What a difference a few days make. Not in terms of my exhaustion level, mind you, but at least in terms of feeling some degree of control over the little munchkins running around the house. It's a small degree, I'll grant you, but it's enough to keep me from calling the whole thing off.
I did make it to church on Sunday, which was an incredible gift. I didn't cry at all. At least not until I walked in the door at home and got a call from P&S asking when we could come over and what they could do to help. Then I started crying to the point that I couldn't finish the conversation. What in the world?! Anyway, sweet S arrived about 10 minutes later and helped me get everyone (including me, though I didn't sleep) down for a nap. After the kids woke up, we went an hung out with the PSWJ gang and had a great time. Although I did cry again as we were leaving.
The good news is that I seemed to have expended all my weeping the first couple of days. With a LOT of help from friends and family, I've managed to negotiate the last few days without any tears. Well, in all fairness, I should say no tears on my part.
The boys are still getting up at a painfully early hour, but after chatting with a friend at church, I've been putting them back in bed and telling them they needed to stay there until it was daylight. J, the younger boy, goes back to sleep. E, on the other hand.... I really just think he's awake and not able to sleep any more. But I'm still trying to get him to stay down until I can see some glimmer of light in the windows. It's the principle of the thing at this point. And for the last two mornings we've stayed in bed until after 6. This morning A slept until after 7. Heaven.
Bed time has improved drastically, too. After a particularly disturbing round of J shrieking at the top of his lungs and hurling himself from one end of the bed to the other (and off a couple of times), I took him into my room to try to avoid waking the baby (astonishingly she slept through the initial meltdown). I put him on my bed and told him sternly he needed to settle down. He lay on his back and glared at me for about 20 seconds. Then he rolled over, crawled under the covers and fell asleep. Uh. OK. When I came out of my room, my roommate said in a whisper, "I can't even hear him!" And I said, "That's because he's asleep." C: "How did that happen?!" Me: "I have no idea!" He starts out the night in my bed now. If he were staying longer, I'd try to figure out a way to avoid that. In this situation, though, I'm calling it good.
On Friday, the kids are headed to San Antonio for a parent visit. I am not going to be the one driving them. I feel bad about that, but the thought of driving to an office I'm unfamiliar with in a city I don't know with three little ones (and only two hands) filled me with dread. The sweet case worker is taking on that task. I will spend the time they are gone sleeping or going to the grocery store or reading at Starbucks. Or possible just sitting on the couch staring into middle distance. If you're in a praying state of mind, please pray for the kids' visit with their mom - both for them and for her - and for the aftermath of the visit. My understanding is that it can be very hard for the children.
Thank you all so much for your prayers. They've made the world of difference.
Love.
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