When we came back from Kentucky, I brought home a strong desire for some cowgirl boots. I think I may have seen one too many horses while there (or spent too much time staring at the local's footwear while waiting to be seated at Applebee's). Thanks to Amazon (and my hubby's enthusiastic approval), I will be getting a pair sometime next Tuesday. It's funny how having a baby can put you in a clothes funk. I've felt a little out of it with choosing clothes. I'm limited to what feels like a small amount of tops and pants that actually fit, and some days I'm so tired it's hard to think straight. Tonight, I went on a date with my hubby though, and I had fun picking out some new tops and jeans...that should look fabulous with my new boots.
Apparently, that wasn't the only thing I brought home with me. By mid-morning this past Monday, I had a horrific headache. I very rarely have headaches, but I sometimes get them if I'm running low in sleep. Our one month old was up every hour on the hour from two o'clock on, and since I didn't get to lay my head down for the night till sometime after 11pm, the headache didn't really shock me. If you add to that my whiplash incident from that morning, it was easy for me to understand why I could've had a headache. When I'm in my third trimester of pregnancy, I can barely see my feet; but I'm also blinded following pregnancy to my left foot while carrying a baby. My four year old neglected to put her book away (as I had instructed) and left it on the stairs... so later that morning while holding our newborn, my left foot slipped on the book and went sailing out from underneath me. I kept my balance though after a momentary jerk, and I only had a bruised elbow to show for it (my daughter had a mini-lecture on listening to Mommy the first time). My headache raged on.
I went to Walmart to get groceries since my mom and brother's family would be visiting our family the following day; and by the time I left Wal-mart, I felt achy and cold in addition to having a raging headache. I came home to take my temperature, which was indeed a little high, so the baby and I took a nap for the next four hours. I explained to my older girls the rules, which basically boiled down to this: "pretend you're me...think 'what would mommy do'?" They were more than happy to help with the two little ones because they really wanted to get to see their cousins. They know a sick mommy equals no visitors. My second eldest daughter started crying when she heard I was starting to get a fever. They'd been waiting to see their cousins for over 6 months, and my sickness was threatening to ruin it. I told them their only hope was to pray that God would heal me quickly and to be as quiet as possible. I've heard a lot about the debilitating flu that is going around this year, and my family chooses not to get flu shots. The last time I ran a fever was more than four years ago. I rarely get sick, but this felt serious because of how horrible I felt in a very short amount of time.
My extended family loves me. I know this in my heart, but there is still a part of me that questions if it's really unconditional. Despite my knowlege that God's opinion is the only one that really matters; honestly, my heart still aches for their approval. When I recently read the book "Unglued" by Lysa Terkheurst, I could totally relate to her panic of having her mom visit and trying to make extra sure that everything was acceptable (only to discover to her horror that the toilet seat in the bathroom her mom would be using was missing a seat). There is a part of me that still remembers the messy room I kept as a child, and how my mom would agonize over how messy she could imagine my house would be when I had one of my own. Since then she has told me repeatedly what a great job I do keeping my house clean and tidy, but there is always a nagging voice in my head that insists she doesn't approve of me...or she will be appalled by what my house actually looks like. Remember, those dust bunnies are still waiting to pounce (although I did try to banish them last week before our trip to Kentucky). I asked God to give me the grace to relax and them the grace to overlook the mess. As I lay in my bed shivering, I was still a little disappointed that my house was such a mess (and I wouldn't be able to do much about it).
My sister-in-law said that they could maybe just come for a meal (that she would bring and prepare) without staying for the night if I was still feeling badly the next day. This was the first time they would get to see our new little baby, so their family would be disappointed not to come over as well. After my long nap that evening, I no longer felt achy...but my headache was slightly worse. My temperature was higher as well (101.8), but oddly I felt a little better. Amazingly by morning my temperature was back to normal (98.3), so I got up, put a meal together in the crock-pot for supper, and vacuumed (the only cleaning that really needed to be done...a week's worth of dog hair is so nasty). God had answered our prayer because even with activity I never felt worse. My daughters joyfully stripped their bed linens for washing, cleaned their rooms, and cleaned a bathroom. I've never seen them work so cheerfully and quickly.
We had a great time visiting, and my brother's family brought lots of presents for the baby and us. My mom commented on what a good time she'd had, and later that night I had a good boo-hoo when I thought about how my financially conservative brother (Dave Ramsey has nothing on him) had clearly okay'd the shower of presents that my sister-in-law had so diligently sought out. The truth was and remains that my family just came to see us, not my imperfections. They didn't care. They loved me. I told that to my achy breaky heart and it exploded with happiness (instead of blowing up and killing this woman).
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