We Put The E.R. in AnnivERsary

My husband and I celebrated our thirteenth anniversary this past weekend.

Budget was tight, so we planned a romantic weekend at our house, with the kids nearby at a close friend's.

All went well dropping the kids off.

We raced home like two teenagers whose parents were out of town, anticipating time alone. We picked out a movie on Amazon and cuddled on the couch. Around nine o'clock, we received a text saying that Opie and Peanut both had gone to bed without a hitch.

*Deep breath* 

Finally. 

After three years of no time alone, we had done it.

We stayed up until midnight, just because we could. Before I laid down, I put my phone on vibrate. I didn't want to risk being interrupted by a text or some silly Facebook notification. Besides, what were the odds that something would happen on this one night? And my friend had my husband's number in case of an emergency.

We fell asleep with dreams of sleeping past five-thirty a.m. for the first time in two years....

1:00 AM

*RING! RING!*

You have got to be kidding me. 

I could hear him wheezing and coughing through my husband's phone. 

I knew those sounds: Croup. 

We raced to grab Peanut and headed straight to the ER. 

I assure you, these photos are not edited, cold sore and all... Yikes. Happy Anniversary.

We got back home around three-thirty a.m. 

Now, one might think I would be bitter about the weekend being shot. 

By the grace of God, I was not. 

Though my anniversary was a bust, I was still able to realize how blessed I was.

Peanut's emergency was not life-threatening.

And at the end of the day, I was thankful that when the spit hit the fan, I had a partner to help me with it all.

My two kids are blessed.

I am blessed.

My husband is a rock.

And at the end of our crazy hospital anniversary date, I had Him to go home with.

And my heart was reminded of why I married this Man in the first place.

I love you, Honey. 

Happy Anniv-ER-sary! 

Perfection is Over-Rated

Some days I get it "perfect."

I wake up happy.
I cook a healthy breakfast and remember to take my vitamins. :)
I workout at the gym.
I play with my boys, without a looming to-do list in the back of my mind.
I read my Bible.
I don't check Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest umpteen times.
I get laundry caught up.
I actually clean the kitchen.
I kiss my husband when he walks in the door.
We eat a home-cooked dinner together.
We share a Bible story and pray together as a family before bedtime.
The kids go to bed with one of my make-up-as-I-go shadow puppet shows.
My husband and I enjoy the last minutes before shut-eye chatting over a cup of tea.

Those are the days I feel great. Like I've got it together. I mean, I deserve a Suzy-homemaker ribbon, right? I can close my eyes and mentally pat myself on the back, because I did it.

But, then, day two begins.

I wake up exhausted.
I'm too tired to cook and do those dang dishes, so I whip out the cereal and milk.
I skip the gym and kick myself for doing so later.
I'm with my boys, but mentally thinking of the oodles of things I should be doing.
I notice my Bible.
I Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest while the laundry beckons.
I think of the dust on top of the fridge and mentally want to shut down.
I verbally and emotionally unload on my husband the moment he walks in the door.
We order pizza. (which makes my earlier gym decision all the more regretful)
The kids run around like wild stallions.
We do a quick family "fill-your-quota" kind of prayer.
I basically threaten the children's existence if they even think about calling my name or getting up out of the bed, because Mommy. Is. Done.
My husband flips on the TV and prays to himself that I will just go to bed for the love of all that is good in this world.
No tea.

Those are the days I don't talk about. The days where inside, I am literally crying out to God, "Why can't I get it together? What is wrong with me?"

Those days are rough.

And, I've tried muscling through it. Praying through it. Reading scripture through it. Positively talking to myself through it. Making lists. Following schedules. Trying the next big thing to get my act together.

But, the truth is. I can't do anything. Sure, I still plug away at willing myself to change. But, my sheer will and human nature will fail me every time.

It is He who must work. It is on those "perfect" days where, though grateful as I may be, I seem to rely on Him a little less. After all, I did it pretty well on my own, thank-you-very-much.

But, those days when it all falls apart, physically and emotionally, I am forced to look beyond myself and see my need for help. For a Savior.

I could have a perfect day each day. Where my house is totally spic'n span. Where my verbal outbursts are nonexistent. Where my self-discipline allows me to follow my set schedule down to the letter. But, it is not on those days where I am forced to come to grips with how much I need His help.

I'm a mess. 

But, the good exciting amazing news is, He is changing me.

The daily imperfections of life and ourselves are the very thing that should cause us to fall on our knees and be thankful that He came. So, that in the ashes, we can take confidence that it isn't in our ability that beauty will rise. It is in His alone.

So, let you and I take heart.

We don't have to have it all together. He is our perfection and in that we have hope.

My "perfect" days are few and far between. And for that, I am learning to be thankful.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9

The Dreaded Eye Roll

Now that my hip is healing, I've been trying to get back into my morning routine.

5:30 Peanut wakes / Fix him his "got-ga-book"(chocolate milk)
5:30-6:00 Watch TV and cuddle on couch. Doze off until Peanut says, "Up".
6:00 Drag myself off the couch and fix coffee for me and my honey (who is still asleep)

Here's what went down Friday morning after my better half fixed his cup o' joe.

PICTURE THIS:

News on TV. Me on couch with computer. Peanut on me. Hubs sits down next to me, coffee in hand. Peanut loud. Hubs annoyed and turns volume on TV up. Me find funny on computer. Me share funny with hubby. Me look up. Me catch hubby doing dreaded eye roll.

Me want to punch hubby.

Let me interject here that I have a fabulous husband. He is the biggest blessing and hardly gets "in a mood". If he had a dime for every time I'd rolled my eyes over the years, he'd have a down payment for the Trump Plaza. That being said...nobody's perfect.

Together, we concluded that it was past time for a date night. I immediately booked a sitter, tried to work some "primping" time into my afternoon and at 7:00, we left to go out. We had a quiet dinner at an amazing restaurant and afterwards, parked the car by the lake and rolled down the windows. It was incredible. We laughed, kissed like college kids and chatted about nothing serious. It was just what we needed.

Being married is hard. Being married with kids is even harder. And being married with kids, having a traveling husband and living far away from family is by far the hardest thing I have ever done.

I've thought, "I can't do this." "Who is this guy I married?" "What was I thinking?" I get angry. I yell. I apologize. I get annoyed. I speak my opinion. I eat my words. I apologize again. I am right. He is wrong. He is right. I am wrong. I grow. I learn. I make mistakes. I have victories. But, it all boils down to one decision:

I love my husband and am in this for the long haul....dreaded eye rolls and all... :)