Self-Pity and Frozen Cookies

I woke up this morning and felt very, very tired. I could tell it was going to be one of those days. You know, the kind where you have to ward off self-pity at every turn. Still, I felt ready to do battle because I've been there, done that and it's just. not. worth. it.

But then, as I was herding the kids upstairs for their afternoon nap and feeling spent and sick (have I mentioned that fleeting bouts of morning sickness have returned this trimester?), something happened. I was carrying a 25lb 18-month-old in addition to this 4-4.5lb baby who is becoming more and more an all-in-front appendage and halfway up our very steep stairs, my lower back spasmed and I almost collapsed.

It hurt.

Real bad.

I managed to get Bronwyn & Jackson sleeping and Gabriel playing quietly, and then it was time-- time to feel sorry for myself. I'm afraid there was no stopping the torrent. I was feeling badly because my body is showing the wear and tear of 4 (wonderful, I might now interject) children and I'm not even 25 years old. I was feeling badly because motherhood is strenuous and yet not very esteemed in our culture. I was feeling badly because I was in pain and there was nobody around to tell me how awful it was.

*sigh*

I know, I know. Pathetic.

And this is where the frozen treats come in.

When I got married, I got the revelation that dessert recipes are not written with 2 people in mind. Where before I'd had to at least double every recipe just so that everyone got a serving, now a single batch was far more than Daniel and I could eat in good conscience. And so I was introduced for the very first time to the concept of freezing cookies, breads, and the like. (Believe me, when you grow up in a large family, the likelihood of having cookies that need to be frozen is about as good as the likelihood of having leftovers when Mom's made london broil and salt potatoes for dinner. I never knew people froze anything besides the venison from the deer their dad killed in the fall.)

At any rate, this introduction of freezing sweets also led to the introduction of husbands who snitch cookies from the freezer whenever they think their wives aren't looking. *ahem*

Well, today, it wasn't Daniel snitching cookies from the freezer. It was me.

You see, as I was laying on the couch feeling badly for myself, it wasn't just because I was in a lot of pain but also because I hadn't had a chance to eat lunch-- and my stomach was letting me know that it was now close to 2pm. In a flash, I could picture the tupperware containers of cookies stashed in the freezer for next week's time in Pittsburgh with family. So I peeled myself up, hobbled to the kitchen, opened the freezer, and pulled out five (count 'em!) chocolate cookies when I should have cut up my daily apple and made myself a slice of whole grain toast.

They were so good (I think I like them frozen better than fresh or thawed, believe it or not) and I savored every bite as I sent them down the hatch.

But afterwards I felt like a naughty child and my soul wasn't one bit soothed. After all, the challenge of sacrifice, of putting one foot in front of the other, of serving joyfully and willingly is never met with unjustified tears and forbidden chocolate chip cookies.

And I remembed, Oh yeah... It's just. not. worth. it.


P.S. I'm not interested in pity , but if you have a suggestion for relieving lower back pain, please do share! I've been doing coldpacks and I'm forced to lay down a lot (on my side, of course) because I can hardly walk right now. But otherwise I haven't a clue of what to do.