Have you ever had one of those really awful days where everything just exhausts you and the only surface in your house not covered in dirty clothes or dirty dishes is the toilet seat and then you order delivery pizza because you say you want to treat your kids to something fun but it is really because they are the only people who will deliver a 2-liter of Diet Coke to your door and then you drop a piece of steaming hot pizza all on the floor and end up getting so frustrated with everything that you throw said pizza slice across the kitchen and onto the tile backsplash where you leave it to sit all day long until your husband gets home?

No?

Yeah, me either.

Y’all, I am seriously getting tired of this. I was feeling pretty good about things yesterday. Despite the flooding basement. And the carbon monoxide leak. And the need for a new HVAC unit. And the looming septic to sewer conversion. And the mold in our duct work. Oh, yeah, and the newest problem of losing all water pressure inside the house if the hose is running outside. Let’s not forget that one.

But, like I said, I’ve been hopeful. And, no, it’s not because I’ve been drinking. It’s because we are hiring a professional organizer. And we’ve got the 1-800-GOT-JUNK people coming to clean out the basement and get rid of some of the mold. Plus, we had someone who gave us some good (and considerably less expensive) options for temporary fixes for the issues we’re having.

And then…

We found a 6 foot black snake in the chicken house. Say it with me now. OMG! YUCK! GAH! OH NO! And other (more colorful and less family friendly) expletives were uttered.

Guess what it costs to rid your property of a snake? After hours (which is - of course - when we found it) it costs $275. TWO-HUNDRED-AND-SEVENTY-FIVE dollars. During normal business hours? $225. For one snake. And let’s throw in another $500 to remove the luxury snake habitat that was generated by the landscaper from hell’s refusal to remove the debris left behind when he cut down the beautiful Japanese Maple he wasn’t supposed to touch.

Yay! Yard waste and snake removal. Just what I wanted to spend an extra $725 on.

(On the plus side, the Hallmark Movie Channel showed Summer Magic tonight and I caught it on the DVR. I think I’ll go sing along with Haley Mills and pretend all these problems belong to someone else.)

(alternately titled: Excuse me a moment while I whine…)

This has been a crappy week. Both literally and figuratively. In the last week we’ve:

- had a beautiful old tree (my daughter’s favorite climbing tree) cut down by landscapers accidentally and discovered it would cost $4000 if we wanted to replace it.

- been informed that we have a bootleg septic tank which is now failing and will ultimately cost us $8000-$10,000 to fix. And it needs to be fixed now since we have a muddy pit of sewage in the backyard.

- blown a tire and had to put 2 new ones on the van.

- had a horrible case of food poisoning (both Thomas & I) from an apparently toxic meal at one of our favorite Japanese restaurants.

-learned through a scary near miss that the brakes on Thomas’ car have to be replaced and since we can’t afford it right now we’re back to being a one car family.

-come home to discover that one of the cats has decided to start using my clothes for a litter box. Despite having a perfectly clean litter box at her disposal.

I’ve always heard that bad things happen in three’s. And, honestly, I wish these things would just happen 3 at a time. I need things to calm down soon so I can come up for air.

I promise to try and see the silver lining tomorrow. Or the next day. In the meantime, I’m taking today to feel sorry for myself and get my Zoloft prescription refilled since it ran out today. Nice timing, huh?

I love when it snows in February. It’s just so unexpected. I do not, however, love when it snows on the one Valentine’s weekend that we have a baby sitter scheduled for the first time in the 5 years since we’ve had kids. No, that I do not love.

Even though we didn’t get to go Tango dancing with our good friends, I tried not to be bitter. Especially since the kids were thrilled to have a chance to play in the snow all day Saturday. And, with faces like these it’s almost impossible to be upset for too long.

One of our chickens is quite the trooper. She lays a double yolk egg nearly every single day. Look at that thing. HUGE. That’s gotta hurt…

Don’t you hate it when you’re trying to get back on anti-depressants after making the disastrous mistake of self-weaning and you have to call your doctor to prescribe them again after several months off and you wait and wait all day long for her to call you back but you finally have to go to Target on a desperately urgent mission to pick up the leopard print Snuggie you didn’t get for Christmas and your doctor picks exactly that moment to call you while you’re browsing in the greeting card aisle so you have to stand there and describe how all you do is scream at your kids all day and stay asleep until 10 am and the whole time you’re talking you’re being stared at and judged by the woman across the aisle who is so on top of things in her life that she is already browsing for Valentine’s Day cards in January?

And you know she can hear you because you’re having to practically scream to be heard over the roar of your clearly unruly children and so you’re smiling this ridiculous smile so she thinks your totally sane but the smile coupled with your account of how hormones are turning you into the world’s worst mother makes you look a bit maniacal and then you realize she has pushed her cart away as fast as her little feet can carry her and you’re secretly glad that you totally ruined her Valentine’s Day shopping mission because it is January after all and is she in some insane contest to be the first person in the city to buy Valentine’s day greeting cards?

I’m not the only one who has days like this, right?

The other night Thomas and I stayed up way too late watching movies. And by too late I mean 3 a.m. On a school night. We couldn’t help it, though. For some reason every time Forgetting Sarah Marshall is on we can’t stop watching it. It’s inexplicable.

When it was finally time to go to sleep we crashed hard. I fell into one of those sleeps where you can wake up and not know where you are or whether it is day time or night time. But, right before drifting off into the deepest of slumbers I managed to hear a noise. It unsettled me enough to rattle me a bit, but I managed to get to sleep regardless.

Now, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before but my ears can hear everything at night. Every little noise freaks me out. This, in conjunction with hearing my husband recount in detail the plot of Paranormal Activity, has made me a bit paranoid about night time noises.

You see there is a reason I don’t watch too many movies about ghosts or demons. And that reason is called, “I’m a scaredy-cat who already half believes there are ghosts under my bed and don’t need any help in that department thankyouverymuch.”

I know I shouldn’t admit to this, but I let my imagination get the better of me and swear that I can “feel” things around me. I’m like the kid in The Sixth Sense. Only it’s all in my head. Which, I guess, is nothing like the kid in The Sixth Sense and more like some random crazy person who believes in things that aren’t real. But, let’s not split hairs about that part. The point is, my ears become super sensitive and I find myself lying awake in bed listening to what I’m sure are the sounds of a) Burglars b) Poltergeists or c) Burgling Poltergeists. True story.

Which is why when the other night at 3 a.m. the moment a single soft hand was placed on my back from someone standing beside my bed, I did what any rational grown-up would do. I screamed. And rolled over to see Kai standing there dressed in her white night gown with her face obscured by the crazy black ringlets that always frame her face when she first wakes up. Which made me scream again. Which actually made Thomas wake up suddenly and have the EXACT same reaction to seeing her. He screamed, too. (In the manliest way possible, of course.)

And I’m sure you can imagine how a child reacts to having both parents wake up and scream at their sight. She jumped. And cried. And cried. And cried.

Poor Kai. She was inconsolable for about 10 minues and I felt so bad that I let her sleep the rest of the night in our bed. I’m not sure who scared who more. Us or her. But I can guarantee you she’ll think twice before sneaking up on us at night in the future.

And I may start sleeping with one eye open for a little while.

On the day we found out we’d lost the baby, this cat showed up in our carport. She snuck into our house as we were shuffling kids into the car and curled up on the sofa and went to sleep like she’d lived here her whole life. Later that night she crawled into bed with us and slept curled in the crook of our legs.

And I protested about not needing another animal. Or my not so happy feelings about cats. Don’t hate me for saying this. The thing is, I’m just not a cat person. Much to Thomas’ dismay I’ve just never enjoyed the company of cats.  So, I complained about this intrusion. But the truth is I was a little happy about it. It’s a strange and difficult thing for me to admit to actually liking a cat. But she was sweet. And pretty. And declawed. And just kind of nice to have around.

So, the kids named her Mrs. Hannigan and we tried unsuccessfully to find her owners. When it was clear she either had no longer had a home or that her home was unfindable we decided to keep her. She loved to sneak outside during the day and run around the yard before coming back within an hour or two. She snuggled with Kai in the top bunk. She sat and watched TV with Thomas. She was becoming our cat.

But today she snuck outside and wasn’t back within an hour or two. And then she wasn’t back by bedtime. And then we didn’t see her again. Which, in a bizarre turn of events, made me cry. For a cat. That I didn’t want in the first place. (I’m sure there is some psychological theory about misplaced grief that would easily explain this.)

So, now I’m sitting up at 1:15 a.m. checking the back door like crazy to see if Mrs. Hannigan is waiting to be let in. And I feel like crying every time I don’t see her there. It’s possible I have some emotions that need to be worked through. But, in the meantime, I’m crossing my fingers that Mrs. Hannigan will show up tomorrow…

My little man is sick, sick, sick. I suspect an ear infection (102 fever but no cough, runny nose, etc.) so I’ve been spending the last two nights snuggling up with a miserable little guy. Which means I’m sleep deprived and there is no real chance of me writing anything funny, smart, clever, or meaningful. And so I’m calling in sick to my blog. If all goes well I’ll be back tomorrow. Or Saturday.

In the meantime, here’s one of my favorite Fail Blog videos to waste your time with. Because, as it turns out, being sleep deprived and exhausted are the best things to be when you’re on Fail Blog. Apparently everything is 100 times funnier when you’re punchy…

(This one’s dedicated to you, Thomas. I know it’s your favorite, too.)

I can hold a grudge. I know, I know. It isn’t very Christian of me. But, despite my love of Jesus I’m not exactly the bestest Christian ever so I live with it. And keep working on it.

But, there are times in my life when I really wish I could learn to let go. If you know me IRL, then you know one of my favorite phrases is “it’s the principle of the matter” when describing my anger toward a perceived injustice. I’m a principle crusader.

Nine years ago Thomas and I went to pre-marital counseling. Which turned into counseling between us, my parents, & my sisters. All of us saw the same counselor. At different times in various combinations. At one point (I’m not even kidding) she talked to my parents about starting counseling at their manufacturing plant with their employees. She had quite the racket convincing all of us to come in several times a week at $90 an hour. The whole thing (I think) was a bit unethical of her. She was (in my opinion) a terrible, terrible counselor. And my husband and I chose to elope as a direct result of our counseling sessions and the chaos created by all of us seeing one counselor and getting conflicting advice & stories. Our family relationships were not restored until we all got out from under her “care” and actually talked to each other without professional help.

Okay, in case you were wondering, that is me holding back. A LOT.

So, since then I’ve moved on. (Can you tell?) Yes, I’ve called the church that referred us to her and informed them of her unethical practices. And they called & let her know I complained. She assured them she couldn’t think of a single reason I would have been unhappy. Thankyouverymuch, oh unnamed church, for the way you handled that.

Fast forward 9 years and when I let myself think about it I’m still a bit sore about the whole thing. Yes, I’ve moved on. My husband and I are happy. We have a beautiful family. My parents & sisters and I have wonderful rich relationships. I should let it go. But, it’s the principle of the matter.

God, however, is a funny guy. Because last week I went into Kai’s homeschool academy for a mom meeting and sat down right across from one very familiar face. (And it wasn’t a friendly one.)

I sat through the whole meeting barely hearing the teacher and marveling at my dumb luck. And then went out to meet Thomas & the kids and got ready to tell him all about my discovery. But, I was interrupted by Kai telling me all about her new bestest friend in the whole wide world, B—–. We knew she’d been playing with B—– for the last few weeks. What we didn’t know was B—–’s name. And that day we’d promised her a slushy if she would go to school learn her best friend’s name and report it back to us. (We think it’s important to remember the names of our best friends around here.)

“Mommy, mommy! I remembered my best friend’s name! It’s B—–!”

In case you’re wondering, yes, that is the name of the dreaded counselor’s daughter. My daughter’s bestest friend is the friend of my enemy. Oh. the. irony.

I’ll admit. The first thing I wanted to do was tell Kai not to play with her new best friend. (Yes, I know that is yucky of me.) But, I resisted the urge to spread the poison to my 5-year-old. I like to call that progress.

But, this lady & I are going to have to learn to coexist in this tiny class of 12. Which means I’ve got some forgiving to do. And that just doesn’t come easy to me. I don’t like letting people off the hook. (Though please feel free to let me off the hook whenever I commit some wrong against you. I’m nice & hypocritical that way.)

I’m going to learn to be bigger than this thing. I’m going to take the high road. Because, after all, that is the principle that actually matters.

This forgiveness thing is SO a work in progress. I’m sure you’ll be hearing more before this school year is over. In the meantime, if you have forgiveness stories and advice to share, I’m all ears…