One Beautiful Life

Honesty

 

The day started off badly when A wet the bed for the third time this week.  I had no patience.  I hate it when I am that way.   A had gone two months without wetting the bed and I voiced that aloud last week.  And then like a "Oh Yeah...!"  she wets it three times... and last night there was no water proof mattress pad on her bed (from the accident the night before) and so it was all over the nova foam topper and the mattress.  I just wanted to lay in the floor of the hallway and cry... loudly.  M has been potty trained for a year and out of the blue he will have these spells where he just pees in his pants like he knows nothing different.  He peed his pants twice yesterday.  I just want to lay in the floor and cry... loudly.  I can't even keep laundry done much less keep all the pee washed away.

A was mad I woke her up.  She is nine, you know, and doesn't need me anymore.  And it was besides the fact that at 5 a.m. when we were I was cleaning up pee that she was playing around with her alarm clock and turned it off.  It doesn't matter that she was supposed to be up 15 minutes before I went in to wake her up and that she would not have woken up on her own.  And she also didn't want what I made her for breakfast... since she often first looks to see what has been made for breakfast and then starts declaring in a fabulously whinning voice that sounds close to nails being drug down a chalk board that she doesn't want whatever has been made.  This is followed with anger that she is being made to eat what has been made and then she starts declaring how she loves everyone else in the room except me.

It is on days like this I want to drive away.  I want to pack a bag and some books and get in my car and find a little room in a b&b with a white puffy goose down comforter, lots of soft floral pillows, a window overlooking a grove a wonderful old trees, a cd player, and a lock on the door.  I want to walk into that room and be alone.  No one screaming my name at 5 a.m.  No pee to clean up.  No one looking to see what they can get me to do for them.  No laundry.  No meals to prepare and clean up after.  No floors to sweep and mop for the millionth time.  No toys to pick up.  No errands to run.  No fights to break up.  No back talk to listen to, try to discipline, and then shake off.  No words to deflect from my heart.  No moments of flesh to fight when I am pushed to the wall for the 20th time that day. 

But I can't.

And so I cling to the words above and beg for the presence of the one who spoke them... and keep walking forward.