This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves
to be my disciples. John 15:8

I think he may need to switch to decaf

>> Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Believe it or not, my last post was not supposed to be about my bank. It was about something that happened while I was on the phone with my bank yesterday and the frustration just got away from me. Hopefully if you read that post, you can understand why.

Part of the reason that I have been so frustrated with my bank has had very little to do with the actual money. It has been that despite the error being in NO WAY my fault, I am the one jumping through all the hoops. As I told my contact at the bank yesterday, "If I was just going through all this to scam you out of $100, and I divided that up over all the hours I have spent on the phone, I'd be looking at way below minimum wage at this point."

Yesterday was no different. Mike from US Bank called to update me on the status of things. It was during this call that he (finally) admitted to me that it was likely my check had been destroyed. I started to cry. I was so embarassed and felt like such a "girl", but the tears just came and I couldn't stop them. I did not cry for my $100....quite frankly, this stopped being about the money a long time ago. I cried for all the time and energy and frustration that this has cost me, apparently to no avail. While still on the phone, I quickly moved the ottoman to block my 11 month old on the "safer" side of the room, turned on "Max & Ruby" for my 2 year old, and went into my bedroom. My kids didn't need to see me crying or to hear what I was about to nicely, but firmly, tell the man at the bank.

I could not have been more than 3 or 4 minutes, quickly ending the call, splashing a little cold water on my face, and saying a prayer for peace, when Elijah showed up at the baby gate cutting him off from inside our bedroom. "Uh-oh, mommy...big mess....all wet!" I looked at him and saw that his sock was all wet. Having no clue what had happened, but assuming it was something to do with his diaper, I picked him up and ran to the changing table. On the way I smelled the distinct aroma of coffee. At that moment, about 20 images flashed through my mind of all the places my coffee could have been left and where it could be now. Carpet? Couch? Toys? Table? Books? I took his socks off and set him in Micah's crib. The coffee wasn't going to stain him, but it would certainly stain whatever he had dumped it on! It didn't even occur to me that he might have dumped it on his brother!

Yet that is what he had done. In the middle of the kitchen floor (praise God!), my 11 month old was lying on his belly, splashing away in a puddle of cold, morning-old coffee. It was in his hair, soaked into his clothes, and all over his face. He couldn't have been happier. I threw about 50 paper towels down on the mess and took him to his room, trying to dribble as little coffee on the carpet as possible. It wasn't until a short while later, as I was trying to feed him his sweet potatoes while he shook his head back and forth over and over again without stopping that I realized he had gotten a good gulp of the beverage as he was bathing in it. I never thought I would see the day that my baby was hopped up on caffeine.

Needless to say, as I prayed for peace after that phone call, a gigantic mess was not what I had in mind as a vehicle. It's funny, though, as I look back, it was the perfect way to take my mind off of the conversation I had just had. Left to my normal routine, I may have spent the whole afternoon stewing in anger over my bank's mistake, but having to jump back into motherhood with both feet was just what I needed to remember what's really worth dwelling on!


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