Another good one from my Facebook drafts.

April 16, 2013

I had just gotten home from a craft fair with my mom, where I had gotten beautifully lost for 2 hours in a shabby chic dream world of vintage and floral. I set down my new lilac-scented candle and the myriad of business cards and flyers I had picked up there for other craft fairs coming up that I wanted to visit. I wanted to call my husband and tell him I was home, go to the store and grab some groceries we were desperately low on, and then return home to get lost for another while dreaming about other craft fairs I could go to, hopefully with more money, so I could finally start working on that romantic, shabby chic look for my home that I've been wanting now for a few years.

But I was telling Stephen about going to the grocery store, he asked me the most undreamlike question imaginable: "What's for dinner tonight?"

All my elegant, vintage, floral dreams for my home came to a rusty, shrieking halt. Dinner? Why did my husband need dinner? I felt a flash of annoyance, quickly replaced by an onset of deep disappointment as I realized there was no getting out of this one. Of course he needed food. And, even though I really didn't feel like it now, I would need food, too, when 7:30 came around and there was nothing on the table but some colorful advertisements for craft fairs.

It's times like these that make me (and my hubby!) worry about becoming a parent. In my daydreamy world, I forget about practical needs, and when I get collared and have to suddenly face them, I feel irritation, depression, or anger. I've learned to not let those emotions last quite as long, but it's still unnatural to do so. I worry about my future kids and wonder if it's even safe for me to be a parent at all. But that would be the easy solution--and last I checked, God isn't about easy solutions, but about lasting, meaningful ones.

Back to the dinner conversation. "Oh...I don't know...," came my lame reply into the phone. I'm sure he heard the flat sound of discouragement there as I tried to rack my brain through the fading flower scent for an easy, healthy, filling recipe to fix. I was drawing a blank. So I grabbed my beloved recipes binder off the shelf and flipped it open while Stephen tried to think as well. "I guess I should figure that out before I go to the store," I said vaguely.

"Whatever you want to make is fine," he finally said, just as I landed on a recipe we hadn't had in a while but I'd been meaning to make again.

We hung up, and I left my dusty dreams on the table with the flyers and got the groceries for dinner.

Still haven't made it--instead I'm here writing about the incident, because this week Stephen told me I'm good at writing anecdotes like this. I just don't know how to end them, because they're usually tales of me, a work in progress. I'll let you know when I ever get my head out of the clouds and into real life. In the meantime...Pray for my future kids! And my poor husband. Lord knows people need to eat.

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