It’s ironic that yesterday’s message at church was about choosing to rejoice in each day, whether it seems joyful or not, because we had a rough night last night.

Nos. 3 & 4 got into a knock-down-drag-out screaming match in the bathroom over a roll of dental floss. I was so astounded that I wasn’t even sure how to handle it. In retrospect, I didn’t handle it as well as I should have, because I got sucked into the argument. I finally threw away the container of floss and sent them to bed. You would’ve thought I’d thrown away the Crown Jewels, the way No. 4 boohooed. No. 3 accused me of wanting him to get cavities, then cried because I didn’t go straight in there to pat his back, as is our custom. I told them, quite frankly, that I loved them but I was upset because they treated me so disrespectfully and acted so ugly to each other. I said that I would come back (and I did) to pat their backs, but I wanted them to stay in bed and think about their behavior for a few minutes and decide whether or not it was worth it to get in all that trouble over some floss that they didn’t even pay for (it was free from the dentist).

I think I will have to go back to monitoring the bedtime teeth-brushing routine for a while.

*sigh – One of these days, they’ll all grow up to be respectable young men, right?? At least they’ll have clean teeth, Ha! 🙂

I had an epiphany today: I can’t complain.

Usually, when someone gives me the rhetorical greeting, “How are you?” I usually respond with, “I am okay” (because it gives me pause and isn’t the typical “fine”) or “I can’t complain” (because I’m trying to remind myself to count my blessings). The truth is, though, that in several of the major areas of my life, I really don’t feel like I can complain. Allow me to explain …

• Military — As an Army brat who grew up to become an Army wife, I am a dyed-in-the-wool supporter of the armed forces. There are plenty of naysayers out there who clamor to give soundbites about how much money we’re wasting protecting their freedom. So, when I see inefficiencies and experience frustrations within my own military family, I feel like I have to keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to seem unsupportive. Case in point: the kids and I are supposed to fly out of state in a week and a half for a pre-deployment family weekend. It’s a wonderful treat provided by the family readiness group, which is a volunteer-driven support mechanism. Seeing as this is our third deployment, I really do appreciate what they do for families. They are providing the travel to the event, but we have to pay for an extra hotel room (seems the Fire Marshal doesn’t like 7 people in one room, heh). That’s great, but the problem is that we don’t even know what hotel we’re staying at, so we can’t reserve the extra room yet. We were told today that they may not “confirm” the hotel until the day before we arrive. WTH? (Oh, and Dad will already be on-site for training, so five kids and I are traveling together. Pray for me, y’all!)
• Kids — Speaking of the little boogers blessings, if you’ve been reading this missive of mine for very long or know me outside of this context, then you’re already aware of my family dynamic. (If you aren’t in the know but would like to read the backstory, most of it is filed under the Grief category. Otherwise, the rest of this paragraph will make little sense, if at all.) I “vent” about the kids like any other mom, but much of it is tongue-in-cheek. I don’t feel like I can talk about more serious matters – either about the boys’ behavior or my own frustrations as a parent – because I don’t want to give anyone ammunition to think that I’m not cut out for this role. Every parent with custody Orders has stress (and perhaps others also feel like they are under a microscope), but when you’re dealing with a mentally ill crackhead with a rap sheet and a propensity to lie and manipulate, the magnification setting gets cranked up, and you don’t want to appear as anything but calm, cool and collected.
• Work — I work at a private Christian university, and we all know that Christians treat each other with love and respect all the time (<<that was sarcasm, btw). Add to that the fact that I work in the strictest department on campus – affecting everything from Spirit Friday dress (no jeans for us 😦 ) to community events (which are really “work” events for me). I certainly don’t complain about anything in a public venue like Facebook, and even venting here would be frowned upon. I do need my job, after all. (But, seeing as the big boss doesn’t even know how many kids I have, I doubt he reads my personal blog. I trust that y’all won’t rat me out for getting a few things off my chest.)

What it boils down to is that I wouldn’t want to come across as a negative person, even if I could complain more freely, but it would be nice if I could be really honest with what’s going on in my life sometimes.

I’m linking up again today with the MOB Society‘s weekly reminder to brag about the terrific things our boys are doing.

Today was a great morning. I am thankful that the boys seldom have problems getting out of bed on school mornings (which is something I should remember in my grumpy, groggy state on Saturday and Sunday mornings when they wake me up before dawn … but I digress). Today, though, was even better than usual.

The older two decided to not only make breakfast for themselves, but they cooked over-easy eggs for the rest of the family, too! Needless to say, the younger three were VERY excited when they woke up to the smell of breakfast already on the table.

After the big two left to catch the bus, the younger guys asked if they could make their own lunches. Admittedly, it was more “work” to let them do it themselves, but they had such a fun time and were so proud of themselves. We even plucked a few pieces of green leaf lettuce from the garden (<<sneak peak for tomorrow’s Foodie Friday post! 😉 ) for their sandwiches.

Way to go, boys, for getting the day off to a great start! (Now, please keep it up and don’t get in trouble at school! 🙂 )

Follow other MOB Society posts on Twitter under the hashtag #LetsHearItForTheBoys.

I managed to whack a doorframe as I reached for a light switch last night and popped the top knuckle in my thumb. Now, I will admit that I’m a finger-popper. I always have been. The way I figure it is, arthritis runs in my family anyway, so cracking my knuckles occasionally isn’t going to affect it one way or another. (Besides, I’ve read plenty of articles that say that finger-popping causes arthritis is an old wives’ tale, anyway.)

However, I don’t pop my top knuckles, just the ones that connect my fingers to the palm of my hand. So, when I hit my thumb on the doorframe and felt that joint go POW, it hurt like #*$&(#@$%*_!@#. It still aches this morning, even. 😦  I know it isn’t broken, because I can still use it, and it isn’t discolored or swollen, but it aches awfully. Typing seems to be ok – doesn’t make it ache any worse, but I keep re-hurting it when I do something simple like pick up my coffee mug or put my purse strap over my shoulder.

Waah. Welcome to my pity party.

I’m linking up with the MOB Society today for Let’s Hear it for the Boys!

I received a sweet surprise when the boys got home from Kidzone at church last night. I had stayed home sick and although I started feeling better in the late afternoon, I was zonked again by the time they got home and had already curled up under the blankets in bed. They came to my room to tell me good night, and the 7yos gave me two handmade cards:

One of them drew a winged heart-person with five smaller ones around it. He said the big one was me (obviously, lol!), and the others were him & his brothers. The inside featured a stick-figure drawing of me, and he even drew the hair parted to the side. :p

The other one drew a picture of me with a “pecok” and a bow & arrow. I asked him if I was supposed to be hunting the peacock (??), and he said no, we were just shooting paper targets, but he ran out of space to draw the bulls-eyes. On the back, he drew R2D2 … after all, what Valentine would be complete without droids? 🙂

They also made beaded hearts, which I brought to my office today to decorate. I may have still felt crummy last night, but those sweet boys sure made my heart happy!

A thoughtful custodian took my umbrella out of the trashcan & hung it on my office door handle last night. Such a kind gesture to think that I threw it away by mistake, but it was broken. 😉

In addition to the rain, it was so windy yesterday morning that my umbrella flipped inside-out, and one of the spines (<<is that the right word?) was already gimpy, and it broke in half.

Speaking of umbrellas, we need to invent one that doesn’t allow you to get soaked getting into/out of the car &/or building. It’s nearly pointless even to carry an umbrella, because if it is windy (like yesterday), then you’ll get soaked by sideways rain, anyway. Furthermore, by the time you get seated in the car, you have to close the umbrella and get soaked again in the few fumbling seconds that it takes to retract and stuff it under the seat! 😦

More often than not, I just prefer to walk in the rain. I’m not so sweet that a little water will melt me. 😉  Besides, we still desperately need the rain here, so I’ll try to remember to be thankful for it!

After months (I lost track) of being in solitude, I officially moved to my new office on Friday. I took most of my personal belongings home last week to sort and decide what I really wanted to keep, and I took my plants home before the Christmas break so they wouldn’t die while the office was closed. Consequently, my new office is pretty bare!

What a surprise it was when No. 3 peeked his head around the doorframe with a vase full of roses & eucalyptus and his two younger brothers hot on his heels. My mom hid behind the corner (as if they would have driven themselves, LOL!).

Thanks, Mama, for the gorgeous flowers! Everyone who passes by my office wants to stop & smell them, so I think they’re a hit. 🙂

God’s timing is ironic sometimes. Part of the background for yesterday’s life: unmasked post, which I thought might be too much information to share at the time (and might still be tmi, if my boss reads my blog, which I doubt), had to do with some second thoughts that surfaced in recent days concerning a potential new job. The selection process was down to two candidates, and I was struggling with the question of whether the role was really the best fit for me, or if I was just happy to find something local. (The prospect of relocating is replete with challenges — not insurmountable, but significant.)

Well, when I got home yesterday evening, I found a rejection letter in the mail. Inherently, I knew what it was when I saw the envelope, and to be honest, it was an answer to prayer. I feel honored to have been a finalist, but now, I don’t have to fret about my decision anymore. I feel at peace that it wasn’t the best fit for me, after all.

I do have to remind myself that I am blessed to have a job where I’m at, for however long it lasts. The benefits are excellent, and I have been able to support my family on one income for nearly a year and a half. There is much for which to be thankful. God is good, all the time.

Aside from the fact that I did make it to my regular Tuesday morning ladies’ group, today has been a mixed-up day. At first, I thought it was Monday, since the older two returned to school today (the younger three went back yesterday). Then, apparently, I fast-forwarded to tomorrow, because I posted Wednesday Words a day early (then rescheduled it when I realized my goof, so I’m sorry if you read it twice).

Whew — I’m ready to go home and rest. Perhaps a hot bath and early bedtime are in order!

Can I be brutally honest? I’m feeling a little lot jealous lately. Several friends on Facebook, Twitter and even down the hall in other offices are having Secret Santa gift exchanges and planning office parties for Christmas, and although I’m happy for them that they are having fun, I feel like throwing a pity party for myself.

Sure, some friends/old co-workers of mine are getting together for lunch later this week to continue our annual book exchange that we started a couple of years ago (when we actually worked together). I’m really looking forward to it – don’t get me wrong – but it’s not the same as having people in your office with whom to celebrate.

Hearing about everyone else’s office parties just reminds me of how isolated I am.

Before you think I’m completely pathetic, I should note that my division is having a get-together after work this evening, and families are invited. The irony is that one of my kids’ names was left off of the invitation. I know that typos happen. I know that I have a large family. Yet, I also know that the internal database is correct (because I checked it), and I know that if you really know me, then you know that I have five kids – not four. In the effort to make it sound more personal, that sort of mistake makes me feel even less connected. A generic invitation to “Angela & family” would have been better than leaving off one child’s name.

Am I splitting hairs? Perhaps. Do I need an attitude adjustment for my pride? Apparently.

I don’t think I’ve ever been a particularly boastful person. (Please correct me if I’m mistaken, because this is an area that I feel convicted to address right now.) I don’t think that I’ve ever lorded my position over anyone or purposely come across as better than anyone. Yet, despite any of the accomplishments that I could list on my resume, the past couple of months in solitary confinement have been like a back-hand to the face to show me my place in the world.

I don’t mean this to say that I don’t think I have a lot to offer on the job and in life, in general — of course I have potential, but what I’ve come to realize is that my role in the grand scheme of the universe is so inconsequential as to negate any prideful feelings I may have ever had about my abilities. God hasn’t quit taking care of me, and his plan for my life hasn’t derailed. The sooner I come to terms with that fact, the sooner I can cancel the RSVP to my pity party and focus on the blessings in my life — with or without Secret Santas.