Joyful Noises and Head Colds

I smell like swimming pools and Marc Jacobs perfume.

 I have a horrible cold in August and a roll on perfume thing. So I'd roll it on and think, "I don't smell anything. Is it broken?" and then roll again just for good measure. Ten minutes later my nose started working again and I was overpowered by the smell. I've become the lady no one wants to sit by in church. I went swimming but the smell still lingers. Darn.

I looked out the window and saw two little boys playing in a mud puddle. I quietly locked the back door and folded laundry, smelling like a fancy department store.

The best days are the days when my boys are outside, messing with mud.

I tell myself that to keep from screaming. I tell myself that boys need mud puddles and sticks to become men. I believe it too, even though it's hard not to chose inside play with clean hands and clean floors. I have to talk myself down every time I see someone pouring mud onto my geraniums. So I fold socks.

Eventually someone pours mud on their brother.

I sneeze, and herd the crying, dirty boys to the pool. The tomatoes are ripe still, and so we go pick them. Spheres of burned orange drop into chubby little hands and they stand in their floaties and underwear, eating cherry tomatoes and getting tomato juice all over their bare feet.


It all washes away, the tomato juice, the mud, the dirt and grime. Everything except for my perfume.

We go inside for sandwiches and I take some DayQuil. Shel tells me the pills look beautiful, and they are. I tell him they look pretty but taste horrible. Jewels should taste better, but something about cold medicine always makes me gag. I take it though,  because this is our day and my nose was interrupting it.

When I woke up this morning I wanted to marry my pillow. I made eggs for breakfast because we were out of milk for cereal and I struggled to be happy with a head cold and a pile of dishes.

I'm reading a book called, "A Joyful Noise" by Janet Gillespie, and in it she writes of the concept of "using a day". It's the idea of sucking all the good and wonderful out of each day. I made a solemn vow to try it, then I blew my nose.

It's lunch time now, and so far it's been quite glorious to make this our best day instead of our Mon-day. It's lovely in August and the Lord has made so much for us to enjoy. Mud puddles, tomato plants, sticks...and DayQuil.

So let's have bouquets every day, and drink from china tea cups. Let's use up the nice things in life, the mud and the coffee and the hugs and kisses. Let's be messy and happy. Let's use the day.


6 comments:

  1. I have had days when I have wanted to marry my pillow too.

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  2. I'd sit next to you no matter what you smelled like.

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  3. My pillow stays hot from hot flashes so I leave it gladly every morning. Boys and mud, dirt and grime go hand-in-hand, do they not? Suck the life out of every day. I get slack. You've motivated me to begin tomorrow with that thought in mind...right after I leave my hot pillow in the moring.

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  4. Summer colds are no fun...good for you to make the best of your day. You made the day fun for me to read about too!

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  5. Summer colds are the worse. Somehow they feel more unfair than a winter cold. You are right though-boys do need mud.

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  6. Sorry about the cold. So terrible. I still have bursts of it, which I'm starting to think are allergies. I think I had a virus with allergies on top. Again: so terrible.

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