Aside about EVOO (aka Extra Virgin Olive Oil): Why extra virgin? Was it or wasn't it the first press from the olive? You wouldn't describe a gal as an extra virgin bride. Is she or isn't she a virgin? How very bizarre that something could be extra virgin. Extra hot or extra small - well, that makes sense to me. But extra virgin is sort of redundant.It was the little bottle I have for camping. I repurposed an old babyfood jar because that's much easier than taking a large bottle for a weekend away. Unfortunately, I had not found a good place to store it. It had a very precarious perch in my pantry. When I was in a hurry (for all of the aforementioned reasons), it fell and broke. Cleaning up broken glass and oil is less than pleasant but not impossible. It was just one more thing sending me into a tail spin of childish tantrum. Seriously, you would've thought I was two.
What excuse would be acceptable if my two year old started yelling and screaming and slamming things? "My baby doll is too clingy." "My clothes are all hand-me-downs." "He hit me." "My breakfast was served to me and cleaned up after me." "I only slept 12 uninterrupted hours last night." All of those excuses wouldn't really fly at my house. I would tell her to lighten up... I have told her to lighten up (I wonder where she gets it).
But as a mature mother of four, my excuses are so much better. Check me out rationalizing my own misbehavior! "I didn't get enough sleep last night" because I stayed up too late watching a Gerard Butler movie, my 16 month old woke up at 2 am needing comfort, and my two month old woke up at 4am to eat (go figure). "I have a Vitamin D deficiency" because I live in the Pacific Northwest and the sun hasn't found us yet. "I have PMS." And while we're at it (add tears for emphasis), "I also lack a few creature comforts because there's a recession and it impacts my husband's business." When I say those things to my husband or out loud to myself or to God, they sound silly.
My husband can't see how Vitamin D or the recession has anything to do with spilled EVOO. I can't blame anyone but myself for staying up too late. And I think God probably nods and rubs His chin and would like to transport me to some village in Africa for me to sleep on a dirt floor and thrash my own wheat so I would stop whining and justifying. By the way, I don't think that gals in Africa have an excuse for misbehavior. My two year old daughter doesn't have an excuse. And Heaven knows that I most certainly do not either!
I hereby own up to my own weakness of flesh. I confess my sin of anger (and justification) and ask forgiveness. With God's help, maybe EVOO (and the recession) won't send me into a tail spin of childish tantrum again.