Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Ouch, my boob hurts!

I find myself talking and answering myself all the time any more.  It's not because I'm lonely, no - not at all.  It's because I make myself laugh.  It seems that too many people are so busy and serious these days.  My dear friends and blog readers, have you noticed this?  I certainly hope that you're not one of these petrified pieces of wood sitting across from me in traffic.  If so, something needs to be done to jump start your heart, get your blood pumping, tickle your funny bone.  Let's get giggling, shall we?

I'm the first to admit there are many days when all I want to do is shut my door from my screaming, cursing, autistic, teenage, mutant, unshaven beasts; however, when I do I have three options: I can either sleep, cry, or laugh.  I love to sleep but often cheat and use aides so when I eventually wake up, I'm a groggy monster and no one appreciates me for days.  When I cry, I hyperventilate and vomit so I seriously dread that choice.  My final option is to make the best of things, find something absolutely ridiculous about the situation, and laugh my ass off.

Before Austynn came to live with my husband and I, while William was still our foster son, we were mandated by the court to have family visits between the birth siblings. There are quite a few biological children within Austynn and William's family and we were always having them meet for birthdays and such when we lived in California. 

Austynn was living within a group home, there was a third brother adopted with a large family, and a baby sister adopted by a young couple.  Everyone was over at our townhouse for a pool party.  Austy, at the time, was five years old and physically combative.  He was in the pool, his supervisor was unfamiliar with his anger management issues, and he refused to get out of the water.  It took two bites (one on Eric's arm, one on his brother's dad's arm) and one extremely hard nipple tug (uh hmm, yours truly) to manage to get him out of the pool.  All we could do was laugh.  One year later, Eric and I signed his adoption paperwork.

Life.  It's all we can do.  Laugh or cry.  We take it on.  God gives us what he thinks we can manage.  Eric and I knew what we were in for.  Sometimes, on those really tough days with Austynn, I swear I think my boob is being tugged on and I find myself laughing.  Motherhood, right?