Moments Like This

Last night was one of those times where I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or cry or rip my hair out.

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My husband was on call until 7:00 PM. "That's fine, but remember that I'm meeting my Bible study girls for dessert at 7:30," I told him.

Around 6:00, I knew I needed to take a shower and get ready. I'm going to have to backtrack for a moment to explain something to you. The toddler hates/despises/loathes/detests when I am in the shower. He pitches a fit that would make you think he was dying. I am in no way exaggerating. He hits the shower door with his hands, screams until he's purple in the face, and periodically throws himself facedown on the floor.

Yeah.

Since I really didn't want to deal with that, I decided to try something new: putting him with me in our microscopically small shower. At first, it was awful because Bear-Bear couldn't come in the shower (his lovey that he cannot live without). But after a while, he decided that if I was holding him and he could play with the shower scraper (this thing that the hubbs uses to clean the shower), he would behave. So, yes, I did have to wash my hair, my face, and my body with a 16 month old attached to my hip who was swinging around an instrument that might have taken out an eyeball.

Nonetheless, we prevailed. And I somehow managed to get dressed, do my hair, and put on my makeup (small miracles, in and of themselves)...

...only to receive this text at 7:11..."On call till 11. Will have Friday night off though."

Hm. To scream or not to scream? That is the question.

So, now it was late and I was starving and the little one needed to be in bed. I decided that cooking was out of the question and that I was going to get Chik-fil-a for dinner.

As soon as the guy handed my food to me, the toddler went crazy. "BITE! BITE! BITE! BITE!" He even threw in "PLEASE!!!!" which usually gets him what he wants (since we've been working on that magic word).

By the time I made it home, a quarter of the food was gone. While I was trying to get the toddler, my purse, my milk shake, and my bag of food into the house, the toddler was going crazy. "MOMMA! BITE! BITE! BITE! PLEEEEASE!!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll give you a bite! Momma needs to turn the alarm off! Just one second!"

So, then the toddler decides that what he really wants is my vanilla milk shake. All of it.

At this point, I'm just about ready to lose it. So after he sucks down some of the shake, I pick him up and walk him back to his room. I put him down in his crib where he continued screaming, while I tried desperately to enjoy what small portion of the day belongs to me. After I shoved the rest of my dinner down, I went back in his room. He was standing in his crib crying his little eyes out.

My heart broke.

"Momma?" He managed to get out between sobs.

"Yes, baby, what is it?"

"Dada?"

I gave him my same-old, same-old line: "Dada's at work."

Heart broke again.

I picked that sweet angel up and rocked him until he was fast asleep in my arms. Then I sat there, kissing his forehead, remembering (dangit!) that I forgot to brush his teeth, and smelling his clean, soft hair. After the insanity of the last couple of hours, I soaked up the silence--the quiet that nowadays so rarely comes. Although crazy has become the new normal around here, it is in these moments that God reminds me to stop and just enjoy my child--to pray for him, to love on him, and to be so very grateful that although there is chaos, this life we lead is a blessed one.