Pathetic pride

So, yesterday for reasons that are beyond ridiculous, I was struggling with pride. You know that place, I'm sure. That place where you look at someone else's struggles or shortcomings and say to yourself, "I'm so much better than that!" Now most of us won't admit that we do that, but here on this blog, I admit it. I did this yesterday, and even though I knew I was being horrible doing it - I still did it. I was actually being so prideful that I called a friend totally removed from the situation to tell them how much better than that I was. Gross, I know.
And while I was preparing to call my friend to tell her how much better than that I was, my kids were being so calm and serene which only added to my pride of course. And then I called. And then all hell broke loose.
From that moment on for the next 24 hours my life has been pure chaos. I know that God doesn't take delight in our struggles, but after my last day I can't help but picture God saying, "Let's see who is prideful now!"
As soon as I began talking to my friend, Luke runs to me saying, "It was an accident. Peanut butter and jelly sammich. Accident. I so hungry." I followed him into the kitchen where I found my new jar of grape jelly broken into a bunch of pieces on my kitchen floor. Why he waited till I was on the phone to decide to make his own sandwich is beyond me, but he did, and there it was on my floor. As I wiped the last bit of jelly of my floor Emma ran by me and Luke quickly chased after her. She leaped onto the recliner and her foot met Luke's mouth and gave him a bloody lip and nose.
I calmed them down, cleaned them up and put them to bed for the night. Luke had a bit of a cough so I gave him some robitussin (ya, ya I know, cough medicine is from the devil) and some motrin and sent him to bed. It was calm again so I decided to make another important call that had been waiting all day to be made and as I lovingly held my baby in my right arm I said goodbye to my friend, closed my phone and turned to place it on the table. POP! My knee popped and I came crashing down. Will was unharmed, but I could barely move. So after icing it for a bit I decided to take a warm bath. I set my phone on the edge of the bath tub (really - I'm that smart) and my mom called. The phone vibrated itself right into the depths of my tub. Yes, it gets better! I hobbled myself downstairs where I proceeded to put it into a bag of rice to suck all the water out of it. Took a couple of pain pills and went to bed...
Only to be out of bed 15 times at least through the night with sick, teething and whiny children. Then this morning I go to the doctor where he tells me that I most likely tore my meniscus which is absolutely wonderful and am currently praying that does not translate into surgery (if you know otherwise, please do not inform me as I would prefer to live in my state of delusion) and he ordered an mri for Thursday. I came to pick up the kids at my mom's house where I found Luke absolutely miserable. We headed home.
Luke headed to the couch and curled up in the fetal position which means, "I'm really sick, pay attention." However, my other three children chose not to pay attention to that or to the fact that I am now hobbling all over the place and chaos continues to ensue. I put Will onto my bed for a nap, surrounded by pillows. When I came downstairs Emma came to me and said, "Mommy, Lily is playing with a sharp knife." I walk into the kitchen where I find Lily sitting on the floor man handling a bread knife stabbing at my homemade whole wheat loaf apparently trying to make herself a sandwich (I swear I feed my children.) Got that resolved when I heard crying upstairs where I found Will who did a back flip off of my bed. I got him calmed down and walked downstairs as I heard Lily's voice yelling a very clear, "CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!" only to find her in the kitchen again with two cartons of eggs and a measuring cup about to crack all of the eggs to make some concoction. At this point I'm sure some of you are saying, "You really should put a lock on your fridge." Been there, done that, she mastered locks by one and a half.
Got the eggs put away when I saw that Luke was really struggling with breathing and long story short ended up at the er where he was then admitted into the hospital with pneumonia. Of course they won't let me bring my nursing baby with me to the hospital to stay over night so my husband is there as I write this while I sit here blogging as this is the only way I can feel like I am contributing to the situation.
And here we are, 24 hours later, and I am quite sure that my little robe of pride that I was so excited to drape around my shoulders yesterday has been stripped off and I realize that I am really the least of these. I may not ever be in that situation that sparked this prideful streak of mine, but boy do I have my own shortcomings! My life is sure not perfect and as much as I would love a Norman Rockwell done of my family - it won't ever be and that's ok.
I'm sure there are moms who have looked at me and said with pride, "I'm so much better than that" and I'm sure that those moms would have handled my last 24 hours with much more grace, patience and poise than I did. However, I'm here on the other end of it, a little worse for the wear, but I'm here. And instead of looking at that situation that started all of this with pride, I think I am just going to pray for them in humility, knowing I can only hope that any onlookers I may have would do the same for me in my own shortcomings.
But seriously, here's to a better next 24 hours!