It has been...

an especially bad day. If I were going to pick a book off the bookshelf to describe my day to you, that book would be Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day...because that is what it has been. A terrible horrible no good very bad day. And not for any particularly big, monumental reason. I honestly couldn't tell you where exactly it all went wrong...but it did go wrong. And I am ready to get a one way ticket to a sandy beach under a Caribbean blue sky. I shoulda figured it out this morning when Sam took a pen and "decorated" my recliner. My leather recliner. This pen does not come off of leather recliners. Just FYI for those of you with 19 month olds armed with ink pens hanging around your house. (Yes Emily...I tried the Magic Eraser...it has no love for pen marks on leather recliners.) Or maybe I shoulda known when the weather man reported "sleet possibly turning to snow"...or perhaps the green snot pouring out of my children's noses might have forewarned me of my terrible horrible no good very bad day...but alas, no...I didn't even see it coming. Much like the Christmas ornament the baby just threw at my head. Didn't even have a chance to so much as duck to try and miss what was headed my way. It has been a terrible horrible no good very bad day...yes, that is what it has been because when Grace woke up from nap and asked for a snack, I told her "Sure! Let's have popcorn"!! But apparently popcorn was NOT what was on the menu...nope, crying was on the menu because "Moooooommmmmmeeeeee! I don't like popcorn!!!!!" In fact, Grace dislikes popcorn so much that she carried on for over 30 minutes about how much she hates popcorn...It started with crying, turned to wailing, and then wrapped up with a rousing finale of screaming at. the. top. of. her. lungs. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I lost it, Sam lost it...even the dogs lost it. And then...she stopped...and the house was very quiet. Eerily quiet. There we sat--Grace, Sam, Harry the dog, Simon the extremely worried dog, and me--in the thresh hold of Grace's room. We all looked at each other...someone coughed...someone laughed...the baby squealed and threw a Christmas ornament. Grace looked up at me (she has the most amazing blue eyes, like marbles) with all the seriousness of a 4 1/2 year old, reached out to me and fell into my lap and said "I'm just not having a bery good day." Then she handed me a little porcelain box. You know the kind. Bought from Dollar Tree last year during Christmas time. It has Mary/Joseph/baby Jesus figurines glued on the top, made in China, made to look expensive but only costs $1 ??...Yup, that's the one. She claimed this box as her own when we pulled out the Christmas decor this weekend (yes, early I KNOW...I have my reasons. I may even blog about them, if you're lucky...but back to my original post)...she worried and worried over what to put in the tiny treasure box. Her costume jewelry was too big...her Barbie shoes not fancy enough...what to put in that box?? I never asked her what she put in there, I assumed she had found the appropriate treasure because she stopped talking about the fact that the box was empty. As she handed it to me, she opened the clasp with her delicate fingers, it was almost a reverent moment--"It's my Jesus box, Mama", and revealed the contents. A quarter...and a feather. A feather she found weeks ago, when the weather was not "sleet and possible snow". I remember when she found it. I didn't think she kept it. And a quarter--the very biggest of her coins. It was a moment. A time in my life when I was forced to stop and remember that life is bigger than a terrible horrible no good very bad day. It is bigger than pen marks on a chair. And bigger than a 4 1/2 year old and her hatred for popcorn. We must bring out treasures to Jesus, no matter how small and insignificant they are...how forgotten they may be. This is after all the reason we give gifts at Christmas...so that we may remember the greatest Gift of all. Even if it is only a forgotten feather and a quarter. My day got better...sure it was already 5pm and I had spent most of the daylight hours trying not to explode, but it did get better. Funny how one child can drive you mad and drive you into the arms of Jesus all in the same breath. And I can assure you, without a doubt, that we will NOT be reading about Alexander and his "terrible horrible no good very bad day" before bed tonight. Nope...we're reading the Christmas story.