"I Am Slowly Going Crazy, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Switch,..."

I enjoy writing, and I use this blog primarily as a place to write. I also enjoy my job, stay at home mom, and frequently write about how I feel about my job. Sometimes, however, I have considered that my blog does not really reflect every aspect of my job very well. You see, I only write when I feel inspired, and I usually only feel inspired when I feel happy. So someone who has read very much of what I write, might get the impression that life in this camp is always a bowl of cherries. Not so, I just don't feel like writing when it's lemons. Anyway, I like to keep things real, and it just so happens that I have felt like writing this week, and it's also been a really, really, hard week.

I think Max has officially turned three. His third birthday was 4 months, 23 days ago, but the switch didn't go off until approximately five days ago. I will always love that boy, but he's been really hard to like this week. Everything, and I mean everything, has become a fight with him - from meals, to baths, to breathing. He's thrown tantrums on a level that I wouldn't have even thought he was capable of. I've lost track of how many times I've been told that he hates me. Every night he has left me feeling like a wind up toy wound so tight that it's about to break.

Yesterday he was being a pain for Israel when we were in a bookstore. Israel helped him and Quincy pick out a book to buy while I ran a couple errands in the mall. Israel was in line to make the purchase and Max was misbehaving, so I grabbed Max to head to the car, and told Israel not to buy Max's book - the deal was that they got the books for behaving, and he wasn't. Picture me pushing a stroller with Jack, and carrying Max, who's not that little anymore, while he is flailing and shrieking for everyone in the store to see and hear. I think he kicked over some display as we were walking out, I didn't stop to look because I'm sure the store people would prefer to just have us out while they pick up the mess. When we finally got to the car, he was hysterical, and refused to sit in his seat and get buckled. Israel struggled with him for several minutes, and then I tried. Finally I gave up, and spoke loudly over his yelling to tell him "Fine! You won't have any buckles and if we get in an accident you'll die!" Then I turned around to see about six people watching the spectacle - some glaring at me, and some with their mouths hanging open. I sure felt like a good mom with my car full of kids.

The good news to all of this is that I know it will pass. I remember that Quincy did the exact same thing at nearly the exact same age. I remember sending a note with her on the first day of pre-school letting her teacher know that I had a very "spirited" child (that's code for strong-willed, which is code for brat), and that I'd appreciate it if we could just communicate openly about anything my child might do. I bet that teacher just chuckled at this first time mom. Quincy never got into much trouble that year, and she has matured and grown beautifully. I even got a note from her first-grade teacher a couple weeks ago, letting me know about something kind that Quincy had done, and telling me I should be proud of her. Quincy was once not very likeable as well, and now she is a delight. I look forward to Max moving through this stage and becoming delightful too.

Max has been just one of my challenges this week. Israel has been working 60+ hours per week for the last month. I realized yesterday I'd actually forgotten that that's not "normal". That I wouldn't be spending all day every day by myself with the kids forever. I love being with the kids, generally, but doing it all, by yourself, day in and day out can kind of burn out anyone I think. Tonight is the last night of this rotation, and I couldn't be more ready.

Jack is a sweatie, but he's high maintenance. I don't know what it is about my babies, but they just don't self-entertain, so if they are awake, then I am occupied, and the minute they go to sleep I'm racing to get as much done as I can.

Anyway, to be perfectly honest, sometimes this job makes me feel like I am slowly going crazy. Tonight at the gym a song came on my ipod that I listened to over and over again. One of the lines says "This is not what I intended, I always swore to you I'd never fall apart. You always thought that I was stronger. I may have failed, but I have loved you from the start. " The truth is, that in one way or another I think every parent fails. None of us are perfect, and while we are busy making sure that we didn't make the mistakes that we can so clearly see that our own parents made, we're making many of our own. I fall apart every once in a while. Quincy sees me being a person that I don't want to be, and she's old enough that she'll remember it. But I hope that what she really sees is that, although I fail her at times, I have loved her from the start. Oh, how I have loved her, and Max, and Jack. So sane or not, it's my job, and I'm going to do the best I can to hold it together. After all, you cannot taste the sweet if you do not know the bitter.