I've been a little stressed and cranky this week for various reasons, including my inability to afford those little hormone pills anymore, and I've been hurting worse than usual for similar reasons. So, by the end of the day I'm often completely wiped out.
Such was the case Monday night. When it came time to put the kids to bed, I was half-dead, and they were wound up. My painkiller was fading in/out between doses, and although I knew it was only a matter of time before I felt better, this was the time I was dealing with.
So after some struggle to get the boys to calm down for prayers and lullabyes, I was about this far from smacking someone, and that wasn't going to be OK. On impulse, I said to Pirate Boy, "Would you like a hug?" He stopped bouncing on the bed and looked at me intently. "Do you need a hug, Mama?" "Oh yes, baby, I do," I quavered.
As Pirate Boy plopped on my lap and squeezed me, a little voice reached my ears. Punkin was playing on the floor with some plastic people, and he was saying, "Are you all right, sweetheart? Is everything OK?" Puzzled, I asked who he was talking to. His response? "You, sweetie. Are you all right?" "Yes, baby, I'm fine now."