Flood, Mud, Crud

I have had one of those days. People never believe me that every day is not one of them. I guess its hard to imagine that someone with eleven children at home and two others off into the world (but close enough to pop in needing help with their taxes) would actually love her life. I do.
No really, I do.
Most days.
But today I was ready to change course and become... what?? a nun? a Mongolian sheep-herder? Either would do as long as the new profession involved silence and rest.
For starters, I haven't been feelimg well. The baby is two months old and I can only remember three days during that time when I have had no pain. I was in a car accident, then had trauma-induced pancreatitis, and now I have residual nerve pain which must have been exacerbated by giving birth. The specialist I saw yesterday who was supposed to have some answers said, essentially, that the pain was here to stay, and she offered no remedy. It was discouraging.
And then two year old Ezra woke up ready to challenge the status quo. He went in to the bathroom when no one was looking and by the time we heard him he had filled the sink with water, and soaked a roll of toilet paper in the toilet and another in the sink. I opened the door to find the bathroom floor under a half inch of water and both sink and toilet plugged. He smiled at me and said "Mama, I'm wet!" It took every towel we could find to soak up the water.
Our laundry system has been backed up all week and this was a resounding blow to our forces of maintenance in the "Mom's our of commission survival mode" we've all been managing.
We got a new dog. His name is Rusty and he's a 2 year old purebred golden retriever that our friends were not able to keep. He's so smart he figured out immediately how to get out of our fenced yard.
He's also a mud-magnet.
While he's been exploring the new neighborhood, he comes back soaked to the bone and spreads mud everywhere. We already used all of our junk towels and many of our good ones drying him off the last two days whenever he goes out and comes back in. I know there was some reason we wanted a new dog, but when I look at the extra mess, I can't seem to remember what it was.
So then 15 year old Micah, who before now has never been sick in his life, and yet has spent a week and a half lying on the couch with a fever, woke today to announce he was having trouble taking a deep breath. He was better yesterday, and now can't breathe? My Mommy radar went off, so I drove him to urgent care.
He really didn't want to go, came up with excuses, thought I was overreacting. We waited an hour to see the doctor, during which Keturah was hungry. I knew better than to nurse her, because I'm having to give her a bottle or she gets colic since I've been detoxing. But she was fussy, so I nursed her to keep her quiet while Micah went to get the bottle. And then she really began to scream. I ended up spending the waiting time doing the colic dance up and down the sidewalk outside while she screamed. Did I mention I'm not feeling well?
So when they didn't hear anything in his lungs, Micah gave me the look that said "I knew you were a hypochondriac, Mom." But then the X-ray showed his left lung is half full of fluid.
He has pneumonia.
Our routine has been disturbed again.
I realized tonight that part of why we're having so much trouble with Ezra is that Micah is always connecting with him, watching him, encouraging and helping him. He feels cared for and gets immediate accountability for his actions. But since Micah and Mom are sick, he is feeling at loose ends and bored, perhaps a bit neglected, a bad combination unless you're trying to grow rebellion.
Something I did not know as a young mom was that it takes more than vigilance to create a happy obedient child. Unless there is the reinforcement of good behavior, punishing bad behavior will create a sullen obstinance, and a determination to get away with the behavior as soon as Mom's back is turned.
So I had Ezra "Help" make dinner when we got home from the doctor. He got me a spoon, cutting board and boullion, washed the celery, put the veggie pieces into the soup pot. And all the while I praised him for being such a big helper. Then he emptied all the wastebaskets into the large trash can in the kitchen, with constant direction and praise. This is his usual job in the morning, but it has been hit and miss lately.
We had a nice family dinner, with plenty of laughter, and I tried to help him be his most polite self with constant positive feedback. Daddy tickled and wrestled him tonight before bed. I'm hoping tomorrow will be better than today.
Days like today I need a time out to remember and be grateful. What an amazing big brother Micah is, for instance, and what a difference he makes in our endeavor to care for so many little people.
My parents come on Wednesdays, and that is something for which I am so grateful. Grandma Mary teaches preschool with the little ones, and Grandpa John teaches catechism with the older five. What would our family do without their constant encouragement and support? And today my Dad cleared the stopped up sink and toilet for me. What a blessing that was!!
I got to talk with my friend Jazz today. She always listens and understands. God has given me a priceless treasure in her faithful camaraderie for 25 years since we were college roommates. She genuinely cares, and she always points me to Jesus.
Another thing for which to be grateful is the song that's been stuck in my head all day. I sang it to Keturah when we were doing the colic dance:

Oh, how I love You, Jesus,
I know You love me too
I love Your Word that tells me
To You I belong
When I am weak, You make me strong
Your hands so strong they carry me
True You love me so much
True, You love me so
True You love me so much
My heart just overflows!

I guess I'm a bit like Micah. I tend to be skeptical in tough times that God knows what is best and I don't.
Maybe I'm also a lot like Ezra. I need some praise and encouragement to keep me on the right path, especially when things get harder than usual.