Okay … if you do not enjoy hearing an otherwise level-headed mom share a little rant, you may want just to sit this post out! Realize I’m just venting here, so please allow me to type for awhile.

Why am I the only person in this house who will put things back where they belong? Over Christmas I went to get my scissors … not there. I went to get my paring knife … gone. The lighter for the fireplace … missing. Grrrr.

Here’s my big beef; I am certainly not the one who does not put items back where they belong, for I have always lived by the rule “a place for everything and everything in its place.” So, why does everyone ask me where stuff is?

And the aggravation increases: “Mom, where’s my chapstick?” “Honey, where are my work jeans?” “Hey, where did you put my backpack?” Are you serious? I wouldn’t use your chapstick no matter how cracked my lips were, your pants don’t fit me, and I’m scared of your backpack — it’s filthy! Do they honestly think I have some sort of sixth sense that can determine where they put their stuff?

Sigh.

I constantly find myself thinking I would like to scream, “I don’t know. Why are you asking me?” But I have been holding my tongue. I am able not to react in anger — at least, not out loud. Okay, I admit it, I do boil on the inside and get a bit snarky with a “how am I supposed to know” or “don’t ask me.”

Don’t think it is my own goodness that is causing me to evaluate my reaction to this dilemma; it’s the still, small voice inside of my head that keeps advising me not to become a raving lunatic … and to cut it out with the ugly thoughts because that’s just as bad.

Proof once again that a good dose of the Holy Spirit is a rattled mom’s best friend!