Time

It's amazing how quickly time can pass without you realizing.  It seems like only yesterday that I was leaving a one year old Bugs at daycare for the first time.  I had to experience that sadness again this morning after leaving him at a new daycare for the first time as an almost five year old. 


Probably one of the hardest things you do as a parent is let your children work through those difficult situations without you.  It's best to rip off the Band-Aid.  Turn around and walk away without looking back.  Unless you've actually experienced that though, I'm not sure you realize exactly how heartbreaking it really is.  Whether you've done it once or ten times it's still one of the most difficult few minutes a parent has to face as their child is growing up. 


Rip off the Band-Aid.  Turn around and walk away without looking back.


Then you sit and wait impatiently until you can see your child again.  Praying that they've had as good of a day as you promised them they would.  You wait impatiently until you can make sure they've actually forgiven you for leaving them in that strange place alone.  Impatiently to see their smiling face as you return to get them after its over.  Impatiently to see how many days it will take for them to get acquainted with their new situation.


Those moments become few and far between as they get a little older.  In a few short months I'll be dropping Bugs off at Kindergarten for the first day.  I have no doubt that he will be smiling and happy about going.  I won't have to rip off the Band-Aid.  I won't have to walk away without looking back.  As a parent that's a hard thing to accept.  Ironically enough, as they're running into their classroom to put their things away, you feel a small sense of loss that they aren't clinging to you for one more kiss, or begging you not to leave.  It means your baby is growing up. 


Your child who once needed you for everything, needs you a little less today than he did yesterday.

New Starts

It's always a good time for a new start, right?

You don't need some life changing event or earth shattering news to decide that maybe something isn't quite right on the life track you're on... 

Today was that day.  I've been on this journey for so long with the boys all alone.  Making the best decisions that I could to make sure they thrive.  Sometimes its so lonely.  Sometimes I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing or not.  But I always push forward and keep fighting. 

That's life with a special needs child.  Any child really, but especially a special needs child.  It seems like just when you think you're finished with one fight you turn around and find another. 

So today we make a change.  Today I've let go of some of the control I thought I needed and am reaching out for help in other places. 

Sometimes the path you're on that you feel is right actually isn't the best way.  Sometimes it takes a little bit of a push, even if it hurts, to lead you to the better path.  The right path.  At least the right path for now.

Drowning

As I sit here, in the middle of my living room with the boys running circles around me screaming, I realized the reality.

I am a single mother.

I am drowning.

I've officially become the one thing that I promised would never happen.  I've brought my children back to my childhood.

I'm numb.  I'm floating in the middle of a dark sea at midnight.  All I see in every direction is black. Miles and miles of black.  Where is my spotlight?  My beacon of hope?  Where did I go wrong this time?  

Why is it fair that he spent ten years ruining my life, leaving my broken, afraid, and unqualified to face life, while he sits in a fully heated perfect little home, with brand new furniture and a steady income?  

Where is my beacon?

Am I asking too much?  Am I becoming that person that relies on everyone else to do what I should be doing?  Am I officially that person that everyone hates?  The one that I promised I would never be?  The "welfare mom" that could get a job, but refuses because its easier to take advantage of everyone else?  Is that what I'm doing?  That's what I feel like I'm doing.  

I supposed I could always go with the "ten years of abuse" route.  Explain that every blog post on this was soaked with a false positive.  Strategically worded so that all you could see what the wonderful bits... not the sheer pain and confinement that I was always feeling without even knowing it was there.  Telling you about the cute things my children did, instead of explaining all the names he called me, or the many holes or destroyed televisions etc.  The bowls of food thrown or the numerous affairs that where so obvious to everyone else, but not to me in my own little bubble of reality. 

I was abused by a man. 

To me, that's not enough of a reason for me to be in this situation.  I'm living my childhood all over again, except now I'm the one that isn't adequate. 

I'm drowning.  

Dominos

Alright.... So maybe I don't have one child anymore.  Maybe I don't have a lot of free time.  Maybe I really don't even have an extra ten minutes to sit down and pour my heart out about all the cute things my kids did during the day.  Maybe even if I did have ten minutes I'm far too mentally or physically exhausted to even think clearly enough to tell you about all the genius things they did.  Maybe I should stop feeling so guilty that fifteen years from now I won't have a million stories floating around cyber space to remember all those cute things by. Maybe.

But I still feel guilty.

And I still want to tell you those cute things.

And tell you how amazing I am.

Yes, you heard me right.  I'm amazing.

I made it through my very first weekend of a family stomach bug.  Yes, family.  Whole family.  One by one.  Like Dominos, but with way more puking and a lot less fun.

Started with Wyatt.  That pour little boy always gets so sick.  His symptoms with everything are so much worse than other children.  God made him special that way.  He spent the whole night screaming and crying in his sleep and vomiting all over himself.  And the carpet. And the couch.  And the chair.  And the television stand.  And I think I even found some in the entry hallway.  Not sure how that one happened.  He slept a total of fifteen hours the following night.  I had to keep checking on him to reassure myself he was still breathing!  Ryder came next.  His round with the flu consisted of a lot of accidents in his underwear.  (Did I mention how much laundry I had to do after this weekend?  I think it probably set a record of some sort.)  Next Sawyer.  I woke up with a funny feeling.  Went and checked on the boys to find Baby Bug ice cold laying in a pool of his own vomit.  He was covered from head to toe in it and not moving.  After my heart took a trip to China I shook him awake and got him cleaned up brought him into bed with me to warm up.  Can you guess what my mistake was?  Yes.  You're right.  I brought him into my nice warm bed.  He puked.  All over everything.  (Add bedding and two pairs of baby pjs to my pile of dirty laundry now.)  I slept in the chair and he slept on Ryder's bed.

Can you guess who got sick next?

Yup.

Me.

We can skip all the fabulous details.

Can you believe that I just spent the last twenty minutes typing to you about puke?

Looking back, I was terrified of having to face my babies all being sick at once, always being told how awful it is to have multiple sick children.  I'm really proud of myself.  It really wasn't that difficult, and I'm still alive.  Completely exhausted but alive.

Have I mentioned how big my babies are getting?  Sawyer will be one in a little over a month!  Wyatt is due to start preschool after his birthday in a month, and Ryder is such a little man.  The stories he tells and the random things that he comes up with.  He's incredibly smart and full of life.  And Wyatt is so special.  He's one of a kind.  And I'm so excited for the years to come to see Sawyer's personality grow!  I'm so blessed to have been chosen to be their momma.

Day in the life.

So, when I created this blog I knew that my days would be interested with boys.  I don't think I really knew how interesting they really would be.

I woke up this morning after being up all night with an 8 month old who is cutting his first two bottom teeth.  Exhausted.  I was so tired in fact that after getting myself and the boys all ready to take Ryder to school I looked at the clock and realized that he had been supposed to be already signed into school ten minutes ago.  No school for Ryder today.

The boys then started yelling and playing in the bedroom while I was getting myself some much needed coffee.  Ryder comes running out... "Momma!  Spider in room!".  Oh boy.  This wasn't just a spider, it was a spider of the giant toe eating variety.  Just as I was about to make him a squish on the wall with my shoe the silly thing decides to crawl into the corner.  Sentenced to death by drowning in bug spray.

A little later, while sitting at my computer taking care of some things the boys got into the closet and found some of the Christmas presents that I have stashed away.  Ryder: "Momma?  What those?"  Me: "Those are for Jesus' birthday buddy, can you please get out of the closet?"  Ryder saying to Wyatt: "Wyatt! Those for Jesus birthday!  He share us!"

Moving on from the toys to find other trouble they pulled dada's guitar out from under the bed and started strumming it.  Me: "Boys, I really hope you don't have that guitar pulled out right now."  Ryder: "Momma, me put it back.  You not see."

Keep in mind, that as I write this its only noon.

After they finished eating lunch, Ryder put his dishes away and the boys were still in the kitchen.  Ryder, who's been potty training for the last month says to me. "Momma! Me poop kitchen!"  I never in my life would have thought I would hear those words.  He took himself to the bathroom and cleaned himself up.  Changed his clothes and put his things in the dirty clothes.  All the while Wyatt is standing next to it like it is the most interesting thing in his little world and telling me "Poop, Momma! Poop!"   Then as I'm helping Ryder, Wyatt walks out with his entire hand covered in poop that he had pulled out of his own diaper.

Yes.... It is only noon.