Some days I just don’t have it

Some days I just don’t have it.  The patience.  The understanding.  The hope.  The optimism.

Some days, like today, I just barely survive.

It is the fourth day he has stayed home from school.  And gosh, I love that kid.  But that is a lot of time for the two of us to spend together.

He is feeling better.  I am sympathetic when he’s ill.  I really am.

But he is feeling better.  I am not doing well, however.

He keeps crying.  Over every little thing.  He keeps hitting and scratching me.  Every time I say something that makes him mad.  Which, it seems, is all the time.

I am so tired of it.

I am trying to teach Aiden it’s not okay to hit.

I am trying not to hit him myself.

I can do it.  But there are costs.  Like my mental state.  I am a mess.  I am angry.  Frustrated.  Furious.  Sad.  Empty.  I want to yell and scream and break things.  I have been doing that.  I have been crying and praying prayers of desperation.  Good God, help me!  I am the adult here.  How on earth did this happen?

Again and again I am so thankful for his Dad.  For his Oma.  For my Jesus.  I don’t know what would happen if I didn’t have them.  Instead of yelling at him any more I am here, writing this.  A better idea.

I can hear the patience in his dad’s voice.  I can hear it running thin.  I am not alone.  It will hold up.  We will hold up.

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