So, um, it’s been rather a rough few days.
Yesterday Monkey had an emergency orthodontist appointment first thing in the morning, because half of one of his torture devices simply fell out of his mouth (band and all). Otto was kind enough to take him to his appointment, and I took Chickadee to school… even though she was having quite a morning, herself, for reasons unclear to me. What was NOT unclear was that she was HIGHLY AGGRIEVED, and—I don’t know about you—I just LOVE getting up at 6:00, making breakfast, packing lunches, and generally caring for my family prior to hopping in the car at o’dark thirty to drive a thrashing, crying, angry child to school. IT’S AWESOME.
So that was… um. Unpleasant, I guess. The way being covered in papercuts is unpleasant.
And then I scrambled to catch up on work all day, and by the time the kids got home from school…
… Monkey had a broken wire. He opened his mouth to show it to me, and being the calm, cool and collected paragon of maternal nurturing that I am…
… I burst into tears.
[In case you’re keeping score, our run to the orthodontist yesterday afternoon to get THAT fixed was our sixth emergency appointment in about three weeks. The orthodontist and I had a STERN DISCUSSION, wherein I may or may not have threatened that the next “emergency” will result in me demanding that they remove all of the metal from my baby’s mouth and give me back my money.]
By the time we sat down to dinner last night, I was spent. Done. Drained. Wrung out.
We take turns saying grace over dinner. We just go around the table in an infinite loop, because when we used to do the “Who wants to say grace?” method it was always “Not me!” and “I said it last time!” because my family is FILLED WITH THE THANKFUL.
Last night it was Otto’s turn, and we all bowed our heads while he began thanking God for the food set before us.
“And Lord, thank you for being with us through what has been a very trying couple of days,” Otto continued. “Please continue to be with us as we move forward. Please be with those of us who need special help—whether it be with our mouth appliances or our mouthiness—” (my head was bowed and my eyes shut, but I SWEAR he somehow with his WORDS directed each of those circumstances at the parties in question) “—and let’s just, you know, keep everything working and in one piece for a while. Please. Amen.”
I fell in love with him all over again, at that, because if a man who praises your cooking and asks for special help in managing your children’s mouths isn’t proof of a loving God, I don’t know what is.