Pick me, pick me!

Remember when you were in grade school and all the cool kids were lined up ready to play an intense game of kickball?  The captains had been chosen, and now it was time to pick their teams.  And you longed to hear your name.

Pick me!  Pick me!

You wait and wait and finally your name is announced loud and clear.  And you breathe a sigh of relief, because you are chosen.  Maybe even sought after perhaps.  The captain wanted you on his team because he knew you could help the team get a big win.

(Now this would be a great time in my post to talk about being on God's team, and how he has chosen you, yada, yada, yada...but I'm not going that direction tonight.  I have other things on my mind.)

Today I was sitting in a Federal Courtroom and I heard it.  I heard my name announced and I gathered my jacket, purse and complimentary "jury appreciation bag"(because they really do appreciate us) and made my way to a juror chair.

A while later I heard my name again, and found myself among the "elite" 14 people chosen to sit on the jury for a federal case.

That's all I can say about that.

A bottle of water, lots of mints, a few recesses and 4 hours later I was on my way home.  Granted, it was about 2 hours earlier than I was expecting, so that was, well, nice.  But by the time I got home all I could think about was the day that had been lost sitting in a courtroom, rather than rocking and playing with my 2 littles.

I was home in time to give my oldest daughter a kiss before she was off to gymnastics.

Then we quick ran home so I could change out of my jury-wear into my mommy-wear.

The ground beef that was supposed to be a main ingredient for dinner was still in the fridge frozen.  Not sure what it had been doing the last 24 hours, but it certainly wasn't thawing itself in there.  Anyway, quick browned that so that we could have dinner while Holden plunked through piano, recited memory work, and tried his best to memorize spelling words.

Loaded up the 2 littles and dropped Boo off at dance...sorry, her real name is Breckyn, but out of habit you will pry see me refer to her as Boo more often than not.  That is just the way it is.  Deal with it.

After my ballerina was settled into her pink ballet shoes and twirling to the beat of her own drum, I headed off to pick up Emerson from gymnastics, which she has proclaimed, for today, is not her thing.

Fabulous.  Find yourself child and let me know what your "thing" is.  I will be happy to run you all over creation while we try figure out "who you are".

And before I head home I head back to pick up my little dancer.

I tried praying all of my anxiety away on the way home from my own carpool, but I got behind somebody driving slow.  Like speed limit slow.

Listen sir, they won't pull you over for going a little faster than the suggested number, and I have a sleep deprived hungry toddler in the back.  Move it.

We arrived home just in time to inhale a mound of spaghetti before turning to reading, piano, showers and bedtime.

And all the while I am trying to figure out how to get myself and 4 kids packed for a trip that is supposed to happen Thursday with some friends...thanks to the privilege of doing my civil duty, that trip is now, well, on the fritz.

If you happened to see me tonight, I think you would be able to confirm what I am about to tell you:

I. was. overwhelmed.

Seriously, I have no clue how moms with full-time jobs balance it all.

If you work outside the home at all, and have kids, and maintain a normal blood pressure, you are my new hero.  H-E-R-O.

I am a homebody.  Always have been.

In college I lasted all of 4 months before the homesickness set in so bad that I would cry at least 1 hour of the 5 hour car ride back to college.  The next year I transferred to Central College, which was all of 10 blocks from home.

I long to be home.  I am comfortable there.  My house is my turf, and I can be myself there.

So to be gone all day, only to head home to a sea of madness, felt a little stressful to me.

So hats off to all of you that do this work-kids-home balance better than me, you are amazing women.

The good news is that when I get up tomorrow and head back to my assigned juror seat, God's mercies will be new, and He will see me through.


Please note this post had nothing to do with my fast, unless you consider the fact that I was tempted to head west to the mall instead of east towards Pella out of the jury parking lot .  A new shirt would have soothed my stressed soul.  I am just sure of it.