Catalogue of Laments Since The Husband left town for a Week Yesterday Morning:

  1. The Boy has been vomiting for two days.  He face is the color of Crest.   His knees are as wobbly as his mood.  The Boy doesn’t cry much anymore.  I had to run out to get the girls to soccer.  He called me to tell me dry heaving hurts and, “Mamma, when are you coming home?”
  2. The Mamma has also been a frequent porcelain flyer.  Enough said.
  3. The cat ran away.  I found her sulking in the basement.  This is the cat that often drinks from the toilet.   I hope she didn’t have a bad, bad water experience.
  4. Back to School Night is tonight.  No way I can go now, of course, and attendance advertised as strictly optional, of course, but we all know that there will be a clutch of those kinds of women (who don’t act like ladies or deserve the title) that take attendance.
  5. I can’t find the Phillips head screwdriver.  If it’s MIA enough to elude me, baby, it’s gone.  I’ll have to check under The Baby’s bed.  That girl takes trophies.
  6. The Oldest Girl lost a tooth and I don’t know how to do the email from Flossie.

Catalogue of Blessings since The Husband left Town for a Week Yesterday Morning:

  1. A BFF specifically called to check in on how The Boy and I were feeling.  She made a great joke about, “Blessed are those who mourn!”  (She loathes puking so much that we call it The Thing That We Do Not Mention.)
  2. The Boy lifted his head from the sink long enough to say, “But Mamma, you’re sick too, you shouldn’t have to clean it.”
  3. The cat lets The Baby hold her.  The cat lets The Baby carry her around.  The cat lets The Baby be the mamma.
  4. I don’t hang out with those kinds of women. My friends pick fresh roses from their gardens to share their beauty, they assign my cell phone number a special harp ring on their phones, they carry soup, and make their own pretzel dough.  The women friends in my life don’t keep score cards because they are too busy living and loving and growing.
  5. I will use The Husband’s pocket knife.  Screw the Phillips.
  6. I got email, Baby.  I can text.  The Husband does not have to be in-state for me to delegate!

How I keep my relational, spiritual and mental math can be a Hallelujah breaker.  The heart is not a checkbook.  I decide whether to count debits or deposits.  That kind of balance is Grace.

Even in the potty, I’ll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!