We had a great time. It was the first time we've had a week off together since Greystoke was born, and it went very fast.
We found beautiful sand dollars and loads of conch. When we came home, our neighbor informed us that the conch are protected, so I felt pretty guilty about that, but I just looked it up and the particular kind of conch we were "harvesting" are actually not protected. So now I can go back to enjoying those memories again. Though I would have been just as happy to throw them back.
But most of the time, he was his normal agreeable self. Most of the time.
He gets it off in 3 days and we can go back to having a normal summer, thank goodness.
Yesterday, Japan, they made an adorable zen garden. They have had a lot of fun, and I have been able to catch my breath. I worked Mon-Thurs while they were at camp, but today Greystoke and I hit the store for a couple items and then came right home.
After I put him to bed I went and sat in the courtyard with a notebook and pen because that is how I pray. Due in part to the nature of how my brain works, and in large part to the sleep deprivation I am experiencing, I have a hard time praying without either doing it out loud, or writing it down. I prefer to write.
As it is, with all of my outpouring of energy, it is never enough.
The Dude still didn't get all the hugs he wanted, and I did not acknowledge enough of Aquaman's words, and Greystoke needed to nurse more, and the house...well don't even get me started. It's impossible.
I listened to the crickets, and the whir of the always going dryer, and felt the humidity seep into my bones.
I tried to write, and my hands hurt. Because they got totally better, and then started hurting again a couple days ago. But I kept going anyway, even though it was sloppy. Because, the whole reason I needed to pray was to remember that Jesus doesn't hate my sloppy. Jesus loves my sloppy.
It's harder now.
I try so hard to be kind and gentle and loving with my boys. Sometimes I am not consistent enough. And Aquaman is a master manipulator. He needs my consistency, and I struggle to find it sometimes, especially because most of the time, I feel like I barely have time to plan for each day before I am just grabbing my hat and holding on.
I worry about screwing them up, about not being what they need. I worry about not correcting them enough, or, in moments of impatience, making them feel condemned.
There is NO condemnation. He is a loving and patient Father. Not the kind of Father who I know is loving and kind but who is also too busy and important for me to bother with. But the kind of Father who comes in close, who holds me in His arms. "You carry my weakness, my sickness, my brokenness there on your shoulders." -For King and Country
I needed that reminder today.
I can't give them Ipads or a bigger house or a car where they aren't all squished against each other. I can't feed them out of the health food store, or home school them or even be home every day when they come home from school.
Happy Independence Day!