I really do try not to vent my spleen on here or on my Facebook "status" line, simply because I don't think that people want to see the negativity I'm awash in every day. Or most days. But I put something up on FB yesterday to the effect of "why even bother".
It was an especially bad day yesterday. The best things I can say about it are that I almost got my room completely mucked out and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel on my Hedera sock. I'm alive, have enough food, and am not being 1) shot at, 2) flooded out, or 3) persecuted. Oh, can't say the last one, because my slacker daughters thought that would be fun sport yesterday.
At one point in the morning, I just sat down on my floor and cried. Sometimes you have to do that. It's been coming for a while, for me. The twins happened in on me and were horrified. Actually, Keziah saw me, ran screaming into the living room, "Bubby, Bubby, come quick! Something's wrong with Moooooom!" They both rushed in, crawled in my lap, and started crying. David said, "Mom! Are you dead?" (He has a major obsession lately with the dead and the living.) "No, David, I'm not dead." Then Keziah buried her head in her hands and sobbed out, "We're being sent back to Ethiopia!" That stopped me cold. I looked at her and said in a very strong tone of voice, "You are most certainly not getting sent back to Ethiopia." We finally all settled down and I made a mental note to lock the door if I ever feel one of those situations coming back over me.
So that was the context in which I put up that FB status. A few hours later I logged back on to see that my young friend Cameron had left a comment in which he (gently) chastized me for being so negative. I bit back a few comments to the effect of, "Cameron, you're so young," and realized that, for some people, they are such sunny personalities that they can't conceive of the idea of someone being in such despair that they just want to give up on everything. Plus he's so young. Anyway, I thanked him for his thoughts, erased my status, and went on with my life. Today is better, and for that I am truly grateful.
Last night was hair-cropping night for the men in our lives. David finally told me that he wanted me to cut his hair, so I did. Um, wow, it's really short now. Sorry about that, Dave! At least you have a pretty head, so it's not too bad to have it exposed.
So here are some pictures, because pictures make me smile. Sometimes.
Perhaps this is the reason why Rachel doesn't get a lot of schoolwork done?
I love to watch Dave run!
Abby wanted to learn to cut hair yesterday so I let her work on her dad. He was a little anxious.
But she did an ok job. Now he doesn't have to get his hair cut for the next 3 months.
And here's the progression of David's shearing...
More than halfway done...
We keep telling him that he's such a handsome little man (and the chicks dig him). And we showed him pictures of Michael Jordan. I just hope the Ethiopians don't freak out on Saturday night.