motherhood

Bad Weeks Happen

Some weeks are certainly better than others. Last week was an “others” kind of week. I thought it was going to be a good one. We celebrated my son’s 12th birthday Sunday. God help me! It seriously goes by way too fast. We made his favorite loaded nachos for dinner, and the boys were all showered and in jammies watching a movie way before bedtime. We had a great Sunday. I was winning. I put them to bed and got to catch up on This is Us and then watched the newest episode of Outlander. I ended up not going to bed until midnight. Then the week went ugly.

At 3AM my oldest came down to my room saying he’s been up since 1:30AM and could not fall back to sleep. He was burning up with a fever so I let him crawl into my bed. I then just laid there for hours with a snoring husband on one side and a tossing and turning kid that wouldn’t fall back to sleep on the other. I watched the clock as he was breathing his disgusting, hot, sickness breath down my neck. Gag. Finally, he fell asleep and I retreated to the couch at 5:30AM in hopes of getting a half hour more of sleep. Needless to say, Monday required lots of caffeine and undereye concealer.

Then Tuesday came. Life took a turn on Tuesday. We ended up with our first ER visit. Now honestly, with my middle child and his two left feet I figured we would have made this visit a lot sooner than we did. Ten years is a pretty good stretch for the kid that manages to walk into door jambs. As I sat at the dining room table filling out stupid PTO fundraiser folders (PTO, that’s another post), middle son came rushing down the stairs asking if he could have dessert. I glanced at the clock, 8:05, No, it’s after 8. I should have left it there. I should have stuck to my rule, but he’s a good kid and cute to boot. I caved and granted him clearance to the kitchen to grab a “not-sugary” snack. Within seconds there was a loud bang and screaming. I thought I would be running in to find a broken arm.

Now let’s preface a bit shall we. Okay parents, how many times a day do you say the following phrases?

Get off the counter!

Don’t jump on the counter!

Use the stool!

Get your nasty dirty feet off my kitchen counter! Gross!

With three kids…I’m saying this constantly.

Well someone jumped on the counter. Someone slipped. Someone did not break his arm. Someone face-planted the floor instead. Horrific!

Now he’s asking for two new front teeth for Christmas.

Wednesday was dental appointments, and he was a champ.

Thursday was our cub scouts pack meeting at Camp instead of church. Which the kids LOVE and enjoy, and it really is a fun time, but for this girl with Raynauds it’s cold and painful. I had my pocket heaters going and could not wait to get home. Mama needed her wine.

At last Friday came. I have never been so eager for Friday. My uncle was visiting and I got see my family. It was truly what we needed. A break from a bad week and to be surrounded by loved ones. There were plenty of laughs and great food. Just what the doctor ordered…well, for Deacon, that was soft foods, that’s what the doctor ordered.

So far no root canals are needed, but we can’t cosmetically fix his teeth yet. His roots are not done growing and his front teeth weren’t fully erupted yet. It’s going to be a waiting game for a few months. Happened just in time for school Picture Day. Smile with your mouth closed.

So it was a bad week. They happen. It’s all part of the parenthood journey.

3 thoughts on “Bad Weeks Happen

  1. Mama said there’d be days like this. Sometimes they’re whole weeks. Glad your week is over and you get to start fresh. A glass (or 2 or 3 or however bottles it takes) makes it all better.

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