Staying Humble

Or a day in the life of a Christian who definitely doesn't have it all together.

Some times I fail miserably at this thing we like to call our "Christian walk". Take yesterday for example:

Woke around 7 am. Tired. Hadn't slept well. Back playing up. Again.

Jumped on the scales. How could they have gone up that much since I last weighed in? They're meant to be going down. Down.

Felt fat and ugly all day. Not helped by all the mirrors at work placed at child height and which give me a perfect view of myself from the waist down. Not my best perspective.

Worked 8.30 am - 3.30 pm. Had several biting incidents. Why do parents (of the bitten) think that we (teachers) encourage biting? Sometimes I feel like saying, "Well yes, of course we were supervising, but he hadn't had his daily taste of human flesh yet so we decided not to stop him." Don't they realise how quickly some children move and that you're usually calling out "No" or "Stop" just as the teeth sink into vulnerable flesh? And another thing. Just because a child bites does not make him a juvenile delinquent or a cannibal. It's normal. In young children. Especially when they're in group care. And we feel bad enough already without being made to feel that we are being deliberately negligent.

Rained all day. Glad when work was finished. Left just after 3.30 pm and went to the shop to get groceries for dinner. Out of all the packets of lollies on the shelf I had to pick up a bag that was split.

Home 4.00 pm. Parked in puddle. Left home 4.15 pm to go to my music lesson. Went badly. At least for me. My teacher is so patient but my lips just won't work the way she wants them to. Will I ever get it? Silently asked myself why did I think that I would be able to play the flute. Felt like crying on the way home but didn't because I was driving.

Should've cried.

Home 5.15 pm. DH not impressed because he couldn't find some tools he needed. I hope he didn't think I took them. Son#4 and Son#5 not ready for hockey when I got home. Game due to start at 5.30 pm. Told them to get ready. Son#5 started tipping out laundry that I'd folded the day before. Informed him that what he was looking for wasn't in that pile. Told him where to look. He didn't move. I yelled. Son#5 looked lost. How can an almost 16-year-old teenage boy look lost in his own home?

5.28 pm Son#5 still not ready. Still looking lost. I yelled again when he told me he had plenty of time. Son#2 shut his bedroom door. Loudly. Told Son#5 to make his own way to hockey.

5.30 pm - 6.50 pm. Sat in the car while sons played hockey. Listened to an audio book on Son#2's MP3 player. Had to rewind it five times because I kept touching the wrong button and it would go back to the start. Didn't get much "reading" done.

Home 7.00 pm. Son#2 had already started cooking dinner. Son#5 informed me that nachos were not a "birthday tea". It wasn't his birthday. Son#2 complained when I put beans in with the mince. The mud cake that I made yesterday was more like a sand cake than a mud cake. Too dry. Even with ice cream. Son#1 didn't come home for dinner. At least we had "2" and "0" candles to go on the cake even if we had to stick another candle on top of the "2" because it had no wick left. Don't think it felt like much of a birthday for Son#3.

Son#2 informed me that other families don't yell.

I felt this big.