All of What?

Last Monday was a rough day.

I woke up as I do most other days.  More tired than I felt I should be, and with more to do in the day than what I had the time or energy to do it all with.  I started my day already feeling behind.

In the midst of feeding the kids breakfast, doing school work with Ava, tackling the never-ending piles of laundry, changing the antibiotic-caused-diarrhea-diapers, listening to the whining, breaking up arguments, and wiping runny noses, I soon came to realize that I had another thing I would have to add to my day. 

Yet another doctor's appointment. 

I am not one of those "run-to-the-doctor-if-my-kid-sneezes" kind of mom.  I am more of the "wait-it-out-and-see-what-develops" kind of mom.  I became this latter type at some point during my early years as a mom of one.  When you are a mom to one you do worry if your child has a fever or runny nose...  But it only takes a few appointments of being told:

"This is viral. There is nothing we can do for it.  You'll just have to wait it out, (But thanks for coming so we can still charge you and your insurance for this unnecessary visit.)"

before you transform into the "wait and see" mom.


But this self-proclaimed "wait and see" mom has been to the doctor 5 times with sick or injured kids already this year.  We're still in the first month.  I'm sure I'm not breaking any records here, but this is not our norm, and last Monday, making yet another doctor visit was the last thing I wanted to do. There is always that fear of a "wasted trip" and no remedy to the ailment that sent you there.   After listening to that internal debate waging within between the two afore mentioned types of moms... go now... wait and see... go now... wait and see...  I finally decided to call Shannon for confirmation that I should indeed take Micah to the doctor.  After hearing the update on his symptoms, Daddy confirmed a doctor's appointment was valid.

 So I made the next necessary calls- one to the doctor to schedule an appointment and one to my parents to ask for help with my other two kids.  Mom agreed to meet me there and keep Ava and Josiah in the van during the appointment.  The last thing I wanted to do was take them into the sick waiting room and the sick check-up rooms to be exposed to some germs that would infect them and bring us back to the doctor yet again with something new.  I think this is how Micah got sick to begin with.  I had just been to the doctor with Josiah the previous Friday and had my 2 other (healthy-at-the-time) kids tagging along... and as much as I tried to keep Micah and Ava from touching things, they're kids.  That's what they do best.  And I just KNOW that's where he got his illness that had us back there on Monday for him.  There's serious potential for a vicious cycle here... Perhaps it's a doctor conspiracy?  To keep them in business??....

Anyway, I digress....

We finally made it to the doctor after the typical rush of getting us all out of the door.  I've been the mother of 3 for 15 months now, but I am still floored everyday that it takes 5 years to get us all loaded up in the van.  I exaggerate, but seriously... it could be an Olympic event.  Make the athletes get a van loaded up with kids and all their stuff.  Time them.  Fastest time wins!

I'm so glad I rushed to get there too.  Just to sit.  And wait.  Oh, we got called out of the waiting room and into the exam room in a timely-enough manner.  Weight was taken, temperature checked, preliminary nurse questions asked, strep test taken.  I was foolishly encouraged and thought this would be a quick visit.  And then we sat.  And we waited.  And we sat.  And we played Angry Birds.  And we sat and waited some more. I had to go to the bathroom, but dared not leave the room.  You know, in case the doctor came by at that exact time that we were in the restroom and rather than wait 2 minutes for us, he'd move on to the next room and get back to us later.

50 minutes later without even a peek-in-update from a nurse, I finally opened the door.  I was certain we had been forgotten in that room.  I'm not entirely sure I'm wrong about that either.  This was a time I was wishing I was the more assertive type.  It would have been easy enough to catch the receptionist's attention and ask how much longer it would be.  But I am always so afraid of being thought of as "pushy".  I was thankful that Micah was being good, and that I wasn't having to keep an eye on my other two, but I was aware that my mom was having to keep them occupied...  in the van, ... in the parking lot.  And yet I just sat there and steamed silently inside, thinking of all the things I'd like to say about how ridiculous doctor waits are.

(At the very least during my wait I concluded that nurses could take a few cues from waitresses... If they know you are in for a long wait, they should come by your room periodically with an update.  Like, "I just put your strep test order in to the doctor.  We've had a heavy volume of strep-test requests today, so it may be a while before the lab can get your order,... er, results,... to your table... er,... room.  Would you like a complimentary basket of bread while you wait?"  Wouldn't this make doctor's visits more tolerable??)

15 minutes after having the door open, my passive-aggressive self finally moved closer to the doorway and paced back and forth in front of it.  The nurse half-way passed by once and I swear I heard her say, "Oh!" as though she'd forgotten something, and within 5 minutes, the doctor was in my room. 

Nearly an hour and a half of waiting, and 5 minutes with the doctor later, we had a diagnosis of strep.  Since Micah had just finished an antibiotic for an ear infection, I wanted to avoid the medicine regimen and asked for the one time shot. 

Upon hearing that he was getting a shot in his bum, poor Micah got so upset that he threw up.  Of course there was no puke bowl in the room and no nurse in sight.  Seeing that the trash can was nearly full, I rushed him to the sink.... which had tiny little holes meant only for water to pass through... which meant I had to clean up the chunks that would not pass through these holes.  Lovely. 

The nurse returned with the shot, and a few traumatizing moments later, we were free to go on our way. 

After getting home we were all tired, cranky, and no one had napped.  We made it through dinner prep, eating dinner, cleaning up, and part of a family game before realizing that Micah's fever had spiked to 104.  We've never seen 104 in this family so far, so it sent me into an internal panic.  "Wait and see" mom then turned into "call the off-hours doctor line" mom.  An intense hour and a half later, his fever finally started going down and I put him to bed on the floor in our room. 

I wearily came back to the couch, sank down into it, and let out a deep breath that seemed to encapsulate the exhaustion of my day.  Shannon sweetly looked over at me and made the following comment {which drove me to write this (too long) blog entry to begin with}: 

"Thank you for all you do." 

I stared back at him for a second and then I wearily replied with the pat, "You're welcome."

He proceeded to kiss me goodnight and started to head off to bed.  But then my mouth opened and asked the question, "All of what?" 

This question threw him off for a second, but he proceeded to list what he perceived to be my day's accomplishments and his appreciation for each.

I must admit his list was longer than mine would have been.

 In my exhausted mind, I had sunk down into that couch thinking about how wrong my day had gone.  Thinking of how much I hadn't gotten done.  Worrying about poor Micah.  Worrying about my other kids potentially getting sick.  Worrying that I couldn't sterilize the house enough to prevent my other kids from getting sick.  Thinking that I should have done something to prevent Micah's fever from spiking. Worrying that Micah would have a rough night.  Worrying that I would have a rough night.  Thinking that I should be folding laundry rather than taking this moment to worry.  Thinking about all that I needed to do the following day to make up for my day being interrupted today.  Basically, the enemy was just using that brief moment of sinking-couch-reflection to give his final blow to my day and leave me feeling discouraged and defeated. 



So I asked "all of what".


I didn't ask him for specifics so that he could make a list and pat me on the back for "all that I do". 


I didn't ask him so that he would be reminded of how much he should appreciate me. 


I asked because I needed to be reminded.

I needed to hear the events from my day from someone else's point of view.

I needed to quiet that negative, nagging "all that I didn't" voice in my head.

 I needed to see the "all of what" I had done that day and find an appreciation for myself in the midst of it.


Shannon went to bed and I sat and reflected.  The quiet voice of the Holy Spirit within could finally be heard over the self-abusive voice that had just been laid to rest.  I was reminded that not every day is going to go according to plan.  That my "to-do-list" will never be "done".  I was reminded that I had done my best to survive the day, and I was gently chastised for not relying on the One who could have made my day easier. 

The week continued to be hard, Micah continued to be sick, and I continued to reflect on that simple phrase- "all of what" (which is probably not  even grammatically correct... but it's what I said.) 

I started to feel selfish for needing that reassurance on that day.  I started to think of how often I don't fully express my appreciation for others or for my Father. 

Maybe I didn't need to be reminded of my "all of whats" after all.  Maybe I needed to be reminded of all of His.  I needed to be reminded of all that He can accomplish in me and through me by putting me through those hard days.  I should be the one thanking Him for "all that He does".  And all too often, that's where I stop. 

"Thank you, Lord, for this day.  And thank you for all that You are and all that You do." 

From now on I hope I will be reminded to list for Him the "all of what" behind that.  But in this case it's not because He needs the encouragement.  It's because I need to be reminded of  exactly who my God is and ALL THAT HE DOES in my life.

It's simple.  Days get hard. Life gets rough.  But if we can get specific in our appreciation for others and most importantly, our appreciation for our Savior, we can learn to live life with thanksgiving.  Even on "those days". 

Next time you pray and thank the Lord for "all He does", imagine Him asking you "all of what?", and have fun answering Him with a long list of praise!

"Dear Journal,"

When I was little I had ambitions to be a many number of things.  A nurse, a missionary, a teacher, an actress, a singer (ha!), a dancer (double ha!), a wife, a mother, and finally, a writer.  I could take the time now to fill paragraphs and paragraphs about how I am now living my dreams, even if only in small or abstract ways, and fulfilling each of those childhood aspirations.  Maybe you'll see those posts someday.  But this particular post, my FIRST as a "blogger", is dedicated to that last love of mine.

Writing.

I can't say for sure when this love for writing originated, but I remember starting my very first journal (I thought it uncool to call it a diary) in the 5th grade.  It was small, pink, and it had a tiny lock and key.  And with that first journal, my world of writing was unlocked. 

I was painfully shy and quiet as a young girl, and writing not only gave me a way to record my life happenings, it also gave a voice to my feelings. (Which in 5th grade consisted of 3 sentences per entry on which boy I liked and whether or not he had paid attention to me that day.  Hey, I didn't say they were deep, thought-provoking feelings...)

I went on to keep a journal off and on throughout Jr. High, High school, and on into College.  In waves of sentimentality I've gone back and read through a few of them.  It's amazing the clarity and growing wisdom that comes with age.... Praise the Lord!.... and that's all I'm going to say about that! 

My final written journal was penned to my hubby. My prince charming.  My life's love.  My Shannon.  I started it after only 2 weeks of dating.  I knew after the very first date that he was unlike any man I had ever gone out with.  I didn't KNOW we would end up married, but I had a good idea. 

At that time I had gotten out of the habit of keeping a journal for myself.  (Why?  Confession: my journals were mostly filled with teenage boy troubles.  Embarrassing silly stuff to read.  Really.  Which is why no one else is permitted to read them.  REALLY!)  Anyway...  after finding Mr. Right, I really didn't have any heartache or angst to work out on paper by journaling...  But I did want to preserve those wonderful, euphoric feelings that come with new love, and keep a remembrance of the beginning of our love story together. So I didn't write to my journal, I wrote to my future hubby.  It's basically a year's worth of love letters.  I gave it to him on our wedding night.  (But no, he didn't read it that night... Though that would make a romantic moment in a movie... but we live in reality, and we had waited for that night... and I do mean waited... and ummmm....)  ....Ahem... Moving on.... 

Fast forward to today.  I am a happily married woman of 8 years, I have 3 beautiful children, and a blessed life by all accounts.  But I keep no journal.  Frankly, I can't remember the last time I even sat down to hand write anything longer than a shopping list, so keeping a traditional journal is out of the question.  And yet that underlying desire to get my thoughts and feeling out through the written word remains.  Facebook has served as my abbreviated writing outlet for a while now, but sometimes it's tough to condense a day's events into a status update.  So here I go.  Into the world of blogging...

What will my blog contain?  I guess it will be like my modern day journal.  Only instead of hiding it under my mattress, I'm sending out into cyberspace for all (or just my mom and maybe a few friends) to read.  It will be a way to record my daily (or weekly or monthly) moments, thoughts, feelings and events.  You are welcome to read it, or not.  Some of it will be geared for other's reading enjoyment, I'm sure, but with my poor memory and the enormous amount of brain cells I've lost since having kids, heaven knows I need a way to remember these years of my life!

So, it is mostly for me. 

This is my journal.

To capture the Misty Moments that make up my life.