All's Well That Ends Well

{Warning: Everything written below happened with this greasy hair, stretchy pants, a workout shirt that I kept having to pull up to stay modest and tennis shoes. I never imagined when I left the house in the morning that I would look like I did then for the rest of the day}

It's been a day.

It didn't help that I only had about four hours of sleep thanks to a cough, an evening can of Diet Dr. Pepper and the song "To Where You Are" by Josh Groban playing on a repeat loop in my head (I'm singing this song at a funeral on Friday and needed to learn the melody so I purchased it on itunes and sang along about six times. It is not an easy song to sing! Especially with a cough. It's also not an easy song to get out of your head).

Anyways, the bad night contributed to a bad morning when I didn't wake up at my recently established regular time of 6:00. Instead it was 6:50 and that is too late when I need to get boys out of the house dressed, fed and packed by 7:20.

My point is...there may have been some strong words.

And tears.

It's like they plan ahead to make it extra hard, you know?

It could have ended right then. Kids off to school and a chance for a do over, but it wasn't meant to be. Because my car wouldn't start.

I mentioned about two weeks ago about my car not starting after football practice. Well, I've had a dead battery a couple of times since, but Jay's always been around to give me a jump. This morning, however, he had already left for work, which happened to be in another town. Instead, my sweet friend, Lori, swooped in to save the day and take my kids to school and a towing company came to jump start my car. And include some free advice about cleaning the little copper things with some baking soda. FYI.

An hour later, I was off to the mechanics to get a new battery, my brakes worked on, my oil changed and four new tires. Because, oh yeah, I also had a flat tire the night before.

So, I'm driving down the road that has become the bane of my existence, Florida Rd (pronounced Flo-ree-duh 'cause we have our own way of doing things around here) on my tiny little doughnut spare tire, going ten miles under the speed limit with an irate trail of a half-dozen cars behind me (Yes. They were tailgating me close enough for me to interpret their body language) and I had an epiphany. Maybe, just maybe, all those people I am constantly stuck behind, who drive five or ten or fifteen miles an hour under the speed limit, are all on their way to a mechanic's shop, driving around on their little, unstable doughnut spare tires! Ah-ha! A trial to teach me patience and empathy! O.K. I'm going to become more kind and stop shouting at people from inside my car. Certainly the day would get better now that I had acquired my new and improved attitude.

Shockingly enough, it didn't. I had more to learn.

I'll truncate and refrain from including every single detail, but after my sister-in-law graciously took me to my mother-in-law's to borrow her car (local family. SUCH a blessing!) my day included a whole lot of driving, a whole lot of money leaving my possession, breaking lightbulbs at Wal-Mart (not me. I'll leave the guilty party nameless), piano lessons, a bloody nose and bloody lip, McDonald's for dinner, a call that he would be late, homework help in the car, football practice in the rain, a RS presidency meeting at the church with boys in tow and being last mother to pick up her son after practice.

Like I said....it was a day.

I've found that when I'm at the bottom, on empty, ready to fold, I'm always given just a little something that keeps me afloat. It might be a phone call from a sister, or a kind word from my husband or even just something that makes me laugh, but today it came in the form of a boy named Seth.

Even though he was the last kid to get picked up, and had to play in the rain and wind (he doesn't do cold well), he got in the car with a big smile on his face and said, "Mom, I had a great practice tonight! I caught two passes in our scrimmage and took someone out with a block!" (these were his first ever catches in a scrimmage. He's caught a few during drills and has dropped two poorly thrown balls in games (Look at me. Not at all biased). Most days he is considered a warm body out there at the end of the offensive line of scrimmage, contentedly loping around trying to block somebody for the boys who actually do touch the balls).

Suddenly, my day made sense. My son was happy. He had a good practice. The entire dismal day was worth it.

We got home. The boys had a bowl of Frosted Mini Spooners, we read a story, had prayers and every one said goodnight with a smile on their face. Amazing.

It really is. This thing called Life.