Air

I'm drowning. Since yesterday afternoon, I have been gasping for air. Trying to dog paddle while shopping. With Jack in a sling on my side, Emma in tow (whining), & Will being carted around in the SUV of strollers, that seems to be low on power steering fluid; I was feeling a tad overwhelmed.

It seems like there are days where life has become just a constant trip. Trip here, there, load the blessings, unload the blessings, stop whining, stop saying mine, stop sassing, stop, stop, stop! And though, I have a "gaggle" of little ones & a very strong support system with me every step of this journey, there are days like today that I have never felt so alone. Drowning.

It's time to take Emma to school. Will is crying because Jack has once again attacked him. Jack- Naughty X now! Will is covered in slobber on his temple and his skin is starting to turn red from the assault. Emma & Jack start chasing each other with the Cooper's leash. The door opens to the garage to load up & Jack darts down the street. He is laughing. I am not. I realize Cooper is again digging the backyard and hear a foreign voice come out of my own mouth scolding the pup. Mud is once again all over the floor, wiped against the side of my leg. Gasping.

I call Roy to complain. I alert him of my insanity & say stupid things like Love just isn't enough. Gulp.

How quickly I have forgotten my Father's claim to just ask. Ask Me Heather for wisdom. Ask Me for help. Ask Me for sanity. Peace. Instead, I cling to my worries of the Zoloft prescription soon expiring. I cling to the mess my home has become. I cling to the fact that Emma has again won & is wearing a head band in her messy hair, instead of a clip. Just be still, Heather. Ask. Ask. Gasp.

Jack is watching out the window as we drive home. A breeze catches us and blows through the truck's windows and catches both of us off guard. He is in awe of this sensation. I am in awe of his innocent reaction. Gasp.

We are home. Will' is sleeping peacefully now, but the side of his face is screaming red from the earlier Jack attack. Jack begs for his pacifier & finds an old one of Will's in the car seat. Such small sweet joy comes over him. I have quickly learned a lesson from my 20 month old. Joy in the mess & small treasures of the moment. Air. Fresh Air.