If you read my blog Friday, you know I'd rather forget that day ever happened. Let's just say I was NOT in a good mood. I believe, in fact, that it was the single worst day I've had since we arrived in Colorado. I felt lonely and depressed and a little bit angry and very annoyed. Frustrated with a child I couldn't control and overwhelmed at all I'd piled on my plate.
I get like this periodically.
I could tell you that everything changed after I blogged (ungratefully, it turns out, as I AM thankful we have a landlord who takes care of this squishy small house.) But it didn't. That feeling lingered. Lodged itself in my belly and curled up like a snake.
I think depression does that. I'm not depressed now or clinically depressed, but as women, I believe we all have the ability to become depressed. It depends on what we choose to linger on. For me, on Friday, I lingered on everything that was wrong/frustrating/annoying/anger-inducing...and I paid for it.
There was a brief hiatus in my yuck mood when this passed by my line of sight...
I mean, who could keep from cheering up with the ill-fitting mask and one size too big Dash costume?
These are his muscles. Let me ask you...how long do you think that mask lasted? I should add this Hobbit's head is pretty large. And that mask was...pretty darn tight.
I'd also like to thank the Hobbit's mother for her excellent shoe choice.
We do what we can to make our kids look foolish around here.
I had to brace myself to pick up the kids from school (mass chaos with all the good parents who attended the Halloween parties running around with mini witches and Harry Potters)... and take them to Group for their Fall Fest. We arrived in one piece and I forced them to pose for me. This, it turns out, is the only chance I had to photograph them all in their costumes.
We were met by this hot guy who made my stomach go all a-flutter with his red bow-tie and Ice Cream Shoppe hat.
It seems he'll forever be wearing ridiculous get-ups no matter what his job is. I'm not sure he'll ever top this though:
In which he kissed a real. live. pig. ( I could dry heave right now just conjuring the memory of its smell.)
Group's Fall Fest is like what a lot of church strive to do as a Halloween alternative. Booths with games, clever costumes and signage and of course, lots of candy.
My Hobbit was hard to control, so I was thrilled that Adam suggested he handle Sam while I man the other two. (Who are, much, much easier.)
This was a landmark weekend for Sophia. Halloween party at a friend's house. Sending her off by herself. Taking steps toward young-woman-hood in other ways I've been forbidden to write about on this blog. She's growing up and so far, I actually like it. I feel like she likes me more now that she has all kinds of questions that I'm willing to answer. I like that I can be there for her when she hears something she doesn't understand.
This was the booth Adam's department put on. Mini ice cream (or whipped cream for Sam, which probably wasn't a great idea even still as it IS dairy, but he did ok with his tiny scoop.)
Everyone is so nice and so creative. We are so fortunate to be here...and we know it.
I loved the L.A. Ink booth. They were putting tats on the kids' hands just like they do on the show. Quite a sight...
Then their photographers set up a photo station and shot pictures of the kids. The long table of costume accessories kept my older kids busy, but Sam was ready from the get-go. All it took was a centurion helmet to complete his look.
I sure hope Group's photographer caught this motley crew.
About that time, Sam melted down and the angst returned to the barrel of my belly. I realized something Friday and it struck me in a way that's stuck with me ever since. Sam is constant, constant work. Hard, hard work. He tests me. He whines. He is strong-willed and frustrating. He pushes every button I have and finds new ones I never knew existed.
And I don't like the way it makes me feel. I feel resentful and frustrated and sorry for myself, poor little me.
But this kid has been special from the start. He has single-handedly changed my life. His food allergies led me to discovering my own food allergies. Led me to natural medicine. Led me to a place of trusting what I knew God was saying to me--rather than the overpowering voices of people around me.
He is hard. And I think that makes training him that much more important. But some days, I just feel so weary. I am with this kid 24/7. Literally, because often he wakes up in the middle of the night.
And sometimes I resent him for that.
And that makes me feel like a bad mom. Sometimes I have to lock myself in the bathroom, but he still bangs on the door. Sometimes I need deep breaths to handle him.
You see blog posts about shiny, happy people and their sparkly, sugary lives and you wonder if anyone else EVER feels like they want to shut themselves in the closet and cry. Does anyone else need to be away from their children? or does that make them a terrible mom?
I know my answer. I'm good with my answer. But I hate that we as women feel the need to single-handedly hold up the world by the strength of our shoulders. I reserve the right to walk away. Just for a minute.
Because no life is shiny and happy 100% of the time. And that's okay. There'd be no rainbow without the storm and all that jazz.
That feeling passed. My husband talked me off the ledge. My weekend was incredible. And today, my life is starting out somewhat shiny and happy.
I've just been handed a shield and a centurion hat and asked to fight dragons.
You tell me... does it get any better than that?
