May 13, 2013

A Horrifying, Heartbreaking Moment of Pure Inspiration

We've all had weeks like this.  Shane was home sick three days last week, I got it too, pushed through the long work weekend hopped up on coffee and ibuprofen.  My work week ended at 2am Sunday morning after 10 hours of serving tapas and wine, moving restaurant furniture and otherwise preparing for a Mother's Day Brunch I couldn't afford to eat.  I could hear Noah screaming in the bedroom before I even entered the house.  He stayed awake for another hour, the kids were up at 6, blah blah.

Church, lunch with family, all things I wanted to do and was willing to push through everyone's exhaustion for...

Not surprisingly, Noah didn't sleep good again last night and woke today with  a fever.  I spent my only scheduled three hours of kid freedom this week taking Noah to the doctor, picking up prescriptions, forcing the prescriptions down, carrying him everywhere I went.

I do my best.  I tell myself the house will get clean eventually.  I tell myself this too shall pass.  I vent to friends (thank you, dearest friends)

Tonight as I put the boys to sleep, one arm rubbing Shane's back, the other holding a nursing Noah, Shane said he bet I was a little glad that Brynn died.  I knew exactly where he was going with this before he even explained, "Because then you'd have to take care of her too."



But I get it.  It looks like I don't enjoy my life. Because sometimes I don't enjoy my life.  It looks like taking care of my children is a heavy drudgery. It looks like I'm not grateful for and in love with my children.  Because sometimes, in the drudgery of caring for them, I forget to be grateful for and in love with my children.  And my baby knows it.

What a sobering gift his words were tonight.  That kid. is. my sage.

He is my window into magical places, he is my dream world, he is my reflecting pool, he is my peace and my home.  He is the man in my life, that poor kid.

I am so glad he shared his burden with me.  It was not in vain.  This was an Oprah "Aha" moment that I believe is going to alter my approach to living forever.

My cells feel different already.

I'm going to take a homeopathic sleep aid now and get a good night's sleep.  Sweet dreams, my loves.

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