Highs and Lows.

Today has had a lot of highs and lows.  Last night I was pretty low.  For some reason I went into full-blown anxiety again.  It happened after watching a pretty tense and somewhat gory show with John.  I decided I better not watch stuff like that.  But I think there must be something more to it than that.  I’ve realized after thinking through it today, that I am dealing with some extra emotions lately.  First of all, there is just stress with the business.  And secondly, this month marks the 4th birthday of Emma.  I have been thinking of her a lot, and it is harder lately to think of her.  I guess part of me doesn’t really want to acknowledge that those things happened, because if they did, that means they could happen to one of my other children as well.  So, I guess you could add random worrying in with all that mix as well.

So awakening this morning on less sleep than normal (due to the anxiety which kept me awake longer than normal), I went to get Seth out of bed.  That was a high.  It is hard to be depressed when you are met with such a happy grin.

Most of my day was pretty routine.  Actually, it was not the routine I have been used to (which is working at the store).  I got to stay home today, and though the day went fast and I got very little of my list done, I was happy to spend more time with the kids and the housework.  I had twinges of anxiety, but kept busy enough to ignore it.

At Wal-Mart, we had what you could call a low.  My trip had dragged out longer than anticipated and so Seth was starting to fuss because it was past his naptime.  Will was climbing all over the cart, trying to be helpful and mischevious at the same time.  Elise, who WAS trying to be helpful, grabbed a bag to move it and accidentally dropped the whole thing on the floor.  Unfortunately, it happened to be the bag of eggs.  😦  So there I am with eggs all over the floor, a fussing baby, a rambunctious boy, and now a screaming Elise (who feels terrible and just wants me to hold her).  I cleaned up what I could and actually was able to salvage 8 of the dozen eggs we had started with.  I assured Elise we wouldn’t have to buy more, but could make do with what we had.  Eventually we got out of there, leaving some of the mess for someone else to clean up.

Now I have to finish this story, because it actually makes me want to laugh now.  I got home and put the eggs (which were now missing the top of the carton) on top of the other container of eggs already in my refrigerator door.  (Why do I keep my eggs in my refrigerator door?  I’m not sure.  I guess it is because they fit well there, but I am really starting to rethink this strategy.)  Anyway, everything was fine until I went to get Elise a drink for supper.  When I opened the refrigerator door, I pulled too hard, and the case of eggs slipped right off onto the floor.  Now I only have two eggs out of the dozen I started with.

I was able to laugh again later during supper, this time at Will.  He had eaten his hot dog all the way down to the very last bite, when he saw me help myself to a slice of watermelon.  “Uh,” he said.  This is his normal way to ask for anything, although sometimes he’ll say “juice,” which also means “whatever I want right now.”  “Finish your hot dog,” I told him and pointed to the last bite.  “Uh,” he repeated, more frustrated now.  “Will,” I said, “you are not getting watermelon unless you finish your hot dog.”  This went on for some time, Will pushing his plate towards me, I repeating the rule.  Finally, I pulled John out of his reading to see what his son was doing.  “Look how stubborn he is,” I said pointing to Will’s last bite of hot dog.  John smiled and said, “My, look at that face. That’s pretty silly.”  He was referring to Will’s very long expression: 50% stubbornness, 50% sadness, 100% pitiful.  “Will,” he said, “Would you like a piece of watermelon?”  “Ee,” replies Will nodding his head. (We are beginning to wonder if he knows some spanish.)  “Then finish your hot dog please,” says John.  Will pulls his plate back to himself, picks up the piece of hot dog and sticks it in his mouth, without one word of complaint.  Dumbfounded, I hand him a large piece of watermelon and wonder at how very different the relationship between father and son is than the one between mother and son.
The last high point of my day was with Elise.  She has been begging to do something “special” with me.  She usually interprets this as watching a movie or playing the wii.  I am trying to get her to redefine the word.  So tonight we cut out a dress I had bought fabric for awhile back and never got around to making.  She had picked out the fabric, a brown and blue one, covered with running horses.  It will be an ineresting outfit, but definitely all her.  Since John had left to get some more work done, and the sun was going down, I was starting to feel my anxiety return, but spending time with Elise was very therapeutic.  I told her how much I enjoyed spending time with her, and she replied quite nonchalantly, “thank you.”  As we finished she asked me a question that reminded me how much like me she really is:  “Mom, sometimes I cough small two times, and then I cough really big.  Do you think this is a problem?”  I assured her it wasn’t.

Now all I need is someone to tell me:  “No, what you are feeling is normal.  It is not a problem, and doesn’t mean anything terrible is going to happen.”  You know, I think that God just did, in his own way, speaking this time through my children.

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