I'm grateful for: my books; my computers; my new bed.

Crazy days. TH got up at the crack of dawn, woke up D2 and S2 and headed off with D2. Actually he got up before the crack of dawn - it was still dark.

S3 woke up and didn't know that S2 was supposed to be the one in charge, thought he'd been left with no one older to be with him. Which, at the age of eight, maybe shouldn't be so big a deal. I think an eight-year-old should be able to get up, get himself breakfast if he wants, and entertain himself until the rest of the family is up. Or even to wake someone up if he really needs something.

But TH has kept it up, because it is easier for him (he thinks) to keep getting up with S3, or making one of the older children get up with him, than allowing S3 to develop some independence, with whatever growing pains me result along the way. It's not like I'm suggesting S3 be left all alone for heaven's sake. Just that he doesn't need someone to be awake with him every single minute that he is awake. But, anyway.

S2, who hadn't been able to fall asleep, was cranky and felt rotten. D3, who took over for him late in the morning so S2 could try and get some more sleep wasn't feeling well, I think she may have a touch of the 'flu. I didn't get up 'til late in the morning, partly from being up late last night, but more because my body just crapped out on me. I woke up several times but was unable to even make myself move.

When I finally did wake up I felt a bit better. I managed overall to do about three loads of laundry (washed, dried AND folded). I made it outside to feed the goats and chickens, and even played a very little bit with the dogs. S2 and D3 did an incredible job. The dishes were washed, the kitchen was cleaned, they did more of the laundry, lunches were prepared and supper. We all survived. It was still a very hard day, made even harder because TH was being ragingly insane.

He didn't come home until well after seven, in fact only made it home in time to read S3 a bedtime story - barely. We watched a truly HORRID movie, which we had rented because it has Johnny Depp, and Christopher Walken. Two of my very favourite actors. What was it called, 90 Minutes? Something like that. The acting was really terrific, but the movie just wasn't worth it. Such is life.

TH is also getting up at the crack of dawn (okay, before) tomorrow to head off to work, then turn around and come home in time (hopefully) to take D3 to her riding lesson. He arranged for S2's driving instructor to come to the house to pick him up. He cancelled a dr.s appointment I had for tomorrow. When TH pipes, we must all dance to his tune. Just ask him.

TH and I had words about that tonight. I doubt that the words would actually make a difference in his behaviour, but maybe the constant dribble of words has the strength by repetition, of someday having some sort of effect. The most important thing I said (I think) is that as long as he is using me as a shrink, or his mother, or his sponsor, we cannot relate as husband and wife. I asked him, did he want to have a relationship with me as his wife? He said he did. I think not. I pointed out that that is not what he is choosing.

The whole conversation, actually, was about him choosing. He says he knows he is an adult with choices who is making decisions, but then defends his decisions, particularly whenever they have negative effects on the kids, by saying he 'has' to. I let him know he is the only person, in the entire universe, who believes that he is this poor, put-upon helpless individual how can't help himself.

I"m not sure what is the point of my writing all this, but it's in my head and it's what happened today. And it feels better that it be typed out than that it should continue to live between my ears.

I told him it's pride. It's all pride. He continues to believe somewhere inside of him that he really is better than the rest of us mere humans. Especially the broken ones like me. And that he is more valuable than the rest of us, including the small ones like his children. He agreed with me. For what that's worth. It doesn't change anything.

I know that I would rather be me than him. I would rather be disabled, and sick, and humble and human than arrogant and boastful and underneath it terrified of being found out. Lying to cover his ass almost 24/7, as if his ass is that d*** important.

I'm afraid of hubris, which doesn't mean I'm not guilty of it. I'm afraid of thinking too much of myself, when I probably should be more afraid of thinking of myself too much. I am far from perfect, but thank you Hashem that I am no where near what I used to be. Except for the crippled part. You know.

I must try to get some sleep, so I'm not leaving the kids to be in charge (although they do do a tremendous job) for half the day again. I hope.

I'm listening to Captain Blood, from Librivox

:: Yesterdays : Tomorrows ::

~~~Last Five Entries~~~
Hi and goodbye - 2010-10-15
I'll be moving on - 2010-10-10
Gold membership and stuff - 2010-10-10
Decisions, decisions - 2010-10-07
Days to go - 2010-10-06