I Had Words with the Big Man

Most of you know my amazing sister from the post Cryin Myself Ugly.

She is incredible, she is strong, she is a fighter, she is faithful, she is very clearly gorgeous, she is alot of things.  But she is also very very sick.  Her body can't seem to catch a break and it is breaking....well...all of us.  Every time her doctors force her into taking a new medicine, or her body requires a new regimen, or she caves in to a new process...like dialysis....the solution seems to backfire and develop a new problem.  Recently we were all very proud of her for taking on dialysis.  It would seem to most that it could not be HER decision to "take it on."  If I had not been there to see it myself, I would not have understood it, but her doctor has told her numerous times, "Sherry, it is time for dialysis.  Your kidney's can no longer function without it."  After which, she would proceed to break into dramatic hysteria in a heap on the floor.  This happened while I was there with her in March.  I followed her to the floor, in tears....the doctor, I believe almost in tears, said, "ok, let's try getting you hydrated and get you back on track and see if we can't postpone it a bit more."   WHAT is that you say?  I could not believe that is how it went.  She was so determined not to give in to what she believed to represent a commitment to being sick, that she convinced her doctor the same.  Well, that came to an end a couple of weeks ago.  She started dialysis.  Against her better judgement.  Everyone was so proud of her.  I was so happy that she was finally going to start feeling good again.  I think all of us, besides her, were relieved that she was on her way to getting her kidney's better and, in theory, her body better.   I knew that dialysis was not going to be fun or easy, but it would W.O.R.K.  And that was good.   And I guess that is the point.  It is working, it is doing its job.  But it is also making her MORE sick.  M.O.R.E sick.

As I am driving around town earlier this week, I get a call.  I look at my phone and the number that pops up is my brother in law's.   Not my sisters.  My heart drops every time.  He does not call to chit chat.   She landed herself in the hospital again this week with a blocked colon.  I don't have to go in to the details to tell you that SUX.  Blocked colon, really?  Breast cancer, moldy infected lungs, excruciating headaches and a failing kidney are not sufficient???  The brother-in-law tried his best to assure me that she was ok, that she was not in pain now and that they were just waiting to talk to the doctor.  I hung up the phone and could hardly see the road ahead of me for the fog of tears that swelled up in my eyes.

"ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!!!!  STOP IT!!!!  YOU CAN GIVE HER RELIEF!!! YOU CAN STOP THIS"

That is how the not-so-prayer-like prayer began.  It felt like praying to me.  But I feel certain God would have given it another term.  We were having words.  Well...I was having words.  With God... 

"At this point I am not even asking you to cure her.  I am not asking for an Old Testament miracle.  I am asking for some RELIEF.  For something to go right, and easy for her.  PLEASSSSSSEEEEEE!!  No more sudden new surprise prognosis's.  No more phone calls from the brother in law's number.  No more.  How much longer can I ask you to give her hope and faith and strength in the promise that she is still in Your Will when You keep slapping her in the face like this???"

Yes, that is how it went, my words with God.  And I still, to this moment, don't feel bad about them.  That is when I realized how amazing God is.  I am so very grateful for Jesus and his amazing sacrifice to give me a way to have such an intimate relationship with a God that HAS IT TOGETHER FOR ME.  Even when life feels completely unfair, completely out of control.  I realize that it is out of MY control and that it is not in MY realm of fair.  I am reminded that when the sister and I step back someday, no matter what happens next, and look at the big picture, his hands have been holding her and our family the entire way.  We don't feel his strong palms underneath us sometimes, but we will.  When we can look back.  I know she has seen Him at many many times during her sickness.  In my short time with her back in March we were lucky to meet many angels sent straight from heaven to bless her. We had many "ah ha" moments together. 

Gods plan is always good.  Always.  So, I am trained to step back after my "words" with Him to find the lesson.  Her health has been so perpetually bad, the news so consistently negative.  But Sherry's spirits have been so unexpectedly and unexplainabl-y UP and her faith so strong, that I can only assume that this journey of hers must be planting seeds of faith and hope in lives that we don't even realize.  I know for sure that she has learned alot about her relationship with God, with those around her, with her family, with her amazing friends.  She has had to check her attitude more than a few times.  I know for sure that I have had to pray and search:  soul search, scripture search.  I have had to stretch my faith in God.  Faith is what we cannot see.  That is hard for us, as humans.  But it is imperative, isn't it??  What do those without faith in a God that is sufficient, and good, and right, and in control do??  This I do not know.  We cannot be anxious about things we cannot control.  How do we do that without God? 

That very night, after my words with the big man, at Number 1's insistence, I am reading a story from her Bible.  Yes, you guessed it, about Job.  Read it.  Don't just read it though.  Study his character.  One day, you will be in a state of mind that I was in, feeling angry with God, feeling like God is unfair to those you love...and your child may ask you what mine asked me,

"why didn't God make Him better?  He could do that you know."

Yes, my friends, that is exactly what she said to me.  God doesn't talk to us in this day and age?  I beg to differ.  When approached with that question, in that state of mind, do you take up for your God or do you lay into Him?  Where will your faith and knowledge in Him be?  Will you be ready to help your child understand what God is trying to teach you at that moment?  If you are not armed you will not be ready and you will attack.  My answer?  Not even sure where I found the words, but I heard the message loud and clear, and I think she did too...

"Because, honey, sometimes God knows that there are bigger lessons to be learned than showing off with his miraculous healing hands.  Sometimes He needs someone as amazing and strong as Job to show great grace and faith through suffering so that those around him that are not so strong can have hope."

A Slip Up!

I was out and about today, and this is how it went...  I have showered, I have put on a dress and divine shoes and I have…..yes…fixed my hair!!!  I have tricked the Grandma, once again, into watching Number 3 while I went to do very very important things.   The Awesome Husband took Number 1 to school for me, I dropped Number 2 off later at preschool and the Grandma didn’t expect me back yet….because, as I said,  I have very very important things to do.  I notice that many of the preschool mommies take a double take at my super cute dress.  Or is it my shoes?  Or is it that they never see me showered?  Doesn’t matter, they notice.  I smile and “good morning” everyone because I don’t have my head down today hoping they just don't notice the dark circles or the greasy hair.  

I head to Target to spend all of our money, because that is what you D.O. at Target.  They pump some kind of special oxygen into the Target stores so that you will stay longer than you should and spend more money than you intended.  Much like a casino.  I would know, I lived in New Orleans for 3 years and that is exactly what I blame the disappearance of my hard-earned-money on…the weird oxygen.  I strut up to the very reflective door of the store and just before it opens…automatically…for me, I see it.  I SEE why everyone was noticing me.  I SEE…EVERYTHING!!

The dress I had on was given to me by the Grandma.  She is a Goodwill, Ross, yard sale shopper at its best and it is in my genes!!  We love a deal, we love to “dress for less.” An inexpensive outfit makes me SMILE.  An expensive outfit makes me furious because I know, if I had enough time, I could have found it for L.E.S.S!!!  Well, this cute little dress she gave me was from one of our favorite places.  And, most likely, when you get a dress for seven bucks, there is NO lining.  Therefore, you show the world your stuff.  There was no mystery left for those around me when it came to what was going on under this super cute, super cheap dress. 

So THAT is why they noticed me today???  It wasn’t that I actually took the time to blow-dry my hair.  It was that they weren’t sure if they should tell me that I was showing the world my secrets or just let me go on about my business as is. 

Let me stop here and tell you……TELL HER!! 

Luckily, my very first stop after preschool drop-off was at a place where the doors are super reflective and they sell everything you might need to fix what you saw in the reflection.  In addition to the money I spent on all the things I needed…and didn’t need, I bought a SLIP!!   So I made it to Muffin’s With Mom at Number 1’s school without being “Noticed” quite so much.  

We are all so put together, aren’t we???

Selfish Agendas

Selfish??  Me??  Yes, totally, 100%  No arguments from me.  Not sure you would get any arguments from most people that know me.  So, when I found out I was pregnant with Number 3 there were certain friends that actually laughed out loud at me.  Never in a million years.  I often joke that God got confused when he sent this one down.  That he located the wrong uterus.  But I know, also 100%, that he had a very important lesson for this Truthful Mommy.  (Well, He had a lot of lessons in mind, but we don’t have that kind of time in one post) My selfish nature was going to have to be shelved.  Benched.  Red-shirted at the very least.  I use all of those not-so-permanent verbs because it is clear that some of my selfish-isms are allowed to get back in the game at times.  But in the end, mommies of three are NOT allowed to be self-serving. 

Look, here it is in a couple of nutshells.  I have agendas.  When I take my kids to play at the park…it is NOT because I like the gentle breeze from the swings or enjoy running around the playset playing pirate.  It is not REALLY even because I like to have adult chatter with the other moms.  Typically, if I don’t already know someone there, I don’t meet new ones.  It is simply and solely because I want them to be completely exhausted when we get finished, and I want to get them back home with only enough time to get them down for their naps.  After all, since I so graciously let them play at the park, they will now be exhausted and nap for hours, and I can do…Stuff, whatever.

Nutshell 2.  I am a member of the local kid’s museum.  Not because I care if they learn about science and money management through creative play.  Nope.  Because it is a cool place for me to take them in the middle of the summer…and a warm place in the middle of the winter… where they can be entertained with something OTHER than myself.  After which, we can return home and nap really really well.

There are other nutshells I could confess to you, just incase you haven’t been able to relate just yet; like the real reason we go to the library is not because we don’t already own more books than we can read and I desperately want them to learn how to use the card catalog.  It is because it is close to our house and I can get my exercise in while walking there.  Or, we don’t go out to eat at Chick Fil A because I am the best mommy ever (which is what they say).  It is because I am much too lazy to cook and clean!! 

Mostly, pretend play is not for me.  Hate it with all of my soul.  I would rather throw a ball around with the boys than pretend to be ANYTHING make-believe.  And we all know why mommy’s really opt for preschool.  Because we are increasingly selfish and NEED OUR TIME to do Stuff.  Plus, if you are like me, my kids would learn N.O.T.H.I.N.G.  to get them ready for kindergarten if it weren’t for those amazing preschool teachers!  I am not pointing fingers at anyone.  This is boomerang finger pointing at its best! 

(Though I do have lots and lots of thoughts about why preschool is good for my kids too, but that is another post entirely)

I am a bad mommy because I would rather do STUFF than play.  I get in these cycles.  Get them up, get them fed, get them to school, get them entertained so that I can get some work done, wear them out with some activity, GET THEM DOWN FOR A NAP, get them up, pay a minimal amount of attention to them, hand them off to daddy, get them fed, get THEM TO BED.   I care for them, I take care of their basic needs and I do that well.  They are well rested, well fed, well dressed, well groomed, and for the most part they smell good.  They get lots of snuggle time and I kiss my kids more than I can tell you.  I love their hugs more than anything in the world.  But I do not enjoy rolling in the floor, wrestling, playing Barbie, or anything that involves me being something that doesn’t have the same voice that I was born with.   So I search myself and see these areas of selfishness as a mommy.  I become increasingly guilt ridden about my agendas.

Then…. I reflect about those days at the park and find myself rather enjoying watching them play and especially the way they have learned to interact with each other.  They are the best siblings ever.  They love each other.  They protect and help each other.  And, best of all, they LIKE each other.   I even find myself a bit sad that Number 1 is old enough to rarely ever “need” me anymore.  She is quite self-sufficient and now plays mommy to the boys very well.  And, at the museum, I find myself rather intrigued with the skills they are attracted to at each station of creative play.  I become interested in their choices and intrigued by their curiosity. 

Mommy’s that stay home have a job.  It is a hard job.  No one can tell us how we are doing but ourselves.  There are no progress reports, no bonuses, no commission checks, no vacation and sick days, no one to report to.  It is solely our responsibility to keep a family, a house and little lives running.  We won’t see the fruits of our labor until many years down the line.  But we do get paid in kisses and random mommy-I-love-you’s and that is the best currency around!!

So go ahead.  Laugh at the very selfish Truthful Mommy who got slammed with one more kid.  I will laugh with you.  But God has taught me more lessons from all of these little people that have invaded my life than I ever imagined.  I am forced to look at myself everyday and make sure I am living in a way that would make them proud.  The reflection is rarely very pretty, but it is always in check.  

Breast Feeding Drop Out

When I had Number 1, I had no other reasoning than that breast-feeding was an obligation that was a mommy’s job.  I wanted to love it like so many le leche league warriors make us believe we should.   Believe me, I am so happy for those of you that can do it with ease and a smile.  I did it with difficulty and clinched teeth!!   For those of us that have had 3 kids and have not had an easy time at it yet, it is torture.  Sure, it hurts in the beginning; I can live with that and was ready for that.  But when you just don’t produce enough nourishment for your sweet baby, I believe it just is-what-it-is!!  

The experts want to pump supplements into you and change your diet. Did you know there is actually a tea out there called “Mothers Milk” just for this occasion??  I used it…not so sure they will be calling me for endorsements.  They supply you with nipple guards (in multiple sizes), hospital grade pumps, soothing gels and creams for your dried.cracking.bloody nips.  They give you a plan of nursing then pumping, then nurse some more and then pump some more.  Pretty much you are to be hooked up to some form of booby sucking leech at all times of the day.  The pump and I are NOT friends.  Massage your breasts, change your diet so that you now eat nothing but lettuce. Geez!!!!   What the heck is wrong with some formula??  I am a firm believer in scientists and their research.  I believe God is in control, and He would not allow them insight to find amazing nutritional supplements if it was not ok for us to partake. 

And what is this nonsense about women that walk around making dinner and answering phone calls while nursing?!?!  I remember going on a hike with a special friend of mine and at some point in the adventure her baby had to eat.  She yanked that baby out of the stroller, popped him on her boob, pushed the stroller with one hand and never skipped a beat!!  Me??  I had to sit in a certain spot, with the right amount of pillows built up around me like Fort Knox, hold the baby a special way and never move it.  And just to be sure, I had to hold my mouth right for good measure.  

Anywho, I did my best with Number 1.  It was torture; I dreaded every feeding like a prison sentence.   I got a lot of pressure…he would call it support and encouragement…from my dear husband, which made it even harder and me more embittered.  I remember being in bed one night when she was not latching on properly and just dropping her on to the bed beside me and throwing my hands in the air in such desperate resentment.  I think I was probably waiting for "It's ok honey.  You mean too much to me to watch you go through this.  Just stop."  But that never came.  It was hard, it hurt, it was emotionally draining and I WAS A FAILURE!   I endured for 2.5 months.  It never got better, never got less painful.  The bleeding never stopped.  I was done. 

Before Number 2 came along the hubby and I had a long talk about the kind of “support and encouragement” I needed from him.  I was clear, and he was respectful of my needs.  But the underlying pressure of what I knew he wanted for his children was still there.  With Number 2 the same problems were there, but now I experienced terrible anxiety and depression from it.  I decided it would be best to just pump instead of being a farm cow all day.  When I sat down in the chair and hooked the girls up to that machine, I would immediately sink into a deep dark hole as I sat alone…because there is NO ONE you want watching you during this process… in my room listening to the repetitive sound of the pump.  After 15-20 minutes of this I would end up with enough to feed a baby rat, maybe.  Talk about unmotivating.  These women that have freezers full of breast milk, HA.  I never once had milk in my freezer!  I hooked myself up to my buddy the pump for 2 months.  Done and Done!!   The pump and my girls were not coexisting together well at all and my depression was not making for a very fun 2^nd time mommy experience!!   I gave Mrs. Medella to my cousin for F.R.E.E. only if she promised that I would never see it again!  Ever. 

Then number 3 rolled around and yes, I tried again.  I know, give it up.  But I was determined to try one more time.  I am a glutton for punishment, or just REALLY love to shop and know how much formula costs!!  Since I had given my pump away and made them promise to NEVER send it back, it was latch-on-or-bust.  Much to my surprise, Number 3 and I were an amazing little team.  Third time is a charm! Sure the beginning was hard, it hurt a bit, but it worked and after a while it didn't even bother me.  It was a sweet, bonding, lovely experience.  FINALLY, I could see what all the smiling was about.  And then the ball dropped...I got mastitis.  “Continue to nurse through the pain!!”  What is that you say?  Terrible little devil, that mastitis!  I did as my doctor instructed through the pain and the fever, and it worked.  Baby 3 and I came through on the other side still going well together.  But as good as it was, the moo-mie juice supply ran low again and after 6 months I gave it up.  But for me, 6 months was amazing.  I was glad that I still gave it a shot with Number 3 after all I went through with 1 and 2.  I was happy that I finally got that positive experience. 

So, from someone crazy enough to try and try again and lucky enough to have both experiences….Don’t ever feel pressured if it doesn’t feel right, but don’t give up on the next one.  You never know when one of your babies is going to be the one that gives you that Le Leche Lovin Feelin!!

Blanky Returns, Part 2

If you read the previous post, you know that we experienced a terribly dramatic situation with the disappearance of Number 1’s favorite plush blanky.  The Husband and I vowed that with Number 2 we would definitely not let that happen.  No way, NEVER would we allow our new baby to get attached to a blanky.  Or anything that we had to keep up with, especially those that attracted germs and were dragged around on the floor.  What a silly habit to allow your children to have, right?  Much to our dismay, he is attached to a blue dog lovie named, you guessed it…“Banky”. 

We returned home from vacation after New Years only to find that Banky had not made the 6 hour trip back with us.  I know, I know….”isn’t that the first thing you check for before putting the car in reverse to head out?!?!”  You would think so.  These important articles should be put in the car FIRST, before even checking for the children.  Without the blankys I would prefer not to have to deal with the children.  I texted immediately upon the discovery to have my friend mail it to us asap.  She was gracious enough to do so and Banky returned home to us 3 days later. 

It was actually a pretty proud moment for the Husband and the Truthful Mommy.  Number 2 did really quite well while his comfort was away.   He does not seem to be quite as devastated without his lovie as Number 1 was.  It did take about 5 of his sisters abandoned lovies to take Banky’s place in the meantime, but he was a trooper.   The story’s we created worked well on him as well.  We were able to convince him that Banky was going to be so grateful to him when he got back for letting him go on such a fun adventure.  It helps that he is all boy and all about adventure!!

Moral of the story, don’t get a lovie.  We have clearly not learned this valuable lesson, as Number 3 now stands at the bottom of the stairs begging to go up to get his “banky” out of the crib.  He cannot sleep without it.  Oh well.  When they show up at your baby shower, wrapped up so pretty with your new baby’s name monogrammed so beautifully on it…it is hard to send it away to live with another baby.  Maybe the true moral of the story is never say never.  When you become a parent you will be taking back a lot of I-would-NEVER’s!!

Blanky Returns, Part 1

When Number 1 was a baby we got a ton of lovies as shower gifts.  You know, those perfectly sized little blankets that moonlight as a stuffed animal. As, apparently they all do, she gravitated to one special elephant lovie.  It was oh-so cute!!  I loved that she grew fond of a favorite blanky.  I had one growing up and I remember it as such a great source of protection and comfort.  Her dear little plush friend is (yes, present tense) in her mouth anytime she needs comfort, or goes to sleep, or gets in trouble…....So, after a couple of years of oral punishment and being dragged around all over, I decided it was time to get a replacement so that we could go back and forth between them.  HA!!  Do they have that market figured out!  They don’t make that particular lovie anymore, DISCONTINUED.  As though that is necessary.  Reminds me of the ridiculous “vault” that all the Disney movies end up in if you don’t hurry out immediately and buy yours!  Anywho, I could acquire her lovie on ebay for the low low price of $60!!!!!  Holy Moly.  She could chew on it till it disintegrated for all I cared!!  And she has done just that, almost. 

She is now 6 and still MUST have it to sleep.  My husband keeps telling her she has to give “Banky” (as IT is so lovingly referred to) up soon, to which she snarls her nose at him and looks to me for protection.  I disagree, why take it away?  It is not hurting her or me.  Well, except that one time.

We lost it a couple of years ago.  I allowed her to drag Banky e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e   So naturally, it accompanied us to a wedding reception…at a farm…almost 2 hours away from home.  There was dancing, eating, playing, and at the end of the night, time to exit.  Where was “banky”?????  This is where mommies do the most ridiculous things for their children.  I had grown men, in ties and jackets, crawling around in the grass looking under their tables for it.  IT!!  Grandparents will, apparently, do even more ridiculous things for their grandbabies.  My mom suggested that I ask the lead singer of the band to make an announcement to the entire reception of party-goers.  WHAT?  I WILL NOT.  After what felt like hours of searching (really was probably about 20 minutes) we never found our friend.  Number 1 had devastation on her face, but the friend we rode with had to get home to her children.  We left.  Without IT.  But before I left, I went to the beautiful bride and said….NOT, “what a lovely party, you are gorgeous and we had such an amazing time.”  Nope.  I said, “When you guys are cleaning up, would you PLEASE make sure EVERYONE helping and all the workers know that we are desperate to find this missing blanky?? It is a big deal! PLEASE???”  She graciously said she would and gave Number 1 a huge hug and promised to do all she could. 

On the 2 hour ride home, I was consumed with a terrible sense of the drama filled night to come.  It was not hard to sense, as it was already playing out.  It was late, she was exhausted, and there was NO Banky to stuff into her mouth so that she could blissfully drift off to sleep!  How was I to explain to this baby that things like this happen….AND we still must sleep, and go on about our day.  I could already feel the loss that Number 1 was about to be introduced to. 

Not sure where IT was found, not sure who found IT, but IT was found.  I got the call the next day from the bride that all was well {heavy sigh of relief and a bit of a jig was inserted here}, but she was not heading back to town for several days“ {Another, more upsetting, sigh.  And a fast frown appeared here}   SEVERAL DAYS?!?!?!???  Clearly said bride had NO idea how pressing in nature her delivery job was.  If she had, she would have high-tailed it back to town immediately.  Dropping all post-wedding-party-plans!   But, Truthful Mommy said, {through gut wrenching stomach pains from the thought of having to tell Number 1 that IT was found, but would not be home today, or tomorrow, or maybe even the next day} “ok, super.  So glad you found it. Thank you.  Oh and by the way, the party was awesome and we had a great time.  You were beautiful.”   It was unbearable.  Number 1 could not get to sleep.  Which meant Truthful Mommy and Daddy could not get to sleep.  Occasionally she would fall asleep; when she woke up looking for it, IT was not there!!  BAAAAAA WHAAAAAA  All night for almost a week.   We took her shopping to let her pick out a replacement.  NOT.  My mom found her another one that was also a pink elephant.  NOT.  I can’t even remember all the stories we told her to try to make it better.  Nothing worked. 

Banky was eventually returned by the bride, who, to this day Number 1 considers a  HERO.  But that week before she made it back to us safe and sound felt as though we had lost a real part of our family.  Even the husband was pitiful.  It was truly dreadful.

In hindsight, TOTALLY should have made the band make an announcement!!!

(Tune in to the next post for Blanky Returns, Part 2.  We did not learn our lesson)

It Got U.G.L.Y.

After I wrote the following blog entry and reread it, I decided I better give a tiny amount of background.  Volcanos do not erupt all of a sudden; there must be signs of active unrest first, the pressure builds up then….EXPLODE.  I have been boiling and simmering for days.  Little things have turned into enormous things.  Number 3 will not stop crying, all day, every day.  He stands at my feet like a little troll crying and screaming and tries to climb me like….a volcano….so that he can find his proper place on my hip.  Number 2 is seeing just how many times he can get in trouble for not listening.  It has gotten so blatant that when he does something that he knows he shouldn’t, he looks at me and runs to put himself promptly in the time out chair.  All by himself.  Number 1 is Six going on Thirteen.  Actually, she is not so bad.  But she is another body I am in charge of, and on days like this one, that is just too much.   I have way overextended myself.  Period.  I have volunteered, socialized and given away too much time.  But the volunteering slots never fill up and the bake sales must go on!!  And I can’t find a place for breathing.  So here is this day…..

This day is just REAL.  No helpful insight as to what I learned from it.  No warm fussy’s from my faith.  Just raw, real mess.  I am a mess today.  It has been snowballing for a few days.  I can always see it coming.  I just pray that it doesn’t get to this point, but it does.  Always. 

It began this morning with Number 2 at breakfast.  What did I fix him???   Chocolate and butter toast on WHITE BREAD!!!  That is like a donut!!  The Husband thinks white bread is the devils food.  He thinks that our children will die an early death from diabetes and heart disease because I bring this bleached flour product into our home.  But typically it leads my kids to eat All. Their. Food.  And to me that trumps wheat.  Always.

However, being the stubborn, button-pusher that Number 2 is, he snarled his nose and gave me the ‘tude.  I sent him straight to his room for speaking to me rudely.  First timeout…7:15am

Beautiful Number 3 has her school pictures today and what did she do this weekend?  Tried to move an 80 pound tree log down our yard into the woods.  The log won.  Her face did not.  But I let it go.  Her outfit will more than make up for the bloody scratches all along the side of her face.  I choose to not let this one bring me down. 

Last night The Adorable Husband was kind enough to stay up with me and clip coupons.  

I am doing it for him, ultimately.  I have SWORN off couponing more times than I can count.  The massive hours that are involved in preparing for double coupon weeks at the Teeter are overwhelming.  But when they tell me how much I have saved at the end of my order, and the college students behind me in line look to me with such awe, I am motivated to return to the coupons.  NO MORE.  This day has sealed the deal for me.  After hours of researching, printing, matching, stacking (coupon-ers will understand), clipping, and just general preparing, I was armed and ready to go.  Triple coupon week, here I come.  Now, at this point, going anywhere with Number 3 is like a reoccurring bad dream.  But I am prepared, it will not take more than an hour with all the prep work I have done and…I have suckers, in my pocket, ready to go.  One hour and 2 suckers later I arrive at the check out. I smile proudly at the cashier. He has no idea how successful I am.  My child may be sticky from head to toe, but this was NOT the baby he heard screaming for the last hour.  AND I have accomplished the EXACT 20 coupon limit for the day.  “Ma’am, your total is--way more than I expected it to be--today”   I stop, my heart drops.  “It is not triple coupon day today is it???”  “No ma’am, that is tomorrow.”  STOP CALLING ME MA’AM!!!  I want to cry.  He has no idea how extremely unsuccessful I am.  Yes, you guessed it, I made him give me back all of my coupons.   Not sure why, because I am so done with the couponing.  I make him cancel the order and I leave with only a sticky baby to show for it.  Before I made it to the car, I was in tears. 

In hindsight, there were 2 red flags raised trying to protect me from this experience.  One was that the parking lot was empty.  I am certainly not the only coupon mom in this town, and typically the lot is FULL by 7am for the big coupon events.  Also, EVERYTHING that I wanted was available.  No shelves were cleared.  That has never happened.  I made note of both of these things as I shopped.  Still I continued.   I was there at 9:15am.  How proud I was of myself  being the first one here today.  RIGHT.

I gain my composure and make my way home.  I decide that I need to get home and do something that makes me feel productive.  I get home, try to be productive but Number 3 won’t get off of my leg.  He screams, he cries, he begs.  It is as though if he is not on my hip at all times he will surely die.  I might die instead.  It is hard to be this loved.  I put him in his crib.  He has to be tired after all that crying.  He cries more, I fold laundry.  I realize I have ruined my favorite pair of pants, I can’t even be bothered with this.  I have entered that dark hole in my mind.  I put laundry away.  He still cries.  I go get him.  Clearly he is not tired after all that screaming.  I put him on my hip.  He smiles.  I don’t smile back.  He is cute, but not that cute today.  I will need a hip replacement at an early age if he keeps this up. 

We head to pick Number 2 up at preschool.  His teacher, for the first time in his school career, tells me that he was bad.  He didn’t listen; he had to be put in time out.  I am still in the dark hole in my mind so I stare at her blankly.   On the way home, I tell him that he is in trouble.   I go to that place I have found where I can speak without yelling, “God asks us to obey. You didn’t show God’s love to your teachers today.”  He will have to go to bed without his milk.  “Can I have juice instead??”  NO!!!  I pray all the way home.  Both boys down for a nap, I head to get some more clothes to productively wash.  Maybe I can control the laundry, if not the children or the fury in my soul.  On my way back up I hear something in the bathroom.  It is Number 2 standing on the back of the toilet seat looking out the window at the man mowing our neighbor’s grass.  It is very alluring because the window is open.   He did this yesterday and I got him down, explained to him, ever so patiently, how dangerous that was, and made him promise that I would never see that again.  And yet, here he is.  I spank his bottom, as this is the 501^st time this week that he has not listened, and this time it is about safety.  Or because I am at my wits end.  Either way, I am ok with his spanking.  I DO NOT want to find him splat on our driveway.  However, after I send him to bed I let myself boil over while thinking about my unproductive, dreadful, overwhelming day and his mischief at school.  I yell, I slam doors, I get very very ugly.  I cry, I fall to my face and beg for the patience to do this job.  Yes, it is all this dramatic.  So there I am on my face, literally, just sobbing into my very dirty carpet.  Because Number 2 was standing on the back of a toilet?  No.  Because Number 3 loves me too much?  Probably not.  Because I fail royally at couponing?  Nope.  I have just allowed myself to reach the end of the rope.  I have given in, given up and gotten lazy today.  It takes a lot of work to stay patient.  It takes even more work to discipline and raise children.  Unfortunately it is a J.O.B. to remain deliberate about staying positive in your chaos. 

The enormous-little things continued all day, these are just the ones that pushed me into the crying stage.  I stayed ugly all day.  I cancelled Bible Study.  I dug my Zoloft out from underneath my bathroom sink.  I sent the Husband out to McDonalds with the kids for dinner and I popped open a bottle of wine.  The Faithful Husband reminds me that the evil one is winning.  I agree, but I am too tired to put up a battle with him right now.  He may have won this round today.  Luckily, His mercies begin afresh every morning!  I can tell you one place I will not be on my new day God will grant me tomorrow, in line-at a grocery store-with my coupons, or my sticky baby!!