A year and a half ago, right after we brought Bozhidar home, in the middle of life falling apart as I have written so often, someone said to me, "If I had known you all were not perfect I would never have given you the money for your adoption." The thoughts that ran through my head included: First who says that to someone. Second, how dare someone say my family is not perfect. Third, of course I am not perfect! How did you think I was perfect. In time when hurt was so deep we were told we just were not good enough.
And that thought, those words as true as they are plague me so often. Especially on days like today where I think how on earth do I get to be a mom, I am SO FAR FROM PERFECT. I am a perfectionist and it is a huge struggle of mine to deal with the fact that every day I fail.
So in case somewhere in the middle of Facebook posts or blog updates, you all got the impression that I or my family are perfect I have to just say it, I am not. We are not.
This morning is when it came to a catastrophe. But the past month has probably been building up. Actually probably the past few months. I have had to go back to work part-time. I am waiting tables. It is the most unglamorous job in the world. It is physically exhausting. I work anywhere from 25-35 hours a week, on my feet, serving people. I could have a career. At least I tell myself that, but for now I really value being home. SO, I work nights and weekends and a couple days each week so I can still homeschool and spend time with my kids. The past month Nathan had to be gone for three weeks. My mom and my sister visited and helped many days, and my kids stepped up and helped. But it was exhausting. I had people tell me how amazing I was and I wore it with honor as bitterness and exhaustion grew in my heart. I did not want to ask for help or say I could not do it. While he was away, the kitchen flooded several times, the sink stopped draining, the basement room filled with water. I think my landlord dreaded seeing my name on his phone. And I wore it again with pride that I could do it, I could handle it. I did not bear it with meekness, but pride. And anger grew and welled up...anger at the unfairness of life.
Nathan came home a week ago and I have just fallen apart as the days have gone on. All that anger finally falling in its messy way over my family. Saturday was a beautiful day, so I decided to go for a run. Then I worked from 4 until midnight. I got home hungry and wired and at 3 a.m. I was still awake and finally drank some tea to try to sleep. I finally fell asleep and then I woke up a few hours later, went to church and work again until 10 p.m. I got home and ate and fell asleep around midnight which is a relative term as my son came in with leg pain, then Bozhi who is mostly potty trained now...wet the bed and he needed help getting changed and then Verity came wandering in afraid and she started to scream as I asked her to please go back to her bed. And through her little tears she explained how just so afraid she was. So I gave up my place in my bed, now more kids then adults in my bed and went to the couch where I lay shivering and angry. I finally got up and went to make Karis move over and give me some of her blanket, it was 5 in the morning. Two hours later I rolled out of bed to start homeschooling before having to take Bozhi to therapy. Today we were supposed to have our house blessed. Our house is a mess. I needed there at least to be a path to walk through for the blessing. So I asked the kids to help while we were at therapy. And I was so aware that my heart needed so much more cleaning then my house before any blessing could take place. So I asked Nathan to postpone it. He did.
Bozhidar and I got back from therapy and he went downstairs to help the kids clean. I still wanted a path, at least to the washing machine. I was going to make lunch or take a nap, it was still a toss up. When the screams began. We heard the thump and screams, and the, BOZHI!!! MOM! THERE IS SO MUCH BLOOD! And thankfully Nathan was there because I sat with my head between my legs as he dealt with this little boy who had fallen down the last three stairs and cracked his head wide open. David held the paper towels as Nathan wrapped his head and the girls mopped up blood and I sat with my head between my legs, hoping I wont pass out or throw up, I was an utter failure. David and Nathan brought him to the hospital. He had scans done and stitches and glue. He will be fine. But I felt like the biggest failure. And there are plenty of people that can tell me, I should not let him walk down the stairs, or I need something at the bottom and all the things I could do to prevent it. And believe me I have said it over and over. I failed. Maybe I could have prevented it, I wish I had.
This day does not end with a great happy ending. But it did end with chocolate and kids on the couch watching a movie and the hope of a new day. I am aware that I will fail again tomorrow. That I am not perfect. I am a sinner, working out my salvation in my messy world.
And, in the middle of it all, I do know I am blessed.