I know I'm supposed to be thrilled that school is starting in a few day.
I'm filled with dread. I find myself weeping uncontrollably.
I call this progress.
Six years ago I was weeping uncontrollably because I couldn't face the day home alone with my (then) three children. One was wretched. One was potty training (not very successfully). And frankly, I remember very little about the other one, probably due to the other two and their awfulness. The only time I could look at all three of them at the same time and like all three of them was when they were asleep. I was miserable. They were miserable. And I was convinced that God had made me infertile for a reason. I convinced myself that God was pointing and laughing at me, saying, "See? I told you that you would suck and did you listen? No. You made your bed, you lie in it. I'm outta here. Gonna go hang with the good moms."
Hey, when you're in the pit, do you think rationally?
Now, I'm not saying I don't still have crappy mom days, 'cause I do, but Every. Single. Day. Every. Single. Child. brings me delight. And I would just rather have them around.
Today the kids and I were talking about homeschool and why we don't do it, but I think this will be my hardest year yet for packing them off into the care of others.
Excuse me while I go cry for a while.