The last two summers I've had the opportunity to discover what kind of mom I would be to many kids. It's not someone I don't know per say ... just not the funner, easy going person I'd rather be. I become this controlling, cleaning, hyper organized person with too many rules in order to keep things .... in control. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, just someone I'm not completely use to being.
Yesterday Jenie and Michael called after I shot off a semi-pleading email to them, requesting they call to help put their daughters fears to ease. Everyone seemed pleased with the results and they are having a wonderful time in Ireland.
I made the disastrous decision to let the kids make "Get Well" cards for Rod. Fortunately I put them out on the balcony for the activity, unfortunately that DID NOT contain the mess. Good heavenly days, do 7 kids make a big mess with paint. Haha, no kidding, right? I am still finding swipes of paint through out the house. Heaven help me.
While we were out there doing the cards H's stomach started hurting. To anyone who knows that situation, you'll know why that immediately made me worry. She clutched at her stomach, with tears streaming down her beautiful freckled cheeks and cried in despair, "The infection is back! The medicine isn't working!" I called up her Wheeler grandparents here in Whitecourt and requested they bring her over some cranberry juice. I stayed up with her till 11, pumping at much juice into her as I could before I let her fall asleep on the couch. O woke up at 1:14am complaining that she couldn't stay asleep. Confused as to what she wanted me to do I asked her if she wanted to sleep on the other couch in the living room which she immediately agreed to. Just as I was drifting back to sleep I heard E crying. So I trooped down stairs and asked E what was up. She apparently was too scared to sleep down stairs by herself. After transferring her to H's unused bed, I went back to bed. Only to be woke up at 5:30 ... by all the kids except B-Man. All ready to be fed. And play. My eyes hurt so bad I wanted to shove them all outside for another couple hours. Didn't think that'd win me any "good parenting" awards though, so I stuck it out. Got them breakfast, kept both eyes open (mostly) while I watched them make up dances and cried on the inside.
H says she feels "pretty good" today. I've been pushing juice and water on her like a mad woman ... but heck, I'd rather be considered mean than have H in tears again.