One-Armed Super-Mom!

Okay....I admit it. I am one of those mothers who refuses to ask anyone for help and says to herself, "I can handle this!" What is it they preach to us at church.....the proud will be COMPELLED to be humble? Well the past couple days, life went ahead and smeared vaseline all over my firm grip on life. Bart is preparing to take the bar exam (for the 4th time) in a few weeks. He is now a possessed man and I have let him have his complete freedom to do whatever he has to in order to try and make this our last year of aggravation. Soooooo.....I have set upon the task of being mom AND the dad imposter. So far, the kids have turned into rebels without a cause, whining at everything...and I do mean everything like even asking to please pass the milk with about 10 up and down distress pitches. Skyla has decided to perfect the art of temper tantrum throwing and I admit she has achieved greater heights than any of the others. At the store she wanted a huge package of gum. When I declined to make the purchase for her she proceeded to rip out both her ponytails, jumped and screamed while making three revolutions, slapped me on the butt, threw herself on the floor, kicked off both her shoes and thrashed like a fish out of water. It was like we were at the Oscar's.......except not one of the audience members was giving applause or handing us an award. So we took our show on the road--literally. I pushed the cart through the parking lot with one arm while dragging her with the other as she continued to wail and arch her back all the way to the suburban. As I unloaded our groceries from the cart into the back of the vehicle, onlookers must have thought some sort of brothel was going on in there with all the bouncing it was doing along with steamed over windows and high pitched screams.

On top of the joys of motherhood, I have also decided to take on the task of caring for my 88-year-old grandmother. (My dad is originally from Fort Worth and his father is buried here). So she is relocating from Idaho to a nursing home here about 4 miles from where Bart and I live. I think this will be a good thing once all is settled because on the occasions we have had to go to the retirement home, a miraculous event happens. Not one of my children set a toe out of line. They smile politely and shake everyone's hand and stay completely quiet, whispering only when they need to speak. I'm trying to get us on the waiting list for a lease.
Well right now it is chaotic because my dad just wants to send her on a plane and told me to buy cheap furniture on craigslist for her so he doesn't have to come with a U-Haul. Well last night I went to pick up a loveseat. Bart had told me to call him so he could help me to move it. He has made the offer with all our other purchases (dining table, desk, dresser, TV, Entertainment center, bed) but Bayley and I have managed to move everything ourselves. And I do have to admit, I took a lot of pleasure in Bart's jaw-dropping when he would see what we had managed to do all by ourselves. We backed the suburban into the driveway (with Skyla having a meltdown because of unfair dispensing of some teddy grahams), and I told Bayley to help me lower half of the loveseat from the back of the suburban onto the driveway. I misjudged the length of the thing thinking it was longer than it really was so when I gave it a nice yank, I had a split second to see it was coming all the way out and down and shove Bayley out of the way. I hit the ground landing on my back and the loveseat came down on me with the bulk of the weight landing on my chest. My sweet Bayley was frantic to help rescue me and I managed to worm my way out with his help. I tried to sit up but felt this horrible stabbing pain on my right side. It took me only a couple seconds to find the rippling bump along my ribs. Bart came home and the doctor said there is nothing to do with cracked ribs. I go in on Monday to find out how many broke and to make sure no other organs are being poked by any fragments. So here I sit trying to not lift anything and trying to ignore the new toy and clothes arrangement in the living room and hallway.

I am so thankful for my sweet friends here in Crowley who are coming on Monday to be my right arm for me--even though most of me just feels so guilty that they are having to help me. And Skyla has even shown some empathy by "gently" swatting my backside while being defiant. I'll rest for now and wait for all your favorite ideas on how to break 2-year-olds of bad tempers and outright defiance...........;o)