Sometimes I'm A Crazy Person

I felt something come splash across my face and the whole left side of my body.

A quick glance began a sequence of less than perfect mommy moments.

She was only trying to help and doing as she's told like she had a bazillion other times. But this time when she brought the almost full milk jug out of the fridge it somehow slipped and came crashing to the floor.

My initial reaction was that it wasn't so bad, just a puddle on the floor that somehow managed to reach me a couple feet away. But then, then, I saw it every.where. and I freaked like the inner crazy woman I am.

Whoever coined the phrase 'don't cry over spilled milk' has never stood in their kitchen witnessing streams of milk trickling down an entire wall, floor and cabinets. 

I won't lead you through all the even and angry words that spewed forth like a lunatic on a rampage, but I was upset. I had so many other things to be done that I was already in the midst of that day and I just didn't have time for this inconvenience .

It got better, eventually, when I was done with my inner meltdown and the crabby exterior that clouded the next couple of hours.

It was this minor incident that led to endless opportunity for analysis on me and my human imperfections. Sometimes it's things like this that call me out as a better mom, wife and person when I actually stop to reflect on them.

Just recently I had been striving to live more faithfully my vocation each day and roll with the punches. How I wish that I were better at being a saint, remaining calm when in peril and generally being less human.

On my hands and knees soaking up milk and scrubbing the floor, I was caught off guard at the lesson that was intricately woven in a jug of milk. Smack dab right there in it was the reminder of my need, my quest for His grace each day and my dependence on those around me to help me daily win heaven. It's the choices, the virtues I exhibit and cultivate along the way that are not always easy for little me. 

It was a lesson in humility, forgiveness and the realization that I'm still a very long way away from the best me I can be.

If I can attain the life of virtue, being a good Christian/Catholic and a living witness of Christ, I won't be crying over things like spilled milk.

Or exhibiting my inner nut case.

But sometimes I need the spilled milk to give me the reality check my soul really needs.