It started over a piece of bread, that is what led to the thunderous explosion that left tears in its wake.
But really it was much, much earlier than that. When as I am about to walk out the door to a much needed break from kids and conversation with adults, my phone rings. It is my son's school, again. Third time in a week, insisting I come and get him. This is not the news I want, this is not the day for it to happen. I am immediately clipped with the nurse. Knowing that allegations of pink eye are really house arrest orders. I call the doctor's office on the way out the door and end up fussing in a calmly heated manner with the receptionist because I can't get the kids an appointment until the following day. Yes, I said kids, I figure since last week when just my son had it then my daughter got it and we only had drops for one kid, that yes, I should just get them both in.
I have been using a Melaleuca, Lavender, and FCO mix to dry up the goo, and it was working. It was I promise!
So I drive to the school with little humor, little appreciation, only dashed plans lying shattered in my mind. Upon entering I cannot help but offend the receptionist because my son has been sent home on Kindergarten picture day and no the crew isn't ready so they can't slide him in, and no they won't have make-up pictures. My mood darkens.
Home, sigh, not the haven of peace that I would wish it to be. I am still recovering from my the colonoscopy the previous day. Sleep the night before was good. But my husband didn't kiss me, nor say he loved me before exiting the bedroom that morning. Small thing to note, I know, I'm over emotional.
All day I listen to kids argue, I hear crying and crashing and more crying. I end up locking two of the bedroom doors upstairs due to an over curious two-year-old. There is an odd smell upstairs of about three different nasal sprays that she took the initiative to experiment squirting everywhere. Credit given for the thought process involved of pushing a bucket to the bathroom sink and climbing onto the sink to open the medicine cabinet.
Found a toy bin with cars inside of it, but what is that white stuff? Where on earth is the container that the stuff came from?
Dog pacing, can't get under the bed in the master bedroom. That door is locked to prevent said terrible two creature from going in there and wrecking more havoc.
I serve lunch but because I am chatting on the phone and distracted I make the hotdogs for one kid not two, more fighting ensues while hot dogs are cooking. I did eat lunch. Chicken, very left over chicken that didn't taste so yummy. Dog pacing wants the hot dogs.
Finally I sit, I try to clear my mind. Thoughts of what to cook for supper race through my head. I wrote a blog post. Then I realize that it is therapy day, and one hour is all I have left to chill/unwind.
No wait a minute, I want that free toy kitchen and the race is on. I must get there fast or someone else will snag it. Run to the Van! kids are shoeless, one is only in panties, as I start up the van I realize I have no shoes. I won! The kitchen is mine.
Can you guess what happened once it was placed in my daughter's room? Yep, more crying and arguing.
Therapy, daughter sleeps in car for almost the entire thirty minute appointment. I am relieved I can play with my phone read a few pages of my book. Quiet!
Home and the hubby is there cooking something yummy. Long day for him, his mood is quiet. He is nearing the shut off button. Answers are short, not much to say. We eat, I clean the kitchen, I sweep and mop, kid baths and his shower.
But underneath this seemingly quiet evening hubby is texting and calling. Work! Work issues, they bring his mood down, the stress is etched across his face. I see it, I want to be kind, but my stress is at a dangerous level, a selfish level. Over the course of the evening we manage to have short conversations, but I know he isn't fully hearing.
We take the kids for Mexican bread, we have a nice trip. But by the time we are home, hubby has shut down. He eats his bread and heads upstairs and my façade is cracking.
My son leaves his bread he doesn't want on a low table the dog snatches it and is running through the house. I am screaming upstairs for hubby to grab the dog, but he is ignoring me. I race upstairs after the dog, but before I do that I screech at my son and reduce him to tears. (yes, shame on me!) I get the bread from the dog and my husband and are fussing.
I am screaming at him about how over tired I am. How I have had too many all day long at home alone with the kids days. I am telling him I know he is stressed and he had a long day, but dammit I did too! Of course he is shut completely down now. All day at work dealing with whatever and here is his wife that he cooked supper for that he took to get Mexican bread, screaming at him about his beautiful kids and a dog that ate bread.
It was a horrible moment, a very bad mommy/wife moment. I had a frustrated, probably angry husband who told me to go away, and two kids crying, one because I took away his game because the dog got his bread he didn't throw away off of the table.
I stormed downstairs for my daughters cup and the diffuser. I stormed back upstairs for my jammies, put the diffuser in her room, told her good night, and went to tell my son good night and stormed back downstairs.
I watched T.V. for an hour before creeping upstairs and attempting to take my contacts out in the dark. All the while I am pleading with God yet again to forgive me. I am remembering my PWOC Bible study and knowing I have failed. I have not thanked God that my family is together, that my husband is so good to us, that I am blessed even though I am overwhelmed.
Why am I screaming and acting like a crazy lady yet again? Don't I have it so good? I have a van to drive, I have a computer to use, two beautiful children at home, might I add my oldest even called. I have all I could need here and yet I turn into a screaming banshee because I am overwhelmed.
Selfish, that is what I am
Ungrateful, unappreciative
Failing to turn to God and Prayer
I am a sinner
I am a horrible wife and mother
It will take days to smooth this over, days of the husband barely talking to me, not saying anything to me in the mornings. I will feel low and pray so hard and pray harder.
I will go on and ask God to forgive me and act like nothing happened yet all the while trying to win back the husbands smile.
This is the end of the rant
Luke 1:30 And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God.
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