somedays and others

yesterday was a hard day.

rarely do all three of my kids have an issue at the same time, but once in a while, there in an offspring eclipse and that is when i really shine- i mean in the bad way.  i had several not proud mommy moments yesterday.

it can be especially bad if i'm not in a good place about things unrelated to my kids- and especially really bad if mike is also having a tough day with his own issues. 

so was yesterday, which ended in me almost in tears, thinking i wanted to go home- at least for the entire summer, but maybe even longer.

the day had started out well.  i had made myself go for a run and dragged mike too and since it's usually him doing the dragging of me, it felt good to be initiating our exercise.  then we had a good time of prayer.  we decided we needed a season of discernment-about our lives here- and we invited God to please lead that initiative. 

zoe and i did homeschooling and it went pretty well.  we went to the orthodontist- which required an hour long drive each way for a 10 minute appointment.  but,  at least she didn't charge me.  it was went i got home that things began to change.

mike was having a moment.
let me pause to say this is rare.  like really rare.
i have "moments" all. the. time.  i have "moments" at the least once a week- sometimes several times a day.  but mike, the stable, rudder in our lives- he rarely feels overwhelmed by life and if he does he rarely tells anyone.

i'll admit it, there is a part of me that loves when he has a moment because it makes me feel less crazy, not normal but less crazy.  to hear him annoyed with the ants in the kitchen or snap at the kids, secretly brings me pleasure- because i get to rise up as the sane one, for once.  but after a little while, after i'd listened and asked questions, and given that calm, sane perspective that the person not having a moment is always able to do - this feeling wore off.  and as i listened to his frustration with the completely broken systems that we bump into in the developing world- i began to feel overwhelmed with him.  i began to wonder what we are doing here? and why we think we ever will get anything done here that is meaningful.

as we were having our existential crisis, zoe began to throw a fit about being told she needed to sweep the floor -in full drama mode.
"i can't do it! what am i your servant?"  all i could think was
'giiiiirl! no you di'int!' after all we do for you? after all the extra time you take? it was not cool and boy did i let her know it.  gone was the serene, patient attitude i'd maintained all day- the gate guarding the frontal lobe became unhinged and out it all came. i am not proud.  it was all true, but not appropriate, and not helpful.

at the same moment jude revealed his first math test of the new term at school with the score of 10/18 written on the top, saying "mommy it doesn't matter! my teacher says it doesn't even count!".  then bryn started to cry about some missing miniscule spaceship tail light lego piece from his birthday lego-set,  and announced (again) that he wants to go back to america where it's better.

right then, i had to agree with bryn. that in fact, that might be the right conclusion.

the evening continued like this. at diner bryn complained about the five dollar mac n'cheese that i'd bought just for him,  'well i doesn't taste like it does in america!' after dinner, we reviewed judes test with him, and found several interesting facts:
- he knew much of the actual math, but somehow still got the answers wrong
- a six year old is unable to elucidate a reason behind this (whether it was poor attention, lack of understanding directions or the fact that the one teaching him had several errors in her grading (including giving full credit to his answer that 17-4 = 14, twice)
- that once the teachers answers were corrected, his real score was 7/24.
while that was happening, zoe continued to interrupt with random or tangential comments about math, or mac n'cheese, or how our bad moods were affecting her mood and on and on.

now i was having a moment.  a george bailey moment.  you know the one in 'it's a wonderful life' when he loses it- walking up the stairs and he pulls the knob off the banister for the umpteenth time and starts shouting at his kids-
"do you have to play that song over and over again?  what are you a canary?
how should i know how to spell missouri, what do i look  like a dictionary?
awww why did we have to have all these kids anyway- living in this drafty old house- sending our children to school with some teacher who lets our kids run around half naked!"

unfortunately at this point i told zoe that sometimes she just needs to "shut her frikin' mouth!" (yes, i'm ashamed to say, that is a quote) and bryn was crying about something else, and i could feel my blood pressure rising.  just then jude taps me on the back and as i turn around and yell,  "WHAT!"
he says meekly and bravely, "mommy, i thought your new years resolution was no yelling?"


all i could think was how did i end up here, when it started out so well! i thought about our morning, about the run, and our prayer, and discernment.  i uttered my always useful and overly used,  'help!'  and remembered the psalm for the day, 127.
'unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. .........sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him......blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them......"

it's easier to pack it up then sit tight and work a broken system.
it's easy to forget who really 'builds the house' or 'builds the UCU library', who is behind the healing of the patients i see, who sustains us when we feel like we're emptying the ocean with an eyedropper.  and it's easy to take our kids for granted, to lose patience when life itself is overwhelming, and it's hot, and we're tired.

so i had to laugh and hug him and say, "you're right.  that is my goal thanks for reminding me."
and i had to say, " i'm sorry" to zoe for my near profanity and for yelling.
and then i had to be gentle and forgive myself, which is often hardest.

when the kids finally went to bed, mike told me that he loved me and thought i was great- which i really needed to hear although i didn't really believe him, and we made tea and ate hersey's miniatures that we found hidden in a cupboard, and watched 'bridesmaids'. i knew that God had definitely heard my 'help' loud and clear.

today however, has been divine.

our painted glory

it's about to be a beautiful storm.  the wind is cold and there are a few leaves blowing- like the fall in new england.  the far sky is a dark smokey grey and the left over light close by looks like the light in winter- filtered and quiet and about to be overtaken.  i love these transitional moments most of all.

there is something about being outside that i need.  something in the sounds and the space - it's life giving and freeing, even in the heat, or cold, or the rain.

today was filled with more good things.  bryn got a reading award at school,

we celebrated the opening to the library mike designed,

and zoe and i had a good morning at the orphanage. (oh do i love those littles).

the library opening was a big deal.  it is a project that has been in the works for 5+ years from beginning to end- and it came with much work in both fundraising and design.  it is mikes biggest and best work, but what's more, it's what he's most proud of- because it's where his heart is.

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” buechner.
this project exemplifies this.  being here, is the place.

there were many 'big wigs' at the event, and in typical ugandan style it was full of food, pomp and circumstance, and ceremony.  i love this about uganda.  i do.  at every celebration or even meeting it seems there is a formal opening, by a designated MC.  the beginning includes announcing several people and welcoming several more and not leaving anyone important out.  people matter more than time (not a very US concept).  there are many speeches, much applause and a formal closing.  often things start and end late- and that part was a little hard to adjust to, but today, everything ran on time.

it was lovely- the building is fabulous, people were impressed, all were happy and thankful and mike felt very appreciated and honored to have designed such a major building at the university.  i would guess it was a high point in his career.

and then we came home. to a funny, but low point of our parenting career.
the boys had spray painted orange everywhere.  on the porch, the porch furniture, each other's hair and arms, zoe's shoes, judes shoes, even my new boots!.  the side of the house had a giant line of orange paralleling the ground- it was on the posts, on the bushes- everywhere.  it looked like that scene in 'the cat and the hat comes back' when they get pink everywhere before their mother comes home.

let me explain about the orange paint.  to be fair, it is washable, water based and meant for temporary costume hair color.  because this weekend is halloween and i have three eager american children who are bound and determined to celebrate it, even though they live in africa where no one celebrates halloween.  zoe and i are going as two of the three powerpuff girls.  she'd decided to be blossom who has orange hair. now the problem with celebrating halloween in uganda is the costumes and lack there of. but, i must pause to share some halloween baggage.

when i was growing up, i trick-or-treated every year since age six, with one of my best friends, erica.  in general this was a great experience except for the few years there were rumors of razorblades in candy bars or injected poison and we had to painstakingly check all the candy for small holes in the wrappers prior to indulging.  the only problem with trick-or-treating with erica was the costume differential.  erica's dad started working on their amazing homemade-better-than-store-bought costumes, in august- fo' reals'.  i mean, these things were incredible.  a giant dole banana costume, a TV set, a robot.  these costumes were large and complicated and had harnesses inside.  i had my fair share of planned costumes, one year i was a caterpillar- made of felt, once i was a bag of chocolate chips (a painted 30# dog food bag)- but many years i was whatever i could scrounge together that week or even that night before we went to get our candy.  i'll never forget the year that we went house to house and were greeted again and again with "OH! a Heinz Ketchup bottle! how cute!! and what are you dear?"  "i'm a hobo" i said.  my costume consisting of a hat, some mismatched clothes and rouge on my cheeks. 

you might think the appropriate response to my inferior dress up experience would be to retaliate with my children's costumes- to make them the best ever, the most well planned, but instead i seem to prefer the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants approach.  this might have something to do with the fact that the only thing i really like about halloween is the candy- and even then, really , only the reese peanut butter cups and snickers.  i mean, if i'm honest and willing to be unpopular, i don't like being scared, and i don't like carving pumpkins.

this halloween bryn wants use his power ranger costume from last year (score!), jude says he thinks he wants to be a vampire, and zoe wants to be blossom, the powerpuff girl with orange hair.  i was in town trying to buy vampire teeth (no luck), face paint (yes! located) and hair color spray.  i eventually found it, but it was ~$12- which i thought was outrageous.  ps- it was really the only thing i was purchasing for halloween.  anyway- i couldn't buy it, but then in typical fashion- regretted it when i got home.  today my friend was in town and picked it up for me- sending it home with the boys after school.

cut to scene arriving home from highlight of mike's career, library opening.

so there we were- one boy covered in orange paint- another one who had clearly eaten the canary- and the hairspray paint can now empty.  that was the part that got me mad.  mike jumped into full dad mode and talked about vandalism and consequences and while the boys were scrubbing the walls and shoes and everything else insight and lamenting loosing their friday 40 cent cinnamon bun allowance for the next 10 weeks to pay for it,  mike and i had to laugh about the highs and lows of our days.  about how quick are the moments of glory- and how fast the reality of life in all it's painted glory settles on us.

but all those moments, like the darkening sky before the storm, are beautiful just because they are.