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Mar 10, 2007

In Search of...a Cup Of Coffee?


Mondays mornings are rushed. Mom and five kids getting out of the house by eight might seem easy-breezy to some...but for us...and for other families at home (who will most likely get what I'm talking about)...it's not always pretty. Most of the time...the girls have their clothes laid out the night before...book bags are supposed to be by the front door waiting to be loaded into the car...snacks are out on the kitchen counter to be packed if not already packed...and breakfast for those who are awake enough to eat... winds up resembling something to be inhaled on the go like a banana or a bagel. We do make an effort to prepare. I promise.
Even so....someone forgets a pencil and has to run around looking for a sharp one or a sharpener...usually that same person needs to take the hairbrush into the car because there just isn't enough time to put it through the bedhead while there's a mirror around... and you can pretty much bet that the person who left their shoes out last night so they would know where to find them...has misplaced them and needs to search for or choose another pair which...winds up not matching their outfit...which is disasterous...which results in a rise in the early morning frustration level. This seems to creep in without fail every single Monday. Usually, I (Mom) am the most stressed out member of the group.

This last Monday was a doozy. Wake up a few minutes early because I need to print a vocab lesson for 11 kids and my printer runs out of ink. Instant frustration. Plan B...I'll write the list on the board and my students will never know the difference. Back downstairs to manage our time. Someone's in the shower....good. The baby doesn't like the outfit laid out for her and decides she will not hear of it. I am the mother and she is the daughter and she will submit though... tantrum or not. I spend a few minutes dressing a resistant three year old while explaining how dishonoring she is considering the children in Sudan who have no clothing and are freezing cold at night and not protected from the sun or sand or wind during the day........Second shower now running...good I'd love a cup of coffee so Brad says he'll brew a pot for me. Wonderful. Pack up the snacks...put the tray of meatballs I cooked for lunch by the front door so they are not forgotten in the fridge....put a brush through my own head...slap on some concealer and lip gloss...check on my coffee...there's something wrong. Instant frustration. Brad checks the machine...has no idea what's causing the clog. Dumps everything out and starts another pot. Baby still not happy with her outfit...hairdo's for the girls...all around hustle and bustle...one yawning teenage son...a wet headed long locked preteen with a shirt that needs ironing. And the coffee machine is failing to meet my expectations. So what do I do? I am short with Brad and everyone else. The machine works for me every time I use it...what did he do differently?!!!! Frustration. Never mind. I gather our stuff...recruit help from the kids...load the car and leave like a woman scorned. A mile down the road my cell phone rings and it's Brad. I took his phone. He has mine... and by the way why did I leave without saying "goodbye".... and he wanted to pray..... I hang up on him because I am frustrated and I don't want a lecture. Even though we are running five minutes late, I stop at the gas station for a cup of steaming hot coffee. Get back in the car and it might be hot but it is nowhere near good. Get to co-op where Brad meets me in the parking lot to exchange phones. We exchange glances too...but no words. The tuth, I'm utterly embarrassed by my attitude and I just want him to smile without me having to repent. He drives away...filled with self control...but I get no smile. We are not in class five minutes and I'm just catching my breath...when Jemima snuggles into the seat next to me with her math book and accidently kicks over my steaming hot cup of bad coffee. I am no longer frustrated. Only convicted. So during the break, I call Brad and say. " I'm sorry." He forgives me.

It's Saturday now. Brad arrives home from running some errands with a smile and surprise cup of steaming hot delicious coffee for me. Four days and a morning have passed... and I'm not sure if I ever expressed how sorry I am to the kids over my attitude last Monday morning...and since I can't clearly remember if I did apologize to them....I'm pretty sure I didn't. And even if I did...two repentful moments are better than none. I'll go do it now.

1 comments:

Debbie and Co. said...

Minus the thoughtful husband, I could swear you are spying on me! Okay....I'm caught! How come all you have to do is say "I'm sorry?" Just kidding!