Friday, April 12, 2013

catching up, kinda...

Gosh it's been a while hasn't it.
Since my last post the boy turned two, the girl turned three months, now almost four, we limped our way through february and march weighed down by colds and pink eye for him and then me then the stomach flu for me and then both boys and then an array of sickness for the wee one that showed up in many ways, the most awful of which was thrush, which, even gosh, six weeks later we still are seeing and feeling the lingering affects which include refusing to eat, a lingering cough, perpetually runny nose.

The house is mostly better now, except Nyla who's still having a hard time eating some days. After a couple "better" weeks, the last couple days have been crummy again. Not much compared to the blood curdling screams and sobs that came with every feeding a mere few weeks ago, the ones that left me in a puddle on the floor, tears streaming for both of us, but still, frustrating to say the least.

At one point Micah, having witnessed my many low points both with anger and sadness came up and put his small hand on my back and rubbed it one afternoon during the worst of it, as I sat, Nyla in my lap, the both of us in tears.

"mommy sad." he said. "It otay mommy."

And it was when he said it, and still is.

For weeks I'd ask him before bed or nap what he wanted to pray for and he'd say, "dat nyla drink her bottle" because he'd heard me pray similar prayers throughout the long days spend couped up at home.

So yeah, that's where I've been lately. Holding down this fort of four. And I can't say that I've done it gracefully or joyfully most days. It's been a hard couple months to be honest.

For a while I kept thinking when spring comes all will be we'll again, but honestly, it's not about the weather. A sunny day helps but more than that it's just how I approach my lot. And candidly, and my husband can attest, I've done a piss poor job with it. I've said the f-word too many times to count, made dinner grumpily, fed bottles angrily.

but really it's not all bad when I step out of myself and peer in the widow to our home. There are lots of higgles and hugs and kissed amidst the tears and whining and pity parties.

We are making it with a lot of apologies and a heaping helping of grace.

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