An emberassing day of the 'runs' with the guilt ridden mommy.

                       
                      The day started off normal. Well normal for a second. I had no inkling of a hint that today would be just as trying, hard and challenging as it was, until about thirty minutes in.
                      I woke up but kept my eyes shut. Luke my 19 month old baby who never sleeps, rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position. My first thought was "Dear Lord, when will he understand we don't wake up when its still dark!" and then I heard something, a very wet trumpet sounded from his diaper. This isn't good. Seconds later, the three year old princess starts to stir, obviously awoken by the wet trumpet sound and I ask her if she can go down stairs and get daddy.
              I am in no way changing this one.
              I attempt to go back to sleep but I am too awake, and hungry so I throw on my robe and go downstairs. Luke is running around naked and Eve is watching TV on the couch in a sleepy haze. I feel a pang of guilt for making her get up so that I didn't have to.
             Luke wants to cuddle so I sit down with him on my lap for a bit and spend a good ten minutes planting kisses on the back of his head. Eventually something peeked his interest and he got down, that is when I saw it. Gross wet poo right on my robe.
              It dawned on me then, that perhaps this was some tummy upset. I cleaned him up,put a diaper on him and get him dressed.
                                   After breakfast we took daddy to work and that is when it hit me, I had to go to the bathroom quickly. I put my foot to the peddle and the peddle to the metal and after unbuckling two car seats and ushering three kids quickly into the house I  ran to the bathroom and made it just in the nick of time.  Then I realized that there was no toilet paper.

                  We always make sure that we only use one twelve pack of toilet paper in a  two week period because of our tight budget. We usually are pretty good about this, but my husband had the man cold. and us women knows what that entails! So in the past four days he went through all of the toilet paper.
                   I looked around for something else, anything else, and I realize the only thing for me to use is a hand towel. I use the hand towel, and throw it away.
                    I hope for it to end and that this is the only time I am running to the bathroom today, but not only five minutes later, (after I am changing another poopy diaper from Luke) I run another hand towel.   Its then I realize that if I don't make it to the grocery store soon, im going to cost a small fortune in hand towels!

                 I broke it as gently to Eve as I could that we would not be able to attend preschool story time at the library today (she cried for five minutes straight in my arms, my shoulder was a wet mess) and then sat them down for their motivation before we go out. I will often read to them a scripture to help with whatever one of them might be going through. lately my oldest Talon, has been having a tough time following rules, and in result he is really encouraging the younger ones down a dark slippery path.
             I read Proverbs 10:17 He who heeds discipline shows the way to life,  but whoever ignores correction leads others astray.

              We talked about what it meant, and then I talked to them what we were doing and what I expected from them with their behavior. They all nodded in understanding, except for the baby. he played with his straps.
                 We drove 20 minutes to the library where I immediately ran to the bathroom. Afterwards we picked up a book Talon ordered, and picked out some books to read. I spent the entire time trying NOT to poop my pants. I still had to go grocery shopping for the week. Why didn't I just put it off until I felt better? Because we are on such a tight budget that we only have enough food in the house to last us exactly until Friday. If I don't go today, we don't eat tomorrow. Its just how it goes, no room for error....or sickness.
              Now let me pause a second to explain some things about my sweet Luke. Love this kid. He is a very transparent little guy. If he isn't happy, he lets us know it, if he is he lets us know it. He started screaming the minute his face hit the air from my womb, and he has not really stopped since. He has a temper. The past few months he has been showing his frustration by hitting. When he is mad at me, he will hit my square in the nose as hard as he can. He hits his daddy too.
              I am a believer that we should know and win our children's hearts. I think its very important that we do this before anything else. I do not spank, (only in very rare circumstances and its a last resort) and believe that children should be given the same grace, mercy and love that God gives us. They need direction, yes! But they also need forgiveness when they mess up because we all mess up, and wouldn't we want forgiveness too? Which leads me to explain what happened next....
           For months every time this cute little bugger would hit someone or me, I will take his hands gently and say "we give hugs and kisses, no hits. hitting hurts" He will usually hug or kiss us or his friend after that, but two minutes later he is hitting again.
          As we are leaving the library, I am lugging a heavy bag on each arm, and the kids are running down the concrete ramp. Luke cannot run well, but he cant do steps at all and will take a nasty tumble if he isn't holding someone's hand.
          Holding my keys, he decides to run away from me down the ramp, as I'm lugging the two heavy bags, my stat icky hair in my face and I'm desperately trying not to exert myself too much so I wont poop my pants, he runs up and down the ramp squealing with delight as he knows he's totally duking me. I am firmly telling him he will get hurt if he does not stop, but his brother is laughing and encouraging him to keep it up. As the panic of him getting hurt rises into my throat, the frustration is as well. And there's also the whole, I'm about to poop my pants bit too.
               Luke runs around a corner and out of my sight and I have no idea if he's about to fall off a the five foot ledge. I run after him to see he's okay, and I scoop down to pick him up telling him firmly, "we need to go now, luke" When he slams both hands (one which was holding my keys) as hard as he can into my face, knocking off my glasses and putting  a hurt on my nose and upper lip that brought stars to my eyes. Well, I did something next that I'm not proud of. I picked up my glasses (thankfully they were not broken) and I grabbed luke by his arm, and swatted his bottom for the first time, then the second and third. then holding him by his arm, facing out from me so he couldn't take another shot, I march down the ramp to my oldest, who had stopped laughing at this point, after realizing how serious things just got, I scold him for not practicing what we just read from the scripture.
             Luke is howling, not because he was hurt, but because I just stopped his fun. He was very very mad.  I put him in his car seat and he has stopped howling and switched to bugging me for a toy. This kid! I tell him that he cannot hit! Realizing that I just hit him, such a loser I am! He looks into my face and starts crying and it dawns on me that maybe he is getting old enough to hold himself accountable for what he had done/ he seemed truly sorry.
             I get into the drivers seat and look at my face in the rear view.  I am red above my lip and only a bit of blood coming from a small cut. I made it out okay. But I  feel terrible still that I swatted the baby on his butt and that I had to carry him that way.  This is definitely one of those days that I felt overwhelmed and out numbered!
             The rest of the day went okay, no more poopy diapers from Luke and I didn't poop my pants, so that is a plus. Now I just have to forgive myself for my complete mom-fail and let go of the mommy guilt I am feeling.
             Have you ever had a day like this? I have more good days then bad, but today is definitely a day I came out feeling like a loser.
                 with guilt,
                     Mother of Hobbits
            

She is Just to Sensitive

              This post has been on the edge of my mind for a while now. I try to type it up, but then I just think its not enough, I'm not explaining it right, and hit delete and walk away.
               It should be said. I need to write about it. Make sense of it. Make sense of me. I am a woman in progress. I am a tortured soul. I am trying to heal.
If someone like me, can in fact...heal.

           3 years ago I lost my mother. Its no secret, I talk about it often on here, and have mentioned it many times out loud. One thing I don't mention ever, is that a few months later, I lost my sister too.

           She wasn't my sister by blood. But I believe God intended us to be connected spiritually. We met when I was 16 and she was 13 and we connected instantly. Her family connected with me too, and it was like we had always known each other. We spent every single day together after school, and later on went to college together taking on the same classes and then spending time after classes just being together. We never grew tired of each other, WE NEVER ONCE FOUGHT.  In fact, I don't think we ever disagreed on anything.
             We had one of those quirky relationships were we could look at each other and have a conversation without moving our lips. it came in handy later on, when we would be approached by out siders. it was our special talent.
        Later as I was searching for answers and trying to find religion I belonged in, she started classes at a different college, and I went on and got married, and started having a family, we didn't spend everyday with each other anymore, but it never felt like we were apart.
        She was in Israel studying to be a better Jew, as she had found her religion during this period, when she sensed I was pregnant with my oldest. She called and told me she already knew, before I could plan a creative way to tell her.
       YES. It was like that. She later found her husband and got married, and I sensed something at her wedding, like something had severed our tie a bit. But I ignored it, she was happy, and I wanted her to be happy.
       Later on she and her husband were in Israel again, and we were only able to email each other when she could get to a library and when I could get to a library. One morning I awoke and the first thing that came to my mind was, she was pregnant. JOY!
                I didn't intend to go to the library that day but when I did to email her and confirm, she had already emailed me earlier, confirming.
       So one thing was, besides my mother, She was the only other person that I could completely let my guard down with. The only person that loved me unconditionally. I didn't need to prove anything to her, EVER.
       As she grew closer to her faith, and became to live a life so different then mine, she grew more distant from me. I felt things severing, but I continued to ignore them. I just kept grasping to her. When she was in the states, I tried to set up play dates. I tried to ignore the feeling that she was far away, even when she was in my house.
        Until one day, a few months after my mom had died, I couldn't ignore it anymore. I saw her brother post on facebook that he had a new niece. I didn't even know she was pregnant.

         Flash back to my teens and my twenties, whilst we were friends, I had other friends too. I was continuously hurt by most. I had guys I thought I could love or that could love me, most just used me for my kindness, as most of the friends had done and spit me out when they no longer needed me, or I became 'old news'.
                    I also learned that if you let people in, and you humble yourself before people, they will use your weakness against you.
          Over the years, I began to shield myself from new people, from people I only slightly new. I learned to guard myself from most everyone, except from my mom and from my 'sister'.
          At my mothers funeral I didn't cry. I sat with a stone face, a brave face, for everyone. I wanted to show no emotion, because I have learned that when you are vulnerable, people will hurt you. It wasn't until I sat by her casket at the graveyard and realized we were leaving her body there forever that i couldn't not hold the flood of tears back any longer. I knew her body was just a vessel, i knew she was standing beside my saying goodbye before her soul walked into the mist to the Heavens, but I couldn't help myself. Her being gone, was real.
            Then months later, as the few relatives and friends that showed concern for me dissipated and they went on back to their normally scheduled lives and I was left grieving and alone, I learned what I had feared, 'sister' was gone too.
              I don't think about her at all. I didn't grieve for her for long either. I forget she exists, except for when she left a message on my answering machine after Luke was born, and I angrily wondered how did she even know. It bothers me when people do things because they feel its the right thing to do, not because they want to. I deleted the message from the machine and my mind.
            I have deleted us from my mind. I have brought her back now, to write this out, to show to others why I chose to sit alone, or why I don't share, or cry or seem like a robot.

           I am not a snob. I do not think I  am better then you.
       I just can not bring myself to let my guard down, because I can not bring myself to hurt anymore for people.
        I feel everything, even in a room with many, i feel all of their emotions, i have always been that way.
        Maybe its Gods plan, using me to help others. But because of this, my feelings get hurt easily, my heart breaks at the slightest blow, and because of this I will not let my guard down.

          I have let ONE  person see me cry in the past 3 years since my moms funeral. ONE.  and its not who you would think, either.

          I have let myself cry for my sister one time after her passing. ONCE.

          So with this being said, I am not asking for pity, but simply to explain my reasons why I sit alone at church, why I make polite chit-chat but will often bolt if things get too personal.
       Why, if we start hanging out and you suddenly don't see me much anymore, chances are you said something that triggered a warning and I felt the need to retreat into my safe place. It probably was unintentional and not even significant, but alas, I am extra cautious for good reason.
          Its not that I enjoy being alone, Its that I feel like I just cant have it any other way. If the people who were supposed to love me the most, could hurt me so deep, or be taken away so quickly,  then I just cant imagine a life where anyone else could care for me without intentions to hurt me.
          sincerely,
            Hobbit Mommy