But last night was one of those nights. I knew the minute I heard my little one let out a shrieking cry at 3am that the following day would be a struggle.
I went to bed around 12:30am last night...not unusual for me. I'm a night owl. But she was up at 3 and didn't go back to sleep until about 5am (because of another puking episode), then was back up, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8 sharp! That means, I had less than 5 hours of sleep last night. I'm an 8 hour girl for sure. As I lay there, groggy, I started to become angry. My plans for getting up early and spending time with the Lord were already shot...my plans were shot. So I found myself becoming resentful and not wanting to follow through with ANY of my plans, all because my day didn't get off to the right start.
So as I sit here with a big grumpy scowl on my face, and on my heart, I know have some choices to make. Am I going to drink this coffee, wake up and get a move on despite the fact that I'm seriously aggravated, or am I going to sit here, stare at my laptop in a sahmbie daze, do nothing all day and then cry later because I feel like a failure? The former has been the choice of late and I've been spiraling into a serious depression. As crazy as it sounds, that really has been the easier choice, because it makes my flesh happy to do nothing. But I've caught on to that strategy from the enemy, and I'm not going to let it work in my life anymore. I choose to do the difficult thing, which is deny my flesh, get off my bootie and continue with my day with a good attitude.
As soon as I click "publish post," I'm going to close my laptop, jump in the shower, get dressed, dry my hair, and get to work on tackling Mt. Washmore (which I've let pile up to an insane elevation again).
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