From Chaos to Credit (and all those crazy moments in between)

Sometimes you just have to laugh at life in order to see your glass as half full. I mean, some of the "stuff" that comes at you seems so pressing or frustrating in the heat of the moment. Then, when you've had time to step back and review the events of the day, you realize that from God's perspective, you were Lucille Ball and your "performance" was quite funny in His eyes. Perhaps the great pizza incident was such a moment? Just one of the many things I'll have to ask God when I meet Him face to face. Allow me to recap from last week..........

Okay, so I was trying to get lunch going, a late lunch because Carl would be home at 2pm. I needed to fry hamburger for sloppy joes and to heat the oven for garlic fries. Only,...."WAAAAAAA!" baby Brandon wouldn't have it. He woke up in a big hunger just as I was preparing to get lunch on (note to self...never try to prepare a meal without full consideration of the tiniest appetites, lest they remind you in the midst of it).

Okay Toni, you can handle this. So I switched gears and headed upstairs to get my little cue ball. Only, it wasn't going to be the quick transition I had counted on. His diaper was a wilting blob and he was soaked clear through. As I was removing his many layers of clothing (why do we mothers insist on dressing them so?), the doorbell rang,....and raaang and RANG! Olivia, Reece and Cierah naturally peeked through the window shades and yelled up, "It's a man and a boy at the door, Mom!" I yelled back calmy instructed them to get away from the windows, assuming the solicitors would simply leave when I didn't answer the door. Nope, wrong-a-roonie.
They knocked.
And knocked.
AND KNOCKED!!!!!!!!!!

"What in the name of Burgess McDodson?" I thought, in true Larry Boy fashion (Larry Boy; an endearing pickle of a character from the VeggieTales videos). By this time, baby Brandon was less than amused at my distraction. I was standing at the window to see who would walk away from our house. Meanwhile, the kids were still downstairs, still yelling, "They're still heEEere, Mom!" while I still yelled calmly demanded, "I said get away from those windows, NOW!" Brandon just yelled (at the top of his pint sized, fully inflated and pliable young lungs).

Finally I saw them walk away, our neighbors. They were selling pizzas. PIZZAS! I'm trying to change my pee soaked baldy and they want me to choose pepperoni or cheese (I chose one of each, by the way). All I needed to complete the chaotic scene was Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture (the kids learned what an overture and coda were this past week in homeschool; perfect timing). You've heard the piece many times and believe me, it FIT our day perfectly.

Okay, fast forward to a few days ago.
I feel like we ate pizza on credit. In reality, we did. It's hard to wrap my mind around that one, Italian on loan. You see, our neighbor sold those pizzas to us last week, then his wife delivered them a few days ago in a hurry. She didn't have time to take payment then, saying she would get it this weekend. Well, being a person of convenience, I made the pizzas today and we ate them. For cryin' out loud, we haven't even paid for them yet. I keep thinking Bubba the loan shark is gonna bang furiously on my door next, demanding payment plus interest. Goodness, I feel so,...criminal. Olivia will run a check over tomorrow so all's well. It's a good thing we enjoyed the pizza though, because there's nothing like paying for something you don't like (not that I would have put down the pizza just because it tasted less than yummy, but that's another story for another day).