Packing

It is almost ten at night and I am finally feeling some relief. It has been a bad pain day. And I feel so responsible for the day my kids had. My four year old ran away (walked really) from home. My three year old cried for most of the evening. My one year old, well he was fine.

I cannot subject my kids to me in this state any longer. My three year old prays for "all the teeth in the world" every night. I mean, who does that?! My four year old wants to live at his friend's house; hence, the running away episode. I tried every trick in the book. I told him to go ahead and to watch out for dogs and cars as he walked to his friend's house. I thought, surely he will come home after that statement.

I soon realized that he wasn't coming home. As I stood in the doorway watching his little body march down the street, my three year old sobbing, "I don't want my brother to go! Come back! Come back!" I knew I had to go get him. The tricks in the book obviously weren't working. I yelled to him, "You need to come and say good bye to your sister!" When he came back and hugged her, I told him that we want him to come home and we loved him. He nodded and came into the house.

Does this happen to other people who don't have severe pain ruling their world? Even as I type this I can barely focus on the screen due to all of the drugs I am taking to get through the night. Yes, we are barely hanging on. Sometimes I believe we are a family in crises. At least today we were. As I sat on the floor with ice packs stuck on my face I cuddled my kids as they cried for Daddy. I just don't think we are handling our life well right now.

I am going upstairs with jerking hands and blurry vision to check on my sleeping children. And when I come down I will be researching the brain surgery that I think I will have to have. My hands are jerking, my face is hurting, and my heart is breaking. I wish I could run away too.