I am so stinkin’ ill.
I swore I wouldn’t get this way during thise Christmas season. I got off to a bad start with the whole Wii thing, but after that I promised myself and God I would maintain my cool. That I would stay focused on the birth of His Son. That our holy days would be filled with cookie-baking and carol-singing and craft-making and Frosty-watching.
Firstly, I should tell you my darling husband, the one with whom I love to compromise, told me our basketball schedule for the entire season consisted of my 4th Grader playing at 10 am and my 6th grader playing at 2 p.m. Because of this, I’ve never bothered looking at the actual piece of paper. I should also mention my 4th Grader had a friend spend the night and it was my responsibility to also deliver him safely to the game this morning.
Big Mistake for not looking at the schedule.
Bigger Mistake for ever trusting me with your child. I can barely take care of my own, people.
There was no hugging or scripture reading this morning when I found out the games were at NINE and ELEVEN instead. And by the way? Luke says he never told me the whole 10 and 2 thing.
I guess I just made it up because I looove squealing into the parking lot of a gym to which I’ve never been 4 minutes before game time while the parents whose kid I have are pacing at the front door considering calling 911 because they have no idea where their son is.
Yeah, it’s awesome. I think I’ll make up some more fake times to be places.
After I apologized to boy’s mom and dad, blamed the whole debacle on Luke, (because it was entirely his fault), I sat through three hours of elementary basketball.
And it was thrilling. Truly.
So at church tomorrow we are having a Cookie Exchange. It really is going to be fun but it unfortunately required I make a trip to WalMart. On a Saturday. During Christmas. The same day someone opened the Crazy Gate and all the residents flooded inside.
Apparently the Mayor of Crazy Town is moonlighting as the WalMart Manager. Because what to my wondering eyes did appear but A Stinkin’ Square Dancing Competition. On a Saturday. During Christmas. Did I mention 18,000 other crazy people were there? Has the Mayor never read Ecclesiastes about the appropriate things happening in appropriate seasons?
Now I have nothing against Square Dancing. It is actually quite entertaining and the person who calls the twists and shimmies is an extremely talented individual as are the dancers. On a hot day in July at a BarBQue, I would have loved to watch me some dosie-does. But as it were, the performance took up the entire front aisle of WalMart from the Produce to Health and Beauty Aids. So, unless you wanted to end up in the Ho Ho Ho Down, you had to reroute through the clothing to get from one side of the store to the other. Something I had to do numerous times because I left my list at home and every time I thought I was ready to get out of HoTown I realized I must cross again to pick up yet another thing I’d forgotten.
If you are wondering if you saw me there, I was the girl breathing in a brown paper bag when she finally got into the relative calm of her Suburban.
As I was driving home, taking deep breaths and asking the Lord to help me regain some of that peace I’d so promised Him I would maintain, I saw it.
The Happy Hour Sign.
All drinks, including my beloved Route 44 Diet Dr. Pepper, were half-price. It wasn’t just luck, ya’ll, but a sign of favor from the Almighty. I swerved into the drive-thru, got myself a
fix drink, and sang Jesus Loves Me This I Know.
And He does. I’m sure of it. So for His sake, I’m going to return to my cookie-baking and get my funky self in a better mood.
*Sigh* Thanks for letting me vent.
I feel better already.