen out and the seat of the stroller has separated from the frame and is threatening to come off completely (yes, Isa is still in the stroller.) So, I push Isa on the back two wheels of the stroller the rest of the way to school. Strollers doing wheelies aren't too common, so I get quite a few looks on the way.



After dropping Abigail off, I leave the stroller at school and carry Isa through the drizzle back home. By this point I'm exhausted.


Now after a cup of tea, I think I might be a bit more inclined to laugh than to cry.

You know you're the mother of toddlers when...

. . . you get up from the table (of adults) and excuse yourself by saying, "I have to go pee-pees."

and yes, I really did say that

dayenu

Saturday night we celebrated a Seder dinner at the Stribs house. It was the fourth time I've ever celebrated a Passover dinner, but Saturday night spoke to me more than any other year. At one point in the meal everyone at the table reads a long list of miracles that God performed for the Israelites like providing manna every day, appearing in a cloud by day and fire by night, parting the red sea, providing clothing, etc. And after reading each miracle, everyone at the table says, "dayenu," which means "it would have been suficient."


It would have been sufficient if God had only spared us from the plagues.


It would have been sufficient if God had only parted the Red Sea and let us escape the slavery of the Egyptians.


It would have been sufficient if God had only provided manna every day to eat in the desert.


It would have been sufficient if God had only appeared in the cloud and in the fire.


This is totally the attitude we should have toward God.


God, it should be sufficient to be married to an incredible guy. God, it should be sufficient to have healthy children. God, it should be sufficient to actually enjoy the work that we do.


Unfortunately, it's not. It wasn't sufficient for the Israelites to witness those amazing incredible miracles that God did every day - in their midst. No, the same morning that manna appeared for breakfast, Moses goes up to the mountain top to actually converse with God and at the foot of the mountain the Israelites are dancing around praising the likes of a golden calf.


Every day God was among them performing miracle after miracle and still they threw it right back at him. I look back and often think how could they miss it? I like to tell myself that if I didn't have to cook and food just appeared everyday ready to eat in the fridge that I wouldn't ever doubt God again. But then reality hits and I know that I'm just the same as the Israelites. I've been reading Philip Yancey's Disappointment with God this week and I see that there are circumstances in my life where I've pretty much given up on God. There are some things that I'm still hopeful about - my kids, my mariage, our work. In these things I see God working and I have hope.


But there are other places and other situations that I used to pray about a lot that I don't even pray about any more. I think I've in a way resigned myself that this is the way things are and that's the way things will always be for those situations. Even though I know that God is way bigger than any of these problems and that in a word any one of those situations could be healed and more amazing than I could imagine, deep down I think I've just about given up.


Now this is going to sound terrible, but I think it's probably easier for me to not think about those things and not pray about them because when nothing happens then it's still on me. That's OK. But what happens when I'm praying and praying about something and nothing happens? That's when the really scary questions start.


Reading in the book about whether or not God is unfair or hidden or silent is one thing. Putting those questions into the context of my own life and my own experience is a completely different thing. I'll let you know as I get farther into the book how things pan out.


By the way, the ciamelletti turned out great.

ciamelletti

Ever since we moved to Spain, every year at Easter we've celebrated with some Italian traditions brought to us by our good friends the Hanlons. Last summer they moved back to the states, and Anita gave us her family recipes only after we promised to make them only at Eastertime. (Don't worry Anita - I'm not about to post the recipe online!)

I inherited ciamelletti - ring shaped cookies flavored with anisette that are great with coffee. I googled them and got absolutely no results - except for, "Did you mean ciampelletti?" so I'm really on my own with this one. I'm about to attempt them this morning, so we'll see how it goes.

Today my skin smells like chlorine

Today my skin smells like chlorine.


I love it.


Yesterday I got to go to the pool with my friend Belén. I haven't been to a pool to swim laps since I was big and pregnant with Abigail three years ago. I didn't realize how much I had missed it.


Even though I am not in swimming shape I still had a blast. After only 150 meters, I had to stop for a break b/c my lungs were heaving. This from a girl who swam about 5000 meters every day in college. Wow. Good thing coach wasn't there to see...


Anyway after a bit, I got into a groove and it was magnificent. The pool is a place where I can just move and get my body going and my mind can just wander. While my body is working and the endorphins are pumping, my mind relaxes. The pool has always been a place of much prayer for me. I get so many of my thoughts sorted out while I'm going back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. I know it sounds tremendously boring, but it is so far from it! If I'm frazzled and stressed and at my wit's end, swimming helps me so much. I think I decided yesterday that it won't be another three years before I go back.

You know you're the mother of toddlers when. . .

. . . you've walked several blocks before you realize that the song going through your head is called "Happy Tapping with Elmo"

. . . you start to peel your own apple

. . . you automatically get out the ketchup with any new food

. . . you're having coffee with a girlfriend and, "Are you ready to go bye-bye?" almost rolls off your tongue