Anatomy of an Excuse

I am not sure what happened to yesterday’s post, but all good excuses have three parts, as my children have demonstrated very ably through the years: The Reason You Need One, The Excuse for What Happened, and The Action to Fix It.

The Reason in this case was that I committed myself to a daily post in February. I let you down, my friendly readers who depended on me for at least some morsel, inane or otherwise, to prove that I am a woman of my word. I had planned to do a book recommendation. It was even started in my drafts folder.

The Excuse is long and convoluted. It was Sunday morning, Valentine’s Day. Somehow the morning got swallowed up in prepping food for a fellowship meal and combing three little girls with the wispiest, unruliest hair and stacking the cereal bowls quickly before heading out the door for church. I left my freshly pressed coffee on the counter, untasted for lack of time. Somehow the usher seated us up where only people with well-trained or grown-up children should sit and I ended up with three who weren’t exactly doing so well without a personal bubble of space while Gabe happened to have the two that behave themselves on his side. We shall have to strategize better in future.

I already had a dehydration/tension headache before lunch, then unwisely sampled the dessert bar because I knew my life would be better with one of my friend’s annual luscious salted caramel shortbread bars. It was a lovely dessert, and I paid for my sugar rush with an escalating headache during the afternoon service. I kept dabbing my Chill Out essential oils onto my temples, very surreptitiously, of course, while the speaker inspired us with visions of heaven. On the way home Olivia longed for a bit of the bar I was taking home for my Valentine who had already left for work. We decided to share it and not tell anybody.

With Gabe gone I didn’t have a guard at my bedroom door to ward off needers while I tried to nap. The rest of the day was spent moving very carefully so my head doesn’t decide to drop off or even worse, split right in front of the children.

I have lived with headaches for years and migraines were an unsettlingly regular part of life. Right after my pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving last year I decided to go off sugar and see what happens. After the initial withdrawal symptoms, I noticed something. It wasn’t weight loss, more’s the pity. I wasn’t having headaches anymore. For a while even one cookie would bring on a warning feeling that was enough to sober me up. I have been cheating in fits and starts the last month and thought maybe my prolonged sugar fast had sort of cured me of my sensitivity to it. Not so. Boohoo. I am cheerfully resigned to occasional lapses of poisoning at fellowship meals or birthday parties.

My children, bless their hearts, tucked themselves into bed early and I slept off the ache and wakened quite fresh. There you have The Excuse.

The Action: I will be doing a giveaway to show my appreciation for your forgiveness for my breach of trust(tongue firmly tucked in cheek here). The giveaway will actually be just because I like you all. You are helping my February fly by fast as anything. Stay tuned.



3 thoughts on “Anatomy of an Excuse

  1. Oh no , did you perchance have an all day meeting at church? They were the bane of my childhood. Other parents would let their little girls slip out in the afternoon ,but I had to stay in and sit and play with my hankie through devotions and two loooong sermons..I am in my 60’s now ,but I think that 6 sermons on any given day is a bit much for the human mind and anatomy to stand..

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