Day Five--Still Alive

We are surviving our week without the other older members of the family. We are surviving--but just barely.

With the teenager and husband gone, all the household chores have fallen squarely on my shoulders. My oldest is usually responsible for the dishes, and without her here I have had to handle that without help. I confess to cheating a bit by using paper plates, but have run the dishwasher twice when it got full. I find the fifteen minutes to load or empty is far from the full-hour she makes the task take. When she returns, I will be glad to hand back the dishes, but will insist that she knock off the drama!

I am still figuring out what the husband usually does around here. He is great in a crisis such as we had last week when the bathroom suddenly needed an overhaul, but as far as day-to-day details, I'm not sure that there are any set expectations. So far, I haven't been hearing a mental mantra of "He should be doing this!" I am undecided if this is a good thing or not. On the one hand, I haven't been as irritated with his absence. On the other, I wonder if I've been a little too lax on insisting he help!

Its the kids that are my main stress this week. I know parenting is a 24/7 deal, but that seems to be true only if you are the mommy. The constant demands on my time and attention are wearing thin. I miss being able to hand them off to the teenager for twenty minutes to take a shower. I long to leave for a few hours knowing it is daddy's turn to deal with the toddlers for a time.

I am sure that somewhere in the Guiness Book of Records there are some impressive survival statistics. Somebody who was trapped underground for a week, or lost at sea for six days or something equally astounding. I doubt, however, that surviving 5 days of single-parenthood takes its appropriate place in those hallowed halls of fame. I have no doubt, however, that if the editors of the Guiness Book borrowed my kids for most of a week, we would see a literary revolution of published records.

Most Amazing Mommy Awards:

Michigan mom stops screaming for 30 full seconds!

Champion single-mom changes record 482 diapers daily!

Mommy buried by bills, babies, and other burdens found still alive on day five!

In the midst of everything, I find I miss the presence of the ones I love more than their assistance with the daily challenges of life. I realize that I love them no matter what they do or do not do for me. I will be glad to hug the daughter who does my dishes. I want to hold the husband who has no chores. And the three smaller kids? I love them too. I just have to find a way to enjoy their presence as much as I miss that of the others.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above,

coming down from the Father of lights,

with Whom there is no variation or shifting shadow."

--James 1:17

Left Behind--Day One

I've been abandoned. Both my husband and teenager have left me. One has gone west for eight days to boat with a buddy; the other headed south for seven. I was left behind. My duty: to care for and entertain the three youngest members of the family--ages 5, 3, and 1.

I was left a modest budget within which to accomplish said entertainment. Given that the past week has entailed a complete--and completely unexpected--remodel of our bathroom, I was grateful to have a few funds to take the kids out. Unfortunately, only hours after the spouse split, half my entertainment budget was sucked away by the need to rent a carpet cleaner. A particularly nasty mess became a singularly discouraging beginning to my week of single-parenthood. Add to that an ambitious friend, who encouraged me to tackle an incomplete project, and its "goodbye" to going out.

My emotional reserves are as fragile as my finances. This past week has already sapped my strength; slogging the upcoming one solo simply exhausts me further. Even with distractions by daddy, the little ones and I are often in melt-down mode by dinner. Bedtime around here means repeated trips upstairs to tuck in the toddler and tame the rage of the crib-caged baby. Although I have survived the occasional evening, I feel less than confident that I can cope with the chaos for a week sans assistance.

A little emotional distance and spiritual refreshment are definitely in order. I planned to tuck myself into my nine o'clock ice cream, and subsequently into my bed with my Bible. Unfortunately, my peaceful space for reflection was invaded by my youngest son. His scathing screams were impossible to ignore so I took pity on his brother and removed the little guy from their shared room. I'd normally get angry at him, but he was only expressing what I am repressing: the deep desire to share my fear and frustration with the world. Despite circumstances which demanded I forgo the Good Book and instead say goodnight, God had just enough time to remind me that, unlike my sight-seeing spouse and my traveling teen, He is always here.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them,

for the Lord your God goes with you.

He will never leave you nor forsake you."

--Deuteronomy 31:6

Welcome to Monday

Monday, Monday. Can't trust that day! On Monday morning you gave me no warnin' of what was to be...

Speaking of which, this Monday was more interesting than most. It involved a CAT scan, a shocker, and a transfer. Of course, this Monday actually began on Saturday.

Saturday was Mom's first day home from the hospital in a month. A recent recipient of an eight-day stint on a vent, an open-lung biopsy and miraculous recovery from a very rare lung disease, mom decided to spend the day in bed. ALL day, in bed. She neither ate, nor drank. She took no meds. By the time I got the emergency call at dinner that she needed help, she was nearly incoherent and should have called 911 instead of me. Thirty minutes later, after flying to her house via the freeway, I did the honors myself. There was no chance she could even walk to the car.

I spent the wee hours of Sunday freezing in a folding chair in the hospital ER as I waited for them to make a decision about her condition. That in itself is a whole other kettle of fish, and the experience stunk about as badly. The chest x-ray revealed a relapse of her lung condition, so she was sentenced to captivity on the third floor and I was free to go home to bed.

Thus continues Monday, except that eventually it becomes officially Monday. More tests. The CAT scan report reads in part "surgical implements remain within the chest cavity, possible sponge, surgical clip or clump of staples." Our general response: "You have GOT to be kidding!"

Mom never does anything expected. She has the most bizarre things happen to her. She had a stroke in her eye once. Nowhere else, just her eye. She has a lung disease so strange it took two hospitals two weeks to diagnose it. And now, out of the 28.4 million surgeries performed annually in the US, mom is one of the mere 1500 who get something left in her.

As Monday becomes Tuesday, the situation is a bit more clear. Apparently the "surgical implement" is a clip which is meant to be there to hold her lung tissue together. Still, in the continuing saga of this sickness, it would have been nice to know this prior to its appearance as an artifact on an x-ray.

Lest all this drama be unnecessarily wasted, I've begun wondering what artifacts may be revealed if I were to take a spiritual CAT scan. I think fear and general grumpiness would probably show up as blinding-white infiltrate. Perhaps I'd better call the Great Physician and get them excised immediately. Maybe He will install some kind of clip in me as well--I could really use the help holding it all together right now.