We Must Have Bad Days

If this past week was wiped clean from my memory, I wouldn't be sad for a minute. It was just one of those cruddy weeks. Yesterday as I sat holding my sweet sleeping baby, I pondered why we have to have bad days or weeks. I hate change. I hate anything that deviates from my schedule and plans. Any kink in the system can throw me off. I don't like having bad days. Who does? But there are people in the world, like my husband, who don't let things bother them. And then there are people like me who do. So why can't people like me just not have bad days? As I asked myself this, my mind recalled 2 Nephi:2, where we are taught the law of opposites. There must needs be an opposite for all things. That means for our good days there must be bad days too.

I remember when we first moved to St. George. I was so excited to have sunny days every day. No blah gray winter skies. Blue skies and sun make me happy! But then after a while I found myself wishing it would rain. We hardly ever had a good rain or thunderstorm. I really began to miss those. When it did finally rain it was heavenly. I appreciated rain in a new way. Now I do my best to enjoy each rainy day we get because they are few and far between. I would never had done that had I still been living in Indiana or Pennsylvania.

The same idea applies for having good and bad days. No, I don't savor each bad day I have, but they make me appreciate the good days so much more. If all my days were perfect with children who always listened and never fought, a clean house, my ideal body, a husband who always says the right thing, immunity from disease and depression, I would not enjoy it for one minute. Sure, it would be great, but I would have no idea what I had going for me because I wouldn't know any different. I would have never experienced the opposite of perfection. But I do live in reality and my days are filled with lots of imperfection. I do get sick, I do have baby weight to lose, my kids do fight, I do get depressed, and my husband doesn't always know the right thing to say (which is understandable). But I am glad I live in such an imperfect world where there are opposites. If I didn't, I would never enjoy the good moments or days. The laughter of my children playing. Holding my innocent baby and watching him smile in his sleep and being overwhelmed that he came from my body. Getting a love poem from my husband over the email or a phone call from him saying "I wanted to hear you voice." Those days when I don't get depressed. Being able to run around and chase my kids. I wouldn't savor those sweet moments.

And I know I wouldn't pick up on the tender mercies of the Lord and promptings of the Spirit as much. If everything always went smashingly well for me, why would I need to? There would be no point to relying on the Lord because I would be able to have it all perfectly worked out on my own. But since my life isn't peachy all the time, I have to turn to the Lord and the Spirit. And the more I do that and experience mortality, the more I appreciate that divine connection in my life.

So bad days happen, but they must. I don't like them or look for them to be, but I know without the bad I would never be able to enjoy the good.

Butt Ball

Yeah, it's been a crazy couple of days. But one way to chase away the stress and choas is to play a giggling version of "butt ball". Jimmy came up with it. We take turns throwing the ball to each other, but the person being thrown to has to run up to the thrower, giggle, and then run away as he tries to avoid getting hit in the butt. If one does get hit in the butt, that is a cause for much hysterical laughter. Little kid giggles are the best medicine.

Calgon . . Take Me Away!!!!!

I remember being a kid and seeing those "Calgon . . take me away" commercials. Does anyone else know what I am talking about? Some woman would be in a stressful situation and then say "Calgon. Take me away." because a nice hot soak with Calgon would get rid of all her stress and tension. Well today was definitely a Calgon day.

It all started when we went to the library for story time. An innocent outing that turned into one angry tear filled situation. You see, the library claims that I have lost a book that I know I turned in. This happened to us two years ago. We tore our house a part looking for said book, but never found it and ended up paying the fee. A year later the library called to let us know the book had been found on their shelves and they would pay us back for the book, but not the $5 dollars we paid for the processing fee of the lost book. When Marshall went to get the reimbursement, the library people were very snooty about giving the money back, but he got it after venting his frustration about their incompetence. This is why we now check off all books we return to the library on our library slip. If we can't find one, we search until we do. So here we are again. I know I turned the book in and even have searched and searched to find it, but have had no success. I completely forgot about all this until I went to check out books with the kids. I was told I couldn't get my books out because I had a fine for the lost book. I explained to them the situation and how I know I turned the book in and then was treated as if I wasn't being honest. I thought it was innocent until proven guilty. In fact, after telling me I couldn't check out books, the worker just left his desk. Thanks for hearing me out. So I just left my pile of books on the counter and left. My kids were upset, especially Jimmy, because he wanted to get the Trash Truck book out from the library. They didn't understand why we couldn't get out our books. Me either. On the way home I just burst into tears because I was so upset at being treated wrongly. Grrrrr.

Then this afternoon poor Anna came home from school in a rush. She had to use the potty badly, but just missed making it. Dang! I remember that happening to me a few times as a kid and it was so embarrassing. So she had to shower and I had a floor of pee the clean up. Not to mention Jacob being on his I-lost-counting outfit due to either spit-up or pee. Or Rachel who cannot keep herself away from her baby brother to save her life. If we would let her, she would climb all over him and smother him with kisses. I am glad she loves him, but she needs to chill.

Tonight Marshall had to go home teaching and so I did bed time on my own. I do it quite often on my own, but the kids have been turkeys about it lately. Jimmy cried when I put him down because he was scared and wanted the light on. I put it on low and he cried because it was scary. Then we put it on high and he cried because it was scary. Meanwhile Jacob was crying to be fed. So I just let Jimmy watch a show in our room while I nursed the baby. All the while the girls were bouncing off their walls during "reading time". Bedtime has become a joke for the girls. It's more like "I'll keep coming out of my room until flames shoot out of Mom's eyes and death threats spew forth from her lips" time. At this point I feel like one of those many frazzled women you read about in humor columns or books. But it was reality.

It's just been one of those days. I know it'll get better. And I do love my children. They are precious. (But don't tell me right now that I'll miss this age or I will bop you one.) I would love to bury my face into a hot fudge sundae or cheesecake, but I'm trying to be good. A hot bath would be heavenly. "Calgon, take me away". (preferably to a place where there are no diapers needing to be changed or bossy children.)

A Good Lawyer Joke