Anthony went to Little Star yesterday, which is a good thing, since the girls were home because of MLK day AND they all are in some stage of strep throat, so it was especially rough. He was up super late last night and maybe that's why but he was crazeballs this morning. I always pray that he gets to school safe because it's so WRETCHED right before he leaves. I don't know if he doesn't want to go, or if he DOES want to go, but either way he is wound up so tightly that he can barely get out of the door. He wants to drop to the ground, not put his shoes on, kick me when he is putting his shoes on, pull my hair when I am putting him in his seat, get right OUT of his seat, all the while laughing maniacally.
He had a good weekend, and he's been doing really well with potty training - I mean, he's had problems here and there but overall it's been good. Somehow I think that his accidents are related to having a seizure, he seems to be really bad after having one for a few weeks. On Friday he went to a bounce place with Christina, Saturday they had a great time, she said, at the drumming place and then they ate at Panera and because it was warm out they got to go to the canal. It's just the weeks that seem problematic, the time that he spends with us.
We have been doing respite care for almost six months now and in many ways it's so good and in some ways it's kind of not that good. I think Christina is great and I think Anthony thinks that too but I feel bad because I feel like we are getting in the habit of being happy when Anthony is with Christina and sad and tense when he is here. I feel like my only interactions with him are him kicking me or pulling my hair and me getting so mad, despite my best intentions. I pray every day that I have enough patience to not just deal with these people, but love them, to be a loving and good mother and every day, several times a day, I fail spectacularly. Someone is always sick and someone is always crying and whining at me and then when someone else kicks me or splashes every bit of water in the tub all over the bathroom, I just can't take it. I mean, obviously I can but it's awful to be so on edge.
Yesterday on Facebook, a friend of mine was humble-bragging about how happy his infant daughter is. A friend of his told him that "they're mirrors", meaning kids only reflect back what they see in their parents and I thought well, crap. This is a thought I have a lot about parenthood, well, crap. I try and think, have I been miserable from the beginning and that causes him to be miserable? I mean, I was pretty miserable but I don't think it was - I mean, I don't think anyone would say about me "boy that Joanne is a misery!", prior to having someone screaming in my face all day. I don't know. I just want to be happier, and I want Anthony to be happy or if not HAPPY then just not screaming and crying. Not kicking me. Christina gives him his medicine and she walks up to him and he opens his mouth and takes it. This morning, Mike tried to give him his medicine and he reared back and was kicking and I had to hold his hands and then he just opens his mouth at some point and takes it but like Mike always says to him, why do we have to go through all this every time if you are just going to take it anyway? Then I feel like it sets kind of a crazy tone for the rest of the morning, with lots of laughing and kicking and yelling. I don't know what to do but I would like to know.
Anyways I have to go because Veronica is home sick and I have to play Chess with her. PS neither of us know how to play.