There is a saying from Peacemaker Ministries that goes something like this: “If you squeeze a bottle and ketchup comes out, it is because the ketchup was in there to begin with – the squeezing didn’t create the ketchup.” Thus, if difficult circumstances squeeze you and sin, idolotry, and just being a jerk comes out, then it is because that yuckiness was in you and not “because” of the difficult circumstances. Well, I’m being squeezed and all of the above are coming out (lots of sin, idolotry and definitely lots of being a jerk!).

OK, I’m going to list it all out because I think it helps me to process the whole thing, but you can skip this section since it doesn’t really matter. First, I’m having a baby in about nine weeks and we still don’t know if we are moving right before the baby comes or right after (my preference is DEFINITELY BEFORE!!) and we don’t even know where we are moving. Several months ago, I told Derm Dad that I wanted him to accept a transfer away from his current job because that would mean that the Navy would pay for and handle our move and we would go some place more affordable than the DC area. Well, he felt God wanted us to stay. Obviously, in a marriage, once I’ve said my peace (made my arguments), the decision is up to him and I need to make “his” decision “our” decision from that point forward. But, I guess I haven’t let it go yet because I am harboring a LOT of resentment toward him for that decision. Because it is IMPOSSIBLE to find a nice yet affordable place to live around here and neither one of us wants him to have a long commute to work!!! I have been looking so hard and then I found what seemed to be the PERFECT house – except that someone else rented it as of yesterday. And, it’s actually not Derm Dad’s fault that we didn’t get it, but I feel like it is. I actually know that I’m being unreasonable but it doesn’t seem to help me to snap out of it. I just feel so much pressure because my belly is getting bigger and more uncomfortable every day and if we want to move by April 1st then we have to find a new house and give our landlord notice by the end of THIS MONTH (i.e. two weeks from yesterday). But, I feel like I was handling this stressful situation pretty well. It was far from my own ideal, but I was (mostly) trusting the Lord and submitting to my husband joyfully. OK, well, then everything started to fall apart. On Monday, Everett started vomiting. Now, I know a few other special needs kids who get sick a lot and deal with vomiting regularly – and truly, my hat goes off to them – but this is new for me. Everett has many challenges, but I can’t even recall the last time he was sick. So, Monday, Everett threw up three times during the day and three or four times in his bed that night. Once I figured out that he was just going to puke again as soon as I put him back on fresh sheets (I used every sheet in the house before I had this revelation, mind you), I decided to hold him upright in the rocking chair and let him sleep that way. It worked like a charm, for him, except that I couldn’t sleep like that – it’s an antique rocker and not that comfortable). I dealt with all the changing of the clothes and the changing of the bed linens pretty well. I even dealt with the lack of sleep pretty well. Unfortunately, this thing called “life as mom” is a marathon and not a sprint. So, that was Monday and now it’s Saturday night and my family has one-by-one succumbed to this stomach bug that causes both severe repeated vomiting as well as other digestive issues (I’ll leave that to your imagination). Next it was Adele, who was sick on Wednesday and Thursday. I thought she was over it, but then she threw up again tonight. And, around 2am Saturday morning, Kent started throwing up every hour until about 5am. He didn’t throw up any more during the day today, but he had a low-grade fever and couldn’t stand up without feeling lightheaded. When he started getting sick last night, I thought I handled it pretty well. I comforted him and tended to him each time he went to throw up. And, I wasn’t able to go back to sleep in between trips to the bathroom, so that means I didn’t get more than three or four hours of sleep last night (or any night this week for that matter). Did I mention that Everett is an extremely early riser (like 5:30 am and absolutely refuses to go back to sleep)?

Well, today was not my best day. I was squeezed and the disgustingness that lives in my heart was on full display to my family. I actually told Adele that if she didn’t stop whining and complaining and unload the dishwasher with a joyful heart she was going to bed with no dinner and no story. She’s five. And even though I thought she was better, she wasn’t – evidenced by the fact that she vomited all over herself and the kitchen floor tonight. Everything today was just. so. hard. And then Derm Dad told me I was being a jerk (which is actually something I specifically told him I want him to do – confront me in my sin) and instead of repenting, I just told him I wasn’t ready to be sorry so leave me alone. And, that is why I am therablogging instead of sleeping even though nobody in my house is currently puking.

OK, so here’s where I preach to myself. God’s promises are new every morning and I get to start tomorrow fresh. First thing I need to do is truly repent with Godly sorrow and then apologize to my family and ask their forgiveness. So, repent, yeah. This is going to hurt. I think part of what is making the housing search so hard is that I want a “nice” house with a kitchen that is open to the family room (so I can keep an eye on the kids while I’m cooking — see that perfectly-reasonable-sounding rationalization I threw in there?) and a big tub so I can give the kids a bath (Everett doesn’t sit, so I have to hold him to bathe him . . . and my belly is huge and it gets crowded in there . . . and the drain is so low that you can only have about eight inches of water in there so I get cold! and I want to have a lovely big soaking tub so I can labor in there before I have this baby — again with the rationalizations!!) and I’d love to have said tub in a master bathroom so we can use the potty in the middle of the night or Derm Dad can get ready for work without waking up Everett (the hallway floors squeak pretty loudly no matter where you step). And while our current house has A LOT going for it, I have been really getting annoyed with that squeaking hallway, and not having a master bathroom, or a big tub, and having to connect the portable dishwasher and the broken toilet upstairs and the laundry in the disgusting basement that has streams of water all over the floor EVERY time there is rain or snow — just a bunch of first-world-problems that aren’t even problems, just minor annoyances that my flesh/satan/the world (???) has convinced me that I deserve to not have to deal with! Sheesh. Writing this down really is embarrassing. I have made having a nice (and I guess not “old”) house into an idol and I’ve been sacrificing my family at the altar of this ridiculous idol. I actually like old houses and their charm. And it’s not like things don’t break in new houses too. Honestly, I would like this old house a lot better if I could just keep it clean (which has nothing to do with the house and EVERYTHING to do with me). And it’s not like any of these house issues are Derm Dad’s fault. They aren’t anybody’s fault, but he’s certainly the easiest to blame.

Actually, I think this idol is even bigger than where we are going to move and specific house attributes. I think it’s ultimately about my personal comfort (and being entitled to said comfort). You see, I also convinced myself (and I think Derm Dad too) that I deserve to spend $2K on a nursery glider and ottoman that both look good and are comfortable enough for me to sleep in. Here’s my justification: I have bought almost every single thing in this house on craigslist and I have gotten some great pieces for some really good deals, but craigslist only has ugly gliders! I argued that I REALLY don’t want an ugly glider and all the pretty ones are wicked expensive. So, since I’ve gotten by without a nice glider for the first two kids, why not splurge on one now so I can use it for this baby and more kids in the future – and then it will be such a pretty chair that we can use it in the living room once we are done with rocking babies in the middle of the night. I still think those things are true, but it becomes a sinful idol when I have a tantrum if  I don’t get it. And, tantrum, oh yes I did.

So, now I need to replace this idol (feeling entitled to be “comfortable” and get what I want) with the only thing that will truly satisfy my soul – the Living God. I’m off to dig into the Word and hopefully have some peace so I can sleep tonight before I apologize to my family in the morning.

P.S. I hope this post isn’t TMI. I am sorry if I have been too specific in my description of the plague that has afflicted (and is still afflicting) my family this week.