3.30.2015

The F-bomb.

My last post was on February 5th, the day of Drew’s long awaited adoption.  I introduced my sweet son to the world and it will forever be a day that removed a heavy load off of my shoulders and heart.  Carrying the stress of a child’s life in limbo not only feels like a weight on you but it also creates a huge wall around your heart.  I feel so FREE now, its indescribable. 

Now its almost two months later and everything has been so peachy.  It really is easy to have four children ages four and under, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud every day with the joy and lightness that carries itself through my house.  Oh and don’t forget about our 16 year old, WOW- I don’t know why my mom would ever warn me about the moodiness and behaviors of teenagers . . . so far she is such a breeze!  Dare I say that teens from the system are easy to take in, we should adopt some more right?!?!

LIES. ALL LIES. 

There is rarely peachiness in our home.  I think that dealing with court, foster care and adoption has often distracted me from the day-to-day little things that are still hard when you have five children.  My husband and I work hard to find love and joy in the mundane routines of our home, but some days just push this Momma to the edge, and recently I’ve wanted to jump off.

Almost four weeks ago today my preschoolers came home with lice.  They had a week of playing “veterinarian” and all of the students brought different stuffed animals in daily.  Then on Friday they had picture day, and Saturday morning I found bugs and rashes from itching.  It was probably one of the longest days of my life.  Thank God we have a Nana & Papa who dropped everything to help me come clean and tackle hair while my husband was working.  Oh my goodness lice.  Everything in my house was either washed or bagged in a black bag and set outside in the sun for days.  We sterilized my entire home and treated the head of every person. 

Everyone had treatments done, Brooklyn's face represents how Momma felt.
Fortunately everything worked and other than the baby catching a few we all stayed lice free.  But my poor four year old who has a ton of fine hair could just not kick it.  We were going on two weeks of treatments when her skin was starting to really be affected by the chemicals and itching.  I was at a loss.  It is so sad to watch a four year old’s self esteem go down as she knew that something was wrong with her hair, and she knew it was “unhealthy” since Momma had to brush and take care of it twice a day, sometimes for close to an hour.  There was one point that Ryan found her cutting her own hair, oh my heart.

It was around that two week mark and during a moment that I was treating her hair, that my boys decided to venture out of our home.  My husband came home from his run and didn’t lock the door on his way in. (No one is pointing a finger.)  Shortly after one of the boys, and they are ALL able to open the door, decided to lead the pack out of captivity.  Apparently my house and backyard doesn’t have enough toys, but maybe the neighbors house across the street does . . .

Maybe for some of you, having your kids walk across the street wouldn’t be a biggie.  But we have teenage neighbors that have cool sounding cars or whatever and they like to speed in and out of our street, so for a 1, 2 and 3 year old casually toddling across I was enraged.  ENRAGED.  I kept thinking to myself “this is an F-ing nightmare.”  Clearly there are worse things, but in that moment I felt like it was a nightmare. 

After the crossing the street fiasco I wanted to shout the F-bomb from the rooftop of my house, not kidding.  The problem is that I’ve never actually said the F-word well, I tried once or twice years ago and it just sounds so silly coming from my girlie mouth.  I have nothing against people who say the word, in moments that people cuss they naturally might have a word that comes out and the F-word has never been mine, it sounds like I’m trying to speak a different language.  I also knew that if I shouted that word I would have to apologize afterwards (especially to my 16 year old), and I didn’t want to apologize for the way I was feeling.  I told my husband that maybe I should start using it in my vocabulary more often so that when it popped out in a heated moment my kids wouldn’t think it was a random word and was just something their mom says.  I found myself rationalizing the f-bomb.  I’m losing my mind over here.

Our visit to the Dr. two weeks ago, doesn't this look fun in a little room?
Everyone commends me for the patience I have and with quite a few littles I am able to handle a ton, but eventually I’ve handled too much and I come to an edge.  Unfortunately the busyness of my home blinds me from when the edge is near, and I never have a warning that its coming- I just find myself there.  I either boil up inside and start screaming often or I feel weighted down and a sadness creeps over.  When the shouting starts I feel guilty because I think that my kids will only look back at their childhood and remember a crazy mother.  When the sadness kicks in the guilt is the same but in a way that I feel sad over my kids maybe not getting enough attention in a household full of people wanting it.  In both situations my internal Best Mom Ever award disappears. 

My husband and I talked over our home situation the other day.  We recognized that our life is good.  Our kids are healthy.  We are feeding a family of 7 with one parent working.  Individually our kids are developmentally on track and are generally happy.  In the big perspective we have no reasons to complain which makes me feel bad for ever feeling sad/stressed/mad/overworked.  But then I think its okay to allow myself to break down sometimes.  Maybe even say the F-bomb under my breath, or mouth it to my husband.  The number of littles in my house is what becomes overwhelming, its like a small army working to overpower me.  Then when things like lice, sickness or fighting with a teen creep into our routine my strength starts to fade. 


So yeah, we decided to say that we have a hard, good life.  Our hard might look different from another family’s hard- on a scale of 1-10 ours is a 3.  But our situation is unique to the Senters, and I can’t feel bad for feeling bad- that makes me even crazier.

Everyone got hair cuts but I was avoiding losing the baby hair.  Found lice on him this past weekend, goodbye hair!

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