Imperfect

So, sometimes by the comments I get (in person or via mass media) I get the feeling that some people think my life is perfect. Well, I thought I would share a little realism just so our blog doesn't sound like we live in a fairy tale. Now, I do think that God has blessed my life beyond belief, but just in case you got the idea that I was Martha Stewart married to Mr. Clean with an angel for a baby, here is the scenario this afternoon: I have a doctor's appointment at 4:15. Takes approximately 15-20 minutes to get to the office. At 25 minutes until the appointment I was changing Harper's diaper and preparing to put her shoes on. This is, by the way, not an ideal situation. Taking your 19 month old to YOUR doctors appointment. Thus is my life when I have her in daycare in another state, though. I hear a horrible retching sound from the living room. Toby was throwing up. I run out to see that "whew", only on the wood floors. I scream at Toby "OUTSIDE". Then I realize that I have left my VERY ACTIVE child on the changing table. So I run back in HG's room. Oops, I realize, I have failed to put Toby outside. I realize this because I hear him puking again. I know, I just know, this time it is NOT on the wood floors. "NOT ON THE CARPET" I scream. I realize that it is too late as I run back into the living room. This time I scream some not so nice words to Toby and put him outside. Then I run back into Harper's room and try to explain to her why I am putting her into her crib (she is a very helpful child. As in, she would "help" clean up by putting her hands in the dog puke). So, I have cursed at Toby, left Harper crying in her crib, and have two piles of puke that I can not just leave before we go to the doctor. So I commence to cleaning. And muttering things under my breath about poor sick Toby. Then I wash my hands, rummage through the house yelling about why we don't have Toby's collar in a designated place, open the door, put his collar on, literally grab Harper and run out the door. I tried some deep breathing on the way to the doctor so that my blood pressure wouldn't read sky high. Doctor's appointment uneventful. Dinner still not cooked. Life happens. This morning I hit Harper's jogging stroller as I backed out the driveway and knocked my bumper loose. Jason popped it back in place. Our purpose in life is bigger than dog puke or bumpers. I try to remember that. I fail. A lot. Happy? I am, actually!