Day 503
Sunday night...and the blues
are kicking in. So, what's better than a
depressed person with a blog?! My poor
readers.
It's been a harder
weekend. David had major allergy
problems at church this morning. I got
him drugged up (which is no easy feat - he once heard of someone dying from
accidentally overdosing on OTC meds and he's scared to take a single aspirin as a result) and
he was fine by late this afternoon. I told
him if he didn't feel up to going to church tonight that was fine. I kind of hoped he'd say he wanted to stay
home because then we'd just all stay home with him. But he said he felt fine after napping but
wasn't totally gung ho on going tonight so if I wanted to stay home he was fine
with that.
I was tempted.
It was never this way when
Paul was alive. If the doors to church
were open and we weren't throwing up, we were there. There was no thinking about it.
And I've still been
faithful. For the most part I've wanted
to be. My church continues to be my
major source of support and socialization.
But there are sometimes, like tonight, when I just feel - meh. I look around my messy house and think of all
I could accomplish instead of sitting in church and I think my time might be
better spent at home. And sometimes it
is. But we went tonight, anyway. Next Sun. night we have an activity that will
make us unable to go, so I figured we should probably go now. This is where I'm supposed to write about the
tremendous blessing we received at church and how I'm so thankful I went.
Yeah, not so much
tonight. Nothing bad happened, other
than having to chase Ellie down the main aisle after church and whacking my
knee on a pew as I did so. But I didn't
come away all the refreshed, either. I
guess that's the way it goes sometimes.
Maybe it's because of the
birthday card I had the kids sign tonight when we got home. Paul's mom's birthday is Tues. I always said I had the best mother-in-law in
the world and honestly loved her. My
heart is broken over her belief that I am responsible for Paul's death. Just shattered. I didn't even know if I was going to get a
card or not this year. I finally did,
but just had the kids sign it. I'm not sure
really why I'm sending it, even. I don't
think it will change things and that's not my motivation, anyway. But I still love her.
Even though...
***********************************************
Ellie has been difficult
again today. I find myself observing her
and wanting to find some sort of brain dysfunction in her that would explain
her terrible behavior. She got ahold of
another knife today. Fortunately, Lizzie
caught her and alerted Ben, who took it away before any damage could be done. I texted Will and said, "I thought you
hid your knives?" He said he has
too many to hide them all. What, is he
forming some anti-government militia? He
doesn't even make sense. My mom had
suggested I get a hook and I latch for his door and that's what's happening
tomorrow.
I had several more incidents
this week of Ellie coloring on the furniture in her room. This morning Lizzie put on her tights for
church and we discovered that those had been scribbled on, as well! Seriously!
What is wrong with Ellie?
I've never been a big fan of
preschool for children, thinking that it is more important that they spend as
many moments in those formative years with their mother. Truly, there is nothing taught in a preschool
setting that cannot be learned at home.
But right now - I've got plans to check into the preschool program at
the school for next fall. I need a break
from this child, even if it's just a couple of mornings a week. But next fall is a long time away. I've got to survive Ellie right now.
And I just don't get
it. Ben was a difficult
preschooler. But he was brain-damaged,
so I was able to chalk up most of what I was experiencing to that, even though
we didn't know it was autism at the time.
While he seemed to have a death wish he was hampered by his cp. We still made an awful lot of trips to the
ER, though, as I recall. Any of Lizzie's
behaviors - and there have been many - I can attribute to her early years of
chaos and being separated from her birth family.
But what's wrong with
Ellie? Except for a three day period at
the age of 10 months, she never lived with her birth mother. She doesn't know her older bio brothers, she
escaped a lot of what Lizzie did not. So
why is she so awful, then?
Maybe all it is is that she's
a 3 year old girl. It could just be that
simple. A year or two from now I may
re-read this and laugh (with a great deal of thanksgiving that this is in the
past). As I recall, Lizzie wasn't
exactly a picnic at 3, either. But
that's when I got her. Maybe this is
normal. But if so - why would anyone
voluntarily give birth to more than one female child?
*********************************
Sam got new glasses Wed.
night. They're cute - copper metal,
rectangle frames. My friend, Diane, who
made them had these particular frames shipped to her in some sort of promotion
last winter. I went ahead and bought
them then, knowing that at some point Sam would need new glasses. She's hung onto them ever since. He got his new prescription and she had them
made up for me within 3 days. That was
Wednesday.
Yesterday - Saturday - Sam
went for a bike ride with David and Ellie.
Being full of brotherly concern, David brought Sam's sunglasses to him
before they set out and Sam jammed his new glasses into the pocket of his
sweats. When he came home, they were
gone.
I think my middle name must
be "Frustration" because it is definitely my overriding emotion most
of the time. Seriously - he lost his $80
glasses THREE days after getting them?
Not that I'm surprised. I have
found his glasses on floors, under blankets, behind his toy shelves, under the swingset, on the dirt
pile, out on the deck, beside the pool...
I looked for a little bit,
but I had to leave for a Sunday School class gathering. David and Sam looked, but didn't have much
success. I prayed about it. I mentioned my frustration to my friends at
the gathering last night. I was so
touched this morning when one told me she had prayed about it last night for
me!
I got home last night and
found a pile of money on my desk with a note from David saying, "Buy Sam
some new glasses." Sweet kid. I gave him his money back.
This morning I asked Sam if
he had prayed about finding his glasses yet.
He looked surprised and said, "Well, I haven't had lunch
yet!" I've come to gather recently
from other comments he's made that he seems to think praying can only happen at
meal times. I really need to rectify
this belief he apparently has. One of these days. When I'm not so busy...keeping a certain 3
year old alive.
So, after lunch I got the
girls down for their nap and David, Sam, and I set off to follow the path of
yesterday's bike ride. It was a long
ride! I found myself praying off and on
and as we turned to go back home, I found myself really getting irritated with
God. He heard my prayer. He knew what it would mean, financially, to
have to buy this kid another pair of glasses.
Why wouldn't He just SHOW me where those glasses were? At that very
moment a gust of wind blew up and I imagined that I heard God's voice
speaking to my heart.
So on the way back to the
house, shuffling through the leaves, hoping against hope, one of us would yet
see the glasses David and I had a conversation about my frustration with
God. I can't even remember now what all
was said, but it was one of those "good" talks.
And maybe that was the whole
point of this experience.
A few feet later and we were
home. I was resigned to having to buy
another pair of glasses and to learning the lessons that God seemed to think I
needed from this. And then Sam
exclaimed,
"Oh, here they
are!" And there they were - laying
on the ground right up next to the wood pile.
Thank you, Lord.
*************************************
One other frustration (aren't
I just Susie Sunshine tonight?). Someone
thought it was a good idea to give my kids art crayons - like the oil based
ones. They have loved them and have
colored picture after picture with those things. We've never had them before and I didn't
think too much about them. I was
straightening up the area rug in the living room late yesterday afternoon
(actually while David and Sam were out looking for the lost glasses the first
time) when I discovered a huge green mess to the side of the rug. Apparently one of those crayons got
underneath the rug and then was vacuumed over and is permanently imbedded in my
10 month old carpet.
Well, now I know that I will always
have an area rug in my living room because that green stain isn't coming
up. I used a magic eraser on it, I
shampooed it, I used Dawn detergent on it,
I made a vinegar/baking soda mixture and it is still green. It's lighter but still, quite green. I am going to try some mineral spirits since
I am guessing the crayon was oil based.
I had the kids throw away all the other crayons like that one.
I think there's a lot to be
said for never having children.
Ever.
********************************
But then, you wouldn't laugh
as much. This morning David commented to
me that he was suspicious Sam was not brushing his teeth because whenever he's
been going into the bathroom to do his at night, Sam's brush is always
dry. So I said to Sam, "You are
brushing your teeth every night, right?"
Sam seriously replied,
"Mom, I just don't have time for tooth brushing!" I hate to think how long it's been since the
last time he thought he had time for it.
I've put on weight in the
last 6 months or so. It's annoying
because none of my pants fit and I have this roll of tummy now that doesn't
have anywhere to go so it flops. I'm not
comfortable in my own body anymore. I
remember a few years ago I couldn't keep weight on and now I've got the
opposite problem.
I don't like it but the
thought of laying off the sweets and maybe going for a few walks doesn't sound
all that appealing, either. Besides,
don't most women put on weight as they age?
So maybe, no matter how hard I try, it won't come off because it's more
of an age thing. So then, what's the
point of putting in all that effort and self-denial if I'm just destined to be
a bit overweight the rest of my life?
But then, I get in the shower
and see that my thighs, who have always lived very separate lives, are now
quite cozy with eachother and I hate the feeling of them touching
eachother. So, I bought some grapefruit
essential oil. It's supposed to be good
for weight loss. We shall see.
Lizzie observed me taking it
this morning and wanted to know why. I
told her and she said, "Well, Mom, if you want to lose weight, all you
need to do is quit eating!"
She may be onto something
there. She then added I should probably
also "run for 40 hours a day."
******************************************
So last night was our Sunday
School class get together. They're doing
these once a month now, which is fine.
Our class is geared toward younger families, or at least those with
younger children. I've got those so I'm
still qualified to be there, I guess.
I'm actually not even
attending the class right now because they're doing a marriage study. I sit upstairs with the old people. It stinks.
I would give anything to have a reason to be sitting in that marriage
class.
Back to the get-together: I
saw this as sort of a "test" for me.
How would I handle being in a situation with all couples? Could I do it? Everyone is still so nice to me, but things
have changed because I'm not part of a twosome anymore. I even am a lot more self-conscious about
talking with married men now. I never
used to think twice about it.
So I slipped away for a few
hours and went to the gathering. We
roasted hotdogs at a home in the country and then sat around the fire. Some of the women made a real point to talk
to me and I appreciated that. But I
looked around the fire a few times and saw all these couples, with their arms
around eachother because it was cold and dark and I suppose, somewhat romantic,
and I felt so alone. I honestly
didn't begrudge anyone there for what they still have, but it made me miss what
I've lost all the more.
But this is my reality
now. I have to learn how to function as
a single in couple-oriented world. I
don't know if the fact that I have children like most couples do makes it
harder or easier. I haven't decided that
yet.
Along with everything else
I've had to learn to do, this is another area in which I have to learn some
coping skills. But, there is a verse
that keeps popping into my head lately.
So I will restore to you
the years that the swarming locust has eaten...
Joel 2:25
I
think this verse is literally referring to food, but all Scripture is
profitable and there must be a reason this particular one keeps being brought
to my mind. Is God using this verse to
assure me that these years of loneliness and barrenness will be restored
someday?
Maybe. I don't know.
But
it's kind of the message I got from Him today when I hunting for Sam's
glasses. There was that along with the
reminder that ALL things are for my good and profit my growth.
And
mostly, just the reminder that my number
one job is, still, to trust Him.
With
my stubborn and destructive three year old.
With
my absent-minded almost-seven year old.
With
my future.
No comments:
Post a Comment