Throw me a lifeline!!

It has been a doozy of a week.  I can usually handle a lot of stress, but whoa, things got so bad this afternoon when D got home, I just lost it! He hasn't had a day off in 2 weeks- coming home after 7:00 almost every night and call-nights at the hospital (not coming home at all) scattered in there as well.  I started losing my temper with the kids.  I realized that I haven't been out by myself--for myself-- in at least a month.  D sent me out the door and told me I wasn't allowed home for at least 2 hours. What a sweetheart, especially considering he's been working every single hour I have- and hanging out with four kids is not really a respite from work-stress.

While I was out-- digging in bins at the local craft store that is closing (waaa!)-- I pondered the week.  I've had the normal mom-requirements: playdates, carpools, dinner, Saturday soccer games, dishes, and laundry (oh, the laundry never ends), but this week has also brought 2 doctor's appointments, a speech-pathologist evaluation for Roger, finishing an art project for the school arts fundraiser (Nikki did most of the work, I was just the moral support), and attending the 'Arts Night' by myself with all four of my kids and Davis's friend (and incidentally Eliza was not feeling well either)-just picture the elementary school full of parents, kids, toddlers, teens (i.e. a zoo) and my kids running around and getting lost every 5 minutes.   Yikes! 

Glad this week is over.   Thankfully, Roger's evaluation basically told me what already knew: he is on the low end of average in his ability to form words.  I also learned something I didn't know: he tries to form complex sentences about on the level of a five-year old.  Combine these two things together and that is a recipe for a three-year-old whose speech is hard to understand.  The pathologist felt he would 'grow out' of his slurred syllables and grow into his more mature sentences. . . . so no therapy required, whew!  Isn't it crazy how you can worry yourself into a tizzy because you don't know what is going to happen?

On top of this all--the thing that has made me loose sleep-- was on Tuesday night at 11:30 P.M. I got an email from Davis's gym that they were letting his coaches go.  For no good reason.  With no notice.  I will spare you all the gritty details, but just know this business decision was handled very poorly.  Davis was so sad not to get a chance to say good-bye to Luba and Jurijs (they're Russian), and then he was thrown into class with new coaches and lots of new boys who followed these coaches from another gym.  I've just been sick with worry about his old coaches- trying to put myself in their shoes, angry with the gym owner, and pondering what I should do with Davis.  On moral grounds, my gut reaction was to say, "No way will my son go to a gym that treats their coaches with such disrespect," but truthfully, I have no other options.  Davis loves this sport.  I love that he isn't fighting me about video games every afternoon.  I love the friendships and teamwork he feels with peers. I love that he's found something he's good at!

As I'm putting my thoughts on paper, I can recognize these matters are not life and death by a long-shot, but despite this, change hurts. It stresses me out. A lot.  Like I have butterflies in my stomach. Needless to say, I've been eating way too much chocolate to cope. . .yeah, I know, I'm a stress eater.  Bad, Camilla. Bad. Bad. Bad.

Realizing that I have no outlet to relieve my stress and realizing I really do need to take a little time for myself, prompted me to talk to some friends about walking together in the morning. Thankfully, they are willing to get up early and humor me.  I know I handle stress of life so much better when I get some exercise, so yeah!  Maybe something good is coming out of this crazy week after all. . . . . .