A Leetle Story

I'd like to tell you a leetle story today.  Today is Monday.  That should be enough to tell you that this story will be full of sordid details.  Today is also laundry day... 5 loads of laundry.  I am fortunate to have 2 washers and 2 dryers.  Unfortunately, neither of them are on my floor, they cost $1 each per load, and I have to share them with 12 other condo dwellers.  I didn't have to share today, so I gaily ran up numerous flights of stairs, fed quarters, switched clothes from washers to dryers, dryers to basket, basket to bed, humming a tune of thankfulness for so many clothes.  Okay, that last little bit isn't true, but I probably should have been.

As I headed out the door to throw the last load of laundry into the washer, I stopped to ask Grace if she needed to use the potty.  In fact, I asked her twice, because my mommy sonar was beeping loudly that potty time was a little overdue.  She emphatically replied that she did not.  I went upstairs, switched out loads, started the last one, and tripped blithely down the stairs.  I walked two steps inside my door, looked at Grace, who was staring at me with a very guilty, occupied look on her face, and dropped my laundry basket.  She was sitting on the floor, leaning her back against the couch, barricading her bottom half with the oversized couch pillows, presumably reading books.  Cunning disguise. 

I raced over to her, half-asking, half-telling, "You're going potty, aren't you?" 

She frantically began to reply, "No, no! No potty!"  Uh, huh.

As I lifted her from her pillow encasement, the tell-tale dark spot on the carpet confirmed my suspicions.

Grabbing her hand, I raced to the bathroom, as she tried her best to keep up.  I plopped her on the toilet, but it was too late. 

Can I just say, cleaning stinky panties ranks right up there with most disgusting things a parent has to do? Last time she did this (about 2-3 weeks ago), I thought I would make her help clean it up.  She enjoyed sloshing her panties in the toilet to loosen things up way too much.  In fact, when I started doing it myself today, she cried, "Gwacie help!" At this point, my charitable nature was hiding deep beneath my gag reflex, so she, as the day dictated, threw a little tantrum when I told her no. 

As she began to cry, my resolve not to raise my voice went out the window as I commanded, "Go to your room!"

She went to her room, cried for a couple minutes, then fell asleep as it was her nap time, and I began to look for anything dirty to add to the soiled clothes, so I could justify yet another load of laundry and two more dollars to feed the washer and dryer.

The End.

Postscript:
Later, as I scrubbed the spot on the carpet, I began to ponder Psalm 127:3, "Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward." I couldn't remember where the verse was, so I looked it up, and read the whole chapter.  I am so glad I did.  Verse 2 says, "It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep."  Amen. There can be many applications of Scripture, and today, this verse jumped out at me.  Sometimes I get so worked up about this or that, but "eating the bread of sorrows" is vanity.  Lighten up, laugh, enjoy the moments, as they pass far too quickly.  My little arrows (vs.4) will soon be all grown up, and stinky panties will be a distant memory.

Raising kids isn't easy.  Today I have a new mantra.  Pray, Work, Laugh.  And Take Deep Breaths.

I would love any suggestions, comments or encouragements!