Shout Outs and Silent Screams

First the shout outs:

On June 7, 2008, my friend Kimberly, my sister-in-law Rachel, and myself, completed a walking half marathon, which is 13 miles long. The first three miles were great fun. The next three miles were okay fun. Miles seven, eight, nine, and ten involved alot of questions about sanity and "Whose idea was this anyway?" The last three miles involved jokes that weren't funny unless you walked the first ten miles (and probably still aren't funny unless you are Kimberly or Rachel), lots of swearing, and sheer determination to finish. But finish we did. So we get a shout out.

My mom gets a shout out because she drove to Stevens Point, like she does every June, to make sure Noah received his birthday present on his birthday. Then she took Brandon and Lauren home with her overnight so I could get more packing done in this house. It is amazing what you can get done when the things you put in the box stay in the box. Double shout out to my Mom.

Jonathon's soccer coach, October, watched all four kids for Rich and I while we did the final walk through on the house. As if that wasn't enough, she then calls my cell phone and says, "I'll keep the kids and order pizza, you and Rich go out to dinner and celebrate." I don't know if there is a big enough microphone in world, but a shout out definitely goes out to October.

Jill, Don, and Kathryn, all watched the kids during different processes of Rich and I meeting with the realtor and the banker, and listened to me ummm....vent...because that is a better word than whine or complain...so they get a shout out too. Which means Sara gets one because she always listens to me ummm...vent...

So, now that I've thanked the academy, this past week has been so dang crazy that I was three steps away from taking the down payment for the house and buying a one way ticket to the Bahamas. Tuesday is a perfect example of why I felt so strongly about doing it. Rich was out of town (of course he was), so I dropped Jon off at soccer, drove across town to drop Noah off at baseball, drove back to pick up Jonathon, and on the way to watch Noah's game, ended up missing most it, much to Noah's great disappointment. To make matters worse, on final trip to watch Noah become an all star hitter, Brandon started screaming at the top of his lungs that he was hungry.

Granted, I had promised I would run through McDonald's drive-thru, but I had to get back to Noah's game because Jon's practice ran late and Lauren had a potty emergency that I had to take care of while at the soccer field. The whole time Brandon was screaming and crying, I was trying to reason with him that I would take care of it just not immediately, so he needed to "STOP IT!"

but I understood, he was tired and hungry NOW, just like I was, just like his brothers and sister, and it was late, and after I said, "That's enough Brandon!!" 47 times to no avail, I said, "I know Buddy, but I can't fix it until I get Noah, I can't leave Noah alone. I am trying and it has to be enough. I just can't make it better right now. I'm sorry you're just going to have to be upset." And I felt awful because I know what hungry and overtired and stressed out feel like; it has to be worse when you are five.

Truthfully, I would have given anything to be the one to trade places with Brandon, to be the one melting down in the back seat while someone drove me safely to where ever I needed to be, instead of the one silently screaming on the inside, in charge of getting dinner and a reasonably sane bedtime routine together, three nights before I was getting ready to close on my first house while packing everything in the other house. As strange as it sounds, in that moment, I was jealous of Brandon's ability to let it all go at the seams, since I knew that night as a mom was a bust, and the it would have been a welcome release of pent up emotion.

I had too many things to do, too many places to be at one time, and not enough "me" to be doing all of them at them once. However, like all the moms before me, the ones with me in the trenches, and the ones yet to be moms, I drove through it (literally): I drove through McDonald's (like I wouldn't after a night like that), fed everyone at home so we didn't risk a public scene, skipped baths (dirt was not a concern by this point), kissed everyone goodnight, and breathed a sigh of relief when my head hit the pillow.

The next day Noah asked me about missing most of his game. I was honest with him and told him what happened. He said I didn't seem upset, but when I explained that I really felt like I blew it as a mom and sometimes moms don't show their tears to their kids, he gave me a big hug and said he understood.

So my final shout out goes to Noah for understanding his mom isn't perfect, but she tries to do her best and she loves him.