Today...Monday. Again.

In this house, Mondays are miserable. It seems no matter what I do, Mondays are the hardest day of the week. This week, after a frustrating week last week, I decided to be proactive. I got up before the household and read my Bible. For ten minutes. Then Faith joined me. With whining and needs. Then came Gracie 10 minutes after that. Out flew the quiet time I so desperately needed. You see, I am looking for divine wisdom on how to manage Faith. She is so strong willed. I discpline in all sorts of ways. I spank. I do time outs. I make her put her nose in the corner. I yell. I whisper. It doesn't work. Not long term. She may stop for, ohh, 10 minutes. Then it is back to misbehaving. This morning, while we were having school, she emptied an entire box of kleenex, not just any kleenex, but Puffs Plus in the "coordinate with the bathroom" box, into the bathtub. Then she turned on the water. Then Ariel Barbie took a swim in the toliet. The bathroom floor is soaked. Still. I just can't go clean it up. When I go in there, I get angry. So, I am distancing myself. Maybe the cleaning fairy will pay me a visit...
So, in an effort to outrun the devil, because I am convinced that he is the source of my miserable Mondays, I decided to take the girls to the park for a picnic. The logic was good. Do happy things, and you can't help but be happy. Right? Yeah. Sure.
Meanwhile, while Faith was soaking things, Gracie was in the midst of meltdown mania. She decided that she couldn't sound out words. The word was Sam. She said, "hmmmm...I think it is pat". I looked at her. Yep. I just stared. I mean, I think Pat sounds like Sam. sss aaaaa mmmm Pat. I hear it. FRUSTRATING. We finally made through her book and moved to Math. She had to write the numbers 1-29. After 19 comes...17! She KNOWS this. She can count. She didn't want to. So she played dumb. Like a dog. I wanted to cry. In the corner. Alone. And while these two children were testing me, Ellie was in her crib screaming because she "needs to be crib broken". She cried for an hour. And did not go to sleep. She was so very tired. It made me cry with her. I don't want her to sleep in her crib. I hate that crib. I want her to sleep with me. I want her to stay a baby. I don't want her to grow up because I will never have another baby. She is it. My very last one. And the tears are starting again. So, tomorrow, if Cameron doesn't buy us a new house at auction, we will rearrange the playroom and make it Ellie's room. So she can scream her little self to sleep without upsetting the sisters. How very very sad.

So this was my day. But I am thankful. I am thankful that I have three precious little girls that try my patience. I am thankful that they are alive and that they love me despite my faults. I am so thankful that they make me run to the throne room of my Kingly Father and get on my knees and beg Him for wisdom and rest. Daily. Hourly. Every second they are awake. I am thankful. Despite my grumblings. And when they crawl into my lap and cuddle up close and whisper "I love you Mama", the day melts away. And I am left with nothing but the joy of being blessed.