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| Girls vs. Boy with pool noodles |
Deuteronomy 31:6 Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
So, let's start this party with two definitions that are rattling around in my head right now. Accord to Webster, the definition of alone is "separated from others" while the definition for lonely is
"being without company." Mr. Webster, I beg to differ. I'd like to call you out on your definitions. Here's a revision for you based on my own personal experience. Alone is what you call it when you're stranded on a deserted island and there's nothing or no one around you except for your shipwrecked dinghy and a herd of hungry crocodiles. (I might have watched Barbie Island Princess too many times). Anyway, alone is what you are in the bathroom - unless you have children under 5. Oh, wait. That's a crappy example because I don't think you're ever alone in the bathroom if you have kids. Anywho... Lonely is a whole different busted up dinghy. Webster's definition infers that you would be alone to be lonely. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. You can feel completely lonely surrounded by hundreds of folks. I'd have to bet some of the folks that have made it to the tops of those ivory towers and have command of millions of peons are probably lonely. Lonely is when you feel like no one gets it (who knows what IT is but no one gets it) and you simply feel like you might just be invisible. Funny enough, the Barbie Island Princess never felt lonely after being shipwrecked and alone because she had the company of an elephant, a red panda, and a peacock who doted on her every need and whim... in case you were wondering or fretful about her well-being.
Lonely is where I am right now. Believe me, I'm surround by plenty of folks both young and old but I just feel like I'm excess noise in the universe. (Ok. Put the phone down and don't call Charter-Peachford yet to have me committed. If I'm able to reason with myself and pour the chaos of my brain out onto this page, then I haven't completely lost IT yet). Anyway, there's just been so much craziness in my life lately that I haven't had ample time to keep my own feelings and dealings dealt with. Between the kids' activities and my own work schedule, I put in three 15 hour days last week plus dealt with two sick kids and two other regular day plus dealt with a gentle giant who has suddenly turned into something more akin to the Hulk and a teen age daughter whose symptoms are aligning more and more with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and I'm having to face the reality of living that out with her. And, let's not even discuss the antics of Annie. Although her needs are relatively simple and align with what any high-maintenance, strong-willed, child of Eric Randolph's would be, she zaps me. I've give until I have nothing more to give. There are 20+ children demanding my time at school (and absolutely deserve it), 3 children at home who seem to have come to an agreement to stop tag-teaming me and now just all unload their weapons of mass destruction on me at once, and a house and van that need financial attention that I'm not sure how to manage. What? You don't understand what my problem is?
Saturday morning, I was headed to Party City and barreling down I-575 when some crazy lady cut me off. Of course, she had no idea that Annie was in the backseat chattering in her excitement about going to pick out napkins and plates for her birthday party. Although Annie's chatter was completely innocent, it was wearing on my nerves and my need for her to take a breath and grant me at least five seconds of peace went unheeded. The lady in the big fancy car pulling out in front of me and causing me to slam the brakes on and drop my speed by about 20 MPH in less than 5 seconds had no clue as to the things my brain was scheming to do to her. My brain told me to raise my arm and extend my Tall Man finger in a less than friendly wave to her. No. Gimme a break. I didn't really do it. I just thought about. What's my point in this story? When something a simple as a little old lady headed to the mall in her big old fancy car causing me to slow down unexpectedly nearly sends me over the edge and Annie's innocent excitement becomes noise in my world, it's time to figure out what the heck is going on.
Before I'd ever made it to Party City, I was in tears. (Tears these days are a luxury. They simply drain the energy I have and leave me a hot mess). I felt like I was in the cartoon scene where the character is hanging by his finger tips on the edge of a perilous cliff and someone is stepping on each little finger one by one and causing them to move closer and closer to their demise. By the time I'd regained composure, I'd had about 6 of my 10 fingers smashed and was wearily hanging by four stumpy little fingers. So, as I clung to the cliff, I unbuckled Annie from her car seat and headed into Party City with a very excited toddler to pick out plates and napkins for her first school birthday "party." If you've never been to Party City before, a more appropriate name for the store should be Party Vomit. I was completely overwhelmed and Annie was equally overwhelmed. Bottom line of this outing, don't let the toddler chose from fifteen million character napkins. Go in with two choices and let that be it. This trip went something like, "Annie... doh!" Next time, it'll go something like, "Annie, do you want the Barbie plates or the princess plates?" Lesson learned (and, I didn't feel compelled to shoot someone a bird while in the store - not that I remember. There were probably some folks who thought about doing that to us, though).
Wow. I didn't mean to chase that squirrel so far and with such detail but... You now know the details of my Party City trip. And, we left with Barbie plates and plain pink napkins.
Anyway, my heart is so tender and raw right now. I'm simply just give out. I spend so much time giving to others that I don't take any time for myself and it's beginning to come back and bite me in the butt big time. I begin to feel angry and resentful toward folks who don't have a clue why I'm dreaming of punching them in the face or super gluing their mouth shut. Now, there are some of you who think you're holier than thou and are astounded that I'd think such things. Get real. I'm human and a few fries short of a Happy Meal. And, I can't imagine anyone who gets frustrated and thinks of nothing other than cotton candy and cute little fuzzy kittens who'd never claw your couch or poo on your floor. I'm tired of playing those games and sweeping my frustrations under the rug. This is the reality. And, as I've said a hundred times before, I can understand why single moms make some pretty stupid mistakes. With the frustration, finances, and ... I can't think of another F word except THAT one and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't use that one... anyway, I get it. If I hadn't had some friends surrounding me with baseball bats and 2 x 4s to keep me on the straight and narrow, I'm fearful at some of the choices that I might have made. Yeah, I've made some pretty stupid mistakes but nothing that has tarnished my integrity or hurt my kids. But, yeah, this is a roller coaster ride of monumental proportions. Just when I think the coaster has jerked and pulled to the top of the hill and I let my guard down to coast for a while, I find the coaster jerking me around an upside down loop and dropping me right back down to ground zero to start the climb again. That's something I wasn't prepared for. People tell you that time heals hurt. Um, maybe. Time is more like healing a broken bone but the joint will always ache under certain strains.
The other thing I was completely unprepared for were the questions Annie would bring to the table. Tonight's question sort of topped the list and nearly stomped my four remaining fingers right off the cliff. As I was getting her ready for bed, she looked over at the side of my bed that now serves as a laundry holding tank and said, "When is daddy going to come back and sleep on his side of the bed?" Seriously? I had no idea that she even remembered him sleeping here. Talk about a complete foul ball. I told her that he had a different bed and wouldn't sleep there anymore and she started down the road of typical toddler questions such as, "Where is his bed," and, "Can I sleep with him," and then, "Is he going to pick me up at school tomorrow for my birthday?" Right now, Grant's desperation for his father is eeking out as anger toward me. Dasha's desperation manifests in other less obvious ways. I thought Annie had escaped the memories. I guess not. So, I put her to bed tonight with tears in her big blue eyes after breaking her heart telling her that he would not be picking her up but she could call him. These are the moments that books don't tell you about. Divorce doesn't just issue one swift blow to families. It's like a disease that goes dormant for a while then resurfaces with a vengeance. Funny enough that this fit hit the shan tonight. As I sat in church tonight, feeling the words of the sermon digging into my raw heart, I looked down at my ring finger and realized that I have a permanent mark from wearing my ring for so many years. In my head, I sort of thought, "It's like a tattoo of what used to be." Who knew that my babies hearts were all aching tonight, as well?
As I was listening to a teacher on online a few nights ago, I heard him say that God only gives us enough strength for one day at a time. He doesn't give us one lump sum deposit of strength that we get to draw from. It's "give us this DAILY bread" not "give it to me ALL." I'm having to ask fervently for that strength every single day. Heck, most days, I'm having to ask hourly. However, I've learned enough about myself over the past couple of years to know that when I start dreaming about flipping off little old ladies, it's time for me to examine my heart and tune out the noise for a while and find the melody.
Tonight, the melody is knowing that He has more grace than I do stupidity and that if life smushes the last four fingers that I'm clinging to the cliff with, He will be there to catch me.
See, this whole blogging thing is therapeutic for me and a heck of a lot cheaper than a psychiatrist! Things are not easy at ALL right now and I'm incredibly weary but, when I look around at the things I have been blessed with being responsible for, I'm overwhelmed (in a good way - not in a Prozac sort of way). Despite the loneliness and feelings that no one on the face of this planet could understand the strains of raising a toddler with her daddy's spunk, a teen with special needs, a gentle giant with tendencies similar to Dr. Bruce Banner, and the uniqueness of parenting after losing a child, I know that He gets it and will comfort my needs when I cry out.
Good night, all.
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