Just take care of it

Our garbage disposal unnerves me. It is one of those appliances that really freaks me out. Typically, I don't have to give it much thought-- it's handy for kitchen cleanup and is one of those conveniences that doesn't come to mind until it isn't working properly.

But about two weeks ago, it made a strange clinking and banging noise when I ran it. "Hmm... note to self, don't hit the switch on that again until Greg looks at it." But life marches on, work and life with three kids gets busy and garbage disposals tend to be forgotten. It's probably ridiculous to automatically throw this little gem of an issue onto Greg-- he works long hours at times and I am at home. Yet, the thought of placing my hand inside of the disposal is too much for me. I just can't do it.

There's nothing like a little bathroom renovation and lack of a shower to make a gal wash her hair at the kitchen sink. It wasn't until I leaned down and wet my hair that the odor truly hit its mark. For two weeks, I had been using the disposal intermittently, listening to the clanking and then reminding myself to scrape dishes over the trash. The bits of food hadn't truly gone down the drain, but were waiting to visit me at 6am on a Monday. The reality I was facing, quite literally, couldn't be ignored.

"This is ridiculous" I thought to myself. "Grab a flashlight, put on your big girl panties and just see what the problem is". The problem was a plastic toothbrush cover in the disposal, easily fished out with grilling tongs.(Don't even ask how it got there. It probably landed there the same way our digital camera landed in the birdbath a few years ago.)  The remedy to the issue didn't even require me to face my dreaded phobia of the hand in the disposal. So why had I waited for so long to take care of this?

I can struggle to put my fears in perspective and can let them dictate small and large portions of my life, causing disruptions that are avoidable. Whether it is a friend that I need to apologize to, but am avoiding for fear of rejection or if it's simply a messy disposal, when I let the fear win, I miss out. The irony? The reality of the outcome is rarely as bad as I have imagined it will be.

I feel braver today. And my kitchen smells a whole lot nicer, too. :o)

Remembering

For two years, I have been a part of an office team that I loved. And now, I am home again. Can I just say it? It feels odd. The house is quiet and there is a sudden luxury of time. I have time to shop and plan meals. I have time to get a haircut. But the house is silent, and the difficulty with that is that it makes me think and question my parenting tactics from the day before.

My time is so brief with my three.... and while Brenna may always be with us, there is the chance that maybe she will choose to live apart from us someday. What will they remember about their time at home? The stories we read snuggled up on the couch in the evening, or mom yelling "Just go to bed! You already had a drink!". Maybe it will be a mix of both. I am hoping their childhood memories will be like that of a beach house vacation, over time you forget the fleas in the carpet and just remember how vast and beautiful the ocean was. You laugh that the bedroom window fell out during the storm and recall how the live starfish felt in your palm.

Here's to hoping they remember the good and praying God helps me to relax and lighten up.