All in all, life seemed to be to much and too unhappy all the time. We had moved to the middle of nowhere.
I wished I did not have fibromyalgia because I was pretty sure that if I was healthy and not constantly in pain and exhausted, it would be easier to behave. Everything?would be magically easy and all at once I would?always be happy. Maybe after trying this diet or that supplement or seeing that doctor, I would feel fine all at once, and from then on I would ?behave…
And so we stayed mostly unhappy.
Like we were an Eeyore family with our own little raincloud hanging over us. And the saying goes ‘If mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy’ so I knew it was on me, ?I had to make some big changes.
I hesistantly asked God to do whatever He needed to do to change my heart. I wasn’t wildly enthusiastic since I knew operations tend to be painful.
I had tried to find the good stuff in life on my own. I tried to pretend I was happy. Sometimes it worked. Mostly it didn’t.
Then God started the operation, because although He’d helped […]
Life in the Village of Struggle wasn’t always bad. We had our good moments. It was just that the moments were too far apart?andwere sprinkled through with too many struggles.
Good times were family walks and candlelit dinners.
Waiting for papa by the window, little hands lovingly making more greasy fingerprints on it, faces lighting up when papa’s bike came into view. And then we’d all rush outside, one boy on the saddle and one boy on the carrier, they’d ride into the shed. Afterwards there would be supper, maybe bathtime, and bedtime would be snuggly and warm and bedtime songs were sung.
Good times where taking walks in the rain with two excited little bouncing balls holding their own umbrellas, jumping in the puddles.?It was friends coming over all the way from Tennessee and Australia and staying for a good long time, having do-you-remember marathons.
Taking walks together with friends and sisters, which is actually the same thing, and our bunch of little people running and climbing around.
Finding a forgotten little orchard with apples and wild strawberries and flowers for vases.
It was Christmas in my parents house and their Christmas tree, because theirs?is the king of […]
And so in my head, I renamed Village Gabri?l into Village Struggle, because that’s what it was on most days.
Life was a struggle, wanting all things. I wanted to be a mom, and I wanted to fly back and not have to be someone’s source of food. Why me? Why does Mike get to walk out the door and I’m stuck here with two living little things who don’t care whether I slept or not and whether I had plans or not?
Mike walking out the door was, to me, the equivalent to a movie star walking on the red carpet. Glamour, fun, happiness. (Because sitting behind a desk all day long, working on a computer, with potentially frustrating co-workers and deadlines and work overloads, is everyone’s dream occupation. Obviously. My life was equal to…a great big desert. With no trees. Only rain. I know, a desert with rain is probably not a desert. But I’m not known to be very rational when I’m feeling depressed.
These two little humans? Relentlessly claiming my energy and my time and attention.
I wanted to do so much and I had so many ideas! Or actually …skip the ideas. If […]
Today?I’m taking a break from story telling and sharing some family pictures. Because taking family pictures is a landmark in any mother’s life. Whether it is a good or bad landmark I leave open to interpretation.
First we make sure we have somewhat matching clothes. I figured if we all wear something white with blue and stripes, that should work. Wisely, I did not ask my fashion-smart sister in law, because I’m usually wrong in my thinkings.?And I figured it was better to be happy in ignorance then to be unhappy in knowledge.
I totally handwashed Mike’s shirt for this, because the blue in his other blue shirt clashed with the blue in the other blue shirts. I do know that much, you know.
Even though I believe purple is the same as violet and lavender.
We did 3 attempts at the pictures, with breaks and bribing in between. Because we’re smart like that.
Observe…everyone seated. This was an accomplishment in itself. Talk the children into smiling nicely. Not yet using threats.
It didn’t work. Starting to think about using threats.
We move to a different location, hoping for succes.
The one where some of […]
Photo Credits: Jelis & Joses Van Calster
The oldest one is first. Because that is just propper, you know. He was first, after all. His eyes are brown, his hair is resisting the brush today, standing up in it’s sandy brown glory. His legs are perfect, tanned brown and with some mud streaked on for the image factor.
The younger one waddles after him. He’s been walking for a long time?now, but the duck-like waddle stubbornly stays. He sways this way and that, narrowly missing a fall that would make the bumps on his forehead an even 4. The little man bends down to retrieve a fallen treasure…a wrinkled potato, and goes of the steps backwards. He starts crawling way to early, and keeps waiting for the step to go down.
Once he is safely off, he runs after his brother.Big boy goes in the baby swing, and little boy goes into the big boys swing. Because that is how they like it. They sit, brown eyes turned expectantly on me, blue eyes squinting in the sun while doing the same.
So there we go. We push.?I run inside to get my very own treasure that is […]
So I get up in the morning and dread the day because there’s 10 hours in this house with 2 boys and me. It’s raining outside and the kids are already going balistic.
They eat porridge and the table and hands and faces are full of it. Some lands on the floor. After like, forever, they are done eating and they are cleaned up and go play.
One second later the first cry ensues. Mom, everlasting judge and peacemaker, comes in between the two little cannibals.
We are now 24 minutes into our day.?An eternity awaits us.
I make up my mind to be patient and kind and I open my bible. This seemed to be the signal for the boys to start fighting over a book. My annoyance bubbles up again, from my stomach into my chest up to my throat until it reaches my eyes and the fire spews out at my two little muppets.
Gabri?l is young enough to be vulnerable. He cries at my anger. Abel is old enough to react in anger and his anger is fierce, pushing me away with flickering, angry eyes. I push my bible away because it does not seem to […]
By geust author Gabriel Brignola, age 2 Hi, Toddlers out there!
Do you love the doctor as much as I do? I do so love the doctor! I don’t get why my mom never wants to?take me to him when I hurt my finger or my leg or my toes. I mean, there might not be any?blood or anything, but it still hurts, you know!
Sunday night, I fell down the stairs. It was a massive fall, quite spectacular really. It is still unclear how it happened, we are debating the possibility of my brother pushing me in his exitcement to be first. He gets quite excited about stuff like that.
So anyway. We went to the hospital, and it was awesome. We went to a hospital a little farther away because my uncle works there, he’s with the ambulance. So we went in uncle Nick’s hospital and his doctor and his nurses fixed me up. They all thought I was so cute. Which I am.
I had so much fun there, I wanted to go back. But my mom, for some strange reason, did not want to take me. Not when I stubbed my toe, not when I […]
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