I was asked to be in charge of church potlucks. That means I have to bring the bulk of the food. Unfortunately, I chose to do a potato bar. I didn't realize that would mean I would be responsible for buying, cleaning, and baking 200+ potatoes. Yeah, that's a great idea.... So yesterday I loaded Amy into the car and drove to Costco to buy potatoes. An hour later we bumped out of the store with poor Amy surrounded by over 100 pounds of potatoes. She wouldn't have minded too much except that the bags were JUST out of reach so she could not lick them--something she desperately wanted to do. I somehow managed to get all of the 10 and 20 pound bags into the trunk and then into my house at the other end. Amy was acutely decompensating by that point so I decided to save scrubbing the potatoes for today.

I don't know if I've ever scrubbed more than 10 potatoes at one time in my entire life. Well, now I have the highly enviable experience of scrubbing and individually drying 230 potatoes....It took well over 4 hours. I could have probably done it more quickly but I had to stop every 10 potatoes or so to clean up spit, feed Amy, transfer Amy from her play station to her floor mat and back again multiple times, and redirect several major screaming episodes. Somehow, I finished and I've vowed I'll never do a potato bar for potluck again, ever.

Speaking of doing stuff. Sometimes I get to the end of a day and wonder just what I did all day. Aside from the 230 potatoes, the one and only big project I actually finished, I've really not done very much. I still have a load of laundry in the dryer (started it 5 hours ago), dirty dishes on the counter, a basket of clothes awaiting ironing and two laundry baskets still filled with laundry to be washed. I guess constantly being called by a very loud and persistent 5 m/o to solve all major crises in her life is probably part it.

You know though, I love being the solution to all of Amy's problems. I love the beautiful toothless smiles I get when I pick her up and hold her close. I love rocking her to sleep, cuddling with her, playing with her, and hearing her laugh. Basically, despite the frustration of feeling like I'm getting no-where, I LOVE being a mom.

I think this is how God must feel. I'm constantly calling for help to solve the crisis I've gotten myself into. He never tires of it. He loves being the solution to all of my problems. His heart yearns for recognition and gratitude, just like mine. Thank you Father for being my daddy.