Remember that old saying... "When you pray for patience, God doesn't just give you patience, He sends you to McFarland Clinic."? Don't worry about it, I actually hadn't heard it until today either.
Reagan had a sore throat and a slight fever today, so we took a trip to the clinic. As it turns out, she just has a virus, but I'm sure after being there for an hour and a half in the waiting room, she picked up something that will warrant antibiotics this weekend. Grant was whining for supper, whining to get down, whining when you put him down, and whining because Reagan was whining. And Reagan... ugh - my dear girl. Her drama talent will be wasted if she never tries out for a play when she's older.
By the time we were finally getting home around 6, Joel was working on the neighbor's roof. When we stopped to tell him we were home, he tried to talk to me about having supper there tonight. I had low blood sugar, a starving 10-month old, and a whining 3-year-old. I responded to his questions with every snippy and snotty thing I had wanted to say to the McFarland Clinic employees but was too 'nice' to say out loud. As we pulled away, Reagan said, "Mommy, why are you mad at Daddy?" Ugh. I wasn't, and I had to apologize to her, apologize to Joel, and bite my tongue.
Whatever happens tomorrow, odds are good I will probably be more patient about it. And for that, I thank you, McFarland Clinic.
1 comment:
I love McFarland Clinic! (I wish you could see my fake smile and hear the sarcastic tone of my voice...)
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