The Wheels on the Struggle Bus Go Round and Round
There have been exactly 4 times in my life where I really didn’t think I could survive another day. Have you had those? They’re trying times, frustrating times, even gutwrenching times where not a single thing is going your way and there is absolutely no hope for improvement in the near future. I’m not talking about scary times of “someone needs to intervene on her behalf.” I’ve had a few of those, too. I mean the times where you’ve thrown in the towel and thrown up your white flag because the writing on the wall says that, simply, you stink. You fear the stink will never wash off.
There was a four year span between my three children, meaning that baby Chynna entered the world when big brothers Dillan & Daniel were only four and not quite 2, respectively. Children go through many phases. We were, at that time, in the must-change-clothes-25-times-a-day-to-suit-thecharacter-I’m-playing-in-myown-head phase (Dillan) and the cannot-wear-clothes-forany-reason phase (Daniel). While Chynna turned out to be an effortlessly easy baby, I was riding the struggle bus trying to get Daniel to eat any solid food other than peanut butter, hence the family video I have somewhere featuring Daniel in a bloodcurdling scream while several green beans are hanging out of his mouth (while naked, probably). I was also having quite the time keeping Dillan indoors. We lived in a rental next door to his grandparents and he’d figured out how to remove his window screen. The candy drawer at Grandma Z’s house kept coming up empty. There was a “mystery” neighborhood burglar. I didn’t think I was going to survive the year before my eldest child started kindergarten. Though, I did, it would not be the last time I clung to my sanity like Rose floating in the ocean on a broken door, sans Jack.
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