The Screaming Child

There is always that one household in the neighbourhood where the kids are always screaming and anyone who walks by wonders “WTH?” Is the mom beating her kids or what?

I realised the other night, that in my neighbourhood, that household is me. I reassure you, I am not beating my kids. I will tell you WTH is going on.

I was changing his nappy.

I took his shoes off.

His toy got stuck.

He was getting a bath.

He was pooping.

The ice cream truck hasn’t come yet.

He is screaming because he thinks it is funny.

YouTube wasn’t loading fast enough.

I didn’t give him his bottle quick enough.

The chair wouldn’t move.

He woke up from his nap.

He is standing on a chair giving a speech.

And a whole other lot of nonsense reasons.

This goes along with my previous post about not judging mothers.

I love my kids and I hope that one day they will be happy. x

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Coping and Living

It has been fourteen days since my husband was admitted into hospital. He has undergone numerous tests. When the doctors ruled out the worst, I felt a bit better. But missing him has not stopped. He still isn’t home.

I have learned a bit more about my relationship with patience during the last two weeks: I really don’t have much of it. However, I am realising that if I have more love and peace and faith within myself, I can have more patience with the challenges I face. Sometimes those challenges very much include my crying children. I need to remember they are having a hard time too.

I am seeing life has different dimensions. Like  circles within circles.

Gaddafi is in the news. Ethan needs a nappy change. Presidential campaigns crash. I rub some baby Bonjela on Axel’s gums. Scientists are researching cures for all kinds of diseases. I throw in a load of laundry. My husband sits in a hospital bed with an IV receiving Immunoglobin into his system.  I write out a grocery list and plan next week’s meals. Businesses suffer from the London rioting. I pop in the ‘Finding Nemo’ dvd for Ethan to watch. The weatherman forecasts rain. I read my emails.

Inbetween the lines are my thoughts, my worries, my backup plan of a,b, c. What are we going to do now?

Inbetween those thoughts are the moments I have with my kids where I am comforting their cries, “its ok to cry, I know you need a cuddle. Life is hard huh?” Protecting them from themselves, “not a good idea to stand on that chair Ethan!” “Don’t sit on the baby!” Praising them for accomplishments, “well done! Good boy!” And tending to their needs, “bathtime!” All day long I think about my husband and our future. I love that man so much. I hope he comes home soon.

No matter the challenges and obstacles we feel we face, life goes on. No matter how we feel from moment to moment, life goes on. Nothing stops. So neither will I. Just need to keep moving forward….they need me to….

Dear Diary: I Am Waiting For An Answer

(photo credit)

In my mind I am sitting in the waiting area of the hospital. My husband is behind the door under the eye of a number of doctors. If I am there, then at least I would be closer to my husband instead of being here at home. Helpless and without him. I am laying on my bed paralysed and emotional with worry. Axel has been crying. He has a cold. After a while my sister comes in and gets him. I am staring at nothing on the door. My face is wet and salty.

We have been receiving many emails of promised prayers in behalf of my husband. I should reply to everyone and say thank you, but I just want my children in my arms right now. Ethan must be sensing my sadness because he keeps coming over to give me hugs. He is holding a balloon in each hand, I had blown them up a week ago for his birthday. He head butts the door and laughs. I chuckle. He gives me another hug and then runs to the other room.

The other night my husband and I were talking about going to Paris. We’ve been talking about it since before we married. We could disappear for a few days. I loved the idea. These kinds of conversations make me happy because I feel like our future is bright and full of adventures to come. Even if we never do these things, I was happy pretending. I am a dreamer and my husband entertains those dreams. I love him for that.

A tear runs down my cheek onto my lip. My husband is the only one who has ever kissed away my crying tears. He has a way. And it makes me fall for him even more when he does.

I’m still laying on the bed. My head is pounding and my eyes are burning. I wonder what tests my husband has to go through. I wonder a lot of things but now I just want the answer. The next step.

Have I been a good enough wife? Have I given my husband a happy marriage? He always says yes but I still question myself. I can do better. Ethan comes in again but now he has cars in each hand. One is from his birthday that my husband had gotten for him. He thought he’d have more time to play with his son and show him how to use his new toy tool set.

I miss my husband. He will be gone from home until they find the cause of his weakening body. I will pray that the doctors will have the knowledge required to make the correct diagnosis and effective treatment. There are so many things that now seem so minuscule when all I desire is that we can be together as a family. Always.

When we have family dinner, I want him there. When I go to church, I want him next to me. When I lay in bed at night, I want to feel his closeness. God knows I love my husband. The boys love their daddy. Everything will be okay.

I hope for the strength I need to keep my family happy despite the challenges facing us. I hope for the heart God intends for me to have to always feel love and compassion. And I hope that the smiles we have will never fade.

Dear diary, life feels uncertain right now while we wait for the answers……

In My Treasure Box I Have These Turkish Earrings

Years ago, I handed in my BA dissertation, went home, got my suitcases, and headed off to the airport to catch a flight to Marmaris, Turkey.

That city was the best place for shopping! I went to two different kinds of markets and then the high street of shops. These earrings were made by a Turkish lady.

She wore a dusty dress and had long dark hair that needed cut and brushed. Her face was tan and wrinkly from the sun but her eyes looked youthful and hopeful. She didn’t say much to me. She didn’t have to. Have you ever met someone that you felt something for but you didn’t know why?  I saw these earrings and bought them almost instantly. The lady smiled and thanked me. I thanked her in return, but didn’t say what I really wanted. I could have sat next to her all day and listened to her tell the story of her life.

I met her only once. I’ll probably never meet her again. But I hold in my hand something she once held in hers. And we will be forever connected.