A Rant and Rave

I'm still alive.

It was touch and go there for a few days.

I know I shouldn't joke about things like that. Especially on my blog, where people read and may not really know me.

But I seriously felt like I was going to lose it or have a stroke last week.

I just knew that TDodds would come home and find me curled up in the fetal position in the kitchen, and he'd have to truck me to the looney bin.

My precious little Aubrey Grace is cutting 8 teeth. DID YOU HEAR ME?!

EIGHT teeth at one time. I did not even know that was possible. If you are a mother, you know that even cutting one tooth at a time can be torture.

I have never seen my blessed little angel child act like... like... well like she was cutting 8 teeth.

She has been so clingy and needy. I've hardly done anything, because if I release her from my grasp she dissolves into the most pitiful screaming tears. Screaming being the operative word here. It's amazing that I've washed my hair in the last week.

But when I think about her being so uncomfortable, I really think I would act the same way. If I could get away with it!

And I would probably want to watch Sesame Street, and Veggie Tales, and Baby Einstein too just to keep my mind off of my pain.

And I would probably need my Mommy and Daddy close, just to know that it will be alright.

So I'm OK.

Someday she might be too old, or embarrassed, or ashamed to come dissolve into our arms with tears streaming down her face when she's in pain.

Please Jesus let it not be so. Help me to never become a grumbler. One who turns away from You when things are difficult. Please allow us the privilege of pointing Aubrey to Your safe place. You say it's the shadow under Your wings. What a beautiful picture. The place where she will certainly be comforted and restored.

For now... although my blood pressure has to be 1000/1,000,000... I'll hold her close and pray that those teeth come in quickly and that she will bounce back to being our vibrant, bouncy, loud little toddler.

And I'll hope and beg that she'll never be too old, or ashamed to come to me.

And I'll keep running back to my Father who will dry my tears, and give me the ability and sanity to dry hers.

Love each of you,

Bails