The Mysteriously Appearing Flower
|Do they look like they're bleeding?|
Because we all know I am. It's such a facade. And I'm trying hard not to present one. My ironic humor, constant laughing at the ridiculousness of my situation, the fact that I'm not constantly crying. The welfare line, their aghast expression when they look at our "shelter expenses."
I'm not trying to present a facade... I promise. I'm trying to be real and the realness of right now is that I'm holding it together (most of the time). Besides the
In the last week or so I've noticed this small bush of "bleeding hearts" blooming in my front yard. I'm POSITIVE I've never planted them there. I remember seeing a pot around months and months ago and mentioning that I wanted to plant some one day but I know I never did. So how did they get there? Did J plant them with me unawares? Unlikely, however rational the explanation, he wasn't really that kind of guy. Did someone else? Umm, no that would be weird. Did the seeds fly in from a neighbor's... I don't think so. Maybe they're from Jesus.
Somehow I now have bleeding hearts in my front yard; the ones living in my house apparently aren't enough. Today after our crazy day of welfare lines, power outages, nervous grocery shopping and therapy appointments we came home late enough for me to still manage to cook dinner. While I'm cooking the kids are eating chips and running like wild banshees through the living room. At one point I have to instruct Rowan to get out from under the area rug and Eowyn and Harvey to stop riding on top of the rug on top of Rowan. But look at me I'm making dinner. I'm so proud of myself. I'm using up all these ingredients in my fridge and besides it looks really yummy.
And then it breaks loose...
Hell that is, in my living room.
Harvey takes my knitting bag and dumps it out and throws all of it across the entire living room. Balls of yarn go flying every where, not-so-sharp knitting needles, half finished projects and patterns and random other pieces of paper that were stuck in there. Projects and people and yarn are now everywhere. I
I march in the living room and order the boys to the third floor and sit down to untangle and put away this disaster.
"But I'm thirsty" screams Rowan,
"But I'm hungry" screams Harvey
(they knew I was making dinner) "Sorry, you lost your chance." I respond, obviously not my best parenting moment. Mommy needs ten minutes to cool down and dinner will be on the table. Just ten minutes of no Tasmanian madness in my living room.
Cue more disaster
Harvey loses it and screams and throws a fit, running past me toward the kitchen. I reach out to grab him to pull him into me, and end up with just one arm. Which by the way, it hurts a lot when someone grabs your arm and you're running in the opposite direction. Screaming turns to shrieking and that turns to Mama panic. "Oh my God, your arm, are you okay?" "I need ice, my arm hurts!!!" I freak out and call my friend for help to figure out if it's dislocated. Grab ice and something to drink for Harv, place him gently on the couch and turn on Toy Story.
He's fine and moving his arm before I even to get my meltdown stage with Naomi on the line. Nonetheless the meltdown is not to be stopped. It's a wonder she could even understand anything I said.
Yes, hearts are bleeding here. Despite the therapist's assurances of how awesome my kids 'play' was today. And that he would see Rowan alone in two weeks.
I'm going, TWO WEEKS.
Two more weeks of having no idea what to do in this scenario, with these little people? Are you kidding me?
I'm drowning here - - throw me the DAMN life preserver already.
I desperately wish I did not have to be ON all the time. You don't know what I wouldn't give for the kids to go to Dad's for the weekend. But yeah in the contest between what I need vs. what is healthy for them, Mommy loses out 90% of the time.
I'm sure there will come a day when Dad can have them for the weekend. When it won't hopefully result in emotional disaster. When Jonathan has looked in the face his addiction and realized what it's going to take to beat it back, okay maybe that won't happen. But one can hope. But for now it's me, all me, all the time. Me and a fantasy about a school bus and relief for a few hours every day.
It's okay though, somehow, the four of us are going to get through this. Somehow I'm going to overcome my terror at posting honesty online and of "screwing my kids up". Somehow, Jesus is going to rescue us, right? Right? Somehow people are going to stop telling me to move immediately and get a job today and do this and this and this, because they're going to realize how stressful that is for me. Somehow all the things I need to sell at the yard sale are going to go and the pricing is going to happen and I'll eventually end up finishing the paint in the living room. Somehow miraculously Jonathan will pay the mortgage and our financial situation will because a little more secure. One way or the other. Somehow, someday I'm going to feel okay about leaving my kids to do something other than a legal meeting. I will eventually have alone time that is nourishing to my soul.
We are going to find our NEW NORMAL. I have no idea what that looks like for us. But I'm running toward it because I know our new normal is going to be so much better than our old one.
Cheers to the new normal! And to dinners no one eats while sitting in the living room watching Toy Story.
And of course to sleeping in the toy box