This is my October Blogging for Books entry. This month's theme: Insanity. The instructions were: "For this Blogging for Books, write about a time you were pushed to the brink of insanity (figuratively or literally), and how you lived to tell the tale."
I was on the brink of insanity.
I had just had a baby.
In five and a half years.
I was packing up to move.
The children were unpacking faster.
My husband was at work all day.
I was home with the children.
The ones who were unpacking.
The one attached to my nipple.
My hormones were raging.
I was crying.
My mom lived six hours away.
Eight if you’re traveling with kids.
The good news:
Our bid on a bigger house was accepted.
The bad news:
Complications in the deep dark recesses of our basement were holding the proceedings up.
The worst news:
We were going to be homeless for two weeks.
I have blocked out why.
It was that bad.
What I did:
I threw random clothes into a couple of suitcases.
I encouraged the older children to pack for themselves (they were 5 and 3).
I threw the bags into the car.
A few sippy cups.
Where are the damn wipes?
I told my husband I would be home when we had a place to live.
I left at bedtime.
I cried most of the way.
I drove across the state.
No pee breaks.
One stop to nurse.
To my mommy.
My husband had to pack up the house and move it into our new garage.
After work each night.
He stayed with his dad.
He called and spoke to the children and I every night.
After two weeks I got the call.
We were closing on the house.
We could move in two days before.
We had a place to sleep.
The kids’ beds would be set up.
We could come home.
The day of the closing I sat there with a baby on my lap.
The boys running around the room.
The lawyer smiled as he told me how my husband called him every day and demanded resolution.
Jeff wanted his family back.
He wanted us back now.
Why? I’m not too sure.
We were less than pleasant to be around and we carry the official title of circus.
The things that brought me back from the edge?
My mom’s calming hand.
My husband’s desire to have us back.
A house to live in.
My sister-in-law’s help with the boys when I needed it the most.
(Without her we would still be living out of boxes four years later.)
It's hard to write this in more of a storybook way. It was hard. I really thought I was losing my mind. I was disconnected. I was not at all sure I would not end up in a padded room where the children would be brought to visit.
“Say hi to Mommy.”
“Go give her a hug.”
“No really, it’s okay. She won’t hurt you.”
“It’s really Mommy.”
“I know she looks bad. She’s going to get better.”
“We’ll come back soon.”