breathless.
Sleep. Wake. Stretch.
Exercise. Shower. Breakfast. meds dispensed. Michael's food bag is beeping upstairs.
Kids to school. After clothes and breakfasts and sloppy good morning kisses and tousled bed head hair.
And trying to breathe as one remembers the needs for the school Christmas party. Or the food for food pantry. Or the permission slip. Or that other thing that's sneaking in the back of the mind waiting to surprise me when it's already "too late."
And car breaking down again. And God being faithful to bring someone again.
And getting ready for lunch and naps... and washing faces again and hands... and cleaning up the spilled yogurt or mac n cheese. The oatmeal is still residue in the hair of one. The other threw his food on the floor only to be trampled later.
And sweeping the floor.
The therapist arrives.
Throwing in the next load of laundry. And doing the dishes.
Singing a praise song or whispering a prayer. Crying out to the Lord in desperateness. Shouting His faithfulness. Lingering to watch the lights on my tree or see one of the older two hugging a younger and lending a hand to help build the tower. Block upon block.
A text to my husband to see how his day is going.
And it's naptime.
A rest... what, what was that disruption? A dirty diaper. A phone call. A friend stopping by. A meeting. Phone interviews for a personal attendant. "I need a glass of water." "I'm hungry."
I lay down and kick up my feet and then someone starts shouting to let me know they're awake and ready for the next course.
I prepare dinner while making dessert for Caregroup and cutting up meat for dinner the next night. And fix 3 separate meals. Hooking up Michael's feeding tube... again. And breathe.
And off to the races. Kids in pajamas and brushing teeth and stories read and prayers said and goodnight kisses... off to bed.
Leave to go to caregroup and mingle and share and talk and fellowship and laugh... and it's time to leave.
To home... to talk, discuss... agree, disagree... and laugh.... and cry... and hope and wish and dream... and read and I fall asleep forgetting to turn off my light... and my husband puts on another comforter and kisses my forehead and turns off the light.
Exercise. Shower. Breakfast. meds dispensed. Michael's food bag is beeping upstairs.
Kids to school. After clothes and breakfasts and sloppy good morning kisses and tousled bed head hair.
And trying to breathe as one remembers the needs for the school Christmas party. Or the food for food pantry. Or the permission slip. Or that other thing that's sneaking in the back of the mind waiting to surprise me when it's already "too late."
And car breaking down again. And God being faithful to bring someone again.
And getting ready for lunch and naps... and washing faces again and hands... and cleaning up the spilled yogurt or mac n cheese. The oatmeal is still residue in the hair of one. The other threw his food on the floor only to be trampled later.
And sweeping the floor.
The therapist arrives.
Throwing in the next load of laundry. And doing the dishes.
Singing a praise song or whispering a prayer. Crying out to the Lord in desperateness. Shouting His faithfulness. Lingering to watch the lights on my tree or see one of the older two hugging a younger and lending a hand to help build the tower. Block upon block.
A text to my husband to see how his day is going.
And it's naptime.
A rest... what, what was that disruption? A dirty diaper. A phone call. A friend stopping by. A meeting. Phone interviews for a personal attendant. "I need a glass of water." "I'm hungry."
I lay down and kick up my feet and then someone starts shouting to let me know they're awake and ready for the next course.
I prepare dinner while making dessert for Caregroup and cutting up meat for dinner the next night. And fix 3 separate meals. Hooking up Michael's feeding tube... again. And breathe.
And off to the races. Kids in pajamas and brushing teeth and stories read and prayers said and goodnight kisses... off to bed.
Leave to go to caregroup and mingle and share and talk and fellowship and laugh... and it's time to leave.
To home... to talk, discuss... agree, disagree... and laugh.... and cry... and hope and wish and dream... and read and I fall asleep forgetting to turn off my light... and my husband puts on another comforter and kisses my forehead and turns off the light.
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