Last night, my husband said he saw the e-mail I sent the priest and co about our daughter's FHC. He said, "You could have used more tact."
"I was tactful," I said drowsily, warm and cozy in my bed. I dozed off before he could say anything else. I wasn't trying to avoid the topic; I was just very tired.
That morning, he approached me again. I snapped, "You know what? I don't play games. I have said positive things many times and this is the first negative thing I have said. I just need the damn information and I have asked multiple times! It's not like I am some random person who is making excuses to miss meetings. There's no reason why he can't just leave the packet at the front office for me to pick up!"
I went to cycling class yesterday. When I swam, that would be my time to doze out and think. I apparently do the same thing in cycling class. (It's good we're not going anywhere!) I thought about how this is a season in my life, a difficult one, and I don't need to jump through hoops for whatever reason.
One kid is going through a difficult phase. One isn't sleeping. Another one isn't cooperating. And so on. I told my husband that I feel like all I do is take someone to therapy and fight battles. There is no "choosing battles" because EVERYTHING is a battle. Everything.
I thought about my friend, who adopted two kids several years ago. Once the kids can home, they hunkered down and stayed home alot. They bonded together as a family but she likened it to the post-NICU isolation, when you and your baby need to stay home to avoid germs. It's glorious and lonely and frightening and joyful and you wish it would end yet never end- all at once.
That's a bit like what this season is. It's alot of therapy and driving and joy and heartache. I want it to end but don't. (Okay, whatever, I want it to end!) We are hunkering down and bonding. We're focusing on problems and hopefully beating them.