One more day…

Hello dear friends.  I have been silent on the blog since the election.  If you’re curious, this has absolutely been intentional.  Mostly because the last thing you need to read is one more opinion.  You really don’t need one more person in your life filling you in on his/her thoughts, opinions, or reasons.

But, what you might need is a little laughter.

I’m supposed to be working-out right now.  At least that’s what I told myself this morning when I hit snooze on my alarm clock – sleep 30 more minutes, you can work out tonight.  In my defense, I have developed a little cold and currently can’t breath out of the right side of my nose.  My throat is also sore, so I will use this as an excuse to procrastinate my work-out and justify the cellulite on the back of my legs for one more day.

One more day…… isn’t that what you want?  Wouldn’t you like one more day in the week, in a year, in a month.  Couldn’t you get more done?  Wouldn’t you like just one more?  Well if I’m wishing, I would settle for a full-time maid or a daily nap time – I’ll take either one.  There are, however, days I would like to forget.  You know the days when things didn’t go quite right, things are a little off, and you fall flat on your face.  So, since we’ve all had a tense week, I’m gonna tell you about my most embarrassing moment as a mother.  I hope you get a good laugh, at my expense.  Take a load off, let your hair down, for the next few minutes forget about all the tension in our country, lean in and relax.  Here goes nothing…..

My son was three on this dreadful day.  If you’ve ever met a three-year-old, you know that two-year-olds are like sweet baby chickens on a warm summer day compared to a three-year-old.  Terrible Two’s – piece of cake.  Three – well, it’s basically like negotiating with a terrorist that you created 24-7.  So in an attempt to survive the trip to Wal-Mart, I had the bright idea of taking my son for lunch.  Mexican food to be exact.  He loves quesadillas and I was gonna take him to Wal-Mart with a full happy tummy.  The plan was to rock Wal-Mart like it’s 1999 and to make it out alive.  Well, obviously that didn’t happen – we are alive, but I sometimes still shutter when pulling in the parking lot.

I ate my usual taco salad and everything was completely normal until we walked in the store.  I’m still not sure what happened –  for some reason that day my food just didn’t settle the right way.  As I walked through the store, things were rapidly spinning out of control.  You know where this is goin’ – don’t ya?  With a half-full grocery cart, I realized I needed to turn this cart around and head toward the restroom.  My son caught on to the fact that something was very wrong as we began to run.  He was a little distraught and concerned, but trying to hang in there.

Things changed, however, when we reached the restroom.  At this point in his life, he was a little scared of the public restroom.  The loud flushing was too much for him.  So as I quickly pulled him out of the shopping cart, he realized where we were going.  His little arms tightened around my neck and I was fully aware that this was going to be a family affair.  Luckily, the restroom was empty, but not for long.  For some reason, every woman and child in the store decided to use the restroom during my misfortune.  As I heard footsteps, I prayed for a quick and quiet restroom experience.  I most certainly promised God many things if I could just get out of there with little embarrassment.  This prayer was not answered – to my dismay – but, I will continue because maybe your need for a laugh will give my moment a cause.

So the scene, at this point, is pretty ugly.  I’m in a very vulnerable position, literally and figuratively, and my sweet three-year-old is terrified for so many reasons and sitting on my lap.  Just as I was sure things couldn’t get worse, I heard that little boy ask, “Mama, do you feel bad?”.   I replied, “yes, but I’ll be okay.”. Then he said, “does you tummy hurt?”. Me:  “yes, please stop talking”. Then the killer – he said, “are you pooping?”. I literally almost died as the entire restroom erupted in laughter.  He was truly concerned about me, as I was most assuredly sweating profusely while dying on the inside.  How did I get to this point in my life?  Sitting in a public restroom with a toddler on my lap giving complete strangers the full play-by-play.  Now what?  I had to get out of there!!!

I decided to make the most dignified effort and casually walk out of there like nothing happened.  Unfortunately, my embarrassment got the best of me and I ran out of the restroom and the store, after washing my hands of course.  We left without the groceries  – we just left.

Have you ever felt that way? – like you need to just get out.  Maybe you feel this way now.  A little broken hearted, like you don’t belong.  A little embarrassed, frustrated, misunderstood.  I’m not really referring to the election – although it may apply to you.  I’m really referring to life in general.  We all have those moments and many of them are far more serious than my bathroom tragedy.  I’m not gonna try and fill you with a great theological explanation or solution right now.  I’m not going to offer sound advice, but I will tell you what I’ve found to be true during the get-me-out-of-here moments.

The next day the sun still came up.  I was still breathing in and out.  My heart was still beating, although sometimes breaking.  Mercy was renewed, grace was poured out and love remained.  During my darkest hours, much more serious than that described above, I hold on to these things just as tightly as my son held my neck that horrifying day.  I find comfort in the fact that for some reason I’m still here.

So, to all those going through a hard time right now – I see you, I hear you, my heart breaks with you.  But, you’re still breathing in and out, your heart is still beating and you’re still here.  Hold on tight to mercy, grace and love and when you want to give up just give it one more day.

Mary Ann


1 thought on “One more day…

  1. Too funny! Thanks for being so real!


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