The Wadermeldon Story

I should probably save this for Das Not Funny! Friday, but I can't. I'm sure you'll see why in just a few minutes.

Friday was, by far, the worst day I've had as a stay-at-home mom in a long, LONG time. I was tired so I allowed myself to "sleep in" while the 3 oldest kids climbed into bed with me and enjoyed some cartoons. Since it's summer and Lucas and Ashlee don't have gymnastics on Friday mornings, it's become our lazy day...or our day for field trips depending on how busy the rest of the week has been.

Anyway, I had told the kids the day before that we would venture out to the park the next day. After being gone and traveling in the car for over a week, the LAST thing I wanted to do was load everyone up and go somewhere. But, our cabin was beginning to give us a fever so we decided the park was a good option. I even had bread to feed the "ducks" (read: obnoxious geese).

However, our plans were being quickly foiled minute by minute. I rolled out of bed at 8:30am and began our breakfast routine. By 9:30am everyone was fed and semi-dressed. Elizabeth, being the fashionista she is, naturally wanted to dress herself. At first she picked a nice little dress with some strappy gold sandals. When I informed her that she must wear tennis shoes rather than sandals since we were going to the park, she had a breakdown.

"Moooooommmm! Tennis shoes won't look good with this dress! Only gold sandals look perrrrrrrrfect!"

"Well," I said, shattering her dreams, "I guess you'll have to choose another outfit."

She stomped into her bedroom to pick something else out. Seriously, is she 16 already? Geesh.

While I am attempting to wipe 3/4 of Aaron's breakfast off the floor and table, Elizabeth re-imerges from her room with jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops. The heat index outside had to be 100 degrees so I politely inform her,

"Honey, you will be way too hot in those jeans. It's very hot outside. Why don't you go pick out some shorts, and remember you have to wear tennis shoes, okay?"

Again traumatic wails follow my totally unstylish advice. Then, she bends over and turns up the cuff of her jeans about 4 inches.

"There Mom, now they are cooler."

Although I did agree that her current selection of high-water jeans looked cooler (or at least according to what all the young ladies are wearing these days) they were not, in fact, cooler in terms of regulating her body temperature.

"I'm sorry Sweetie. Please just go put on some shorts."

Screams, wails and utter torture followed her (almost) 5 year old body into her bedroom. I turned around to see Aaron covered with banana and I smelled some, umm...poo. So, I begin washing him off in the sink in the laundry room.

Ashlee is scampering around the house signing something and stopping to shower brief hugs and kisses (read: torture and pull her head almost off) upon Baby Girl.

During all of this, Lucas is patiently waiting with his clothes on, shoes on and backpack securely placed on his back. He's standing by the door repeatedly asking me "Momma, wend we gonna goed to da park?"

"As soon as I get everyone ready, okay? But it's taking a little longer, alright Buddy?"

The stomping begins. Lucas' temper tantrums are usually prefaced by excessive stomping. It's sorta like a warning siren letting you know that the tornado is about to hit and, Lord have mercy, it's too late to take cover.

"Buddy, now don't act ugly or we just won't be able to go at all. Okay?"

I turn and finish washing up Aaron and place him on the changing table. His diaper is on and I'm buttoning his outfit when Lucas comes into the laundry room and says,

"Momma. I dropped the bulerbelden down the stairs."

"Oh, good honey. That's fine." I reply not really listening.

"No Mommy! I pushed da wadermeldon down da stairs."

My neck snaps around, "You did what?!?"

I sat Aaron half dressed onto the floor and opened the door to the basement. Sure enough, covering our carpeted stairs was a completely busted watermelon in all its glory.

We didn't make it to the park that day. In fact, I am going to honorably say that it was a pure miracle we all made it to bed that night...alive and in one piece. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

Drained

I just feel emotionally drained. Several things have attributed to this, none of them being things that I really have any control over.

First, MckMama's (Jennifer's) sweet baby Stellan is back and forth and back and forth from okay to bad, okay to bad. It's exhausting for me to watch it unfold, yet I feel so drawn, so called to pray moment by moment.

Second, my kids have been TERRIBLE today. I'm sure my uptightness isn't helping, but Lucas cried, almost non-stop for 2.5 hours this morning. I was attempting to do some school work with Elizabeth. I was so excited about schooling this morning because on Saturday I bought 2 workbooks at the dollar store, 1 for Lucas and 1 for Ashlee and I just knew they's be so thrilled to have "big kid" work to do. They could have cared less. Lucas sat in front of his workbook and screamed most of the morning.

Ashlee was in a terrible mood and had to be spanked several times, which is totally unlike her. And, during all of that Elizabeth is frustrated because she cannot read. It was more than I could take and I surely questioned why in the world I'd ever want to do this homeschooling thing on a regular basis.

Lastly, another situation has me completely riddled with anxiety. Hopefully, I will be able to share more with you about that later.

All that to say that today has been one of the most stressful days I've had in a very, very, very long time. And, I'm not handling it well, at all. I've lost my cool, yelled at my kids, said BAD BAD things in my mind (and maybe even some of it slipped out), and just been on the brink of tears all day long.

Surely tomorrow will be better. It HAS to be better.

Please God, hear my cries, resolve these areas of unrest. Heal sweet Stellan's heart and make my own be one that carries with it peace, rest and abiding joy.

One of THOSE Days

When the thought of everyone screaming enters my mind, these two pictures flash into my brain. Although they are hysterical now, at the time I thought I would come away from the situation bald. The twins are 8.5 months in the top picture and a year old in the bottom one.

Their faces are priceless!

It's been one of THOSE days today and it's only 2:00. These are the days when I ask God,

"Are you sure you want us to have more kids?"

Today started off early. "Early" and "Beavers" should not go together in the same sentence. We woke up early for Classical and the meltdowns began.

First, Lucas. For some reason he wanted to be held, he NEVER wants to be held. The only time Lucas likes to be held is when he's sick. No sign of sickness, just a bad case of Mommy-itis.

As I try to load up the car and collect the last few things we need, he insists on being held. Guess who is now awake screaming his head off?

Right, Baby D. Hungry. Why not?

On Mondays I try to leave our house by 8:15am so that I can get to Classical and get my room set up and still have ample time to walk 3 VERY slow people all the way to the opening in the sanctuary.

Today at 8:15am I was standing in my kitchen with 3 people screaming their guts out. Lucas wanted to be held, which in turn made Ashlee want to be held. Baby D is hungry because he didn't finish his 7am bottle. So, more screaming.

At one point the screaming was so bad that Elizabeth and I just stood in the kitchen with our hands over our ears. I'm not kidding.

Finally, everyone is loaded up and we are off to Classical. When we arrive, Ashlee is still in a "I wanna be held mood."

I set up my classroom, over the screaming children who are now fighting over puzzles. Ashlee gets her feelings hurt, again, and insists on being held. She really is just so tender.

Classroom put together, we all start the walk to the sanctuary. As we walk, Ashlee is getting heavier and heavier so I plop her on the handlebars of the stroller. We make it through the rest of Classical.

After lunch, the kids are playing on the playground and Ashlee takes a spill on the sidewalk. A nasty scrape on the elbow lands her back in my arms, screaming. Leaving the playground also poses a problem. Everyone wants "just one more" turn.

We load up and I turn on the TV in our van. For 6 minutes...peace.

However, upon re-entry of the house I discover that the screaming bug has not had time to dissipate. AS SOON AS we open the door to the house, the screaming resumes.

We scream until we are each placed in the bed, Lucas continuing to scream until he is spanked several times then hovered over until he falls asleep.

Elizabeth is still whiny, trying desperately to gain my attention from our bedroom. I guess today I should just chaulk it up to being a bad day. I know I get in a funk somedays.

When I have these days, I always wonder what the Lord is trying to teach me. Patience seems so simple and I know that something else should be gained.

Maybe He is speaking in a still small voice and I just can't hear Him over all the screaming...