It is July 1st. The boys have been out of school for approximately 14 days and 17 hours. We've had no camps or vacations yet. We've just been here. All together. Everyday. All day. And the Husband has been working from home a bit this week and is coaching a Little League All Star team that practices every evening. And though I know he loves me, if I told him I was running away with the sweet older gentleman that power washed our deck last week to his Guatemalan homeland, I think Coach Skinner might just say, "Well, that sounds fun. Do you think I should move Jimmy to the 3 hole and Billy to clean-up?"
So, you know, the gang's all here. In the heart of my home, sweet, home. Lounging on the couch. Running up and down the basement stairs. Staring into the fridge. Eating everything in the fridge and then asking why there's no food in the fridge. Watching the Red Sox on tv. Watching a DVD of the Red Sox winning the World Series on tv. Watching the Nationals on tv. Watching the College World Series on tv. Watching the US Open on tv. Watching a constant loop of ESPN reports about all that stuff over and over again on tv.
And I'd say that it's going pretty well because, as I have said, I was made to live in a family of boys. I handle each day with grace and patience. I'm pretty much the ideal summer time Proverbs 31 gal. I am like the merchant ships bringing food from afar (or at least from the Harris Teeter). I am clothed with strength and dignity (or at least in Old Navy pjs). I laugh at the days to come. I speak with wisdom and faithful instruction on my tongue. You know, pretty much all that stuff.
Until that one day when I find myself a bit overwhelmed and tired. And I walk into the kitchen and notice the dirty water jugs on the table next to someone's cup (not the drinking kind) and someone's shoes and someone's baseball hat and everyone's dirty dishes. And I think maybe we'll watch a movie tonight, but I forget that the NBA draft is on and it's absolutely crucial that we know which team drafted which player in the 4th pick of the 7th round.
So I decide to go upstairs, take a bubble bath, read a bit and fall into a deep sleep so that I can get up the next day and be my graceful, patient self all over again. And just as I am almost asleep, all the boys seem to be talking/yelling/laughing/arguing/stomping at the same time. And although they are downstairs, it sounds like every last one of them is right next to me trying to bust out my eardrum.
I would like to tell you that what happened next was a very elegant moment for me when in a calm, measured manner, I made my request that perhaps my family could just lower their voices ever so slightly, so that I might catch a few moments of rest and that I looked exactly like this:
In reality, I shot up in my bed like a maniac, chucked off my eye mask like a catcher throwing his mask off to catch a foul ball and yelled something about no one in the entire family even realizing that I actually reside in the same home as the rest of them.
It was really more similar to this:
Well, you know, it's possible Husband was thinking "a wife of noble character, who can find? REALLY, who?"
Perhaps you're having some trouble being a Proverbs 31 woman today, too? I suggest a quick trip to the nail salon, a walk with a girlfriend and a scented candle. Then ask God to give you another shot at it. He's faithful like that. I'm so grateful.
Happy Summer, Gals!