On the last episode of Days of My Life…
I had no sleep, Jp loved Chris more, and I was on the verge of losing my marbles. Thankfully, his “Yaya” woke up from her musician induced, borderline vampiric slumber and he went to hang out with her for a while so I was able to scrub my house good and proper (which always makes me feel better). After that, I needed something from the garage (which is basically a storage unit that a hoarding specialist would see and immediately try to intervene) so I opened the automated door.
What the…where did all this water come from?
I look up and see it. The big, gaping hole in my garage ceiling. Awwwwwwwwesome. Did I mention that the garage is a storage unit? Time to clear some space for the plumbers. Fantastic. Nothing like a bad day that is punctuated by an evening of heavy lifting and manual labor. Fast forward 3 hours later and I have space cleared, dinner prepared, and then it time to put Jp to bed. He hasn’t had a fever in a few days and I have to at least attempt to get him back into a schedule.
8:30 PM- Bed. Cries (with me in room) for 30 minutes and crashes out.
12 AM- Wakes up. Cries (me again) for 20 minutes and crashes out.
4 AM- Wakes up and gets me from my room. I go lay down with him. Cries for well over an hour. Crashes out.
6 AM- I have to use the restroom. I can’t hold it. I try to ninja out of the bed as not to disturb him but it’s no go. He’s awake. And guess what? He’s crying.
Another TWO HOURS go by of this. At this point, I don’t remember what his face even looks like not bawling. I am exhausted, drained, and starting to seriously crack. I’m a patient Mom, I really am. I love my son with my whole being and I understand that he has certain issues that are outside of his control but I am a person, too, and people have limits. My brain had turned to oatmeal and I was shaking with frustration as I went from item to item trying to find something that would placate him just for a few moments so I could collect myself again. Then, for one of the very few times in his childhood, I yelled. I hate losing my temper more than anything on the planet. I felt bad the moment it came bursting forth from my lips but there it went, before I even had the time to process that I was going to speak, “WHAT DO YOU WANT? I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT! PLEASE STOP CRYING!”
Ugh. Word to the wise, yelling at a crying child (no matter how far you have been pushed), makes it a million times worse. And you will feel a trillion times worse.
I scooped him up, threw a sweater on him (all while apologizing profusely and crying because I was a terrible mom for yelling at him), and opened the back door. Fresh air hit him and off he went. I sat on the back porch with no sweater on, freezing because I deserved it (though, it’s Texas cold, not Antarctica cold. There was no immediate danger and by goodness, I needed to cool off literally and figuratively) and watched him play for about an hour. The poor kid just needed some sunshine and a break from the monotony.
Well, almost. It helped but it certainly wasn’t the last fit of this incredibly long day. Did I mention that it’s 2:30?
On a brighter note, my husband came home and brought me lunch. When he called he could hear Jp screaming and probably, like the good husband that he is, detected the “Mommy on the edge” tone in my voice. Either way, in my world, chicken fingers and Texas toast make everything better.
Here’s to tomorrow and the [high] probability that it is going to better than the last few days (please…)!
Photo Credit: www.tvrage.com
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.