Birthdays and Family Traditions

I accepted a challenge to write a blog post daily for a month, and because today we have a birthday in the house, I decided to write about it.

When it comes to birthdays, we have a few family traditions, like breakfast in bed, a personal date with the birthday child, a breakfast date has become quite popular among the older children these days, and a cake with the family by the end of the day. We did few birthday parties for the ones that have theirs during the summer, but early on I found out that I am not the right person to organise parties. It would end up very chaotic by the end and the child would end up not really enjoying it because their mom was stressed the entire day.

Today my philosophy is, the simpler the better, if the child feels loved and accepted, all efforts are appreciated.

I often laugh at the fact that five of my eight children have birthdays close to each other. Two in December and 3 in January. Springs must have been a busy time at our house few years ago 😊!

Since I became a single mom, I have tried to stick to the traditions, it is not always easy, but I try to take the child on a date and then have a cake with everyone else in the evening.

I do not know if you read my last post about us all having covid now, but that situation made it a little challenging to know what to do for Lucy’s birthday.

Lucy is my youngest child, only few birthdays but almost each of them she has spent either in hospital with asthma issues or at home sick, seems that there is always something happening on her day.

 Becky’s birthday was on Monday, so the moment it ended, Lucy could talk about nothing else but her sixth birthday that was coming up, Tuesday we got our first positive test for covid, and poor Lucy got her positive on Wednesday.

She was so angry: I hate Covid! she said. Why do I always get sick on my birthdays, it is not fair!

I told her I would find a way to do something and then when we are better, we can do our proper date.

Thanks to my amazing neighbours, we had a cake and cupcakes, I was well enough this noon, so I took Lucy on a drive, we went to one of my favourite spots and had one hour for ourselves. We had homemade pizza and fish cakes and she is happy enough

How do you celebrate your children’s birthdays?

Here are the links of little videos I made to register the birthday we had this month.

Judah turned 14! Here it is!

Becky turned 13! My sweet girl.

Lucy turned 6! My forever baby 🙂

The Survival Mode Of a Single-parent

That week was strange, I usually deal with things strangely. I put on a survival mode and keep going.

My child was given a bed in a room that was shared with other kids with various different health conditions, and because there was nothing they could actually do, as there was no psychiatric ward for children in the hospital, the nurses checked on us also CAHMS “ Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service”, was called and they visited my child at the hospital.

Throughout the week I was by their bedside. I have a friend who lives closer to the hospital and let me stay for a few nights as the hospital chair was not very comfortable to sleep in. The hospital put a nurse that sat by my child’s side the whole night, they became friends even. Every morning around 9 am I would arrive and stay with them till about 8 pm.

I usually share my life openly, but what happened was different. It is not something you post on facebook. I felt low, but I had to be strong. I texted a few friends and my  family in Brazil, they checked on us daily through phone calls, texts and prayers. I felt loved.

One friend from Dublin, the moment I told her what was happening, she bought pyjamas, underwear and toiletries supplies and drove up to Drogheda at the hospital, to give them to me. Words can not express the feeling I got from seeing her there and how happy my child was when she saw there was a love gift for her in the bag, with goodies and comfy socks . One night she ordered pizza and got it delivered at the hospital for me and my child. It made us both feel special.

Few friends from Brazil checked on me daily, talking through what would be my action plan to prevent this kind of situation from happening again.

The family that helped me when we had to go in the ambulance, was also there to assist during the week. A Brazilian friend also drove to my house and to the hospital to bring clothes and supplies to us.

Those days when I felt so low, I got to experience the love  and care from my friends, but at the same time it was the first time that I realised that I couldn’t keep going like this, I can’t live far from my support bubble, my situation isn’t so easy, if I had one or two children it would be different, but eight children and a traumatic life story, how am I going to cope?

Your child self-harming or actually killing themselves, aren’t things that you put on your list of things that could happen to you and prepare for it. Not in a million years would I or anyone be prepared for such a thing to happen, so when this happened, I went on an emergency mode. What can I do to prevent this from happening again to this child or to any of my other children?  

The children’s aunt kept me updated on how they were doing throughout the week. She took care of them,did school runs, homework and made sure they were ok. She has been a crucial person in my life since my separation, and now, knowing she was with the kids, allowed me to focus on that particular child in a time they needed.

During our time in Hospital, we had few conversations. I asked my child what would have made them want to end their life? The answer was : I wanted you to see me,mummy! I wanted you to see my pain, I put a face to my pain. 

As a parent, it is hard to accept or admit that a lot of our children’s pains go unnoticed. I knew this child was struggling, I tried to “help” by having long night conversations, allowing them to stay home when school and other places felt overwhelming for them, I had called CAHMS, few months earlier to help us as they were having suicidal thoughts before. My child had already been discharged from their services for over 3 weeks before this had happened, we were told my child was no longer in danger. Now, here we were, if psychiatrists couldn’t have  detected that my child needed urgent help, how could I? 

During the week, the psychiatrist from CAHMs and a Tusla representative came to visit and talk to us about action plans. Overwhelmed is an understatement of how I felt. The options were:

1- Send the child to a friend or family that could care for them on a more one-on-one basis. It was also suggested that I bring someone from my family to be with us for a while to help me, so I would have more time for the kids.

And to that I ask you… 

Would you send your suicidal child to a friend or a family member? Or as a friend, Would you say yes to keeping my child, knowing that some very dark thoughts are going through their brain?

Who could I ask to come?

2- If I chose to bring the child home, the suggestion was : Get a box with a lock, put all the dangerous things that your child could use to self-harm and you keep the keys to the lock around your neck, so you are the only one that has access to it. On the list of things that are dangerous were all my kitchen knives, medicine,scissors and a few other things.

And I asked:

How will I explain to the younger children why I am walking around with a Necklace that has a key on it? 

And what will I do with my anxiety with such responsibility?

By the end of the week, the plan was : The child goes home, YAP – Youth Advocate Program was introduced. Every week, a lady would come and spend some time with the child, take them out on walks and assist them or me in whatever we needed.  I organised someone to come and help me for a few months, and even though I was still so worried about how it would all develop, I was hopeful.

The YAP programme took a few weeks to happen. I decided my child should sleep with me for a while so I could keep an eye and ear during the night. Looking back now, I know I was just surviving, I’m still not sure I did enough, could my child see and feel how much love I have for them? How devastated I was? I felt all of what was going on reflected on my parenting but I didn’t know what to do.

By January we had everything put into place. A good friend from Brazil came and stayed with us for 3 months, she helped me a lot. The YAP program was really helpful too, my child connected well with the Youth Advocate and we saw a lot of improvements on their outlook in life.

I have to say that even though it was a dark time for me spiritually, I can now see that God never left our side. I tried to leave his side,  I was angry, but I never felt He left me, even in the darkest of times.

I have a lot to say, but it has to be filtered. All I share is a little of what actually happened, I still cry thinking about those months but unfortunately life doesn’t always go the way we want and hope for, as I share a bit of what my life has been like since that happening, I hope I will be able to make more sense of it on my own mind and also bless someone who is going through the same.

Since starting those posts I have received quite a lot of private messages of other mothers going through similar situations. Motherhood is hard, but no one can prepare you for the heartache we go through when we see one of our children suffering, the hopeless feeling when you have no idea what to do to stop your child’s pain.

In all of that, I have to say, Covid 19 and lock downs didn’t help, counselling, therapy and other services could only take place over the phone. I’m just so thankful for YAP.

I will stop here for now… but it is to be continued…

When A Hug Is All You Need

The next few hours were intense, the ride to the hospital on the ambulance was long, my child had their eyes closed, and I was answering questions to the paramedics, tears rolled down my face, the COVID mask was making me feel suffocated. 

How did we get here? 

The paramedics were supportive and tried to comfort me by reminding me this kind of incident happens more often than we know. For the last half of the 40 minutes journey, the ambulance was quiet, I could only hear my heavy breathing and felt the tears that wouldn’t stop. 

I touched my child’s hand and thanked God they were alive. 

At the hospital, the treatment was fast, my child was brought to the paediatric ward and put in an isolated room, for the next 5 hours while they were sleeping I had to tell my story over and over to different doctors and nurses. I cried. I shared background stories explaining reasons why that particular child would want to end their life.  

I was thankful when one of the nurses said: “Mom, you need a hug! ” She took me to a different room, hugged me and told me I was in the right place and that everything was going to be okay. 

 I sat on the chair right beside the bed my child was sleeping in, my mind was racing, wondering, “what am I going to do?”  how I was going to pass this stage? How will I help my kids to deal with all the trauma caused by the emotional heartbreaks from the past few years? and now this? What do I do with this situation?

It was 9am and my head started to hurt, my hands were shaking and I was tired. A new doctor came in and started asking more questions. When she noticed how distressed I was telling our story, she sent me to get checked.

“Ms Kinsella, your blood pressure is a little too high, we would like to run a few tests” the gentle doctor told me.

“ What kind of tests?” I was already worried as I was too long away from my child’s side.

“ With the shock you have been through last night, how high your blood pressure is and your head ache, we need to rule out stroke.” She said in a serious but kind tone.”

Very soon after that I had an x-ray and a CT scan and the prognosis thankfully wasn’t a stroke but stress. 

The kind doctor closed the curtains, sat beside me and asked a few questions. As I shared a bit of what we had gone through for the past few years, tears were running down her face, she held my hands and asked if she could give me a hug. We cried together. I’m not sure she will ever know how important that moment was to me.

She gave me her personal phone number and asked me to call or text anytime while I was in hospital with my child. I felt peace for the first time since arriving at that hospital. I went back up, and for that day I think I talked to over 5  different doctors and the same amount of nurses.

Before the end of the day, the kids were safe at home with their aunt and I was aware that this was going to be a long week in hospital.

To be continued…

If you missed the beginning of the story , here it is : When Being Alone Hits Home

When being Alone Hits Home

*Trigger Warning : Mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts.*

Tuesday, November 16th

We had a good day.

It had been a hard few weeks. The past few days had been intense; a precious kitten had died and we had a few important things happen during the weekend. But this Tuesday was a good day. I was even surprised during the day, when, on my grocery shopping trip I received a message from my child saying, “I had a good day, Mom! I learned how to play a new song and I enjoyed my day. I’m happy!”

For a parent, when you know your child has been through hard times and often struggles to remain positive, it is such a relief to read or hear the words, “I’m happy today, Mom!”

I usually have my phone on silent, and this night was no different. I went to bed around midnight, and everything seemed normal. 

Buzz, buzz.

I was awakened by the sound of my phone vibrating by my bedside. Before I answered it I looked at the clock. It was 3 AM. Who would call at this time? So many thoughts went through my mind. In the past when receiving late phone calls, it was often bad news from my family in Brazil, but this time it was an Irish number.

I got up quickly and answered. “Hello,” I said, still a bit sleepy.

“Is that Ms. Kinsella?” a male voice on the other side of the phone asked gently.

“Yes, this is she,” I answered, already expecting something terrible to have happened. 

“Ms. Kinsella, this is the emergency department, your child has contacted the help line, and they are on the phone with us. They are locked in the bathroom and trying to harm themselves. Please, go to them and stay close till we arrive, we will be there in a few minutes.”

My heart started to beat so fast. I quickly ran downstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. 

“Please, open the door,” I asked, trying to be as calm as possible.

“No, I won’t open it till they arrive.”

I cannot describe how I felt at that moment. Not only was my child trying to end their life, but they also did not want to talk to me. 

“I will stay here till they arrive, please don’t hurt yourself. We love you!” I said with a crack in my voice, trying to control myself.

With all that they had gone through, I would never judge them for feeling so low and I was proud that they called for help.

I could hear their phone on loudspeaker. They were talking to the person from the helpline and he was being kind to them, saying he would stay on the line till the ambulance arrived and asking them to throw away the pills and scissors.

My heart was racing. At this point their whole life was flashing through my mind. I remembered finding out I was pregnant, when they started walking, their joyful laughs and how happy they always made everyone feel. How did it come to this? Oh God, please help my child.

A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived and not long after the police came too. Some questions were asked and answered. The paramedics told me my child would have to be brought to the hospital as they were very distressed and they could try to self harm again. 

“Ms. Kinsella, do you have anyone you can call to come stay with the kids for you to go to the hospital with your child?

It was 4 AM, I didn’t know who to call. This was my first time realising how alone I was. Oh Lord, how am I going to do this? Who will mind the kids? What if this happens again?

My mind raced, feeling terrible at the thought of waking up friends to come stay with my kids. I know it is pride, but I feel terrible to ask people for help when I know all of us have things to deal with.

I swallowed my pride and called my friends that lived 20 minutes away.

“Sorry to bother you at this time, but I need your help,” I said, already crying and shaking. 

“I will be there as fast as I can,” he answered.

His family had been very supportive of me, when I decided to move back to Co. Monaghan, and I knew I could count on them, but what if I needed more help? What if something worse happened?

At that time I also tried to call a family relative who has always been there for me and the kids. Of course, it was during the night and she only got my message in the early morning. She lived 5 hours away but the moment she got the message and missed calls she was on her way to be with the children. My friend helped the kids to school and arranged things. It was a tremendous help to know my children were being cared for while I was in hospital.

To be continued…

Less Judgement, More Love!

The other day I was thinking about this blog and its name. A single mom’s saga, as it is ,I often get told some of the posts are a bit down or maybe a little too honest. 

It is hard for some people to understand why I would want to share my life so openly, and I find it difficult to understand how people can keep so much in.  I share what I find can be helpful to others, if my blog makes you feel uncomfortable, maybe this blog isn’t for you. When I started this project, I wanted it to be geared specifically for single mothers.

As much as we would love to think that all women should understand each other, it is difficult to understand a circumstance you have never experienced.

The saga of a mother is similar to most mothers, but the saga of a single mother is different.

“A single parent is a parent who lives alone with their children and is responsible for their day-to-day upbringing and well being.” 

And that, can be receiving or not maintenance, parenting support, breaks, etc. 

“Joint custody involves a sharing of parental responsibility for the child.”

That is a bit different from a single parent, because the other spouse will be there even if not in the same house, you have an emergency, the child get’s sick or you are stuck in something, you know you have an extra support.

I have heard many married people say, ” I’m like a single parent, I do it all.” But you can still call your husband/wife and say that, or you can tell him/her you are taking a break with friends, if a child is going through issues, you talk through with your spouse and talk to the child together.

I’m not judging situations and somehow making one worse than other, but they are very different circumstances.

I don’t want to get technical; I know single moms and dads that share custody with their exes, and it is still not easy, but not the same as doing it solo, in fact it is sometimes harder to co parent while separated or divorced than doing it alone.

There are many different cases that we should consider when deciding to point to a single parent

• He/she might be single by choice and decided to raise the child on their own.
• Spouse Death.
• Domestic Abuse
• Abandonment.
• Some might experience almost all of those at a time.

A short post like this, is to remind us that we all are in this messed up world together, and whether you are happily married and raising your kids with your spouse, married but not happily and don’t get help from your partner, or you landed in a not ideal situation where you find yourself doing it all on your own: 

Let’s not judge one another, but instead let us reach out to those in need.

I don’t know where I would be if had I not received help from friends and family, I can say that, for now and for when I was “happily married”. 

The thing is, no one wants to be in those circumstances, one should not have to share their whole story to stop others from judging them for being a single parent. 
Single or not, no matter how you got there, we all want the same, to be accepted in society and be treated with respect.

Let it start with you!

Dealing with our Baggage

Once a friend told me that it would be very hard to have another relationship because who would be willing to take on our baggage? In that conversation he was talking about our kids. 

For those who know me, especially those close to me, would know that if I have something to say I will say it and maybe regret doing so later,(that can be tiresome for some people) and in this conversation I felt quite passionate.

 I had been separated just about a year and inside me the thought of my kids being called baggage, which usually is used for something negative, didn’t sit right with me. So, I said my piece, If one day, I’m blessed to meet someone who will love me, I will come with the baggage, but the baggage isn’t my kids! The children will be the bonus, and only someone who truly loves me will be able to see that. 

Pass forward to a year later from that conversation, I believe that more than ever. 

Since my separation I have been into this journey inside myself, trying to find the person once lost, and become someone who I can love, you read it right, I want to learn to truly love myself, have compassion on myself the same way I do for others. I need to love me to be able to love others, forgive myself like I do for others. 

Finding out I’m a co-dependent, people pleaser, love and attention seeker, has caused an impact on me, it is not nice to be aware of the behaviours that could once again cause me a lot of pain, so I observe and try to protect myself from myself and along the way from getting hurt again.
Back to the baggage, those are mine! 

 My children are the blessings that came out of love, and even though circumstances have changed, the love I felt when I found out about being pregnant or the first time, I saw each of them, the joy that I had in my heart then, has not changed. They are no baggage!  Yes, they have been hurt, and they have a baggage of their own that they will have to deal with for the rest of their lives, but they are amazing human beings, and I will never want to be with anyone who thinks otherwise. 

Today is Mother’s Day in Ireland, and I confess that since my separation, significant days as such aren’t really something I enjoy. 

For the past few years, I have become melancholic, a bit cynical and because of my “baggage” I struggle with a lot of deep emotions. I know these emotions and feelings aren’t going to go away suddenly, but I need to try to make sense of all that has happened and is happening in my life.

Today is a new day to try, yesterday was a day to let go of something, tomorrow is a day to welcome something new, every day is a learning process. 

For years, I wanted to be celebrated on Mother’s Day, many years I wanted my husband, children, friends and family to acknowledge my hard work as a mother. I tried my best and wanted to be recognised. Not sure why I needed so much affirmation, but today I see it differently, I’m not just a blessing of a mother I am blessed to be a mother. My children aren’t just blessed to have me, I’m blessed to have them. 

Sometimes I can feel lonely and a bit down considering all that is yet to unfold in my life, while thinking of each of my children and all that will unfold in their lives. It is overwhelming to consider everything, but this is also part of the process. No one has it easy, some have it easier, but we all have our battles and that is mine to fight, with or without someone else in my life.

To all the Mothers trying to do it solo, for those who are doing it with their husbands, those who have the support of family and friends, no matter how you are doing it, remember : You are blessed to be a mother , it is a gift that was given to us so let us do our best and maybe one day we will see the fruits of our hard work.

Whatever comes my way!

I woke up with a strange feeling. It was almost like I already knew my day was not going to be a good one.

My nose felt colder than usual, not sure how it is where you live, but in Ireland January is a damp and cold month, of course it doesn’t help if you run out of heating fuel and that is exactly what happened on that cold monday morning. 

I woke up thinking of how our school day was going to develop through the day. In the past, homeschooling was my passion, why do I dread it so much these days? Thoughts of the past and of the now rushed through my mind, and my cold nose started bothering me. Pandemic, Lockdown, not able to see dear ones face to face, being limited to where I can go and who I can see, thoughts of loneliness usually go through my mind during my wakeup times. And that cold monday morning was no different.

Ugh, it is 7am, too early to call the oil company, almost late to get up and start my day, but the thought of walking down stairs in that cold, dark morning, wasn’t convincing me to do it. 

8am, this is it, I better get up, I listen to a song a friend sent and things seem a little brighter. If there is one thing I struggle with is a cold house, it seems like there is nothing we can do to warm up.

I called the oil company and they were efficient, told me they would try to be here as soon as possible, mind you, this company knows they are dealing with a single mom of 8, as my son would say: Use the single mom with 8 kids card only when extremely necessary, I think being in a freezing house during one of the coldest days in the year, was a good enough situation for that card, right?

As I wait for the oil to arrive, we homeschool, that uneasy feeling still bothering me, school was going well enough, children were up, I made a nice warm porridge  for those who wanted that, other had eggs and we were on a good enough track, but the feeling wouldn’t leave.

The oil arrived and I went out to talk and ask why we ran out of oil so fast, I had filled it just a month ago, when I was out there I saw the sewage, OMG!! I don’t think I ever saw an overflowing sewage before, gross is the best word I can describe what I saw. Thankfully, my landlady and husband came to our rescue and before lunch we had heat in the house and the sewage problem fixed.

More things happened during the day, issues with the children and personal self realisations. I can honestly say that I felt like a huge wave was crushing down on me, there were many tears shed that Monday. I’m thankful I have friends I can lean on. Sometimes having a listening ear helps tremendously, prayers were lifted but another day was over and when Tuesday came I knew this was a new day,the pain suffered on monday didn’t need to upset me on tuesday.  Let each day bring its own battles. 

When days like these happen I question a lot, self pity, victimising myself in my own thoughts is a practice that I try to avoid at all cost, it brings me no gain.

The best I can do is look at others that have endured things that are by far much harder to deal with than my daily issues, not saying my life’s troubles aren’t valid or enough to upset me, but I am saying that even though all of it hurts and it is hard to live with some of my struggles, when I consider others struggles or even if I consider where I was at 1 year ago, it helps me to be thankful that in many ways my situation has improved, and even though it is far from settled and stress free, this journey isn’t over, there will be ups and downs, but today I choose to take what comes my way, tears or not, I’m ready!

The Day I laughed at Myself

Can you laugh at yourself? Have you ever done something that should normally make you upset but instead you were able to  laugh at it?

It happened to me this week, whoever knows me well, Knows when I say that something I used to be able to do, was to laugh at myself. 

For the past 2 years things got a bit intense and I was finding it difficult to laugh at anything I did, I mean I laugh and smile all the time, but I think it is more like a cynical way to actually judge my own situation, like to say: What’s next? 

Few days ago myself and my little girls decided to have a girly night, I did their nails, brushed our hairs and it was lovely. 

I had a moment where I felt at peace, like really enjoying the moment, I don’t know when I last  felt that way. I love my children, but for the past few years, so much has happened that I have  been dragging myself, trying and  trying but nothing really seemed enjoyable, until it happened, I felt that ,at that moment there was nothing else I rather be doing.

Anyway, I’m getting side tracked here. After that lovely moment, I went to the bathroom to get my night routine done and saw that my hair needed a bit of attention. I have been struggling with hair loss, but not with hair growth. Not sure I understand that, but my hair was super long. I had a clever not so clever thought : Why don’t I copy that girl that I follow on Instagram and cut my own hair? She did it and worked!  I think this quarantine is making me bold! 

I had my nice shower and when my hair was brushed and wet, I got one of the kid’s school scissors, a comb and was set to go. First I did exactly what she showed on the videos and the ends of my hair were gone in 2 seconds, it actually worked!! The back of my hair looks super healthy now, I should have stopped there, it would be one successful story, but of course I had to keep going, I felt  I had just discovered my new career : A hairdresser!

I looked at my fringe and it looked like it could do with a little trim, and here I was the brand new hairdresser ready to chop it off. I pressed my wet fringe down and with the small school scissors cut it in one go! As soon as I got my hand off, stopping the pressure,my hair seemed to have shrunk, oh no!! What did I do? Was my first thought.. Then I started laughing, really hard… it was such a nice moment, laughing at myself, at my stupid looking hair, and I even laughed at the fact that it will grow before I even get to see anyone, I felt confident, for the first time in my life, or should I say, that I can remember, I truly didn’t worry about what people would say or think, I was glad to be an adult that feels content to be me, with my many flaws, who learned through hardships where my values lay.

It brought me back to my younger self, growing up in Brazil and how even in church we had to worry about wearing the right clothes, hair and attitude. Now, I’m not saying I will go around doing silly stuff just because I can, I don’t really like making mistakes and ruining my hair, but the fact that I can laugh at it and not worry about what people think or say about it, makes me feel so grown up.

My friend, if you are reading this, my advice to you is to let go of what is holding you back to enjoy simple moments in life. Stop waiting for something amazing to happen while many little joyful moments pass by without being noticed.

 I felt joy playing with my girls and I laughed at myself and that was one of the best days I have had in a long time, being home with myself.

This is the end result of a bad hair cut that made me laugh like a child.

When I told a friend in South Africa about the happening she sent me this video and I laughed all over again.

The Becoming of a Codependent

“Mommy, why are you crying?” asked the little girl with tears rolling down her face. She was so sad to see her mom crying, wondering what could be done to help her. She sat on her mother’s bed, held her hands and cried.

“Please, don’t cry!” said her mother. “When you cry, Mommy feels worse. I like seeing you smile. Tell me a story, what did you do today?”

The girl, who was only 6 years old, wiped her tears from her eyes, smiled a little and started talking about her day. She sat there telling everything that came to her mind. It didn’t take long for her mom to smile and things felt better.

That episode became a routine, and for years that is what the girl did to make her mom feel better; a smile and a long conversation. Many times she would hide behind the door not letting her mother know that she was there. While hiding she could hear her mother cry. Not a normal cry like many of us do. It was a cry for help, but what could a 6-year-old child do?

“God, please help my mom. Help her to stop feeling so sad,” she prayed, and she cried while hiding there. “Please God, don’t let me be like my mom when I grow up.”

That prayer was said many times, and while she trusted God would answer it, she also used tools to encourage her mother. She smiled and talked. The little girl learned very early on that a smile goes a long way. That no matter how she felt, if she smiled someone else’s world would be a better place. There was no reason for anyone to know or feel what she was going through. As long as she smiled someone would be happy even if it was never her.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Codependency

A cup of coffee for my head

What is it like to be stuck in the house with 8 active, inquisitive, and sometimes “annoying” children? I get asked that question often, and friends send me sympathy messages like, I am praying for you, or you are my hero… things the sort.

When I get those messages, what comes to mind is, my friend, you have no idea what you are talking about!

Here is the thing, do not get me wrong. All of us moms have challenges; as mothers of 1 or 10 children, each one of us could sit and tell an endless number of stories of how many challenges and joys we have daily in this process of quarantine. I am not trying to make it sound like my life is somehow more difficult than yours; comparing should never be something that mothers should do; we are to encourage each other in this crazy motherhood journey. My friends have taught me so much; they have one or two children. Having 8 children does not make me an expert at anything, but when I think, “ You have no idea what my life is like”, it is because 1 and 8 are pretty different numbers, which is the reality. I appreciate the prayers so much; thank you!

I have 4 stages of childhood around here. Two teens, two pre-teens, two getting there, and two on the pre-school age. The dynamics are intense, and sometimes I fail! Big-time fails.

I want to share an incident that happened last week; mind you, it has been over 5 weeks that we have been home on quarantine, my 8 children and me. By this stage, we are bored, frustrated, and tired.

It was Thursday evening, we had finished dinner, and the children were being loud; I had already asked them to start getting ready for bed; the teens had a screaming meltdown earlier that day, so by this stage, a lot of us were frustrated. So I started cleaning the kitchen when I heard the youngest crying and the others coming shouting: Mommy!! They hurt her, so and so did this and this…

It is tough to even begin to explain what this kind of scenario does to my brain; I had been hearing fights and crying the whole day, and by 7pm, when I heard crying and everyone shouting, I went a little crazy. I shouted louder! I took the children involved in the incident and screamed at them: I told you to stop; I asked you the entire day, why do you not listen to me? I am not going to share all that I said and how the whole situation for the 3 minutes it lasted, but my kids were shocked by my reaction, and so was I.

When things were quieter, and I got to tend to the hurt child and realised it was an accident, my friends, I was that thoughtless, first went to get the ones who hurt the little one instead of tending to the hurt child, who does that??? I did, a tired and overwhelmed mother! Things improved; I apologised, and we cried and prayed together, but even though all seemed ok, I went to bed with a heavy heart; I felt lonely and like a failure. I asked God to help me be a better mom and to protect my family and my mind so I can be the mother He wants me to be. I fell asleep after a good sob.

In the morning, I woke up tired, more tired than usual; it was like a tractor had gone through my body or that I was bitten up during the whole night, I had a shower, and it got worse, and my eyes were sore. Sarah, my baby number 5, told me to go back to bed, and she made breakfast for me; I said I did not need coffee; I like making my own as I can be fussy about my coffee. She made a beautiful omelette; I was so thankful and felt unworthy because of the previous night.

As soon as I finished my breakfast and was going to return to sleep (it was already 11am,) I got a message from one of the children’s teacher, who has become more of a friend since this quarantine started; she lives down the road from me, the message read: “Hey, are you home? I would like to bring something to you.” My first thought was that she had some school stuff, so I texted back and told her I was not feeling the best and was trying to rest. She replied, I am sorry you are feeling poorly l; II was making some Latte for myself and made one for you too, so I thought of dropping it off.

Now, pause and think of how I felt when I read that message…

Guys, Lattes are my favourite kind of coffee. I felt so blessed at that very moment. It was like God told me: “Yes, you blew up last night, but I still love you and care enough to even give you your favourite kind of coffee.” I am crying right now, even thinking of it; it seems silly. He does so many other massive things in my life, real miracles… but somehow, this little blessing made such a difference.
She dropped the coffee and a little note thanking me for all the work I do with the kids and saying that she could imagine how hard it must be for me to do this on my own.

More blessings happened that day; more friends were involved in being God’s hand in my life; I felt him saying:

No matter what happened yesterday or will happen tomorrow, my love for you will never change, and I care for you more than you can comprehend, and yes, I care that you get precisely what you wish for if that is exactly what you need even if it is just a cup of coffee.