The Hardest Day of my Life

Maybe some of you can relate...

Do you remember those college days when you had 16 hours of homework and only 3 hours to do it? Or worse, finals week with term papers, tests to study for, group projects and a 40 hour work week that always turned into 60 hours?

The one thing that got me through those times, besides red bull and youthful energy, was telling myself things that only naive, stupid people, that have yet to experience "real life" would say; "These would be the hardest times of my life and it would soon be over." Ha! I laugh.

I laugh because two weeks ago, the hardest day of my life was not writing a 60 page research paper on AT&T's business model, or putting together a powerpoint presentation about Apple computers and studying for three tests all worth more than half my grade. (I wish I kept one of my research papers, they would probably help get me asleep during these last days of pregnancy insomnia.)

Nope, my hardest day was trying to figure out how I was going to clean up my destroyed house, while the destroyer was still awake, make dinner, and do a load of laundry all in an hour before our dinner guests arrived and the only thing I wanted to do was sleep!

It was this day that Bruce was going to be Bruce and not change for anyone, not even his pleading mother. I would put the remotes, back on the coffee table and he would throw them on the floor. I put the couch back in seating position, and he reclined it. I stacked the dvds back on the shelf and he knocked them down again. "FORGET IT!" The missionairies would just have to deal with the mess.

I started dinner and Bruce did his normal, cry like a banshee until I picked him up so he could see what I was making.

Now onto loading the dishwasher, Bruce's favorite activity. I put a fork in, he takes the fork out and throws it on the floor and we continue this pattern until I get smart and put up the baby gate. And then He screams, and screams and screams, begging to be on the same side as me.

Kiel was upstairs sleeping before he had to work OT that night, but honestly no one can sleep while Bruce hollers on as loud as he possibly can. So Kiel came down stairs and I quickly sent him across the street to get quarters so I could pop in a load. "And take the beast with you!" But he didn't, he left him with me, hollering away.

When Kiel got back it was time for him to get ready for work. I sent Bruce upstairs with his dad, hoping he would calm down as soon as he heard the shower. But he didn't. He screamed in the bathroom the whole time. At least it was upstairs and not in the kitchen.

The missionaries arrived ten minutes early and proceeded to tell me they could hear Bruce yelling all the way down the street. "That's my boy!" I have to take credit for the loudness, if that's the only thing I gave him than so be it. He can look like Kiel and yell like me.

Bruce continued to yell all the way down the stairs until he realized we had company. And then he turned on his charm. He clapped his hands, smiled, kicked his legs and laughed. He did all the things that make the ladies go "he is so adorable, look at him flirt!" But, umm 19 year old boys? Yeah, they could care less. But this just made Bruce try harder. And he finally did get the attention he wanted but he did it by yelling like a cave man all through out dinner.

Soon dinner was over, my guests were gone and so was my husband. It was up to me to put the banshee to bed, clean up the mess and somehow unwind.

At the end of the day I felt accomplished, I did not lose my patience, I did not hide in a closet and pass out on a basket of clothes (although I was that tired, I could have), instead I persevered by doing one task at a time. And my last thought before I drifted off into wonderland was, I never would have made it through this day had it not been for Kiel.