Days like this past Thursday, I fondly refer to as 'black Thursdays'. With Chris being somewhere along the boarder of Russia for work and no way to communicate with him, I am in charge of our home. That also means that there is no one to depend on except me, myself, and I. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday roll by as smoothly as possible, given the circumstances and then Thursday hits. We wake at 7:30 with one of my daycare kiddo's ringing the bell. Next I'm off and running, rolling the kids out of bed and trying to find something besides sugar they can scarf down for breakfast. Of course Tori decides that Thursday is the day to be a big girl and takes off her pull-up...after pooping in it, and Elijah decides it's the perfect morning to test his continuing theory, 'Does Mom really mean what she says?' with every direction I give him. Then my oldest daughter comes upstairs on the verge of having a hormonal meltdown because both of her belts broke (I'm still pondering this.) and we both know that unless she has a belt to complete her uniform, it's pointless to send her to school. These are the mornings where I'm literally chatting with God, "Are you kidding me, couldn't You have used some supernatural alarm clock to wake me up or kept Cheyenne's belts from breaking?"
Although God didn't answer my conversation the way I wanted Him to, He did solve a few of the problems. Cheyenne was able to borrow a belt from my neighbor and Tori likes showers. Even though I ran Cheyenne to school in my jammies and robe, she made it on time. By this point Elijah had taken a fascination to seeing me in panic mode and fortunately stopped research on his theory for the moment. At least it's only for a couple more days before my husband gets home!