The day started out great.
Except for the fact that Brent wasn't beside me. This is Day Three of his long awaited 17 day trip to Alaska.
The kids and I slept in until after 9 due to a great late night last night with Grandpa Terry and Grandma Jeannie. We made homemade pizza and the kids got riled up and showed off to the best of their abilities. Then we read library books and ended with 4 more chapters of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane resulting in the kids not climbing into bed until close to 10 o'clock(I carried the sound asleep Ayla to hers).
So naturally after having such a good night to end an even better day(a day filled with the kids doing chore after chore to earn one of the prizes Brent left for them, The Conley's, free ice-cream, and a 3 mile bike on the Sante Fe trail) I woke up feeling in good spirits despite the absence of Brent and despite my worsening chest cold that kept me coughing and Elsie's that kept her from sleeping.
We started off with breakfast together and the kids getting along. As we talked I debated in my head if I had the energy and balance(standing was making me dizzy) to go forward with the plans for the day or if I should "call in sick". We have church from 1 to 4 and then I have a meeting right after church and then is was to be off to the Egberts for dinner. I know from previous experiences that staying home from church on a Sunday often does more harm than good. In fact I almost feel that there is a direct consequence for NOT going. But I really did not feel up to it. Not at all. I did it to myself, I know. So the consequence of dealing with couped up, ornery, disobedient kids became my Sunday.
After having to clean up Buoy's throw up, from the yellow lemonade licorice he had eaten that the kids had left out, because Hunter wouldn't do it I was not in such a good mood. Later I had to have a talk with Hunter about honesty since he wouldn't admit to telling the friends that came to the door that they couldn't play because it was Sunday. There was nothing wrong with him telling them that, in fact, it was the right thing to say. For some reason, however he said it was Sienna and that he didn't tell them anything but that they couldn't play. I had witnessed the entire thing and was baffled as to why he would lie about this.
It was a little later that I noticed that Sienna still had not done her dishes from yesterday. I had asked her at least 10 times to do them and so then I assigned all 3 kids the task of cleaning the kitchen. I should have known that this would bring on a fight. I didn't have it in me to fight so I left the kitchen.
Hunter loves to fight. He followed me up the stairs to my room so that he could commence his usual tirade when he doesn't want to do what has been asked of him. " Why do we have to do it? You just have a cough. I don't know how. I don't understand. But why?" Every single button was pushed at this point. I told him to go to his room. He pretended(as usual) not to hear/understand me. I was beyond the point of control now. He then tried his desperate last need to say something really important, which was usually, "But why do I have to go to my room? I didn't do anything? What did I do?", before the consequence hit.
I then took his Lego ship he was holding and told him he would have to earn it back and that it would be taken apart if he tried to grab it from me(because he was already doing this). It was then that it got ugly. Yes, you may be thinking wasn't it already ugly? No, up to this point it was the usual Hunter is upset, what am I going to do to get through to this kid stage.
So then it got ugly. He started grabbing it from me and so it came apart, some due to him and some due to me. It was then that he started hitting my arm over and over again and telling me how mean I am and it is that moment that I broke down completely and started to cry. I am human and want my kids to know it so I don't try to hide my emotions from them but I also don't want them to know that they can get to me like that. But as the tears came, Hunter went silent. He stood there a second and then he said, "I'm sorry. Mom. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Mom?"
It made me cry harder. Where was Brent when I needed him? Oh, yeah. He is off in Alaska having the time of his life. And for this I am grateful. I am. We live in a place where we see several families separated for much much longer than 17 days because the husband(usually) is off fighting a war most Americans don't even believe in. The wives I know don't complain even though they know that their husband, their children's father is out there on the front line of danger and they may not see him again. This is courage and bravery.
And in that moment of my own despair, I realized I just don't have it. I don't have the courage or the fortitude to be a single mother. I love Brent and I want him with me. I want him to be safe. I want him home and I NEED his help and his support. Especially with this child that I love so so deeply and to the same extent seem to clash with.
So after the crying episode and the apologies and all the hugs and snuggles from Sienna and Ayla I send them off with Elsie(who they have since managed to wake up) to give me some alone time. I was secretly hoping that they would decide to make me feel better by doing the kitchen which they did do half of. I could hear them having fun and laughing and so I didn't give much thought to checking on them. It was not long after that Hunter came up to tell me that they had changed Elsie's diaper and that she was eating the poop from it.
I ran down the stairs to find naked Elsie crawling all over the den carpet with big chunks of her own poop in each of her hands as she smeared it into the shaggy carpet with each move she made. It completely covered her. Her face, mouth, arms, legs, back, and bum were covered in orange. Brent would have been hacking at this point and would not have been any help in cleaning it up but at least he could have taken the wiped down, clueless baby to bathe and dished out some punishments to the other three.
I sent Sienna to start the tub and then carried the baby up and had all three of them watch her in the inch of water while I started the task of getting the carpet clean. It took me at least a half and hour to get it satisfactory and it was then that I smelled more. I looked up and there was Elsie's push toy completely covered in the stuff. I wanted to cry again, but managed not to. Once I got upstairs they had gotten Elsie out of the tub and managed to make her room a mess. Elsie was still naked and shivering. I put her back in and washed her more thoroughly and then put her sick, tired little body to bed.
I sent the other kids to do the kitchen and to bed. That was an hour ago and the kitchen is still not clean and the kids are still awake, tattling to me that Sienna is throwing sugar and cereal at them. Should I go put them to bed or let them wear themselves out? If I fall asleep do you think they will eventually tire out and end up asleep? What would I find in the morning?
All I know at this point, is that feeling better or not, we will be going to church next Sunday. I am also praying fervently that Brent does really have the trip of his dreams and comes home safely, refreshed and ready to see his kids. On second thought, perhaps I should be praying for the kids safety.
