by Misty Umholtz

I just had one of “those” days. It was our fourth day without air conditioning, which in Florida is never good, and the reason it wasn’t fixed is a whole other marriage article for another day. My son had pooped six times that day, even though I had taken him completely off of fruit and fruit juice for the past two days. He woke up 20 minutes into his nap with another dirty diaper and never went back down, so that meant no rest or break for the weary mama.  I had a lot to do that day. Besides looking after my 23-month old son and a 3-and-a-half year old daughter, I was cleaning the house for company coming over the next day and trying to cook dinner for my family before I left for my greatly anticipated monthly small group that night.

I was quite a sight to behold when my husband walked through the door – a sweaty, tired, irritated mess.  It was 85 degrees in the house with all of the windows open and fans on. I had cooked dinner over the stove, bathed the kids, fed the kids and got them ready for bed. They were hot and bothered, and literally melting down in front of me. So, I did what most desperate mothers do in a last attempt for peace and quiet. I turned on the TV and it worked like a charm.  I had 10 minutes to pull myself together so I could leave the house. There was steam coming out of my ears as I drove in the car recounting my day.

I still had not calmed down by the time I got to my small group. After I talked through my day with all the empathetic ears, I told them another story that I remembered happening that same day. I had taken my daughter out earlier in the morning for a little alone time. While we were together I asked her, “Who is your favorite friend to hang out with?” Her response was priceless, “Mama.”

Dear Lord, Please help me to cherish these precious moments that are passing ever so quickly.

Misty Umholtz loves being a wife and mom of two small children. She enjoys ministry and she also likes football, which should win her an award for "dream wife." But on the other hand, her love for shopping might disqualify her from that possibility. You can read more about Misty on her blog, Finding Meaning in the Mayhem.