I hate wishing away time. I am very aware of how fleeting it is, how one never gets it back, and how much I'll miss certain points in my life.
This week is testing all of the above.
I'll just talk about today and you can multiply that by the four, as it is only Thursday.
My Visiting Teachers were coming over this morning (in the LDS church, each woman is assigned two other women from the congregation (visiting teachers) to come and visit her, or at least check in monthly to make sure she's doing okay). The house looked like we'd been out running errands all week. So I was tidying up. That went all right. The girls were playing especially well with one another. I needed to take a shower because I didn't take one the day before (honesty, Folks). I jumped in, jumped out, got ready, and I walked into Cora's room.
It was insanity. Toys were everywhere on the floor. Cora had been in her closet on top of the bin I store clothes that Magnolia will grow into. She'd pulled down so many things from the shelves in her closet. I honestly didn't care about the mess. I cared about the little mouse bait block that was missing from behind the afore mentioned bin. It's in a completely childproof container, but I couldn't find it. Everything is falling a part.
Doorbell.
Visiting teachers are here, children are crying. Cora is crying because she knows she did something she shouldn't have, Magnolia is crying because Cora is crying. After everyone gets in and sits down, I explain what's going on, and sweeter than sweet, they volunteer to help clean Cora's room to see if we can find the block. The room gets picked up. No block. We go and visit for a while. They leave.
It's lunch time and Cora is off to school. I come home and put Magnolia to bed, and then because Magnolia has been up a million times a night this week, I indulge in a nap. I went into Cora's room to do it. I move a stack of folded quilts, and go to lie down, and realize I'm on something. It's the bait block! Phew. I rest in peace until my alarm goes off that it's time to pick up Cora.
In the carpool line, I get a text from a friend that her girls will be caroling with their school at Whole Foods, which is close to our house. Great! It's in a fun area near Chesapeake with lots of gorgeous Christmas lights. We get home, have a snack, play for a little while. I make dinner and intermittently try to change the bulb in our headlight. That was a no-go, but we get through dinner and out the door in time to pick Jake up from work and drop him off to go Home Teaching (each family in the congregation is assigned two men to do the same thing as visiting teachers - they're called home teachers) and get to Whole Foods.
We got there a little before the caroling began and before all the kids were there. I asked one of the workers where the caroling would be and she said, "Oh, you must be thinking of the Chesapeake area right behind Whole Foods." and pointed me in the direction. There were no carolers there, but there was a gigantic winter wonderland full of kids playing on hills of fake snow. Of course, Cora wanted to do that. I asked another lady at a Whole Foods table about the carolers and she told me they were in fact in the store and someone was working on getting them organized. We went back, found a table, built some dollhouses out of napkins, saw some old friends, and then the caroling merriment began.
All was well. For two songs. And then Cora, who was dancing and having fun, burst into tears because she wanted to go play with the other kids on the snow. OMGee. The crying ensued. When we were on our way, I told her we were going to get a piece of cake while we were there. I brought up the cake, and after a minute or two, she decided we would go pick our perfect piece. She picked carrot cake.
We made our way back to the front to the check out and where the carolers were. Smiles and carrot cake. Phew. This was going to work out. I reach for my wallet. That's right.
NO WALLET. The eldest of my daughters loves gum and knows how to work zippers. When I was getting Jake's spaghetti together to take with us so he could eat on the go, I came back into the living room and found both girls huddled around my purse. I got them both gum, restored the contents of my purse that were on the couch, and we were off.
We walked our perfect piece of carrot cake back to where we found it, Cora cried more about the snow, and we just walked right on out of that store to the tune of Oklahoma Rising. Crying all the way home. We walk in the door, and I see the strap of my wallet peaking out from under my nursing cover, both on the floor. Crying Crying Crying.
Potty.
Jammies.
Goo to bed.
Cora story.
Kisses.
Prayers.
Now I'm blogging. I'm trying to forget about the dishes. Magnolia has been sending out a little cry every now and again, but I hope she'll settle in for good. Jake has been out late each night this week. I don't want to be someone who is completely dependent on the idea someone being home, but again, this week is testing that. And really, I'm upset at myself that I find it all so frustrating. Sure I feel like a single parent, but at least I get to be a stay-at-home single parent, right?
And I can't stop thinking about my sweet friend, Ryan, who has two sick little girls. Like lifelong sick, and all she wants is a sense of normalcy for her family between hospital stays and weak immune systems. Her youngest daughter, Lucy, is two months and in the hospital right now. Her oldest, Ellie Kate, is six and was supposed to perform in her first dance recital, but she got sick. Both girls have
NKH. As I read through this mother of four's blog posts, my heart breaks for her broken heart. She wanted her whole family to be together to decorate their home for Christmas. She wanted Ellie Kate to dance, and Lucy to not be completely ravaged by the disease that her sister has been. She wanted a normal holiday season for her two sons. She's one of the strongest, most faithful women I've known. She puts complete trust in God, that he as at the helm of their lives and struggles, but with everything going so crazy, she is hurting right now. Please pray for the McLaughlin family.
I want to not be frustrated by the whining and the crying, and blah blah blah blah blah. Here's the real deal:
I feel really lonely. There, I said it. I've felt that way ever since we moved back to Oklahoma. Something is so different. I don't have the same constant circle of friends I loved so much. I know I can't expect everything to be the same, and I know I'm naturally pretty introverted and don't require a great deal of social interaction to feel complete (I've always called myself a natural loner), but I need some people. And with Jake's regular schedule, plus all of the things on top of it like rehearsals and recitals, it's just like...it's a lot. I suppose one of my resolutions for the new year, and perhaps before the year is out is to put myself out there a bit more. The funny thing about loneliness is the more you feel it, the more you withdraw which is the exact opposite of what makes lonely go away.
