Herein I will paint an image for you that is less than appetizing.

Tonight I was bathing Little Man and out of the charity of my heart, I allowed him to handle my special paraben-free honey oatmeal loofah bar soap. And how does he thank me for this decadence?

He bites it, tasting the organic cleansing ingredients to dissatisfaction.

At which point he barfs a small clay-colored geyser of various snacky items–now in chunky liquid form–into the bathtub. Convenient since I can still rinse him off with no clothes on. Inconvenient because, when is ralphing convenient?

Anyway. I forgot about the upchuck splatterpaint in my bathtub (see also: kids to put to bed, kids to remind to brush their teeth and kids to remind I’m not going to brush their teeth this time and then kids whose teeth I am brushing, sigh). A couple of hours later, I rediscovered the bath art and, while replaying the whole epic Little Man sneak puke attack as I scrubbed the tub, the thought struck me:

I’ve been doing the same thing as Little Man for a while now.

Tasting something that sort of seems a bit unpleasant and then, gack, everything that I had rumbling in my tumbly for months comes roaring up my throat.

Do you ever do this?

You think you’re cool, you’re dealing, things aren’t always easy but you’re coping, even and in spite of an unfavorable evaluation at work, poor sleep from babes who cry and/or dogs who snore, and bills that win at eating your paycheck before you got it…

And then SOMEONE just COULD NOT BE BOTHERED to re-line the stupid wastebasket in the bathroom and you find yourself TASTING THE SOAP.

It tastes sooo soapy. The potent taste of soap is too much. It’s too much. There’s more badness you’re tasting. Actually, you’re tasting bad things from 3 days ago. No! Three weeks ago. Oh, remember the bad thing you tasted 3 months ago and didn’t tell anyone about?

In this moment, that bad taste is fair game. Chuck it up.

***

Lovey Loverpants, he is not a fan of the massive liquidation sale from the emporium of things that upset me that I have been stockpiling for days and weeks and months and maybe even years.

Sometimes I feel as though I cannot help myself, but mostly I feel that a part of growing up should be the ability to govern my feelings and thoughts like a character from a Jane Austen novel.

This is no plum assignment for someone who remembers everything that happened or was supposed to happen in hers and the lives of others, fictional and otherwise. Smile.

But the Lord is so provident to remember our own sins no more, to cast them into the ocean of oblivion. There is power in His hand that casts away and begins afresh to create in us new hearts over and over and over and over.

Take that bar of soap Lord and clean me out for your glory. Not just for my own expurgation. Amen.

***
Hope you had a delightful Mother’s Day. I had a nice, chill weekend with my fambam. Went to church, ate some cupcakes, watched some “Jem and the Holograms,” and even went to a wedding for two of my favorite students. Lovely all around.

(Thanks, Selena, for the pics!)