Spirituality, Mommy-style

Yesterday was one of the worst days of the year. Overnight, it seemed, I became mentally incompetent, ferociously critical, and depressed to my toes. I hated everyone and everything, yelled at my kids, and griped at my superstar husband. I pretty much made up my mind that I would never paint or write again, and definitely never blog. My kiddos seemed to be feeling the same way, or, that's what I suppose, considering the fact that they were melting down left, right, and center.

I found out at the end of the day that other people had been feeling this way too, and that they, like me, had also been struck with a slightly sore throat. It seems that we had all come down with a mild flu virus that made us feel like killing ourselves. (A note on melodrama: I might consider that I have a bit too much flowing in my veins when I ask my son to put on his pants and he throws himself on the floor and proclaims, "I'm DYING." A chip off the old block? Or learned behaviour? Myself, I'm famous for once rolling on the ground crying, "My EYES, my EYES," during allergy season. At sixteen.)

Anyways, in light of my bad day, I started the morning off determined to have good beginnings. I decided to sit and read Psalm 23 while I ate breakfast. Here's a roughly accurate rendition of how things went:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul.

Do you want to get down, YaYa?
Can you ask nicely?
DOWN PEAS, MAMA! (I retrieve YaYa from her chair and sit back down)
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Mama? You shouldn't sit there, I said, because alligators are going to get you.
Why is your face two inches from mine, Kid A? Please stop leaning over me and eat.
But alligators are going to GET you.
Kid A. Please don't talk for a minute, so I can read.
Mama? Yaya's touching my chair.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.

ACK! (Yaya has run over to me and, not watching, run straight into my oatmeal. Her foot is covered in yogurt and oatmeal and a couple dried cranberries!)
Oh, my GOSH, YaYa-What on earth-How does this happen-Please watch where you're going-- (YaYa starts to wail)
I'm sorry, honey, no, no, it was an accident, it was my fault, I shouldn't have put the oatmeal on the floor...
(After I clean off her foot and comfort her and everyone is happy again...)
Surely goodness and lovingkindness
Can I get down, Mama?
will follow me all the days
Please don't yank on my dreadlocks, Kid A.
of my life
Why are you standing on my foot?
And I will dwell in
Don't pull YaYa's hair, Kid A.
the house of the Lord
Do you both have to SIT on me?

You know what, just forget it. Let's just get you guys out of your jammies. Yeesh.

Looking this over, I think that maybe one of the most spiritual moments of the morning was my act of faith when I went ahead and ate the oatmeal that Yaya had stepped in.