A crash....and a picking up

Today (now yesterday) started out with promise.

I've been trying harder to start school by 8:30 a.m., so that even when there are unexpected glitches in the day, we can still finish well before dinner.  Progress in this area has lifted my spirits lately.

So the day went along fairly well.  I was feeling rather smug.  I'm getting the hang of this four-children thing, I told myself.

And then, CRASH!

Things went south rather quickly.

And I confess that my attitude followed suit.

Paul brought his Mouse Trap game into the playroom during a school break, which coincided with the girls' naps.  When my Beth awoke, I changed her and brought her into the playroom, only to find the game pieces all over the floor.  What's more, I was told that the steel ball was lost.  Paul had thrown it over his shoulder, and the boys hadn't bothered to really look for it.

I was very, very, very, very bothered by this situation.  Is that enough emphasis to convey that I was fuming mad a fire-breathing dragon?  Their habit of getting out games and spreading them all over, instead of taking them to the dining-room table, has caused considerable annoyance lately.

The steel balls can't be anywhere near Beth and Mary--or any of the other game parts, either--so the boys and my husband and myself had to thoroughly go through each toy bin, looking for the tiny, marble-sized ball.  School had to be put on hold, as Beth needed to be able to use the playroom.  Her play area was previously the living room, but that area lost its appeal.

Adjust, adjust, adjust.  Schooling with little ones around means constant adjusting.

We never found the ball, and the searching and rearranging of the room took two hours.  While we were at it, we decided to remove some toy bins and toy bin holders, so that there was less potential for Beth to make a disastrous mess every hour.

Are you getting the idea that this fiasco wasn't just a simple glitch in our day?

Making matters worse, Paul and Peter were in bad moods over all the extra cleaning required of them.  You might imagine that under the circumstances, their attitudes didn't elevate my mood one bit.

By midday, it also become clear that I had a cluster of clogged milk ducts that would have to be dealt with.  They are painful, and if you can't clear them using home remedies within a couple days, a breast infection becomes a risk--meaning a doctor visit.  Since we still don't have insurance, I dreaded another emergency-room visit.  They are more expensive, and taxpayer money is used to help foot the bill.  I don't actually have a family doctor; all my Ohio office visits have been to an OBGYN, due to Mary and Beth's pregnancies.  There is this inconvenient rule that to acquire a new doctor, you have to go in for a well visit first.  Not to mention that without insurance, they want money up front.

Anyhow, three months of pay stubs must be sent in, and then depending on what percentage of the poverty level a family is at, all or most of the bill is paid through Care Assurance programs.  Since getting to a doctor is now so problematic, I allowed myself to get depressed and irritated about the clogged ducts.

In an effort to calm down and regroup, I read a few quick blog posts.  Instead of inspiring, or helping, they further knocked down my spirits.  One was the At The Well post about being a crown for your husband.  It was well done--don't get me wrong--but it made me feel like I had to be perfect.  Our crisis living situation (unemployment) makes trying to be godly or perfect all that much harder.

Then I read a post on Like a Warm Cup of Coffee about expecting obedience the first time, every time, with a cheerful attitude (the blog author quoted a Charlotte Mason book).  According to Charlotte Mason, if the parent fails in this regard even once, obedience becomes something that must be won through the use of authority, rather than through a mother's cheerful, expectant manner. It also emphasized that we must be careful of what we say, so that follow-through becomes a sure thing.

As an ex-teacher, I know all that stuff.  Except that now as a mom, I'm doing a lot more with kids than just teaching them academics, and I'm never getting 50-minute lunch breaks, or relaxing sans kids after 5:00 p.m. There's extra potential for me to feel like I'm going insane.  So insane, in fact, that I say things like, "I'm going to the bedroom to nurse the baby and put her down.  If you get rambunctious and loud and wake her up, I'm going to take the upcoming playdate away."  (Daddy had worked all night long and was sleeping, so he couldn't pick up any slack while I nursed Beth).

A totally stupid statement.  I know.  Dealing with four young children brings out my inner stupid sometimes--what can I say?

Later, I realized that canceling a play date wasn't fair to our homeschooling friends.  The boys didn't wake up the baby, but if they had, I would have been in a difficult situation.  Follow through meant potentially upsetting another family's plans.

To an ADHD child, my statement sounded like a dare.  They are strong-willed, impulsive, easily-angered, and they often feel defeated by too much correction.  Going for the dare seems like the thing to do.  It's taken me most of the last year to realize that things won't go well for anybody if I use phrases that sound like dares.  Moreover, I am coming to the conclusion that taking things away is ineffective with my crew--even if it's as simple as dessert.  Diapers, messes, schooling, etc. make it too easy for me to forget that so and so doesn't get any dessert.

I'm even thinking that doing any behavior-related forewarning at all is backfiring (if you do such and such...this will happen).

And, I know I need to say very little, and choose my words wisely.  Attempting to teach proper behavior in an irritated, preachy voice, is earning me less respect--not more.

And finally, I read a post on the Love Lasts a Lifetime blog about buying a Christmas nightie for my husband to open every year.  We don't have a cent for Christmas.  We haven't been able to buy each other gifts since our first child was born--when I quit my full-time teaching job.  I hate to reveal this on the Internet, but I haven't had a cent to buy any type of pajama--for years.

It turns out that reading a few blog posts was the wrong thing today--or the right thing at the wrong time.  They left me feeling less capable...less worthy of raising these children up to love and obey the Lord...less capable of loving and encouraging my husband with a godly attitude and kind deeds.

The three posts were good ones.  Very good ones.  But I made the mistake of thinking I had to follow their advice in my own strength.  I quickly forgot that I can do nothing without Christ who strengthens me.  The first thing I must do when I read a good exhorting post, is to go to Father and ask for help in implementing it.  Otherwise, it isn't worth much.

Oh, sure, when life is routine, we can do pretty well on our own.  We can deceive ourselves and begin to feel smug.

But then clogged ducts get thrown into the mix, or a lost job, or a major illness, or a missing steel ball, or a special-needs child is born, or .......

All these things serve to remind us...


That without Him, we are nothing.