Wednesday's are usually an easy blogging day for many of us daily bloggers. We participate in something called "Wordless Wednesday", a day in which we simply post a meaningful photo, then say where we are pleased to list our photo. That was my original plan for this evening, until the following occurred...
(Disclaimer: This is a real life post, one filled with feelings of failure and guilt. This is for you, Trish!)Today was a day that didn't stop...ever. It started with two trips to the local schools before 8:30, then trying to get some housework done while corraling the 3 three and under, then making lunch to take to the school, hauling it along with the 3 three and under into the school playground, keeping the 3 three and under from disappearing around the center school buildings, bringing the 3 three and under home...(okay time for a deep breath)...changing their clothes into something clean they could nap in, putting them to bed by tandem nursing the twins and reading to the 3-year-old, changing into something presentable for my temporary piano accompanist gig at the local high school, picking up the kids after an hour and a half at the school, bringing the 12-year-old boy home for his football pads, taking the 7-year-old girl to dance class.....(time for another deep breath)...picking up the 7-year-old girl from dance class while simultaneously dropping off the 14-year-old girl at a church activity and picking up the boys from football, then coming home to roll up some burritos for dinner, give the twins a bath, dress them appropriately, have the other kids change into something decent, then take all of the kids to the 12-year-old's court of honor, in which he and many, many other scouts were awarded the many merit badges they earned over the summer. I didn't mention that I didn't dress the 3-year-old appropriately because I didn't. He choose to wear his swim bodysuit with embedded life vest and I didn't have the where-with-all to argue with him about it. (Had Dad been in town, I am most certain this would not have occurred, but alas, he was away.)
I tried diligently to arrive on time, and did, but the meeting didn't start until twenty minutes later. For most people, this would only be a minor inconvenience, but for me, with the 3 three and under, it was almost a tragedy. By the time the meeting actually began, they were fussy and ready to leave. As I tried my best to keep their tiny tennis-shoed feet quiet on the hardwood gym floor, the 9-year-old boy quietly whispered to me that as he was taking the 3-year-old to the bathroom, he had had an accident (number 2) all over his swim bodysuit life vest. I had not remembered to bring the diaper bag, so had to take the 7-year-old and the twins home while the 3-year-old remained naked, covered in poo, in the bathroom with the 9-year-old, as there was nothing with which he could be wiped or changed into.
Upon my return, I remembered that the 17-year-old boy had been sitting two seats down from me all along, and that I could have sent him home for the wet wipes and change of clothes, but I had completely forgotten he existed apparently. For the next 45 minutes, I sat near the refreshment table trying to keep the twins from grabbing stray pieces of Saran Wrap and using those as handles to pull complete trays of cookies to the edge of the table. I also made many intense gestures with my hands and face to try to keep the 9-, 7- and 3-year-olds from running around the gym and rearranging the folding chairs lined up against all four walls.
As I sat there, during the moments of contemplation I
did have, I looked at all of the other boys in their pressed uniforms with all of their merit badges neatly sewn on their sashes. I looked at the 14- and 15- year-old boys, most of whom had earned their eagles, then I looked at my 17-year-old, in his t-shirt and jeans, with his complete lack of desire to work toward his eagle. I then looked at my 12-year-old boy, who had earned many merit badges at camp this past summer, but who didn't have a mom who could keep track of his sash, much less sew all of his earned merit badges on it. I looked at the mothers, who all proudly displayed striped ribbons around their necks where their sons had pinned each award for the mom as a symbol of recognition. I remember receiving one of those when I first moved here two years ago, but that was two houses ago, and during the two moves, I have permanently lost the colorful neck ribbon. Many mothers had theirs so full of metals from all of their previous sons' accomplishments that one had to wonder how it didn't weigh them down.
I wondered why all of these other mothers seemed to be so on the ball. How did they keep track of their colorful ribbon necklaces? How did they find time to sew on each merit badge? And how did they motivate their sons to earn their eagles? Yes, I truly felt like a failure, as I do every time I attend a court of honor, and I wanted to cry, not only because I feel I've failed my boys in scouts, but because I was having to deal with the 5 other kids when I wanted to be at home getting them ready for bed.
When the 12-year-old boy received his merit badges, it was brought up again, in front of the audience, what a forgetful boy he is. I wondered if that embarrassed him or if he took it in good humor, as it was meant, I'm sure. Again, I felt like mother-of-the-year, because I have not been able to figure out how to help my son remember all of his responsibilities.
So, after the closing flag ceremony and closing prayer, I continued to sit in my chair by the snack table as boy scouts swarmed. I did want some of the homemade ice cream, but I didn't feel like fighting 20 12- through 18-year-olds for it, so I sat. It was then that a dear friend came to sit by me. She had tried to help me with the twins earlier, but they had only wanted me. You can't imagine how much I appreciated her effort, though. When she sat beside me, I hoped that she wouldn't ask me what was wrong, because that would have opened the flood gates. Instead, she just acted like she was pleased to be in my company. As I write this, I have tears streaming down my face (pregnancy hormones?) because of her sensitivity. She complimented me on various things, of which I can't remember now, and it made me feel immensely better.
After she left another good friend came up and hugged me and asked me how I was feeling. I told her I was beginning to feel much better, that the nausea and fatigue were abating, and she smiled her beautiful smile and said she was happy to hear that. Then she said this...
"You know. I have to tell you something. I totally LOVE reading your blog! I just enjoy it so much! There was one day when I was having a really bad day and I just wanted to run away, if you know what I mean," I nodded understandingly, "and I came across your post about laundry. (That's
HERE.) That just put everything into perspective and I felt so much better! I think your blog is so relaxing and I don't read it everyday, but maybe two or three times a week and it just helps me wind down at the end of a hard day."
Let me tell you. You can't
IMAGINE how good this made me feel. I was and still am puzzled as to why my blog would relax her, what with all the bright colors and stories of crazy children, but to each his own, I guess. I'm just glad I was able to hold it together, because that nearly made the flood gates burst as well.
I'm so grateful to Heavenly Father for his tender mercies in sending friends like these to me during a difficult moment. Not a tragic moment, as I exaggerated above, but an overwhelming and depressing evening that would have continued that way, I'm sure, had these wonderful women not taken the time to lift me up. Thank you, Girls! You know who you are and I love you for it!
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