"The only hard part is the waiting around and getting yourself back up to wrestle another match."~Mike Campbell
Yesterday I forgot my sons' Parent-Teacher conference. Yeah - that was bad enough. But it was the annual 504 review to extend the assistance he receives. And I didn't remember it until 12:30 in the morning. I was still fighting to get Jacob to go to sleep. I had a thought to e-mail his teacher that he would probably be tired and then the sinking feeling hit the pit of my stomach.
It was a pretty bad Supermom day anyways. Kiara got a D in Science, so I was trying to help her study for her test. When I say study, I mean pulling teeth to convince this child that she didn't know the subject matter as well as she thought. I persevered through attitude and rolled eyes and other pre-teen protests until she flat out fell asleep on the couch. So much for that child.
Child #2 also fell asleep and woke up not only on the wrong side of the bed, she woke up in an altered universe. Hormonal is not even close to describing how Brianna woke up. Poor Jacob. Between the two sisters, he is swimming in Estrogen and attitude!
Went to karate testing. Got my next belt despite the knockouts that happened there. One step away from black belt now. This was the only good thing that happened.
After karate, I send everyone for showers and bed. That's when the real trouble started. They refused to go to sleep. You can make them go to bed, but you can't make them sleep (at least not legally anyways). After fighting with them for 30 minutes - and they had already gone to sleep later than their normal bedtime - I told them that ice cream after their karate testing the next day was out. Jacob fell out. He threw a fit for another 30 minutes. As I've said before, he has an extreme persistance that could drive Mother Theresa to drink.
I finally made him come downstairs so his sisters (note: Science test tomorrow and already sleep-deprived) could get some rest. He had a look on his face that would melt the coldest of hearts. He said simply "I'm sorry Mommy." And those three words spoke more than you can imagine. It was more than he was just sorry for being up still. He was sorry for having this crappy disease that drives me insane. Sorry for putting me and his sisters through this suffering. Sorry for being who he is.
So, now back to the top of this blog. To beat myself up. I'm sitting on my couch, thinking that I should e-mail his teacher. Holding my child as he holds me just as tightly and we console each other. Because neither one of us will ever be what we should be but so much more than we could ever have expected. And we will continue to fight. And beat ourselves up...
The life of a single mom is never easy. I know because I've been one for many years. Embrace the happy moments as the time they are at home really is so short. I know that, too, as I have one on his own, in his 20s. Don't beat yourself up either.
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