SNOW DAY!!!!!!!

There are several other subjects that have been swimming around in my little head--marriage in the midst of a child's diagnosis, some things that Noah has said about having Asperger's and why there is a need for insurance companies to get over themselves and step up their responsibilities--but those will have to wait.  This morning, I'm going to talk about chronic illness in the midst of a child's diagnosis.  (*Disclaimer: I will never write about my illnesses for sympathy or pity, only to further educate, provide humor and for understanding!  Thanks!)

Today is a self-instituted snow day because I am in desperate need of a day at home.  I just looked at my calendar and realized I haven't had a day at home in over 3 weeks.  Our oldest son goes to school half an hour away and while my wonderful husband drives that far out of his way every morning to take him before his 1 1/2 hour commute to work, I still have to drive an hour in the afternoon to bring him home.  The hospital we've been taking Noah to is well over an hour away.  Then you count our errands, Avery's play groups and our other daily activities.  We are an incredibly busy family of four (sometimes I check the backseat to make sure I didn't adopt a third child when I wasn't paying attention; other times I check it to make sure I didn't forget one of the two I know I do have!)! Some moms are built for that kind of willy-nilly, crazy, always on-the-go activity.  I'm not one of them.  Unfortunately, my snow day means Avery will miss his much-loved music class this morning (can anyone say MOMMY GUILT???), but I'm hoping he's young enough that this is one of those things he won't remember when he's in therapy years from now (just trying to be realistic!).  


As I said, I'm not one of those moms who can live willy-nilly, going everywhere and never being home.  I attribute a big part of that to having chronic illness.  I need rest, I need down time (anyone have the definition for that?!) and I need sleep.  I haven't been doing any of that.  In fact, I haven't been doing anything to take care of myself properly--exercising, sleeping or eating--because I've been so intent on Noah and his needs (some days I'm not even sure I'm properly--or at all--processing my emotions).  And when I'm not worried about Noah, I'm worried that we're not focusing enough on Avery in all of this.  I have been truly amazed by God's handi-work and how He has been taking care of me throughout all of this.  My illnesses have been laying low and pain has been at a glorious minimum.  However, after the 6th trip to Charlottesville in two weeks (and the second in two days) on Wednesday, I hit overload.  The dog's nails were clicking on the hardwood floors while she paced, Noah was going into meltdown mode over homework, the baby was shrieking and Shawn was being loud on the phone (sorry, Honey--I love you!).  My brain hit the panic button and suddenly I couldn't function.  I knew that if I didn't run, my poor family was in for it.  Once I hit overload, it takes me several days to recover, usually involves a major flare of my fun little pain illnesses and maybe even a migraine.  We won't even talk about what happens to my mood!  Sometimes I'm able to talk some sense into myself and realize I was doing so well in handling everything, that I can recognize this as the devil's work.  He's bidding for control over what was going so well with God.  Other times, it doesn't go so well and it all goes downhill from there.  This time, it's a mish-mash of both.  I'm able to recognize the mood symptoms and I'm determined the devil is NOT going to get his way.  I AM GOD'S WORK, not the devil's playground.  However (for lack of a better word),  I am headed into a major flare and the pharmacy lost my prescription refill, so while I wait for that to be resolved, I'm trying to resolve things with motrin (which is kind of like trying to put out a 5 alarm fire with a sprinkler).  I am counting on God to help me get through the things that absolutely must be accomplished over the next few days.  The other things will either have to wait or I will have to learn to ask for help (good luck with that!).


Asking for help has never been my strong point.  I like to think of myself as independent, but I'm really not.  I can't function without my husband; growing up, I couldn't function without my parents (there, I said it--are you happy, Mom?!).  A friend recently described me as a strong woman and I quickly said, "You mean 'stubborn,' right?"  Me, strong?  HA!  To me, having to ask for help denotes a weakness in myself.  However (I'm learning a huge lesson here--pay attention!), I'm learning that's not true.  I'm learning that if I'm going to get Noah through this with myself intact, flare-less (or semi-flare-less) and healthy, I'm going to have to learn to ask for help.  And that doesn't mean I'm weak.  It means I'm finally growing up.


Sooo... Who wants to wash my windows and clean my toilets????