Thursday, July 7, 2011

Moving is Stressful

Snuggling with my kids is not.

It's a little treasure I've discovered.

This has been an ordeal filled with seeking God on where he wants us and WAITING and releasing the anxious sickness in my stomach on a minute by minute basis. But the sweet moments of calm have come after talking to brokers and realtors and storage facilities and a stressed husband on the phone all over blaring episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba and kids loudly taming their toy horse while taking breaks to fight and/or plead with me for food all while I try to do laundry, pack our belongings, scan documents, and get our damned printer to work (pardon my French).

In these moments I find myself panting and wanting to steal Mash's pacifier, curl up in a corner with it, wrap myself in a window curtain and rock back and forth.

And this is the point I often scapegoat my children as the source of my angst and unleash waves of irritability on them. But there's been grace on me. I look across the room and see little stress balls.

Come snuggle with me!

They never turn me down.
I let my eyes close and listen to Elmo's world while their soothing closeness lifts the heaviness.

Who knew they possessed such powers?

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