This week was hard...

or maybe it was me?

Either way, I am hoping for a new take on next week with a better attitude and more rest.

It seems like about every 3-4 months I just have to get it all out, embrace the suck, and move forward.

I usually regret writing it, and someone always tells me I shouldn't...
but like I have said before, life isn't always rainbows and butterflies---
sometimes it is vomit, tears, fights, poop, and no sleep.

I don't want to sugar-coat this life we lead because it is all part of the story.

And one day when my kids read our tale, I need them to know that I didn't have it all figured out either.
It wasn't all water parks and play dates.

There were definitely hard times and bad days.

But I was willing to adjust and overcome,
trying each day to do better.

Even if I failed, each day I tried.

I am doing my best.

***
Like I said before.
Five is an adjustment.

Maddox thinks he is the boss of this house.
He has hit an age of defiance in a way that is hard to explain.
He doesn't necessarily act out, but he isn't quite as moldable as he has been.

When I tell him do do something,
He balks.
He explains,
He tells me why he chose to do it the way he wanted to.
He sasses.
He pauses.
He can't listen because he won't stop talking...
(^^again, he is me.)

I love this boy so much, but he is draining me.

Sunday he was difficult and after multiple episodes of being in trouble, I told him that Lance was going to deal with him when he got home.

Except Lance didn't.

He did offer a quick little conversation about 'acting better' but then went right to playing with him which left my threat pretty empty.
...and me pretty annoyed.

Beckham was not himself all weekend.
Quiet, solemn, and flat.

He really had no symptoms of illness, but we could just tell he was 'off' and he wasn't interested in eating.

Monday he was a riot and I was just about in tears when he finally crashed out of no where, into the recliner to sleep.

It didn't last 10 minutes however as Maddox "forgot he was there" and sat on him.
Back awake-- back to chaos-- fights and tears.

Lance came through the door just as I was coming apart at the seems and was going on call.

He thought Beckham was still really tired and he could rock him back to sleep.
Unfortunately, Beckham is going through a HUGE mommy-phase right now and can't stand to be more than 12" from me, so they battled each other while I took call, still not getting a second to breathe, readjust or grab a happier stance.

I finally went to get Beckham, because even though taking call one-handed is hard-- it beats the hell out of doing it through tears, screams, and while trying quietly to evade a tiny human like the plague, while keeping a smile in my voice and pretending that whatever issue on the other end of the line is more important that the one at my feet.

Somewhere in the tote back to my room, he spued.
Everywhere.

So now I am covered in vomit, he's covered in vomit and crying because he HATES to vomit, calls are ringing in, and Beckham will be damned if he is going to let Lance hold him.
Lance scrubbed the floor.
I scrubbed the kid.
Call didn't stop.

Tuesday was better.

Until Beckham decided to poop all over his room.

I'm still not even entirely sure how it happened...
but I had left him naked as he had actually forfeited the panty-poop the day before and took his business to the potty for once and I thought I had found the trick.
Wrong.
There was crap smeared on his couch, the comforter, the sheets, the carpet, and a stuffed animal.
Maddox was gagging and B was proudly pointing to new spots for me to clean, and turds to pick up.

Wednesday I had scheduled myself the free massage.
I needed it.

The massage was okay, but the hour alone was incredible.
I honestly thought this was my turning point.

Lance was off so he met me there once I was finished and my aunt Missy had called earlier in the week asking if she could borrow Maddox on Wednesday to take him to the movies.
I really appreciated her doing that.
My kids are good-- but people just don't bang down my door to take them from me-- so maybe I give them more credit than they deserve!

They saw Smurfs 3D and Lance, Beckham and myself ran around town taking care of a couple of errands, before picking him up from Missy and Kyleigh at McDonald's.

Thursday the Ponce crew drove all the way from Godley to play at the water park with us.
I love spending time with them.
Maddox followed Lucas' every move--
and Katie helped mother Beckham to the right slide when he needed it.
The kids had fun.
But I felt bad for Amanda because she kept talking about wanting to do the bigger slides and I know she felt tied to me.
...Who, of course, is tied to Beckham.

Maddox is use to staying to the slides in the middle (where I can watch he and his brother equally) and never even asks to ride the bigger slides...  (mainly because he isn't a fan of the line-waiting part, I think) so I never feel like he's missing out.
I usually go with either Candace to Kimberly who both also have toddlers as well, so its never been an issue before.
I worried that she felt like she paid too much to not get to do enough... or that Lucas didn't get to do enough big-kid things...
not to mention it was a long drive.

We left around 3:30 and my kids only slept the 15 minutes it takes us to get home.
We bathed and then call went off with a vengeance.

This is suppose to be the slow time of the year but it felt like RSV season in the middle of winter.
Candace had warned me that Wednesday was a nightmare.

My pager makes a sound that mimics a dial-up modem or a dying lamb running its hoof down a chalkboard.
And the service likes to send them 2 or 3 at a time so that the sounds rings off with a never-ending screech that lasts 3-minutes-shy-of-eternity and makes you want to bust your phone to 6,000 pieces and then pretend you have no idea what happened.
I usually start cussing.

Lance was in the mood to annoy...
The kids were in the mood to cry...
and apparently I hit my limit.
I was done.

The difference between Lance and myself however, is that earlier in the week when he had sent me a text about his bad day, I tried to fix it.
It honestly bothered me that he wasn't happy.

He, on the other hand, saw a spark and added gasoline.

Which is the same thing he does to our kids when they're loosing their cool-- he picks, he annoys, he bothers them until they break-- and then he tries to get on to them for exploding on him.

First he tried this junior high approach on me, by picking.
And and then he just got mean and personal.

He added luggage to a rack that was already full,
and I refused to talk any more about it.

This is real life.

I grabbed my keys.

I didn't even bother with shoes.

I hopped in my car, and I left.

I left.

I sat in my car and I cried.
And I cried.
And I cried.

I called Candace and made her remind me why I got married.
or had kids so early...
or thought working from home was going to be so easy.

She always lifts me up with the perfect words and reminds me that I am not alone.
Without guilt, and by reminding me that this is all normal...
She did what she does--
What she always has.
She's good like that.

I took call for a couple of hours from a parking lot until it finally calmed down,
and then I went home.
Where Lance claimed he didn't know he was being mean,
and apologized for what I thought he meant-- but not exactly for what he said-- because it is not how he meant it.
And I just let it go.
I had to.

After 11 1/2 years, I have learned that I can't turn him into the person I want him to be no more than he can change me.

Overall he is a good man and I would put him up against any dad on the block.
He helps me more than any other husband I know helps their wives.
(or is if wife?  There is just one of me.)
He's not scared to wash dishes or vacuum floors...
Or rock babies or change diapers.
He is good in most every way that I can ask--

But he can not praise.
he just can't.
And he won't sweep in and take the stress away or lift me up when he sees me drowning.
He just wont.

And to be fair,
I can not hold in my frustrations, vents, or negativity when I feel the walls closing in.
I can not.

So for what I assume as us being friends, and him being the listening ear--
He sees as me being beat down with life and taking it out on him.

We are just different.
And I guess that is okay.

Finally off call, I was ready for a new day.
But during the night, Maddox woke up crying over and over that his heart hurt.

A few times he thought that if he could throw up he would feel better...
After multiple trips to the potty to purge however, we had no success.

It was the first time we have missed his Zantac since his check up so I assumed it was heart burn.
Or Beckham's illness coming on...
I wasn't sure?

Either way, neither he nor I slept well.

Friday Lance was off again and his dad was too.
Tony came over and asked if we could go help him pick out a new couch.

We talked him into an e-cigarette too, as almost all of our neighbors have quit smoking using this oil vapor contraption-- and we pray that he has the same luck.

We ate and then he headed home.

...Where life didn't slow down and the boys fought like wild dogs.

Beckham sank his teeth into Maddox's inner thigh and drew blood.
Now envision Maddox screaming, Beckham crying and trying to kiss it--
Maddox flipping out because he doesn't want B's jaws anywhere near his wound...
Lance pulling B out of the fight and into 2 year old prison,
and me trying to convince Maddox that he wasn't losing his leg.
That's life.

Everyone finally chilled and then Maddox started complaining of his "heart" again.
He has continued into today.

My dad came over this morning (wearing his converse and riding his Harley-- I'm so mad that I forgot a picture) and brought the boys each a beach towel.
Mario for Maddox.
Pidey-man for B.
They have carried them around all day and each time they move places, their towel moves too.

Beckham has made up for every calorie he missed while he was sick as I can not keep up with his appetite!
Maddox, on the other hand, will not eat.

He has cried a lot.
His "heart" still hurts.

And though I feel like I am a better mood and more equipped to take on the world,
this heart-jazz is making me rather crazy.

I certainly don't want to miss anything-- and I don't want to be dramatic either.
The irrational side of me wants to bust him through the ER doors and have every test ran...
but the logical nurse in me says he has the same virus B had.  It will pass.

I am going to watch him close and follow up on Monday if he is still complaining of pain.

I am doing the best I can...
Believe me.  I am trying.
There is not another soul on this earth who loves my children the way I do-- and I can't second guess my gut.
I think he is okay.
And it does no good for me to feel inadequate or dwell on something that I can't control.
I am trying.

This week was hard.

Here's to better moods and healthier children tomorrow.

Oh!  And a sold house!

Tomorrow a couple is coming to look at our house.
They posted to our community's FB page looking for a house by owner.
I sent them pictures, and they are interested.

Fingers crossed.
We shall see how this goes!

For now,
I am going to rest.