Kryptonite

I've been eating lots of refined birthday carbs and have pretty much lost vision of what the heck I'm supposed to be eating. I have my four cherished and beloved nieces here, which amounts to 8 kids under the age of 7 here, or eleven under the age of 10, with a grand total of 16 children. Number ten has a pretty horrendous case of chicken pox and the babies have GOT to be coming down with it, as there is much fever and whininess going on. Soccer got rained out halfway through. There is dog hair everywhere in the world. I'm heading toward my third trimester, which today means I'm wretchedly hormonal AND have half the energy of a narcoleptic three toed sloth.

The Amazing Supermom has reached the end of her rope.

The babies spread the Q-tips all over the bathroom floor. The 4 preschool girls keep getting into the pre-teen girls "Stuff" and causing hormonal eruptions. And we are still beating down the door of trying to get school done before the annual trip to Grandma's house.

If I were not pregnant, liked the taste of alcohol, and didn't morally object to it, I would get good and drunk tonight.

My family is spending the evening doing what they do on Fridays, Popcorn, Candy, Movie night with Dad in the attic. I'm spending the evening trying to find the bottom of the sink, the kitchen counter, and washing out my procrastinator's pile of poop filled diapers.

Today I made myself a horrible attempt at sugar free brownies. I used a banana and part of an apple and whole wheat flour and oatmeal and frankly, it tasted horrible. I had to put honey on it to eat it. But I did. I ate the whole dang thing. I don't feel too bad, there really wasn't anything in it to feel bad about, except the calories, of course.

So I need to somehow regain my superpowers. Where in heaven's name is the bright side?

Well, one bright side is the snuggles that come with sick babies. And that goes along with my lethargy pretty well. I don't feel like doing anything, and my babies just want to be held. Lucky me. Sitting on the couch with one feverish kid and one spotted feverish kid works pretty well (never you mind what havoc is being wreeked elsewhere in the house).

Did I mention that the garbage disposal exploded in the mouse poop filled cabinet last night? I think mouse poop is my Kryptonite. Either that or fighting children. Both weaken me. There is mouse poop in the corner of the 1st floor bathroom. I get shorter and more discouraged everytime I go in there. And when my children are hateful - today it was about a drawing contest - it breaks my heart. Instead of doing math or chores or whatever, they were drawing pictures of dinosaurs/dragons/monsters with markers, and one poor child (sucker) was stuck judging the pictures and was therefore the object of the hatred of all the losers. And hearing them use words and tone of voice to cut each other to ribbons just.makes.me.so.sad. How do I convey to them that when they cut each other they cut me? They cut themselves. They cut our family.

Given a choice, I guess I'd rather have mouse poop.

Of course, none of this is anything. My friend's daughter has leukemia. Someone I know about on facebook lost their premature son today. Another dear one found out yesterday that her husband is having an affair. I have nothing to complain about. I'm fat. I'm overwhelmed. So what? My kid has a virus that will be gone soon, she'll have successfully built immunity, and will barely remember.

More importantly, I have easy access to the One Who loves me best, Who leads me, Who is faithful to meet me at my need. I need to take a swim in That Ocean. I need to lean back again into Those Arms. I think I'll have a chat with my Beloved while I clean out the diapers tonight. See if I can shake off the effects of the Kryptonite.