Then I read this post by Liz Foss and reconsidered.
God doesn't call us to wallow in our suffering. He doesn't want us hoist  our crosses upon the shoulders of the people around us. The sleepless  night is my cross. It's not my husband's cross. If I stomp around the  kitchen, whining about how tired I am, I foist that cross onto someone  else's shoulders. If I "fake" it, and smile instead and force myself to  take even more care with breakfast, I bless someone. The thing about  choosing joy, even when we don't feel joy? Usually, we end up feeling it  too. It's not dishonest. It's discipline.
So I cooked dinner.  Yes, it was only Chicken Helper (Thank you, Reasor's for your 10 for 10 sale a couple of weeks ago!) and yes, the chips were about to go stale, but it was a warm meal eaten together on real dishes.
 He works hard for us.  He deserves it.  Really, he deserves better than Chicken Helper (and it was the Mexican variety, which I don't think he is crazy about), but this is real life, and even on the days when the children are feeling fine and are well behaved, it's not gourmet cuisine around here.
He works hard for us.  He deserves it.  Really, he deserves better than Chicken Helper (and it was the Mexican variety, which I don't think he is crazy about), but this is real life, and even on the days when the children are feeling fine and are well behaved, it's not gourmet cuisine around here.  Tonight I will try to get to bed a little earlier and wake up with a smile, even if I don't especially feel like it. By lunchtime, I should be feeling it for real.
*No, my husband would not care if we ate frozen pizza (well, I would heat it up) because the baby was sick. He wouldn't care if we ate frozen pizza because the baby wasn't sick. I like to save the pizzas for emergencies, though. Or for the weekends, because I am pretty much cooked out by Saturday.
**The picture above is from the ribbon cutting ceremony for Jay's new office--another blog post that never made it out of my head.
 
 



 
