I am blogging two days in a row! (Students, please don’t overuse the
exclamation point. It’s annoying!) This would be more of an accomplishment if I didn’t have a stack of portfolios to grade. Procrastination brings out theblogger, baker, duster, picture taker, and candlestick maker in me. I find it funny that I’m always lecturing my students on the pitfalls of procrastination, and here I sit in my office, unproductive, and trying to determine the effectsof artificial illumination on my profile using my camera phone. Ummm, either way, I’m starting to look like I’m in my thirties. Ancient and a baby,depending on the perspective.
Yesterday was a good day. Logan got to spend some time with Papa and
Allie. They ate green popsicles, Logan’s favorite, and played various games that probably only make sense to a 3-year-old and a doting grandfather. I had dinner with Mom, Sarah, Maggie, and Michelle. It’s fun to relive humiliating moments from childhood and forget responsibilities for a while. Yes, yesterday was a good day.
I don’t say this to make others feel bad. If you had a bad day yesterday,
I feel for you. I understand. I have plenty of bad days, filled with dishes
overflowing in the sink, superhero stickers stuck to my feet, and irate students with complaints about due dates and misplaced flash drives. However, I don’t usually post those moments on face book. (Well, maybe the superhero sticker, as it was retrieved by dermatologist when scanning me for moles. When she said, “Now what do we have here?” Though relieving, it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting to find at the dermatologist.”)
Most people don’t write about the horrors of the everyday. Instead, they write about how amazing their gourmet meal tasted, the flowers their incredible spouse sent for no reason whatsoever, and the witty things their children say. I’m not accusing anyone of being fake, and I think it’s wonderful if your life is just that amazing. However, for most of us, it’s a
mixture.
I have moments where I feel like God designed the sunset just for me, and I’m tearing up because the bird’s song is the perfect soundtrack to how alive I feel. (Of course, I wouldn’t actually write that one Facebook either because it sounded completely cheesy.) I am excited to get back to the classroom in a few weeks knowing that I’m really going to make a difference. Look how my hollyhock is flourishing, and aren’t we just so blessed. The Lord is good!
Then, moments later, I’m yelling at Logan for being 3-years-old, and I’m cursing the laundry pile for being a laundry pile, and I’m tripping over whatever is around to trip over. Life sucks, and I don’t know how to make it better, so I pull up Facebook.
Oh look, so and so got another diamond just for being her. How did he make that fancy French dish without the burned edges and runny middle? Why do their children and kitchen floors always look so freakin clean? Where are the peanut butter and jelly smudges? Where are the overdue library books? Awww, look at the kitty kissing the duck. I feel better for a moment until the guilt kicks in and the sound of Logan’s voice.
Mama, I wanna dog for my own.
You can’t have a dog.
Why not?
Because.
Because why?
(Because as much as I love dogs, they are dirty and smelly, and I have
enough dirt and stink to take care of without adding Rover to the
mix.)
Because Daddy’s allergic.
Oh the lies…