This morning was rough. "I don't know how I can go on homeschooling" kind of rough. "I'm never eating breakfast or lunch in the dining hall again" kind of rough. And then God breathed fresh air into me.
It's a Monday, and instead of Selah sleeping til 5, she woke me up to nurse her at 4. Then Miriam, instead of sleeping til 8, awoke closer to 7. And before I'd even gotten my coffee at breakfast, the potty-training 2-year-old had wet her pants.
We'd been having great success with potty-training these past 2 weeks, so when my sweet 2-year-old went through 6 pairs of panties just this one morning, I was taken aback and not quite prepared for the level of attention she needed. It's not so much that I can't handle wet pants after wet pants, or puddles of pee, or stinky soiled panties. It's more that my newborn is also very needy, not sleeping unless I'm nursing her or a sibling has walked her and continues to hold her. So every time my toddler needed me, I had to hand off the baby before I could address the potty issues. This meant Selah's "naps" were constantly interrupted and she wasn't terribly happy about that.
Meanwhile my big kids were trying to get back to full school days after our Christmas break, and they needed attention. They had questions to ask and discoveries to share, and I hadn't even figured out everything I expect of them this week. I was feeling like I just can't handle all that's on my plate. And then my husband got home from an important errand with a result that was very frustrating. We'd somehow (for the millionth time) seemed to misunderstand each other as to what was supposed to happen on that errand, and his news upon coming home pushed me right to the edge.
Getting the baby and the toddler out of the house to go to the dining hall for lunch was the final straw. The bare-legged toddler didn't want to put her pants back on to leave the house, and I had my hands full of baby so couldn't attend to her like I wanted. The big kids were struggling with her. We managed to eventually convince her, but as I angrily stomped out of our apartment, into the bracing cold, I thought, "I am never doing this again! Why should I have to go somewhere else for breakfast and lunch when it's so hard to get everyone out of the house and meals take so much longer?" Walking into the dining hall and seeing big tables filling up quickly and my big kids standing around with plates full of food anxiously awaiting my cue as to where we were going to sit just pushed me over the edge.
I saw one person I knew I'd enjoy eating with, a visitor I just met last week, and reserved 2 seats next to her, one for Miriam and one for me. The rest of my kids had to go sit somewhere else because the table quickly filled, mostly with people visiting Tantur for a 2-week course. Thankfully another visitor I enjoy sat next to me as well, this one the mother of one of our staff and the traveling buddy of the other. Because both ladies are sweet and sensitive, I felt I could be honest when they asked how I was doing and I even started crying. One of them had also homeschooled and been married to a PhD student while parenting four kids (and she's named Miriam!) so seemed especially empathetic. I appreciated her concern and willingness to pray for me. The other visitor is particularly good at conversation and had me laughing before the end of lunch, a much-needed relief. Also, both of these ladies -- not today, but almost every other day they've been here -- have held Selah at meals, which has both helped me and encouraged me.
It's still a tough day, but now I feel strengthened for the tasks. I've been heard. I've been touched, if ever so briefly on the shoulder. I've been looked in the eye by others who have walked this road too. I've heard them cheer on my toddler, even as she eats messily, and sweetly say goodbye to her when lunch is over. I wish these two could stay. I'm thankful for their time here.
It's a Monday, and instead of Selah sleeping til 5, she woke me up to nurse her at 4. Then Miriam, instead of sleeping til 8, awoke closer to 7. And before I'd even gotten my coffee at breakfast, the potty-training 2-year-old had wet her pants.
We'd been having great success with potty-training these past 2 weeks, so when my sweet 2-year-old went through 6 pairs of panties just this one morning, I was taken aback and not quite prepared for the level of attention she needed. It's not so much that I can't handle wet pants after wet pants, or puddles of pee, or stinky soiled panties. It's more that my newborn is also very needy, not sleeping unless I'm nursing her or a sibling has walked her and continues to hold her. So every time my toddler needed me, I had to hand off the baby before I could address the potty issues. This meant Selah's "naps" were constantly interrupted and she wasn't terribly happy about that.
Meanwhile my big kids were trying to get back to full school days after our Christmas break, and they needed attention. They had questions to ask and discoveries to share, and I hadn't even figured out everything I expect of them this week. I was feeling like I just can't handle all that's on my plate. And then my husband got home from an important errand with a result that was very frustrating. We'd somehow (for the millionth time) seemed to misunderstand each other as to what was supposed to happen on that errand, and his news upon coming home pushed me right to the edge.
Getting the baby and the toddler out of the house to go to the dining hall for lunch was the final straw. The bare-legged toddler didn't want to put her pants back on to leave the house, and I had my hands full of baby so couldn't attend to her like I wanted. The big kids were struggling with her. We managed to eventually convince her, but as I angrily stomped out of our apartment, into the bracing cold, I thought, "I am never doing this again! Why should I have to go somewhere else for breakfast and lunch when it's so hard to get everyone out of the house and meals take so much longer?" Walking into the dining hall and seeing big tables filling up quickly and my big kids standing around with plates full of food anxiously awaiting my cue as to where we were going to sit just pushed me over the edge.
I saw one person I knew I'd enjoy eating with, a visitor I just met last week, and reserved 2 seats next to her, one for Miriam and one for me. The rest of my kids had to go sit somewhere else because the table quickly filled, mostly with people visiting Tantur for a 2-week course. Thankfully another visitor I enjoy sat next to me as well, this one the mother of one of our staff and the traveling buddy of the other. Because both ladies are sweet and sensitive, I felt I could be honest when they asked how I was doing and I even started crying. One of them had also homeschooled and been married to a PhD student while parenting four kids (and she's named Miriam!) so seemed especially empathetic. I appreciated her concern and willingness to pray for me. The other visitor is particularly good at conversation and had me laughing before the end of lunch, a much-needed relief. Also, both of these ladies -- not today, but almost every other day they've been here -- have held Selah at meals, which has both helped me and encouraged me.
It's still a tough day, but now I feel strengthened for the tasks. I've been heard. I've been touched, if ever so briefly on the shoulder. I've been looked in the eye by others who have walked this road too. I've heard them cheer on my toddler, even as she eats messily, and sweetly say goodbye to her when lunch is over. I wish these two could stay. I'm thankful for their time here.
1 comment:
Ugh! What a horrible morning! I'm glad you had a reprieve at lunch. I wish I were there to hold Selah for you, even if she's crying, and to give you hugs!
Post a Comment