Last night I was going to be productive. I was going to sort my husband's wrestling team uniforms. But I have a dog. Make that one dog and one puppy. A cat. And a soon to be 13 year old boy at home. I knew such a feat required wine, which I had.
I shortly discovered this would also require some system of blockade. My 13 year old's ingenious mind quickly went to work on fencing his mother in with the sofa, coffee table uniforms, ottoman, boxes, and tubs... I was secured. I was sorting. I was ORGANIZED.
Of course as soon as I got on a roll, the puppy wanted to play. She must sense that the uniforms were distracting me in some way from her, because she would bring her toy, lay on the ottoman, and ever so gently drop it onto my stacks of uniforms. I told my son to go play with her, keep her out of my neat and organized piles. He played. For two seconds. Then she was back, dropping her toy onto my pile. And somehow she managed to always drop it on the tallest of piles most likely to tip. So the cycle began, "go play with her!"... after two seconds of tug of the rope, or one toss of fetch, the son was back to trying to make contraptions out of mouse traps. Yes, this is truly what was so important, and yes, they were clean traps. The puppy was back. After about 5 - 6 times of this I almost snapped, but I caught myself and gave the "stern" look, that had him saying "ok, ok..." This time he let her outside. I don't know about you, but where we are here in Michigan in January, there is no snow. There is mud. A lot of mud. And the puppy LOVES mud. But at least the puppy was outside.
So my sorting frenzy began again. I had just finished my piles, sat back and was adoring my absolute work of art! I had 8 neat piles, labeled, stacked, and I had recorded numbers. I was amazing. Then the kid let the puppy in... My light tan ottoman was quickly covered in puppy mud, as the puppy jumped over the ottoman ONTO my piles!
I snapped. Truly and crazily. I may have swore. I may have swung at the dog as I pushed her off my once truly amazing piles, but she couldn't go anywhere because she was no trapped in the blockade with me. As I continued to scream "Get her out!" ... with a few expletives. My kid was profusely apologizing and blaming "You said let her in!" UGH...
That's how motherhood goes, at least in my world. I was on such a good streak. Sticking to my "better me" plan, tackling a project, cleaning, eating well, reading, devotions, always saying something nice... And then the muddy puppy ruined it. In a split second I became the raving lunatic mom. The mom that I once thought had to be crazy to scream at her kids like that. I admitted my erroneous ways to my friends and sister in a group text. One of them said it was due, that I had the patience of a saint for far too long. But I felt terrible. I fixed my piles, I had to wipe off a few uniforms. My son scrubbed the ottoman. We survived.
I was reading my devotions this morning and realized, I'm not terrible. I may have had a temporary bout of insanity, fueled by puppy mud, but I am not terrible. I am human. I am a sinner. I may be made in the image of God, but I am not Godly. I am human. And in all my glorious humanity last night, I felt God snicker in the back of my mind. He knows what it's like. He knows how it is to tell his children, do this... do this... do this... but we don't. We pick our own roads, and we travel our own paths. And sometimes, I think God, gives us these snapping moments to bring us back to reality.
Being organized, even just for one brief moment, doesn't make me a better mom. It may make me efficient in that moment. It may make some of life's tasks easier. But that doesn't make me better. Being loving, taking time to be "in the moment" with my loved ones. That makes me better. Listening to God's voice and looking for his path and direction for my family. That makes me better. Not that I have given up on trying to be more organized. It's still on my to do list. But last night was just a reminder that this slight failure, while I thought I was doing so well, doesn't ruin me. So thank you crazy muddy puppy for bringing me back to reality.
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