When God sends you a plunger


Broken, every piece, sob…

Mornings with preschoolers always feel like they’re teetering on the brink of chaos and some mornings they fall right into insanity. Today was one of THOSE mornings, fraught with chaos.

It started out fairly normally, warming sippy cups of milk and turning on PBS for the kids while I found my bearings, made my coffee.

Then, while I was in the other room trying to finagle a last minute Christmas gift for Noelle my son pulled all of my parent’s heirloom stone bakeware onto his feet.

The result was a shattered mess of lovely pottery and several cut and bleeding toes.

I was a weepy, awful mess over the whole thing, because I cherished those pieces of cookware and I cherish my sons baby toes.

I couldn’t help but grieve those shattered pieces of stoneware that I’d lovingly gathered from my parent’s house after my Mom’s funeral.  Why couldn’t it have been something cheap, something from Kohls or even a wedding shower gift.

Out of everything in the cookware cabinet, why did he have to break those?

Why couldn’t he have been content with the safe, plastic mixing bowls I’d set out for him to play with instead of going back in for “a different ones!” Continue reading