Yesterday morning I had the day that I hope never repeats itself. It was Reagan's sixth birthday and also her first day of first grade. Kind of a big day. I don't think I realized the enormity of the day until way after when a friend called to check on me. It started pretty rough and by 8 am, I had had it.
I woke up at 1:45 am, yep, in the morning, and couldn't go back to sleep. That's a pretty typical pregnancy characteristic for me. But usually I can go back to sleep after an hour or two. But yesterday, no such luck. I finally gave up, turned on Veronica Mars and ate a bowl of cereal at about 4 am.
In the midst of being awake for all that time I thought, "You know, maybe I should read my Bible. Do a good quiet time to get this momentous day started." But I was kind of being passive-aggressive with the Lord and was like, "You have the power to make me fall asleep, but you're not, so I'm not going to spend my time with you right now. No offense."
I probably made the wrong choice cause then I had to do the whole morning thing with the family. I made pancakes for Reagan's birthday breakfast, had to pack her lunch (please, no suggestions about making the lunch the evening before!), get her ready and psyched up for her first day of school (she, unlike me, doesn't quite love school yet.)
And then I pulled into the line to turn into the school. Holy Toledo. The line was like a mile long. So, yeah, we were late. I didn't get the first day of school picture. Well, I did get a rushed one, but not at her desk. And then I caught my reflection in one of the windows and oh my goodness. I think it's safe to say that I'm carrying twins...in my rear!
And then I did what any 31 year old mom of three+ would do. I broke down. Cried my eyes out.
So, yeah, I guess I should have done the quiet time.