Sometimes okay feels really good

(Written last night)

Today has restored most of the faith and general good humor I seem to have lost -- probably in the laundry -- over the past several days.

It's been a rough week. I think getting over a bad cold is almost worse than the cold itself, at least for the mama of the child with the bad cold. At least for this mama. Last weekend I felt so awful for my little girl with her fever and cough and lethargy, hated the way she just wanted to lie on the couch with a blanket for a few days, hated the flushed cheeks and sad eyes. There was very little I could do beyond smoothing her hair back, kissing her, bringing her drinks and making sure she had her blankets and stuffed animals. She didn't want anything more of me -- didn't really want to snuggle, didn't want to read books or color or do anything. It's the getting better that's tough -- the point at which she's still coughing, still dripping, maybe still a little feverish, but totally stir-crazy. She's bored with her movies and bored with being inside. She's cranky and touchy and demanding. And she's three.

And then then the dog got sick -- her semiannual ear infection and UTI. At the same time! Which meant a very expensive trip to the vet. A small word of wisdom: When your day is already feeling a little shaky, don't ever, ever say, "Well, at least I haven't stepped in warm dog vomit in bare feet." Because while that might not actually happen, there's a good chance that the dog residing in your house -- the same dog who cost you three hundred dollars in vet bills last night -- might decide to start throwing up all over the dining room. Her medication is hard on her stomach.

I didn't kill her on the spot for a few reasons (although it must be noted that for a flash of an instant I was running on enough stress and adrenaline to briefly consider it):

1. We just spent three hundred dollars on her stupid ear infection and UTI, so it would be a colossal waste of money.
2. She was polite enough to throw up in the dining room, where we have hardwood floors.
2a. She was not polite enough to avoid Matt's shoes or the cheap throw rug from IKEA that we keep by the sliding glass doors, but I don't really care about the rug because I think it cost less than two dollars. This is why I buy like five of them whenever I go to IKEA. (Sidenote: Matt thinks I should wash them and reuse them. I think that if I'm going to do that, I should get to spend a lot more than two dollars on a rug, because while technically you can wash them, they come out all dingy and crusty and GROSS and they are less than TWO DOLLARS APIECE, so if I get a couple of months out of one I think that's GOOD ENOUGH. It's just not worth the effort to try to clean. We may or may not have had an argument about that this week, and that argument may or may not merit its own blog entry, purely for entertainment purposes.)
3. I didn't have enough time, energy, or arms.
4. I've grown rather attached to her over the past nine years. Sigh.

Anyway, the dog vomit itself would normally not ruffle me much. It's dog vomit on top of the three-year-old's tantrums, the baby's bizarre refusal to nap, the blessed naps that finally came and were interrupted by more tantrums, the vet bill, the FIVE LOADS OF LAUNDRY I did one morning because of all the peeing and vomiting and pooping and vomiting some more and spitting up and spilling, the three-year-old's refusal to nap, the three-year-old's cabin fever, and MY cabin fever. This all led to my collapsing in tears in the study yesterday afternoon, weeping (over instant messenger, if that's possible) to Matt that some days I really want to be a SAHM forever but I'm pretty sure I'm just not cut out for it. (And let's not even talk about how I'm not sure that's remotely true -- either that I want to be a full-time SAHM or that I can't do it, or that I can say I want to do anything "forever." I want to do a lot of things. But the stuff that tumbles out of my mouth or on to my keyboard when I'm feeling emotional and overwrought is full of hyperbole and extremes.)

There was also a shooting at my church on Wednesday night. It occurred shortly before the soup supper and Lenten services were scheduled to take place, two things I enjoy but did not attend this week (see above). I'm not going to write about that right now, because it really shouldn't be crammed into a blog entry about other things -- especially when my "problems" really pale in comparison to what this family is going through right now, not to mention the counselor who was with the woman when it happened. It is horrible and sad and still so raw that I think the entire community is still struggling to process it. I really want to say more, but I just don't have the words yet.

But things are okay, because they usually end up that way sooner or later. There is sunshine and crisp spring air. There is a blessed extra hour of sleep because my husband doesn't have to meet his carpool so early and he gets up with the baby, leaving me luxuriously alone in our bed for awhile. There is a trip to the Seattle Children's Museum with my babies and my sister-in-law. There is watching my daughter play and laugh and sing and make "microphones" out of tinker toys at the new exhibit. There is my baby boy in his mei tai carrier, sleeping against my chest with his chubby little fist curled against his mouth. There is the way he wakes up and beams at absolutely everyone, the way he lets out happy baby squeals for the rest of the day because he is learning how to really use his voice and just couldn't be more pleased with himself. There's "Mommy, I made this for you!" There are baths without tears and stories in Mommy and Daddy's bed, snuggled under the "big covers." There are stories all day long, every day, stories in which Daddy is a king and Suzannah and Mommy are princesses (although tonight I tried to be a queen and was quickly corrected. "No, we're both princesses," Suzannah insisted). Sometimes we all get to be monsters or frogs or bears, too, even Baby Isaac, but we're a family of crazy monsters or frogs or bears, so it's all okay.

Sometimes I think there's nothing else I could possibly ask God for in this lifetime -- I've got these two beautiful, amazing children and how wonderful is that? What else could I possibly need? Even if sometimes they do make me want to drink copious amounts of gin and eat too many cookies.

So today -- was really okay. Better than okay. And tomorrow I get a haircut and maybe some good coffee or a jog down at the boardwalk, so I suspect tomorrow will be pretty okay, too.