Feels like our number has been up lately. No super big things (well, since the two broken arms) but lots of little things. This week has not been crazy but it has been full and, at times, like more then I can handle.
Thanksgiving came late this year which is both a positive and a negative. Trying to get all of the beginning of the month stuff done with all of the beginning of December stuff (Jesse Tree, socks, etc) plus homeschooling. Thankfully, we have not been really sick. Handsome was gone from home three different nights this week and then, the other two, I was at martial arts with my fellows. Last night, while Handsome was at a play, the ceiling fan fell from our ceiling in the bedroom. While I was standing on my bed, holding the fan up, I had this moment where I just wanted to cry. And today, after N hit his head and we went to "Light the Night" and his head started bleeding again while he skated around, I did cry. My stomach has started hurting some when Handsome and I disagree or something crazy occurs and my appetite is gone. I am still working out though and am trying to keep my balance.
It just feels relentless. Last Saturday, we came home and I started trying to get our back door fixed (the boys had broken a key in it so it couldn't lock and had blown open while we were gone) and a new battery for the car (we have now replaced both batteries in the last six weeks). I felt overwhelmed. This past week was me feeling tired; I couldn't get enough sleep and I had some crazy dreams.
We were supposed to go on a field trip on Thursday. It got cancelled late Wednesday so I was left scrambling for a Christmas activity Thursday. We went to the Pink Pig; I was wearing hand me down clothing that is slightly too big and no make up. I was not feeling the homeschool love. We got there at 10 a.m. so there was no line for the Pink Pig and, afterwards, M asked me to go up and down the big escalator.
We got some stares--we looked out of place at Lenox Mall. There was one table full of people that were smiling and looking at us but, quite honestly, we get stares pretty regularly. M wanted to go up and down several times, the third time there was a guy standing at the bottom of the escalator. He handed me something and started talking about how they were watching me and how I was such a cool Mom and I had a great family. I nearly bawled. We turned to go back up and L said, "That never happens to us." That made me almost cry harder. He's right. We don't get a lot of pats on the back--just a lot of "Are all of them yours?"
I figured the man was sent from the Lord, letting me know I was going to make it through. One day at a time. They won't remember the messy house. They won't remember the specific days but they will remember the feeling of love and joy that (prayerfully) fills this house (even if the ceiling fans come down and the back wall still needs to be repainted).
