My day started with a minor series of events that made me believe the world had it in for me. Oatmeal explosion in the microwave, fussy baby kept blurping* on me, oatmeal explosion on the high chair (fussy toddler), I kept dropping things, I had to wipe boogies from both kids for the bazillionth** time in one hour. The dishwasher is full, the sink is, too. I'm tired, really tired. The loads of laundry aren't tackling themselves. Plus, it's sweater season, so laundry now involves drying racks. Enter: Dramatic sigh.
Does all that complaining over minor stuff sound lame? Yep, it sure does. I realized it by the fourth time I was blurped upon. I got over it. A sink full of dishes means we are blessed with food to eat, a pile of laundry means we are blessed with clothes upon our backs. A blurping baby means he has been happily fed (perhaps overfed, even).
I'm proud of myself for taking a step back and recognizing this today. It doesn't mean I'm any less tired or my shirt is less stained, but it does seem to make the day go a little more dandy. Now onto those dishes...
*Blurp is a combination of a blowb (chunky spit up) and a burp. It is a sophisticated blend. I should trademark this term.
**Bazillionth may be an exaggeration. Maybe more like five, but still. How can man-sized boogers come from such tiny noses? And then repeatedly generate over and over in such a short time span?
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