Do any other moms out there dread going to the post office?
Can I get a witness up in here?
Prior to children, I actually liked going to the post office. I felt so grown-up standing in line to buy stamps, or mail a package, or change my address. I would always think of how proud my parents would be to see me standing in line being an official person in the world. That is what always came to mind while I was there for some reason.
This is not the case any longer. I think I would pay my mom to go to the post office for me.
For some reason, the Lord likes to test me and search my heart while I'm there. It never fails. There is always a story to tell, a lesson to learn, and prayer to pray.
Today was just like any other day. And then, the post office came into my life.
I took both of my children in with me because that is just what moms do when running errands with children. Brenham has a busy little post office with a parking lot the size of a small swimming pool. There is always people coming in and out.
One time, when I was enormously pregnant with Laney Rae, KK and I went to the post office for some insane reason. We were walking across the parking lot when her flip-flop flipped and flopped off of her foot right smack dab in the middle. Kaylyn turned into a crazy deranged toddler at the sight of her lonely flip-flop laying helplessly in the road. You just have to love girls and their need for drama the minute they feel like an accessory is being threatened.
I turned around and bent over (which was a challenge in and of itself) to reach down and pick up her flip-flop. I was so focused on the task of bending over and clinging to my toddlers hand at the same time that I failed to see this Buick headed straight for us in reverse. It appeared to this driver that there wasn't anyone behind him in his rear view mirror because I was bent over on all fours.
Another driver that had stopped to let us walk in front of her vehicle to pick up KK's flip flop had front row seats to this fiasco and actually saved us a trip to the hospital or morgue.
She saw the same Buick headed straight for us and started blaring on the horn. The elderly Buick driver didn't hear the horn honking and continued to push on the gas.
p.s.- This is also a commercial for hearing aids.
However, this momma DID hear that horn. So, in what seemed like one uniform action I swept the flip-flop, my toddler, and my uterus up off of the pavement and high-tailed it to the curb. Pregnant women look so funny when they run.
By this time we most definitely had a crowd. The horn honker walked over to apologize for scaring KK but she didn't know what else to do but honk in her attempt to get the attention of the car headed straight at us. I expressed my appreciation for her heroic horn honking and we got in the car, thanked Jesus for saving us, and went home.
That was a story within a story about the trials of the post office. On with the original story!
So, I'm at the post office with my toddler and the baby on my hip instead of in my uterus this time around. As we were waiting in line for what seemed like an eternity, my always shy three year old decides she is no longer shy and starts talking to this very sweet elderly woman.
The funny thing about post offices is the fact that they are so quiet. Conversations even in whispers seem like people are shouting at one another. And Kaylyn never whispers when she is talking. I'm pretty sure everyone in that entire line knew more than they cared to know about this sweet woman entertaining Kaylyn by answering every single question. I was like, 'Who are you? Katie Couric or something?'
Our turn comes up and we proceed to the next postal worker who says 'May I help you?' We walk up to the counter and the man in blue is greeted by projectile baby barf.
Laney Rae spews all over the counter, the debit machine, the scale, the floor, my entire front side, and creates a lovely little puddle of disgorgement for me to stand in........in my flip-flops. It was like a scene out of 'The Blob' or something.
In the midst of this hurl-fest, Kaylyn is still interviewing this saint of a woman now standing at the next counter over from us. She asked this woman where her mommy was. Well, by the looks of her she could have had all but two answers.
Her mommy was either....
a. the oldest living human on the planet
b. a goner
Her answer was the latter. Except she told Kaylyn that her mommy was in heaven with Jesus, which spurred on even more questions.
At what point do you tell your child to quit being friendly and stop talking? I didn't think before we got out of the car to tell her to not talk to anyone or turn into Barbara Walters on me. The thought never crossed my mind because she usually doesn't talk.
You see, it was Jesus and all of the many talks we've had with Kaylyn about being kind and speaking to people when spoken too. All it took was 'You sure are a pretty girl' from this nice lady to answer the prayer of 'Lord, teach Kaylyn to speak with kindness and love to others' or even 'Lord, teach Kaylyn to speak to others'.
Being the wise mom I am and knowing my little girl the way I do and how she loves accessories, I said 'Kaylyn, what do you think of my belt?'
Before we left home, Kaylyn asked me repeatedly to take off my belt because it wasn't a 'real' belt. She didn't give reasons why it wasn't a 'real' belt, but she was definitely apalled at the sight of her mother wearing something out of the Beverly Hillbillies.
I know, who says that?
These people were probably thinking I was even more bizarre than they already thought I was. But, that was all I had people to get her mind off of Mrs. Smith's mommy living with Jesus thus creating more questions which I did not need at this point in my life. My shoes were sitting in a puddle of puke and I was bent over on all fours again cleaning the floor and all of the other contraptions with upchuck all over them.
I loved Kaylyn's answer though. It made me laugh and pause the head swivel action and think 'you are so cute and wonderful'.
She said (not whispering again),'Silly girl, that isn't a belt, it's a rope you rope cows with.'
Yep, that's what she said. We were at the rodeo last night and she thought it was hilarious that I was wearing a cow roper for a belt. Ha! (self portrait obtained by myself:)
I just had to laugh and so did everyone else in line.
I was just glad my post office experience was ending so I could go sit in the car and laugh, cry, pray, and then go take a nice cold shower.
I learn so much when I go the post office.
He teaches me patience. He teaches me kindness. He teaches me that He is my rescuer and my rock. He teaches me to carry Chlorox wet wipes everywhere I go.
'Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me.'
He is a good, loving, and faithful God.
I needed to go through this today.
I needed to be reminded to slow down and appreciate the sweet things in life like these two precious girls growing so fast before my eyes. In what will seem like an instant, these stories will be just that......stories.
I needed to be reminded that in the midst of wacky and bizarre He is still my fortress and my rock to cling to.
If you made it to the end of this post, WOW!
It's also alright for those who didn't. I understand.
I write about things such as this to....
#1- Document our family's lives since I don't have the best memory. I haven't successfully accomplished the scrapbook side of mommy-hood. This is the best I can do right now.
#2- See how many times I can use a word to describe regurgitating- 6, that is.