Spaghetti

There is so much stuff in my head.

Yes, I'm talking about mucus and general drainage.

Yes, I'm also talking about musings and struggles and milestones and general venting.

As I have laid awake at night, unable to breathe, I have composed at least a dozen blog posts in my head. Perhaps this post would be the summation of those. The equivalent of hitting the puree button on my brain, then just dumping everything out.

Which at this point I'm not at all opposed to. Sick of being sick.

Spaghetti or mush, here goes.

Last winter, with its record-breaking snowfall, is known to us as The Winter of The Snow. This year is and shall henceforth be dubbed The Winter of The Sickness. Just so you know.

I'm a bad parent. Something has happened. Somewhere amidst the basketball-season-single-parenthood and sickness-survival mode, Trey has backslidden to his post-Aden rebellious self. And has developed screen addiction. And continues to refuse to eat. And on occasion is quite mean to his brother.

He tosses around the word "no" like it's going out of style. He breaks rules he knows well. He sasses. He hits. He whines.

And then he is so sweet. Cuddly and loving, creative and funny, insightful and smart. Such a good, enthusiastic helper.

Behavior as erratic and bipolar as...

Mine.

It's my fault. I am the yo-yo parent. Hugging one minute, then punishing in anger the next. Speaking words of love one minute, then shouting in frustration the next. Turning blessings into burdens. I hate who I am with my kids right now.

There are days when I am so glad they won't remember any of this.

Aden is crawling now. It is so wonderful. He has long thought himself capable of much more than he can actually do. For example, when we hold his hands so he can "walk", he pushes our hands away, not realizing that he is going to fall. He's so proud of his crawling. And works so hard at it.

There are two potentially huge benefits to Aden crawling.

One. Aden would fit well into 12-month clothes. All of our 12-month clothes are for warm weather. Maybe if the workout from crawling will at least level off Aden's growth rate, we can keep squeezing him into his 9-month cool-weather clothes a little while longer. (Please!)

Two. Look out, Trey. All those mean things you are doing to Aden are going on a list in his mind. And as soon as he becomes a little more coordinated, he's coming after you. We told Aden at the hospital, just after he was born, that one of his jobs on this earth was to toughen you up. It begins...now.

I have my husband back. Basketball season ended on a high note, as Brandon led his team further than it has ever been in school history, to the second round of the regional tournament. So proud of those guys, like an extension of our family.

But Daddy's home and spring is coming; bring on the projects! In theory there are big things in store for our house this year. I made the mistake one day a while back of making a list of all the improvements I'd like to make to our home before we retire. Sometimes you just gotta make a list, you know? It's nice to dream.

The car seat switch has been made. Infant carrier outgrown. It is being passed along to another precious baby who has yet to arrive. I sure would love to pass along our boy baby clothes and gear to someone. But no one in these parts seems to be able to make a boy baby.

I'm afraid that my high hopes for reducing our grocery budget are doomed. Aden is taking very well to table food, and lots of it. The other night for dinner - while sick with an ear infection, mind you - he ate two containers of baby food, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a few chopped up carrots, and a handful of puffs. This was not long after eating a few inches of banana and drinking a cup of juice.

Assuming that Trey's self-imposed occasional fasting is truly a phase, and he does start eating regularly again, it would seem that grocery spending will only increase from here on out. Plus, if Lord forbid every winter is like this one, I'll need to plunk down a chunk of change every November to stock up on tissues and medicine for the season.

I've heard one sermon in a month. Satan is attacking me. God is speaking to me. I hope to write more on this soon. There is so much I could, and probably should, say about how God works in my life, but most of the time I can't articulate it very well. Whenever that post comes, it will likely be spaghetti, spiritual style.

To end happily: