Mogs and mistakes

It seems that posting even twice a week will be over my head at times. I will write when I can. “Just enough to stay sane,” a wise friend told me, and I will be taking her advice. It will help if both you and I forget about my little Mondays and Fridays idea. Pretend that didn’t happen.


Confession: I burned the first batch of caramel good and hard to the bottom of the saucepan, because I was washing supper dishes and singing I Stand Amazed in the Presence, and I forgot to stir even once.

With guests due to arrive within the hour for an apple dipping party, my knight-of-twelve-years-and-counting-who-has-gotten-me-out-of-worse-scrapes-than-this-one offered to make the emergency run for more caramels. {You know the Dr. Laura definition of true love? Swimming through shark-infested waters to bring her a glass of lemonade.}

I turned to drying the dishes, but the kiddos were wild and needy and hyper. Abruptly, I set my tea towel on the counter to rescue one who appeared in danger of sudden death from starvation or sibling attack or something perilous—and when I snatched up the towel again two minutes later, I forgot it was wrapped around my favorite of favorite mugs, the one my best friend gave me for my birthday, hand-crafted by her other best friend.

There was a rather dreadful smash.

And I am sorry to say that I yelled very loudly.

At the kids.

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Which does not really make sense and brought me shame later, although in the moment it was entirely logical that I was sacrificing myself for THEM and NOW LOOK WHAT HAPPENED.

“I stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene, and wonder how he could love me—a sinner condemned, unclean…”

Sometimes mothering five and growing another is plain hard work. Wherever I go there are small hands tugging me, small feet kicking me, someone pounding on the locked door. Sometimes there is nothing left for me. I can’t think, I can’t write, I can’t remember who I used to be. Am I allowed any selfishness at all?

(I am full of it still.)

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In a very few minutes, our evening was redeemed by the arrival of smiling faces, happy hearts, beautiful women who came to share our space and dip their apples. We talked and laughed and put together a difficult puzzle. They enjoyed my children, a precious and astonishing gift to this mommy. We ate good caramel, with a few burnt flecks in it.

But before they came, my sweet daughter got out her pen and paper and wrote me a note. She is only five, but she knows about joy and sorrow.

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Dear Mom, I love that mog too and it had bin miy fayvrit mog itil naw.

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Love, Kelly

16 thoughts on “Mogs and mistakes

  1. Children can ‘crash’ our world so quickly, but the amazing thing is how wonderfully they can restore it again. It always does my heart good to see someone’s favorite mug be something I created. Hopefully you can find a next favorite from my shop. So how about a visit to Virginia?? I’d give you one if you would come get it.

    • I want to buy a replacement! How similar a mug can you make me? 🙂 That particular one was just perfect. I’m coming to Harrisonburg in March; I will just call it a “standing order on hold” until we can get something worked out. Grin.

  2. I understand the pain of a broken favorite mug…mine was from Savannah…a place I love to go with my GA friends…I too took a pic of mine. thanks for sharing.

  3. I identify with your comments on mothering. God doesn’t waste anything, not even a broken mug. You let Him bring beauty into pain.

  4. Why did Kelly’s spelling make me cry? Dunno.
    Selfishness that never goes away? Regardless of what you feel, you and your husband and littles GAVE that night in big ways.

  5. I enjoyed reading your post. I strongly resonate with your sentiment about other people enjoying your children. I don’t really understand it, but there is something deeply rewarding about other people enjoying/interacting/investing in my children.

  6. I had to grin just a little over the burned caramel, because it’s nice to hear someone else has motherhood-induced amnesia.

    I am sorry about the mug. Little losses like that can strike deep into a heart already fragile.

    Kelly’s note is precious. My six-year-old son drew me a picture this morning when he saw my tears. The picture showed each person in our family sporting pistols! 🙂

  7. I put a poopy pamper in the fridge instead of the trash……and dirty jammies in the trash instead of the hamper…..silverware in the garbage disposal…….measuring spoons in the slop pail……my mind is a mess!! I love Kelly’s letter!!

  8. I appreciated how you brought the song full circle.

    The loss of a favorite mug is like fragmenting a treasured relationship. All those memories that are wrapped around it like hands on a chilly fall morning. I hope you can move on and find fulfilment elsewhere.

  9. I have some precious glued together tea cups. I think they are all the sweeter for having been used and broken.
    However, the time my son was pretending to be a monkey and happened to swish my favorite off the shelf with his long monkey fingers, I was pretty annoyed. 🙂 To his credit, he was sorry, and it WAS an accident.
    Just thought you might be able to glue your handle back together. The memories you’ll cement! 🙂
    God bless your mothering!
    I certainly enjoy your blogging: the honesty, skillful writing, surprising twists… Thank you!

    • I tried. 🙁 This had lost tiny chips off the edges of the broken pieces, making it impossible to fit them back together well. I usually glue everything…

  10. My sweet little niece. How cute! Love the spelling!

    Sorry about your mug. sniff sniff

    Hoping God gives you the strength you need for each day, after all, you are pulling off a ‘super mom!’

    Hugs!

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