What do you get when you combine a five year old with a fever and croup, a mother recovering from shoulder surgery, a fifteen year old girl home for spring break, and a full-time job?
Everyone needing something at every moment. In other words, needs needing meeting. How awesome it that?
All right, perhaps I am not needed at every moment, I did take a break to write this post, but a seven year old is sitting on my lap at the same time. When he grows bored of watching me type with one hand, I have a five year old waiting on deck, with his pillow in hand.
I was only awakened once last night. Thank you Jesus. In addition, I forced the need to get up to go to the bathroom into the morning hour when the sun is actually up. That helped too.
The bed is propped up and the humidifier is raging. This should help the sick young man. The mom took drug medicine and should drift into a deep sleep soon. The fifteen year old is stalking friends on Facebook in hopes of making grand plans for the day. That should make her world more tolerable, and I just shimmied down my email list and narrowed the length from 30 to 6. I feel much better.
My white tile floor is marked with wet paws, the laundry piles are stacked neatly on the dining room table and not resting in their respectable drawers, and wet towels litter my bathroom floor. Perhaps when my mom and son feel better, and the weekend arrives, I'll have time to approach the needs of my home.
Or not.
Everyone needing something at every moment. In other words, needs needing meeting. How awesome it that?
All right, perhaps I am not needed at every moment, I did take a break to write this post, but a seven year old is sitting on my lap at the same time. When he grows bored of watching me type with one hand, I have a five year old waiting on deck, with his pillow in hand.
I was only awakened once last night. Thank you Jesus. In addition, I forced the need to get up to go to the bathroom into the morning hour when the sun is actually up. That helped too.
The bed is propped up and the humidifier is raging. This should help the sick young man. The mom took drug medicine and should drift into a deep sleep soon. The fifteen year old is stalking friends on Facebook in hopes of making grand plans for the day. That should make her world more tolerable, and I just shimmied down my email list and narrowed the length from 30 to 6. I feel much better.
My white tile floor is marked with wet paws, the laundry piles are stacked neatly on the dining room table and not resting in their respectable drawers, and wet towels litter my bathroom floor. Perhaps when my mom and son feel better, and the weekend arrives, I'll have time to approach the needs of my home.
Or not.
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