Enough

There is a phrase I've heard often that I really don't like. It goes something like this:

"The Lord doesn't give you more than you can handle."

I'm sure it's scripture based and well backed up, but I don't like it. It's like saying to someone gasping for their last breath: "Don't worry. You're not really drowning. It really feels like it and you're miserable and you might die anyway, but it'll all be ok."

Hardly a reassuring sentiment, really. I only find it helpful when I'm on the downward slope. It promises hope that the next dip is the last and life will get easier. In reality, I've usually just begun the bumpy ride. I guess if the above statement feels encouraging to me, I should know that I haven't hit the bottom yet and more is sure to come!

Am I the only one?

It's time like this where I try to dig deep, find the good moments, the tender mercies, and feel grateful for all the blessings I have. I know there are plenty. I know when I search for them, I find them.

But sometimes, frankly, I just want to take a minute to admit that life is NOT peachy. That things are NOT easy, even if they are somehow within my capacity to "handle." In my opinion, merely surviving is not the same as "handling" the things life is throwing at me.

In case you haven't heard my whining on the subject, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes about two weeks ago. It's a lot of fun. It has solidified in my mind that cooking is not a hobby of mine, not a talent, and really not something I care to improve at. I really, really dislike cooking. Maybe if I could treat it like any other hobby of mine, aka doing it obsessively once every few months and then forgetting about it, THEN I would enjoy cooking. Instead, it's a huge drain of resources, time, and energy that just keeps needing more! Kids want to eat everyday! Sometimes even several times a day! Now that I can't eat most of the things my kids will eat, I get to do twice the cooking. I can't eat as much at one time, so I am hungry more often. You guessed it--more cooking! All of this cooking makes me grumpy, and results in more dishes and more messes to clean up. To reward myself for a job well done, I get to check my blood sugar four times a day. My kids mistakenly think this is a really fun activity. They gather to watch. Scotty cleaned his room in record time the other day so he could make it in time to watch the blood. Alyssa often volunteers a finger and tells me it's "Syssa's turn!" Maybe I should wipe off the cheerful face and cry occasionally so they aren't tempted to try it themselves...

Eric has been wonderfully supportive through my whining, helping me find websites with recipes, helping with the cooking whenever he can. I just can't seem to accept it and take it in stride.

In other medical news, Scotty dislocated his elbow ("elbone" according to him) again this week, necessitating a quick trip to the pediatrician's office. He managed the same feat three times in the first 2 years of his life but it had been awhile. Alyssa didn't want to be left out of the fun. Yesterday I rescued her from chemicals, climbing into the toilet, climbing onto the toilet, and just about every counter top in the house before she managed to touch the hot stove. She only managed blisters on three of her fingertips so it could have been a lot worse, but she was pretty upset about it. I think I would feel guilty except she was determined to kill herself yesterday so a few blisters is a pretty good parenting save in the long run. If only I could get her to sleep in past 6am and stop yelling in frustration for the majority of the day, we'd be in good shape...

How are you "handling" life right now?