January 03, 2012

Someone please sentence me to solitary confinement

Two weeks ago, I thought that I was the best mom on the planet.  We were doing Christmas projects, loving on our neighbors, talking about Jesus and loving being all together for Christmas break.  Fast forward to this week and I think someone needs to perform and exorcism on me.  I have been taken over by something awful.  Actually, I think that lots of awful just piled up on me. 

I kept a smile on all through Christmas.  I reveled in it.  It rocked my socks off.  And then the Christmas let down happened.  Kids were tired and cranky.  I was tired and cranky.  Our house was a disaster of the worst kind.  The kind where there are no clean forks for days on end.  And then the thing happened that just pushed me over the edge.  Hubby had surgery 3 days after Christmas.  Yup.  The man had surgery.  Not the "man" surgery (although I'm working on that!) but nose surgery.  Which is about 300 steps closer toward shoot me now than the "man cold".

He tried to be a good patient.  Really, he did.  He picked up 95% of his own grody tissues.  He made his own cups of water after the second day.  But he slept for like 20 hours a day for five straight days. (which was fine.  He needed it.)  But that meant that for over 100 hours I was saying, "Shhhh!  Daddy's sleeping!" which by day two advanced to "Hey! Be quiet.  Do NOT wake up daddy!" to "OH MY GOD!  DO YOU ALL EVER SHUT UP?  DADDY IS STILL SLEEPING. DO NOT MAKE A PEEP OR I WILL PULL YOUR TONGUES OUT!" It was not one of my proudest moments.

I think that because this was the third surgery in a month in our home (2 for Miles and 1 for Kamron) and Sadie had a bout of pneumonia and Noah was diagnosed with childhood migraines, and we threw 4 Christmases in there, I was quite literally  hanging on by a thread.  I think that I was a born caregiver.  But come on.  That is a LOT of caregiving.  I think that I only had 3 days in all of December where I got more than 3 hours of sleep at a stretch.  All the coughing, Tylenol administration, changing of bloody nose bandages and other middle of the night duties had taken it all out of me!  I may have even googled "would I enter a state of catatonic bliss if I take two weeks of antidepressants at one time."  By the way, I didn't because then I'd have to pay for the next bottle out of pocket since insurance wouldn't pay to fill it before the two weeks were up.  I now know that for me the price of happiness is NOT worth the $114 copay!

So... I went from being the very best mom version of me that I could be to being the very worst version in a matter of days.  I went from thinking that I have the very best life in the world to thinking that I am just not cut out for being a stay at home mom and that if my husband ever had a serious illness where he needed to sleep 20 hours a day for the rest of his life that I would probably just need to crawl in a hole and die.  There.  I said it. Yikes.  Go ahead.  Judge me.  I judge myself.  In fact, I'm sentencing myself to at least a month of solitary confinement. (How wonderful does that sound?!)

And then, like magic when I was just at the end of my rope a miracle occured.  Those blinking lights came around the corner at 7:10 this morning (no, not the cops to take me away) The bus came to take 66% of the children in this house to school.  Halle-freakin-lujah!  Then 100% of the husbands that I have went back to work.  Y'all, the balance has been restored. (cue the angels)  I spent the morning in my pj's with one little cutie snuggled up on the couch reading books and watching cartoons.

The bus has already dropped one back off at home.  But because this is all back to normal I was able to laugh it off when Miles screamed, "Noah pulled my pants down and my butt came out!" instead of lose my chit.  Ahhhhh, routine is an amazing thing.  I'm so glad it's back.  I'm going to take that routine and love it and squeeze it and call it George.  Megan + George = True Love.

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