again, i feel myself frustrated
Yes, I'm frustrated again today. I have reason to be today; somehow I feel that I have more than last week when I complained.
But I don't want to complain. I vented eariler today to some IRL people and I want to be done venting.
My body has been working better than it could be. Even though I pushed myself and did a lot Mon. and Tues., my body did not require too much recovery time. That is something to be thankful for since it is awful when your body does not cooperate with your plans.
Truth be told, I'm upset because I had an arguement with DH today. I should be settled now because he called back and said that I was right and agreed to my remedy. Still, somehow, his actions (the ones we fought about) killed some of my hope in our plans and my trust in his following them and that is why I still grieve.
However, he admitted I was right; I should be thankful for that.
Also, I'm done with clothes shopping for the kids and we down-sized all our clothes by 2/3 (we plan to downsize everything in the house by about 2/3 for the move.) Just to be done with the clothes, sorting and folding and deciding and giving away to various places, feels so good.
Now, I think we will tackle the kitchen next. It shouldn't be so hard. We will need one good day to work on it, then we can move on to toys or books or movies or something else.
It feels good to fix something in a way that will make more than a temporary difference. Make the bed...it is unmade less than 24 hours later. Do the dishes and there are more within three hours. But sort things and get them out of your house and they are gone, gone, gone!
Do not store up treasures here on earth...store your treasures in heaven. Even this advice from God has our happiness in mind in both the practical and spiritual areas of our lives.
Until next time,
days like today
There are days, sometimes, when enough things are going wrong and you just want to throw up your arms and quit. Today was one of those days.
My hormones are still out of wack and my monthly visitor has decided to stay for about a month so far. I have a silly little cold that just won't go away (and with fibromyalgia, whenever you are sick, it just kicks you in the *ss.)
For the second day in a row, I've had to pack up all my kids and everything I would need for my kids for the day (including food) to go over to my father's house (yep, no food there, seriously) and stay for the day just to have a flushing toilet. Seems the broken pipe is still not fixed as of tonight and I am tried of spending money and energy going elsewhere to live.
My husband didn't call and I have no contact information at all as to how to find him and today was a "moving day" which means he could be anywhere. When I get all sick and tired and miserable (and have an axiety attack, like today), I miss him more than you can know.
So, now it's late and I need to go to bed desperately.
My poor daughter just got to bed because she had to do dishes when we got home because they turn the water off only all day long; at night when the plumbers go home the water comes back on. I have no idea how many more days without water (and teeth brushings and showers and toilets) we will have, so we had to do the dishes after getting home late tonight.
But, and here is the truth, I needed to vent. Even if I am venting where no one will hear; I need to tell someone how absolutely awful I feel today and how badly I wish I could have just walked away, gone somewhere comfortable and quiet, and slept until this cold went away.
Until next time,
what a scare
My fourteen year old daughter just gave me quite a scare--not that any of it was her fault. You see...
There was the young man from upstairs who bothered her while she tried to do the laundry. He followed her into the laundry room and gave her the creeps. He didn't do anything terribly wrong, but when she gave him the polite but short answers that indicated she was a nice person but completely uninterested, he stayed and hung out in the laundry room until she left.
The point: He had no dirty clothes with him and wasn't doing laundry.
I took it in stride and figured his pride wouldn't let him leave until she had first.
Then, a few days later, he saw my son taking out the trash. He yelled down from the window, asking where Ashley was. (He had learned her name from her polite but short answers.) Jonnie attempted to give him the brush off and continued with his chores. A few minutes later, he was on another trash trip and the boy again asked about Ashley.
This time, he kicked it up a step. He asked Jonnie to tell his sister to come talk to him. He told him to tell her to come to apartment ##. When Jonnie said she was busy doing home work, he demanded that she come. I was starting to be unnerved.
Jonnie went out a third time and the boy came outside (he'd been yelling for his window) and was even more demanding. When my son told me this, I thought to myself, "If he is telling the truth [for my son does make up fabulous stories and terrible lies--sometimes in the same tale], then this is beyond anything I am comfortable with and I intend to confront this young man."
I set a trap for him, coming out of my apartment when my son came with another trash can to empty, but staying under the balcony and out of sight. Sure enough, when the boy saw my son, he asked about my daughter.
And I pounced.
I asked him about his age and then let him know that regardless of how old he was, he had no business talking to my daughter. Then, I clarified; I let him know he was never to speak to any of my kids again. Something inside me was setting off all of my alarms. That little voice you are woeful to ignore was saying, "This is even worse than it looks."
The boy cursed at me as soon as I turned my back and flipped me off. I decided to go to the manager's office. On my way there, the boy (for I guess he was only 14 or 15 himself) actually dared to speak to my son again!
When I went to the apartment manager, she told me that he was a s*x offender and gave me his PO's number. I was shocked, mortified, shaking, crying, numb, angry, and so much more. How could this be happening?
I called in reinforcements; I called my daddy. (I also called the PO and left a message on his voice mail.)
My dad took off from work early and came over here and went into the s*x p*rvert's home (hereafter, SP) and let his family know where we stand. I don't know what he said, but I know that he is going to be taken a lot more seriously than I. I am 5'6"; he's 6'2". I'm a dumpy 30 year old housewife with glasses; he's a toned, young-for-his-age, 50-something year old man who has worked with his hands and the strength God gave him to make a living for his 4 kids. He also is a rational person who isn't easy to provoke. (But, he was p*ssed off when he arrived here, knowing some SP had targeted his grand-daughter.)
I instituted prayer--begging and asking of anyone I knew who would pray to the Lord above. I believe so completely that God watches over His children and that prayer is a powerful thing.
Praise God! I have found out just yesterday that SP and his family are being evicted. Good bye and may you never find someone to harm again.
Meanwhile, Ashley had had a stiff neck since before this went down. Only now, extra-strength Tylenol and Advil, in a 3-hour rotation, weren't eliminating all of it. She was also fatigued and has some nausea.
These symptoms aren't great. They could be nothing or something very serious (like West Nile or--forget it, I'll never be able to spell it) and I was getting to the point where I was starting to fear the possibility of what might be. (Isn't it odd how we often fear possibilities?)
I had to struggle to get a sitter and my dad came through again. I took Ashley to the doctor and, much to my relief, they agreed to see her w/o an appointment (saving me an ER trip that would have lasted no less than 5 hours and more likely 9 or so.) We had to wait a bit; first, for them to finish lunch, and then, because we didn't have an appointment.
She saw our most wonderful NP, who felt her neck and listened to her symptoms and gave us the second bit of wonderful news we've had this week. DD is just suffering from a VERY stiff neck. Some muscle relax-ers and RX strength Advil, and we were on our way.
After this week, you couldn't make an atheist out of me if you pulled down the thrown of Heaven and showed it to be empty. We were being looked after this week. All my thanks to those who prayed, to the Father Who heard and protected, and to Christ Jesus who sacrificed everything so that we could be restored to the Father (also, to the Spirit, without Whom I would not have thought or known to seek the Lord's protection.) I am most serious and I am most thankful.
hold time
Today, my three year old son had a total breakdown.
He was throwing a fit and so I sent him to his room to sit on his bed. He had to be carried and, when he got there, he started screaming at the top of his lungs and kicking the wall.
I told him that if he didn't stop screaming and kicking the wall, he would get a spanking. He continued and I kept my promise. This repeated itself once. When he still didn't stop, I had to try a new tactic.
There is something in the special education world called 'hold therapy.' When a child is totally breaking down and out of control, you place the child's chest against yours, tuck their arms under your arms, put a leg on each side of you, and hold them against you. You have to hold them tight enough that they cannot hurt you or themselves, but not so tight that it would keep their tension level elevated.
Zac is very stubborn. Even though I was completely calm and tried talking to him, stroking his hair, singing to him, and reasoning with him, Zac was still all worked up and screaming really loud. It took him about 50 min. to calm down and realize, he wasn't being hurt, but safely in his mother's arms.
I think we have the same problem. Sometimes, God holds us in a place we don't want to be. We fight against it, complaining and demanding to be let go, the whole while not realizing that we are safely in our Father's arms--right where he wants us to be.
When we calm down, He can teach us what He wants us to know, point us in the direction we need to go, and release us again to stand on our own, wiser from what we have learned.
After fifty minutes, Zac and I were able to talk about what he was doing wrong. He said, "Yes, ma'am," in agreement with what I told him he must do, and then he was ready and safe to be let go of again. He was all smiles for the rest of the day.
It's a shame that it took Zac fifty minutes to trust me and listen to what I had to say. It's a shame that it can take us months or years to listen to our Father, submit to His will, and learn what He wants us to learn.
Until next time,
tag - are you it?
Here are the rules:
1. Search your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (this is meant to say something about you).
4. Post that sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.
-------------------------------
Here is the 5th sentence in my 23rd post on this blog.
It's hard to start school when you are the one who has to say, "OK, it's time."
the kids miss daddy
My kids miss their daddy. I can tell. The babies are fussy and won't stop climbing on me or asking to be held. I've had trouble with my middle child to a degree never experienced before. My oldest child doesn't want to go to bed. And my autistic child actually tries to converse with his daddy when we call him.
My kids miss their daddy. Three of five don't really understand and the other two suspect something more than a job. They figure this is the beginning of the end of a marriage, or rather, they fear it.
I miss their daddy. I don't always feel like it and sometimes I love having the place to myself (OK, often), but I dream about him. I've woken and been so sure he was in the room with me, I've called his name aloud.
Today, I looked up to the chair he usually moves into when the babies get in bed with me to tell him what one of the babies had just said. He wasn't there, of course.
I miss talks at night and having someone to go somewhere with me, or even for me if I don't feel well. I miss his help getting the kids in bed.
I won't say it's all worse while he's gone. I have my space back during the day and I don't miss him at all when I'm trying to teach the kids. When I clean something, I don't have to see him just playing on the computer or watching TV or laying around, and thus it is much easier to motivate myself to get to work.
When I clean something, I know it is much more likely to stay clean because I am not the one who just throws things where ever or lets the kids not pick up after themselves. When I cleaned my car out, it felt so good to know it would stay that way for a long, long time.
I like not having to work around someone else's schedule and not asking if X is OK or if I can spend money on Y. There is something to the liberation of being on your own that I will miss when he returns.
I'm hoping he'll be gone long enough that I will miss what I miss more than I enjoy what I enjoy about him being gone. I hope that we both learn to be better, more productive, more appreciative of each other while we are apart.
I hope that this job lasts long enough for us to get a house in New Braunfels, TX, and a fresh start. The kids are hoping for that, too, but they sure miss their daddy.
Until next time,
sleep, beautiful sleep
Oh, how I miss sleep. I stayed up on Fri. and Sat. night because it was the weekend and I didn't need to feel guilty about sleeping in. I stayed up Sun. night because I lost track of time.
I really needed to go to bed early Mon. night. Too bad that's not what happened--or was it?
Right when I was going to turn in, later already than I meant to, the phone rang. Now, if I said it was after midnight, you wouldn't think less of me would you? What about after 1 AM?
It was a df who is going through so much right now. Just recently she was dx'd w/ br*ast cancer. She ended up loosing both br*asts and having to go through chemo. Then, when she thought the trouble might be over, her husband walked out on her and her daughter after almost a decade together.
Now, he didn't do it that night, or even in the month of Oct., but I think she was finally past the shock, through some of the anger, and finally starting to really grieve. She really needed someone to help her.
I will admit I missed my sleep, but not while I was on the phone with her. I made myself some potato soup and sat up with her for hours.
God works in interesting ways. Yeah, I should have been in bed. The funny thing was, I'm not sure what was keeping me up. I wasn't enjoying what I was doing--surfing the internet, or should I say meandering through the web and randomly clicking on things.
Perhaps this was one of those Divine apointments. I found myself offering help that my mind would have rejected--my heart even, perhaps--if they hadn't slipped out of my mouth before 'me' got in the way. It was help she honestly needed.
Thank you Lord, that I may serve...
Until next time,
Khyraen is pronounced KIE (rhymes w/ pie) RAIN (like the weather). I go by Khy for short.
The name came from a video game I broke down and agreed to play with DH. I had to make up a name and, being so very NOT creative, I broke out a baby-name book and mixed up some letters until something sounded good. When it came time to start my internet adventure, AOL was the first provider we chose and my screen name for chat rooms and IM was Khyraen, stollen from the video game. I've graduated from AOL to building my own website and hosting my own domain (site in the works!), but I still use Khyraen for all things internet. If you see a Khyraen, it's me. Google me; I've got thousands of hits in just a few seconds. Weird, but that's my story.
