have you ever had that kind of day?

You know what I’m talking about?

That kind of day.

The kind of day where you have expectations, like every day.

Not unreasonable expectations.

Not bake six-dozen-beautifully-frosted-like-a-magazine cookies.  Not sew new curtains for the living room from an idea you saw on Pinterest.  Not finish the entire year’s worth of math curriculum in one afternoon.

Not those kind of expectations.

Just reasonable, normal, run of the mill type expectations.

Eat breakfast together as a family.  Complete a regular amount of school work.  Have lunch.  Spend a good afternoon finishing up assignments and taking down the tent out of the yard since it had been set up for a full two weeks now despite the fact that no one has been sleeping in it at all.  Have dinner together.  Attend shepherding group.

Things like that.

I had those expectations this morning.

But nothing about my day turned out normal.  Or routine.  (Because what is normal for our house anymore anyway?)

Slept late.  (The cold has begun and the bed is so so warm.)  Kevin had to jet to work before we could all eat together.  Bergen took it upon himself to fix peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast for himself and two siblings of his choosing.  (I can’t explain why he chose two.  He just did.)

Should I have been pleased at my resourceful and competent seven-year-old boy serving himself and his siblings?

Of course.

But I wasn’t.

In my unshowered agitated state – it just looked like a mess to me.

And more than a mess – it looked like an unmet expectation.

Breakfast as a family?  Fail.

I wasn’t even dressed yet and my day was not going as scheduled.

Morning turned into unexpectedly running errands.  Lunch turned into a late hodge podge.  Afternoon turned into me deciding that 5 o’clock was the perfect time to go buy six chickens (hens!) to replace our non-laying roosters.  Dinner turned into late.  Kevin’s day exploding over a video project turned into him not being able to attend group with us turned into me deciding that it was too crazy to get the kids over to group by myself right at that moment as I was airing the car from the smell of chicken poop and serving an eat and run dinner and all that turned in to me suddenly realizing that the house was tragically messy and that my kids seasonal clothing should all be switched over and my ridiculous desire to begin that process right then and all these crazy thoughts turned into my short fuse that grew quickly irritated by any question my children would ask me.

Even if the question was legitimate and offered in a kind voice.

Not my finest hour.

And here I sit.

Typing this rant.

Knowing our trash needs emptying.  Inspecting the kids idea of “cleaning their rooms” too late to make them do much about it right now.

(Although, I tell you – that seven-year-old boy runs a tidier ship than his older sisters do, for sure.)

Wishing library books would put themselves away and tables would be clean and tidy without my lifting a finger.  Remembering that I had Riley pull Otto’s sheets off his bed earlier today but not remembering where the extra clean sheets were stored.  Pondering whether I should address the box full of summer sandals now or next summer.  Wishing I had giant walk-in closets and maid service.  Being more bummed than is normal over the fact that I broke my favorite little gray cheapo handheld mirror that I use every day of my life to see how rowdy the back of my hair looks.  (Was it an omen that I broke that mirror before 9 o’clock this morning?)

Oh – and remembering that there is literally not a ply of toilet paper in our entire house.