Abstaining from complaining

The other title choice was "Content for Lent." I couldn't decide which was cheesier. They are both pretty awful. A Lenten fast is supposed to involve the abstention from something we enjoy. I decided that I must really enjoy whining and complaining because I do it on a daily, hourly, and sometimes minute to minute basis. So, here is what will happen if a person (for example, me) decides to give up whining and complaining for Lent:

On Thursday night, I filled up the bathtub to give Harper and Hudson their bath and noticed the water looked rusty. So rusty that I decided not to give them a bath. How dirty can they be, really, when we've been home all day? I also decided that I would wait until morning to take a shower myself, because I noticed the rusty water also had a Smell, and it was decidedly not pleasant. A little later, during her night feedings, Helena rather uncharacteristically spit up. All over me and herself. Twice. We smelled good. Friday morning as I'm changing her on the changing table, she spits up again and it goes all over her hair. And as I am washing my hands I realize the rusty water has slowed to a trickle. That's right.
We.
Have.
No.
Water.
Not even rusty water.

I desperately need a bath. Helena desperately needs a bath. Hudson, after enjoying his bowl of oatmeal, desperately needs a bath. So does his high chair. Now, this is the THIRD time since Helena was born (4 weeks ago tomorrow) that our water has been turned off, but the apartment complex had given us fair warning the other two times. I called the office and they claimed this outage was the fault of a water main break a block or so away, and that the city had NO IDEA when the water would be back on. You know, with three small children, there is an immediate need for water. Lots of water. Toilets to be flushed, faces and bottoms to be wiped, and hands to be washed, and washed and washed again. Hudson, inexplicably, had three monstrous Bad Diapers by early afternoon. Helena continued to spit up and poo at intervals of approximately 8.6 minutes. The internet was down, which had nothing to do with the water, but meant that even when I got a minute I couldn't blog or check email to get everyone to feel sorry for me. Hudson only napped 45 minutes (it's usually 2-3 hours). Harper didn't nap. When the husband got home at 5:45 bearing the wondrous gift of 9 gallons of water, you can imagine the Mood that Welcomed Him Home. More Roseanne than Mrs. Cleaver, I'm sorry to say. He was very sympathetic and took over so I could take a very, very cold "shower" with a gallon jug of water. As soon as I finished my invigorating splash off, the water came back on. That's funny, huh?

Speaking of funny, my use of quotes around "shower" reminded me that Jamie linked to a blog dedicated to the misuse of quotation marks. It is hilarious. I wonder if she could leave the link in the comments so we can all enjoy it?

And a couple of photos to show some of the many things in which I should find great contentment. The second one is the ONLY shot I have of all three kids together. Great, huh? Christmas card worthy. But instead of whining about my lack of photography skills, I'm going to read the manual that came with my camera, as my friend Robin, Master Photographer, suggested in her recent blog series on taking a good photograph. If only I knew where to find it.