I Want To Run Away

Normally, I wouldn't leave the kids to their own devices and blog, but today... today I need to blog more than I need to know what is going on play by play.  I can hear them, and they are happily watching a PBS cartoon, and I need a break... man, do I need a break.

Maya is having diarrhea as a side effect of her antibiotic.  For a kiddo who just mastered wet and dry during waking and asleep periods, this is a hit to her self esteem, which makes me sad just on its face.  But, let's face it: diarrhea is nasty stuff.  The first few times, she was in panties and man... that was pretty awful.  So, we convinced her to do pull ups because of the "sick stinky"; she's having a very hard time knowing she has to go/is going, and by the time she realizes it, it is too late.  So, pull ups it is.  Which make the mess more contained, but still a mess (that's been requiring a shower over her lower half to make sure she's clean) nonetheless.  I emailed her teacher to let them know, and sent her into school with additional clothes and pull ups, just in case.  When we get in the car from school, we have been on the road no more than 20 seconds when she tells me, she's had an accident.  In trying to ascertain whether this was at school or in the car, she is vague.  I finally get out of her that it was at the end of the day (right before pick up) in school.  Why didnt she tell her teacher?  She was embarrassed.  (And, in their defense, it didnt smell; I wouldnt have known if she hadn't told me.)  I'm sad that she was embarrassed and ashamed, because this is truly not her fault, and she was upset when I was cleaning her up, just saying over and over again that she's a big girl, who wears panties, and uses the potty.  It's really heartbreaking.

Of course, then there's nap.  I have time to clean up that bathroom, straighten up the kitchen from the chaos that was lunch, and start some laundry.  And then, just as I sit down, after feeling a bit of pressure and just an all around tired/crampy/exausted feeling, Bobby wakes up.  And he is READY TO GO.  It's what I like to call full on crazy because he was all over the place, into everything, and there wasnt a chance in hell that he was just going to snuggle (which he normally does) or let me read to him or let me do anything with him that didnt require chasing him all over the free world and trying to stop him from hurting himself or destorying something else- all the while trying to keep Maya asleep.

Then, Maya wakes up (after a good nap, no worries there) and when I'm going to get her, all shit breaks loose (and I mean that in a literal sense).  Bobby is quiet and when I find him...  Oh the crap.  What did this kid eat today!!!  The activity must have sped up his digestion and man, it was NASTY.  And everywhere.  Including the half bath (did I mention we have family coming today, who should arrive anytime now, and the idea of scrubbing down a bathroom just wasnt part of my agenda?  Nor was doing another load of laundry because of said disaster?)  So, I get him cleaned up, which means another trip to the shower, all while he is fighting me because he doesnt want a shower.  And his favorite pants are messed up, so this is another tragedy (especially since his other faves are in the dryer, wet from their recent journey through the wash).  I finally get him cleaned up and then... his favorite green underwear? In the wash... His favorite red and white shorts and/or pants?  All in the dryer...  Can someone shoot me now??????  I have a bathroom that is a disaster, and a naked child who is so strong I really cant deal with the outburst of flailing in my present state, and I'm on the verge of tears.  I finally get him dressed (black underwear, red shorts- the last pair) and go to clean the bathroom.  He comes into the bathroom, shorts less.  I chase him down.  Try to get him to put his shorts on (the reason he took them off- he knew they were the last red bottoms he has- becomes clear.)  While I'm grabbing his shorts, he pees... in the hallway... right across the hall from, you guessed it, the bathroom.

I lost it.  I actually fell to the floor and started to cry.  I got the rags and started cleaning up the pee, just crying.

What happened next would make anyone blow their lid, but I have to say the one thought I had suprises even me.

While I'm laying on the floor, scrubbing, he gets on the floor with me.  While I'm telling him we pee in the potty and NOT on the floor-EVER, he's repeating my words verbatim.  When I start to cry because, at this point, I've lost it and the dam breaks free, he begins to mimic crying with me.

With a typical child, I'd go nuts at this point.  I'd probably need to step outside so that DHS wouldnt need to be called.  With Bobby?  I was like "Damn, he's mimicing me.  This is progress."  I didnt say that, of course, but in my head, that thought came, and I stopped crying, got up, and went back to cleaning the poopy bathroom.

I texted Peter that sometimes (like RIGHT NOW) I just want to run away.  And it's true.  Five minutes (well, five miles of running... that would be nice...).  Just five minutes where I'm not saying "No thank you", "Dont do that please", or trying to run interference, would be a blessing.  And the idea of this kind of day PLUS a newborn scares the ever living goodness out of me.

But in all of this, there are moments of clarity that sometimes makes my life, for all it is and isnt, make sense.

I always thought I wanted to adopt special needs children.  I also thought I didnt have the patience for it, but I have the love to give and I wanted to.  It just never worked out.  (And I still dont have the patience.)  But had I never gone through loss- loss of the idea of fertility, loss of pregnancies, loss of babies after birth, loss of a normal pregnancy- I dont think I could take this in moments like these.  I dont know that I'd see the silver lining or find the strength to hug my son and smile and walk away.  Had my life not included the worst case a parent ever finds- losing multiple children- I dont know that I would be able to see the enormous blessing that both Maya and Bobby (and especially Bobby in his worse moments) give to me.

It doesnt always erase the tears or the desire to get away for a moment, but it makes me grateful that I can, in the worst of these days, see rays of sunlight shining down and know that, for whatever it is worth, we're going to make it through.