I'm not gonna lie. It is crazy around here. Let me just describe the scene that pushed me over the edge (after staring down the edge several times during today, the first day of Spring Break) tonight. (It's also the reason Tim is avoiding me downstairs right now. Sigh...) While I was nursing the baby upstairs in the rocking chair, Lindsay was downstairs finishing making pudding for the Family Home Evening treat. It was Julia's turn for the lesson, but Lindsay wanted to help her to get credit for a Value Experience for Young Women. As I finish feeding the baby, I hear, "Oh no! Mom, I think I burned it." I hurry down the stairs, deposit the baby in her arms, and check the pudding. All is well. While she helps with the baby, I start dinner. Miles attempts practicing the piano, but he gives up and heads outside after minimal effort. Multiple children pour in and out of the back door with various amounts of dirt and sweat (It's been warm this week. Spring is coming!!) covering them. Dad gets home. The soup has another 10 minutes of simmering before I add the pasta. I convince Miles to come back inside for another try at the piano. He takes 5 minutes to come inside. I decide I'll sit down and play while I wait for him (My therapist says that one way to encourage your children's interest in any task is to show them your own enjoyment...doesn't work with my kids, but I still give it a try now and then...). He finally saunters in and impatiently waits while I put away my music. We sit down to practice (I know, I know. Why don't I let them practice themselves? Well, that ended successfully 15 minutes ago on his first try, AND I've tried to let them do it themselves. I let Lindsay play her recital piece on her own last Spring, and then, I got to listen to it played wrong for 2 months!!! It almost killed me. I find if I just sit with them for the first two or so days of the week, their accuracy improves tons. Judge me. I dare you.) Anyway, I'm trying to drag myself through all the attitude that my 10 year old can muster and remain calm enough to help him successfully play through a song that I now see he's had for 2.5 months, when the multiple children who have been coming in and out decide to fight over a game right next to us. The noise distracts my highly distract-able 10 year old boy, and I find myself getting drained of the last bits of emotional energy in me. Then, Lindsay comes in and, panicked, informs me that the Library has sent her $42 bill to a collection agency, and Dad expects her to pay for it. System overload. Dam breaks. Mother starts to yell.
Even in writing this down it doesn't seem like that much, but the situation just totally overwhelmed me at the time. The sad part is, Miles shaped right up: no more attitude, totally focused, finished his lesson successfully in no time. Why can't he do that before I totally lose it?
Well, now the baby's crying. He's supposed to be asleep. I hope he's not up 4 times with a fever again tonight like he was last night. Or wait, it was Calvin 3 times, and Julia once. Well, up once, but in our bed for 30 minutes tossing and turning, until I couldn't take it any more and kicked her out back into her own bed. Do you think maybe my lack of sleep is the cause for all of my overwhelmedness? I know that's not a word, but it just feels good to say. Kind of like "unwearyingness" from the Book of Mormon.
Good night! Here's hoping for a better day tomorrow.