I am obviously emotionally fatigued. I realize that most of you are saying, "Well, duh!" but it isn't that easy. I get up in the morning, handle whatever the day holds, and eventually go to bed. I don't really dwell on what is happening here until I either update the blog or someone asks a specific question and I have to evaluate. So, I sent out a heartfelt update, woke up the next morning, berated myself for the honesty of it, and then had a day.
Wednesday evening I took the kids to the gym for the first time in months, so they got to bed at ten which is hours after their bedtime. Thursday, I had some of their friends here so they got to bed late again. Friday dawned, and it was ever so painful of a day. :) They bickered, fought, argued, whined, and were in general, dramatically irritable. Will was attached to his lifeline. I was trying to pay bills and find the wood that I call my desk which is always buried when I return from Cincinnati. So I was in my office, talking to Chelsea on the phone when Camden comes running into the office screaming...and holding his hand. I, in my not so gentle way, tell him to quit screaming and tell me what happened...and then I realize he is holding his hand kinda funny...and it's red. Oh! Ok. I take a look at it and bark orders. Paper towels. A clean towel in case the paper towels become saturated. Keys. Bag. Water. Walk out the door. Not. Oops. Will has to be detached from his lifeline. Put everything down, find the syringe of heparine, sterile gloves, sterile caps for his line, detach him, now I can go. Call Erlene as soon as I get in the car. Call Chris to tell him that the Crisis Management Team (meaning Erlene who devotes her life to our family and its crisis)is on its way. :) Call Billy. Oh, call Chelsea who is panicking, I know, because I simply said, "Oh, gotta go." and never explained that Will was still walking and talking and Cam was just dripping blood all over the floor.
Well, it wasn't until we were in a room and Camden was about to get stitched that I even noticed that I was totally not stressed (ha!) but Camden was at the end of his rope. The drama of our lives has gotten so crazy, that even blood and stitches seem routine to me. The poor kid was totally at whit's end and I was treating him like this was no big deal. Well to my OCD kid, the world was about to stop turning...and I wasn't helping him at all.
That is about the point that I just wanted to lose it. I am so not helping my children here. How do I help them healthily process all that is happening in our lives when I simply treat everything like it's all normal? It IS all normal, doggone it. And it shouldn't be. Part of me wants to scream and say, "Could this please end now????" and the other part of me (We aren't discussing whether I am hearing voices!) thinks, "This is what the Lord has for today, so deal with today." But today is hard.
Tuesday afternoon, I got into the airplane, buckled up, and then promptly burst into tears. No explainable reason. I realize that all of the drama that occurs so regularly here is just exhausting. If it's exhausting for me, an adult with some level of skill at managing all of this, how incredibly exhausting it has to be for the kids. Kids are adaptable, yes. But the instability here is leaving wounds that only Christ can heal. And as a mom, I don't want there to be wounds that need healing.
So, Camden received five stitches in his finger and was admonished to use the right tool for the job, and Erlene graciously stayed with the kids a little longer so I could take Camden to get some ice cream. He is recovering nicely and hopefully won't scar too heavily...from his cut or from my insensitivity.
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