I lay in my bed tonight, a new woman. Or at least that's how it feels on days like this. I slept til noon. Surprise. I spent hours playing computer games to escape reality. Surprise. But today I also managed to be something I'm not, a lot. Productive. Ha. I figure since I managed to get all of the stuff I wanted to do done, I could brag about it. It's my blog and I'll brag if I want to, brag if I want to. :) So I managed to clean the kitchen and both bathrooms. And not just spot clean, I scrubbed with bleach people! I cleaned my room, helped my son with his room (both their rooms got cleaned today) and cooked dinner. My husband took care of the living room and vacuumed and I actually cooked dinner, and bathed my kids, and got them ready for bed, all in the same night. I know, supermom. It's okay, you don't have to applaud. Anyhow, I was productive. I even washed my sheets and my husbands uniforms and towels, too. Anyway. Go me. Onward we move, to real life.
My days have really been decent lately. I've been keeping myself busy playing computer games, doing photo shoots with my kids, sewing, cleaning, wiping noses, changing pull-ups, refereeing, etc. The nights however, have sucked. I lay in bed and can't sleep. I toss and turn and doze but it feels as though I'm never really asleep. Until, you know, I am. And then I only know I'm asleep because I'm waking up from a nightmare. It's a sad cycle, really. And a very exhausting one. The other night I went to sleep about two. My husband's alarm went off at four, and it tore my out of a nightmare. I couldn't move, couldn't drag myself off the bed. It was as though I weighed a ton. I wanted to sit up. I wanted to scream. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to go back to sleep. I've been known to wake from dreams only to fall right back into them. I was terrified of that happening. I feel as though I haven't slept in weeks, except for last night when 's' was here. And most of that sleeping was done in the day, early this morning.
I feel very overwhelmed with life right now. I had some issues yesterday as some of you may have picked up from my Not Me! Monday post. Had I had more sleep I may not have been as emotional about it, but I probably still would have been angry. Maybe more so. Either way, I don't really care right now. The thing is, big sigh, that no one really sees me. No one other than S and A and my wonderful husband. I feel as though what everyone sees is what they choose to see, maybe. I feel like this is what people see:
A young mom whose husband is almost never in the church pew. Her kids are wild, smart mouthed, and she cries a lot. She's scatter brained and lazy. She is hyper, and unfocused. She's overly sensitive. She isn't as faithful as she should be. Her marriage isn't strong, because her husband is never around.
This is what I see.
I'm a wife. A young wife. I'm not quite 26, I've been married for a little over 6 years. I have two children, ages 5 and 3. My husband works two full time jobs (he's a paramedic) so that I can stay home with our kids. Lets face it, even if I were to work, the money would go to child care. It isn't worth it. We rent a little house across the street from a delusional paranoid crazy old man, and really, I am settled here. But that's just the tip of the ice burg people.
My husband who works two full time jobs was diagnosed with a NASH 3 years ago. It's a form of non-alcoholic liver disease. In most normal cases it is painless and asymptomatic. We are not normal. He has suffered sometimes debilitating pain for 3 years. He is tired, his eyes are yellow, and he is in constant pain. We have seen 6 specialists in three years, moved 12 hours from home, seeking answers, and all we've been told is that there isn't really anything wrong. They can't find the cause of the pain. They can't cure the pain. They can't really even treat the pain. He takes darvocet when he doesn't have to work, but that's just not that often, folks. Did I mention he's 32? He spends most of his spare time sewing quilts for other people, taking care of others, like his best friend, a single mom of two teenagers who pretty much have adopted themselves into our family. He would give you his shirt off his back, and say, nah just keep it when you offered it back. He's just that kind of man. I do not deserve him.
We all know I have baggage. On top of that, I'm a stay at home mom. My kids are 20 months apart, and smart as little whips. They drive me insane on a daily basis, but I couldn't love them more if I tried. My daughter was born in atrial fib. She hasn't had any trouble with it since then, until now. We are in the process of getting her in with a new cardiologist so that we can maybe find out what is going on and get it straightened out before school starts. My son is the boyest boy I've ever met in my life. He just is. And they're wild. And smart mouth. And I'm working on that. But they're the sweetest most giving kids I've ever met. They bring me 'presents' to cheer me up all day long. They make little pictures for their friends to take to them when they get home from school. They offer to give their toys away when they notice someone else needs them. They fight a LOT, too. They're noisy in church some, but they're getting better. But the one thing I am most proud of is their spirits. We talk about God in ways I'm not sure is normal. Especially my daughter. She wants to know about death and God and Heaven a lot. Tonight we were sitting on the swing outside, the four of us. My son was in my lap and he started to cry. I said what's wrong? 'I can't see God'. 'Well, honey, He's in Heaven, of course you can't see Him'. 'But I want Him to come and get us'. 'I said I know honey, I do too, and He will, but right now we just have to wait'. 'He will come get us and then I can see his arms and his face!' 'Yes, baby, you sure will.' He's three. It's amazing what they pick up while they're shuffling seats and coloring in worship three times a week. They blow me away every day.
I think I'm losing my point. oh well. I take care of my mother, too, when I can. She's not in great health, and my Dad is away a lot for work. It's busy here, always. And to be perfectly honest, I don't want to be an adult. I don't want to do anything but crawl back in bed most days. The depression and hurt can swallow you whole if you let it. And sometimes I just want to let it. It's hard fighting. I don't like fighting. I'm tired. Life is such a balance. Especially this life. I haven't figured out how to be hurt and depressed and broken, and take care of every one else at the same time. I feel like someone is always being neglected, no matter what. Right now, that person is me. I'm so totally fine with that. There are some things I just don't want to deal with, no matter how much I might need to.
So, yes, I'm a young mom and I cry a lot. My kids are wild and loud, and smart mouthed. My husband doesn't go to church a lot (because he's at work. If he is at home, and is not in bed with pain, he is at church. It's where he wants to be, he just can't right now). We're not seen together in public a lot, either. But we have a strong marriage. We take care of each other (and trust me there's a lot of takin care to do). Our kids are smart and well adjusted and spiritual minded. We may not have the perfect life. It may not even be what it should be. But it's our life, and we love it. We're making it work. We're surviving, together, the four of us.
Well now that I've rambled and none of that really made sense, I feel better. At least I got it all out, maybe now I can process it. I feel like there are a million things going on in my life, and I can't address them all at once. Well, I guess that's all for tonight. I need to do my Bible study and head off to not sleep some more. yay
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.