Caring For My Son With Special Needs {part one}

No, my son is not autistic. He does not have down syndrome. I won't sit here and try to pretend that I know what it is like to be a mother to one of those sweet angels either. But I do want to tell you a story. A story about a huge wake up call.

8 years and 10 months ago my husband drove me through a snow storm, 2 hours away from our home to a hospital that treats high risk pregnancies. I was scheduled to be induced and nervously awaited the arrival of our 2nd child, a boy. My pregnancy by any standard was normal, however there was an unknown abnormality in the baby's abdomen that had shown up during my 20 week ultrasound. The worst case scenario (a name I can't remember) was a problem with his kidneys. The best case scenario was that cysts had formed on his intestines. Our Doctor was fairly certain it was the 2nd case, but wouldn't know for sure until after the delivery and tests were done. I was nervous and didn't sleep most of the night even after being given Ambien.

The next day I was given Pitocin and since I had arrived at the hospital already dilated to 4 cm, I was fairly certain this was going to be much easier than my first experience with birthing another human being! After my water broke however things started going wrong. The baby's heart rate would drop significantly with each contraction and after an hour of trying unsuccessfully to change the situation, I was wheeled in for a C-section. I remember at one point while the nurses were trying to get the babies heart rate up, the doctor came in and asked how I would feel about a C-section. All I said was "I don't care how he comes out." All I wanted was to have him out and to know that he was OK. And when I finally did hear his little cry for the first time, my own tears started spilling out. It's the only time I've ever cried when one of my children was born.

We were incredibly fortunate to find out the next day that our son did have a small cluster of cysts on his small intestine, but that his kidneys were in perfect working order. My little baby had surgery on only the 2nd day of his life, but recovered well and came home a week later. He nursed like a mad man, became the fattest thing I had ever seen and grew to become a little charmer.



There are so many details I could give over the next several years of his life, our lives, but this is all you really need to know. He had endless amounts of energy, I was young and frazzled, my husband was in medical school, and life became about survival. I survived by letting him watch cartoons for hours on end, by having our oldest daughter do all the cleaning up because she generally did it without complaint, and by eventually signing him up for preschool. Only, he hated preschool. He caused trouble almost every day and he would tell me every night that he didn't want to go to school the next morning. So, after 3 months I took him out and kept on surviving.

By the time kindergarten came around we had 3 children and I couldn't wait for the freedom that would come with having 2 kids in school all day. I love my kids of course, all of them, but I get overwhelmed easily and James was getting harder and harder. He teased his little sister constantly, made huge messes everywhere he went, could not follow the simplest of instructions, and argued about everything I asked him to do. So, even though he told me every night that he did not want to go to school in the morning, I said "Too bad, you have to."



First grade was a nightmare! He hated his teacher, and I'm pretty sure she didn't care for him much as well. It was sort of like a preschool re-run. I was constantly getting emails about what horrible thing James had done that day and every night he said "I don't want to go to school tomorrow."

Second grade was a tad bit better. His teacher was a sweet lady who had been teaching a very long time, and even though she had been our daughter Samm's teacher two years earlier, she never expected James to be exactly like his sister. She disciplined when necessary, but always gave the kids a chance for redemption during the course of the day. Homework really picked up this year though and after school became the nightmare. He would put in the least amount of effort possible to get the work done, and I got tired of fighting him so I didn't push him to try harder.

This year we were all excited. James included. He got the fun teacher. The one we were hoping would finally help him take off. After the first day of school he said "I can't wait to go to school again tomorrow!" By the third day though it was back to the same story of begging me not to make him go the next day. He liked his teacher, but he still hated school. And for the first time, he was dealing with social issues.

Aside from hating school and not being wanted during recess football, there have also been other problems. Issues I tried for over a year to pretend didn't exist. After years of being told "No. sit still. why cant you ever listen. what were you thinking." his sense of self worth had been all but squashed. I cannot even tell you the number of times he has threatened to run away because "no one loves me." or how many times he's said "I'm the worst boy ever." And most recently he has started asking me " what would happen if I jumped off a really tall building and died? what would you do?"

Do you have any idea what it's like to hear your child say something like that? How terrifying it is?

A Resolve To Be Better

It’s 8:00 am and I’m sitting at my computer with the windows open breathing in the crisp, clean morning air of the country. The birds are chirping happily and if I listen carefully I can still hear a few crickets and frogs singing by the pond.  By some miracle all three of my children are still nestled snug in their beds hopefully dreaming of something wonderful.

And then my peace is interrupted by the sound of a 4 wheeler flying by.  (True story!)

Still, I find myself feeling overwhelmed with gratitude this morning.  My life has been richly blessed. I have a loving, kind husband, three beautiful girls whom I adore, a roof over my head and a view from my window that most people will never know. 

It seems impossible with so much beauty around me every day and so much to be thankful for that I can still have days like the one I had yesterday.  

I was recently diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis, an auto immune disease that attacks the large intestine. This causes me to be extremely fatigued…pretty much all the time.  So whenever I wake up full of energy and ambition I try to put it to good use around the house.  Yesterday was no exception. I spent all morning cleaning the house. I picked up every room, vacuumed, mopped, cleaned bathrooms; I even went as far as cleaning out the fridge. I was so proud of myself.  By the time that was done it was lunch time. After lunch I was still feeling the unusual burst of energy and decided to tackle the upstairs craft room/storage room.

When I went upstairs I noticed that the door was open and that a few boxes of stuff that I had arranged a few days before had been thrown onto the floor in a big mess and the box was missing. It wasn't hard to guess who had done it or where the box was. (My girls love to play in boxes).

My anger at seeing the mess caused a reaction in me that I of course regretted later. I let the girls have it and told them they were not allowed in that room anymore. I even threatened to start throwing away their toys if they couldn't leave my stuff alone.  It was not one of my finer parenting moments.  My oldest daughter told me I was a “mean mom” and “never let [them] do what [they] want to do”.  I harshly replied that she could do a lot worse and I’m not that bad of a mom.  Oh, the irony. 

I spent several hours in that room, first cleaning up the mess they had made dumping out the boxes and then on to the rest.  When I finally got done organizing, and cleaning, and throwing stuff out I came downstairs proud that I had accomplished so much. When I rounded the corner I was shocked at the mess I discovered!

It doesn't take much to push me over the edge. This easily could have. But I had made a choice while I was working upstairs, a resolve if you will, to do better; to not let me temper get the best of me. I would prove to myself and my children that I was a good mom and to make sure they knew how much I loved them. So I calmly asked the girls to help me clean up the messes that were made so we could get started on dinner. And they did (with a little pushing of course).

By the time dinner was made and on the table my oldest was singing my praises and bragging to her sister that she would get to sit by me “the best, most wonderful mom in the world.”  After the way I had reacted earlier in the day I knew I didn't deserve it but I was so grateful to hear her say it.  My mom always said that the one thing she wanted with her kids more than anything was to make sure we knew she loved us. And we did. Now I’m hoping for the same thing. Despite all the bad parenting moments I hope the love my children feel is the thing they remember most. And I resolve again on this beautiful Tuesday morning to do better; to be better; and to remember how truly blessed I am. 

p.s. They are still asleep!

The Moment My Heart Fell Out Of My Chest

My handsome little man

Technically, I'm not scheduled to post until Tuesday (We are tryingg to be more reliable bloggers) but this post has been weighing so heavy on me that I couldn't not post it a second longer.

My mom used to tell me that when I was little, my dad would ask me "are you a lover or a fighter?" and I would answer "I'm a wover!" And it's true. I'm no fighter. I avoid confrontation at all cost, and I have only ever been in one physical confrontation in my entire life and it was a short hair pulling cat fight with a neighbor girl. I have no idea now why it happened, and I certainly didn't start it, but she grabbed onto my hair and started yanking, so I grabbed hers.

My husband on the other hand is a fighter. Not that he goes looking for a fight, but he isn't afraid of confrontation and doesn't back down when challenged. And as a kid, he was certainly more aggressive than I was.

As parents, we've disagreed at times on what road our children should take. As the mom and primary caregiver though, I've had more time with the kids and have really tried to stress to them the importance or being kind and loving and never hurting anyone. Usually if one of these talks is taking place while Josh is home, he will chime in with something like "but don't ever let anyone push you around!"

On Thursday James came home from school and after asking how school was and talking about what he and his friend Preston had done that afternoon he casually told me about how he had cried twice at school that day. Once was for getting in trouble for going to the bathroom too many times, but after he explained to the teacher that he was having a hard time going he said she wasn't mad anymore. And the second time was because Frank punched him in the face, kicked him, pushed him up against the wall, and then tried to push his head in the toilet.

I was stunned. I asked him to tell me again what happened just to make sure I was hearing him right. He also mentioned that his friend William was with him and Frank had kicked him in the privates, and then he showed me the red mark on his back where it had been scraped when pushed against the wall.

My 8 year old son got beat up in the bathroom at school. How does that happen? I couldn't believe I was hearing this from him and that the teacher hadn't notified me immediately. I questioned him further about whether or not he had told anyone about it and he informed me that he had in fact told his teacher and that she had made Frank apologize. And then he said "he didn't even have to loose his star mom."

Now I was really in shock. Not only did my son get beat up, but the kid that did it didn't even get in trouble. I decided that I would send his teacher an email right away. A few minutes later my husband called though and his response was "we're going to the school tomorrow and talking to the principle! His fight response had been triggered in a big way.

That night as we were tucking James in bed and talking to him about what had happened I asked him "did you push him back?" and he perked right up and said in a proud voice "No, I didn't!" I had been teaching him his whole life that it wasn't OK to fight and he had no idea that it was OK to fight back if someone was hurting him. He thought I would be mad at him if he did.

The next day my husband left work early and marched himself down to the school (I was with Laila at a doctor's appointment) The principle wasn't there so he sat down with the teacher and James and made it very clear that what happened was not acceptable and the way it was handled was ridiculous. His teacher apologized profusely and admitted that this boy has had several problems already, and that further action would be taken. I do need to note that I love his teacher! She has been so good for him this year and I still think very highly of her. The meeting ended on a very friendly note and she promised that they would not let Frank go to the bathroom with other groups of kids anymore and that a report would be written up and sent to his parents.

I was still replaying all the events of the last two days in my head later that day and how if I hadn't been so sure of my way that maybe my son would have been able to defend himself.

And then it hit me. What if this was not a case of a bully in the bathroom at school? What if someone was trying to do something much worse to him and he didn't know it was OK to hit and kick and bite and do whatever it takes to get away?

I felt sick. How could I have failed my children so miserably? And then I was completely overwhelmed with gratitude that nothing worse had happened, and that now he knows. They all know.

Ask Yourself

How many times today did I sweep up who knows what off the floor

 

replace the contents of the peanut butter/syrup/vinegar cupboard

 

wipe mystery sticky/dirty stuff off counters and walls

 

ask certain kid to please stop teasing other kids

 

hear the words "mom, I'm hungry!"

 

pick up socks that weren't mine

 

wipe runny noses

 

give thanks

 

I hope your numbers were different than mine, but for a lot of us tired busy moms, the answers are probably pretty similar. Our days start early and never stop moving. Usually picking up grumpy momentum towards the whenishecominghome hour and then there's dinner and homework and baths and then finally it's over!

 

Every night I kneel down and pray, giving thanks for a life filled with children, love, and comfort. But am I really grateful for my children if I spent all day feeling resentful that I washed and folded 6 loads of laundry instead of doing something fun for me? Am I really grateful for my husbands job if I complained for an hour on the phone to my sister that we don't have enough money for all the things I want?

 

The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? So, even though the answer is obvious, I still have to say it out loud. "NO, I'm not really grateful!" And how is that possible when I clearly have SO much to be grateful for! 





I actually wrote down these thoughts several days ago and made a serious decision right then to stop complaining and be happy. Did you know that being grateful makes you happy? It really does! And then Jenn found this for me on Pinterest and I think I just might have to hang a copy of it in my house where I can look at it every day.

Truer words were never spoken!

 

Your Invited

I wrote a really great blog post today. I say great, because it was real and honest, and it felt good getting in out. The only problem is I wrote it in my head while I was making dinner. And now it's gone. Of course I still remember what it was about and the emotion of it, but I'm fairly certain that I couldn't recreate it no matter how long I sat here. Maybe it was only meant for me anyway. 

I will tell you though that I've had a little bit of a rough week emotionally. There have been no major events to speak of, but I found myself at the end of each day feeling heavy and drained. Usually I blame any and all  such feelings on the exhaustion that comes from having a baby, 3 other children, and a husband that works fifteen hours a day. This time it felt different though. It was deep in my core. I owned it.

Then, yesterday, I suddenly knew. It was like someone simply walked up and told me "Your lonely." And it was true.

It's the kind of lonely you feel when your sisters live far away and instead of a weekend shopping trip together you have to settle for a phone call and a "What should I wear with this?'. When even your closest friends are busy moms themselves and all the catching up you can manage is a quick "Hey, how are you?" as you pass each other in the hall at church. When even after you've spent 12 hours with a four year old talking your ear off and asking endless "how come" questions you still feel like you haven't really talked to anyone in ages.

It's like a world full of people, but no one else is really there. Do you know what I'm talking about? Or am I crazy? Don't really answer that. I already know the answer.

So, here is the thing. I don't want to feel lonely anymore. And I am the only person that can change that. It is completely up to me. 

No more saying "Hey, we should get together." and then of course never picking up the phone. 

No more wishing I just had more time.

No more living so far away from my family. (OK, wishful thinking)

No more being afraid to put myself out there.

One of the main reasons I blog is to feel connected to other women. To feel like I'm not the only one in this crazy circus of motherhood. How can I connect with you though if you don't even know  who I am. The real me, not the me that occasionally posts about crafts or recipes, but the me that is having a bad hair month, who has a wart on her chin that absolutely will not go away no matter how many times I burn it off, and the me that feels like I'm failing miserably at raising my son. 

I'm going to put it all out there and hope that someone might actually care, and just maybe that one person and I can get to know each other and not feel so alone in this crazy circus.

So, your invited to my life this week. I'm going to take pictures of it all. The good, the bad, and the wart! You can see how I really look when I roll out of bed in the morning and you can probably expect a couple mountains of laundry on the couch. Hopefully though, this little project just might motivate me to be a little more on top of things.

 I would love to get to know more of you as well. If anyone wants to join me on your own blogs, I think it would be really validating as women and mothers to see that our lives really aren't so different from each other. And if a whole week seems overwhelming, well, I think even one day would be great. 

I'll start my posts officially tomorrow night, but just to kick things off, here is a picture of two of my girls (wearing their brother's clothes) helping make dinner tonight. I am really proud of this picture because I have a hard time letting the kids help me with anything. I'm a little bit of a control freak!

I'm excited about this upcoming week. I'm also a little scared. 

So Close!

I just didn't get it all put away. Maybe next week.

Do You Have a Laundry Spot?

 This is mine. Right on the couch.

This is where I dump it and walk away, really truly believing that I will be right back to fold it and put it all away. Ha! Never happens. I will tell you what does happen.

 Tuesday and Friday are my laundry days, with the exception of Monday which is when I wash sheets, so on Tuesday I spend all day doing load after load of laundry and then by the end of the day I'm too tired to do anything about it so I just leave it there thinking I will get to it on Wednesday. Wednesday comes and goes and the only thing that happens to the pile is that a few articles of clothing are dug out to wear. The kids are usually searching for a pair of socks. Thursday is pretty much the same only half of the pile is usually on the floor by then or we've moved it completely to one end of the couch so we can actually sit down. And really, by Thursday night what is the point of folding it when I will just be adding to it the next day. Finally, by Friday I am so disgusted that it is still there that after I've washed several more loads I start folding. Sometimes I get it all folded and sometimes it doesn't get finished until Saturday. And sometimes on Saturday night when Josh and I sit down to watch a movie he reaches over and starts folding it, which is when I know it has been there waaay too long, and he has lost all hope that one day when he comes home from work it will be magically gone.

Tomorrow is Tuesday. I'm going to give it my best shot. Although, my kids also have no school tomorrow, which means a lot more of my time is going to be spent watching plays put on by Samm, helping find this and that, and refereeing. Still, anything is possible!

Finding Me

I have a few vague memories from when I was young of going to my Dad's work. There are partial images of what the building looked like on the outside and seeing my Dad sitting at a desk, although I think it was more like a table. Surprisingly, I do actually remember the name of the company he worked for. That only surprises me because I can hardly remember things I did last week.

I don't remember how old I was when he set out on his own, but young enough I guess that the majority of my memories are of visiting him on job sites or watching him sit at his desk at home with stacks of blue prints by his feet and one always spread out in front of him.

I've always been proud of the fact that my Dad has made a successful living from his own business. I've also always sort of blamed my "never got to be involved in any outside of school activities" on the fact that I am the second oldest and I grew up in the poor years when his business was still getting started.

The truth is, even if we had been ridiculously wealthy, I probably would have opted out of any of those other things that young kids get involved in. I'm the kind of person who doesn't even try, because if I don't try then I can't fail.

I know now how dumb that is, but it made sense to me back then.

A big turning point for me was cosmetology school. I was scared to death to do it, but even more scared to live my life not really being anybody. I was already a wife and a mother, and even though I loved being both of those things, I still felt like there was no me. I had no idea who I was or even what I liked doing.

Since then I've gradually found a place for myself in things like sewing and making jewelry. I find great satisfaction in creating something of my very own, but it's not my passion.

Ironically, I discovered my passion as a child only to forget it.

We had some friends with an old piano in their play room and every time we went to their house I would sit at that thing and play for what seemed like hours, although I'm sure it was more like 20 minutes. I didn't even know how to play, but it didn't matter to me. In my head I was playing the most beautiful music I had ever heard.

In high school someone gave our family an old piano that wouldn't hold it's tune for anything. Around the same time our musician uncle came to visit and sat with me for several hours teaching me everything he could. I played and played every spare minute I had. I was able to take lessons finally after that, but only for a few years before I left home.

I didn't play much after highschool, even after my Mom gifted me a really nice keyboard for Christmas one year. I would sit down occasionally and think "why don't I do this more often?"

Life and kids was my excuse.

For a while I played the piano at church for primary, (kid's sunday school) but I never practiced.

Then, about six months ago I was asked to be the pianist for our women's meeting at church. I was terrified just thinking about it, but gladly accepted the call knowing it was just the excuse I had been looking for to purchase a piano. We got what we could afford on Craig's list, and while It's not very pretty, it plays. And holds it's tune.

The first few months were pretty rough. I practiced very little and scraped by even less on Sundays. Then I made a decision. I wanted to feel passionate about music again. So I started practicing every day. Some days all I could manage was fifteen minutes, but slowly things started to change. At first I thought the other girl was picking easier songs, but it was more than that. My whole body started remembering and somehow my mind and my fingers started working together like they never had before.

I'm still not what I would consider a great pianist, but I am learning and I am getting better every day. And more important than that, when I sit down on that bench, I'm me!

I Survived A 3 Day Weekend...

In Michigan, in the middle of winter! Without the McDonald's play place. Which honestly is the last place I would ever want to be on a day when school is out.

So, it does help that I have an 8 year old who can pretty much entertain herself and her brother and sister for hours on end (if she is in the mood for it). But there was a time in my life when I felt like all I was doing was entertaining kids all day. And I still do to some extent because I still have a 3 year old at home. And I'm just going to admit right now to the entire blogging world, that playing pretend with my kids is NOT my favorite thing in the world to do. Somewhere along the way I lost my imagination and sometimes a ten minute tea party is the equivalent of watching golf on T.V. I'd rather wax my upper lip!

OK, so I know some of you might love getting on the floor and playing cars with your little boys, but for the rest of us, here are a few things that I've found to be great boredom breakers, and can give Mom a few minutes to shower or fold some laundry without helpers.

1) A package of dry beans, and some pots, cups, and large spoons. Set your kiddos up on the kitchen floor and watch them spend an hour dumping pouring and stirring beans. You'll probably also see beans flying in every which direction, but they sweep up easily! I used to have a special bag of dried pinto beans just for this game. When they were done we put them all back in the bag for next time. Just don't forget which ones are for playing with and which ones are for eating!

2) Colors in the sink. My youngest still asks for this one all the time. We put a few big bowls or pots in the sink and fill them with soapy water, then add a few drops of food coloring to each bowl. Give them some cups and spoons to play with, just don't forget to put a towel on the floor!

3) Make a fort. Sometimes we pull out the kitchen chairs and throw a blanket on top, and some times we pull out the hide a bed from the couch and they crawl under there. Either way, we always make sure to have a few flashlights involved and this is one of the only times I let them take a snack out of the kitchen. Anything to make the game last longer!

4) Make a train. Next time your kids are bored, pull out all your kitchen chairs and line them up in the living room, and see how long it takes for them to make it into a train. This is one of the few games I don't mind playing for a few minutes, as long as my stop is somewhere like "in the kitchen so I can load the dishwasher."

5) I think popcorn and a movie go without saying, but I'll say it anyway. Sometimes we do 2!

6) Dress up clothes. If you don't already have some, start investing! They don't have to be store bought either. I've made a lot of ours as Halloween costumes and after Halloween they hit the dress up box. When we were little my Mom actually collected fun stuff she found at garage sales or vintage stuff my Grandma gave her, and that's what we dressed up in. The best way to get your kids wearing them is to watch a movie together and then show them how to make themselves into the movie characters. Yesterday I told the kids we were going to see Tangled after Dad got home from work and suddenly they just had to find our Rapunzel costume at the bottom of the dress up box.

Tinkerbell was there too.

This game of climbing Rapunzel's hair lasted a lot longer than I ever would have thought possible.

If any one has any other great ideas I can implement on our next three day weekend, please share. We have another one next week!

365 Days of a clean house

A few weeks ago I told my husband that I wanted to be happier. Not just happier as in less of a grump, although that too, but more content. See, in our house we do a lot of talking about "some day." We've used those words so many times in the past couple of years that it almost feels like something that doesn't exist or can't exist. Kind of like saying "if I ever won the lottery." Except our someday usually involves phrases like, when we have money, when we have a nice house, when we have our own house, when Dad can be home more. I've looked forward to someday for so long that I'm simply surviving in the here and now instead of enjoying it. Because I'm pretty sure that someday I'm going to look back on these times and remember how fun it was to come up with cheap creative activities to do as a family and how simple our lives were. I'm going to wish I could I could go back in time just for a second to peek in on all three of my kids at night snuggled up together in one bed because they're all afraid of the dark. These are the days for me to find happiness, not the some days.

Learning to be content is kind of like unlearning a bad habit though, and it's going to take time. I'm working on it quietly in recesses of my mind a little bit each day. I'm sure I'll slip up and have negative days, but the point is to keep working at it. I also have to know myself and know what actions and thoughts trigger my grumpy negative inner self. And the big number one problem is when I let the house work go a little. Pretty much what I'm saying here is that a messy house equals evil demon Mom. I'm serious, it's not pretty! It's at those times when I complain the most about our situation, and wish things were different.

So, here's my crazy new year challenge for myself. Keep my house clean for a whole year. Can it be done? Um, let's just say I'm not 100% confident, but I'm going to try anyway. So far I'm on day 5 and it's going great. The kids are not too happy about me constantly calling them back to pick up their messes, but I have heard that it takes 21 times to make something a habit so hopefully they will figure it out before I loose my voice. I'm thinking though that when it comes to hanging up their backpacks I shouldn't get my hopes up until its been at least 100 days.

Oh, and there has to be a reward right? I mean other than having a clean house and being happier. There has to be something to keep me going. I'm thinking that if I can actually pull it off I might have to do some guilt free shopping.

Anyway, I plan on documenting my progress from time to time here just to kind of keep me in check. And just for the sake of having a picture, here is my youngest making our first mess of the day, which we did clean up right away before moving on to Candy Land.

Letting go

We pulled into our driveway last night at 9:30 with all three children sleeping in horribly awkward positions. We carried them in to sleep away the rest of the night in their beds, and then quickly unloaded the rest of the car into one big pile in the living room. I took the most heavenly hot shower, and then without even caring if my hair was dried, ran to my bed and whispered sweetness into the sheets.

Now it's 9:00 in the morning and I'm sitting here thinking about that monstrous pile in the living room, the bags of travel snacks sitting on kitchen counter, the clean laundry half folded on the couch that was left abandoned in our rush to leave town, and watching my kids eat Christmas candy for breakfast. Like my Mom said to me recently "Sometimes by 8:00 I feel like there's not enough day left."

We were having a conversation about how even seemingly "normal" days can feel overwhelming. As soon as my feet hit the floor I'm bombarded by fifty things screaming "do me first." The lists are never ending and I feel like I've failed before I've even started because there is no way to get it all done.

"So don't worry about getting it all done" she said. Sometimes the laundry is not the most important part of the list and you just have to be OK with that.

Definitely easier said than done most of the time, but true. While I would like to have my house in spotless working order, our fridge stocked with food, and my family fed three healthy meals, it's just not going to happen today and I have to be OK with that. What doesn't get done today can be finished tomorrow.

So for right now, it's Christmas candy for breakfast, and you know what, I'm really OK with that!