T-4 Days

It has been a wild 24 hours for the Vercollone family!! 

 

What was supposed to be a very memorable last home game of the season for Luke, highlighted by the kids and I staying to watch the whole game {we usually leave at half time} and even going out with the team afterward, was cut short when Augustine caught a bleacher with his head 20 minutes into the game and ended up in the ER getting staples in his head.  He did spectacular at the hospital, not crying even once as they washed his laceration and put in the staples.  If anything, he was high on life, due to one of my girlfriends handing him a bag of Skittles as I buckled him in his carseat to head to the hospital {she knows the way to his heart!}.  He talked the whole way to the ER and even sang his ABC's as we waited for the doctor, qualming all my fears of sustained brain damage due to the fall. :) 

Waiting for a room at the ER, wearing his "hat."

 

Meanwhile, back at the pitch, Luke's team lost 3-2 in the last minute of stoppage time.  It was a huge disappointment for us because, since they lost, that was Luke's last game of the season--and possibly his last pro game ever.  I wanted to make it special for him, and I knew it would mean the world to him to have all three of us there for the whole game and for the kids to be able to go out on the field with him afterward.  Of course, when I planned this in my head, they would be greeting him on the field to celebrate a victory...not a dramatic, season ending loss.  And, of course, we weren't there at all, so that plan was entirely unsuccessful.  We will have to see what God has planned regarding Luke's soccer playing career--hopefully he will get some training in with the Colorado Rapids when we move.

One of the only pictures I got at the game.  Just before Luke took the field, Augustine ran in for a good luck hug!

 

By the time we were finished at the ER, Luke was on his way home from the game.  After our first order of business--Luke getting some special time with our wounded solider and tucking the kiddos into bed--we walked downstairs, and the first words out of Luke's mouth were,

"So, do you want to leave Thursday?" 

 

Leave, as in move across the country.

Thursday, as in four days from today.  

 

I said, "Ok." 

 

We spent the next half hour returning phone calls to our respective family members, reassuring them that Aguustine was doing just fine and hesitantly sharing the news about our earlier-than-planned departure from Virginia.  

 

I knew our last days in our first home would be tough ones emotionally, and I didn't expect them to be here this soon.  On the bright side, I won't have too much time to dwell on the sad stuff because I have a house to finish packing and cleaning--in FOUR days!! 

 

Sitting in Mass this morning, it crossed my mind that next Sunday we will be attending church with two of my sisters and their families and my Dad.  It seems surreal that our life will change so much in this next week.

 

I am excited and scared {for the drive} and sad...but mostly excited.

 

Fyi, if you ever have to move from the home you brought your babies home to, do not pack up your first born's bedroom while listening to counrty music--unless you like to cry like a baby.    

Just Need to Write

Today I feel like I need to spend some time putting the mess going on in my head into words.  Too often my unspoken thoughts, left to their own devices, are warped into a destructive way of thinking.  Stuck inside my head without anyone to challenge them, they convince me that I am a horrible mom and wife, and even more pathetically, that the crosses in my life warrant a pity party.  There is some truth to the former--I fall short as a wife and mom, a lot.  But there are also times that I feel I am living out my vocation well, which helps give me some perspective when it feels like I am doing nothing right.  How I can feel so sorry for myself at times, however, is less understandable.  And it is embarrassing.  When the biggest upset in my day is my two year old disobeying or taking his sister's toys, I do not have big problems.  All it takes is a minute of looking outside myself to see how blessed I am--challenges and all. 

Why, oh why am I so dang selfish? 

I try to begin each day by offering it to the Lord--I offer Him my thoughts, words, and actions, my joys and my sorrows, trials and tribulations, successes and failures.  And my prayers.  But often times I want to kick myself half way through the day when I realize that I have not, in fact, truly offered those things to the Lord. 

Because if I had, then I wouldn't feel so alone in my trials and tribulations.  I would know that my God was right there with me helping me in the very moments that I need Him most and offering me all the grace I need for each and every moment of my day. 

That moment between an offending action and my reacting to it is a challenge for me many, many times throughout the day.  For some people {like my husband}, that moment passes easily and right action is made consistently without any conscious thought.  At different points in my life, I have been closer to achieving that ideal, but now is not one of them.  I am not proud about it, but I am not in the habit of reacting well when things don't go my way.  When I am tired or hungry or proud or just plain irritable, I let that moment ride the wave of my spontaneous emotion without taking the extra second or two to reign in my impulses and think about the best way to act before reacting. 

Sometimes I feel like the harder I try to work on this, the harder I fall.  I really think the Devil has it out for us moms {and wives} sometimes.  He has a million opportunities a day to try to distract us from our mission to nurture and protect our children and their sweet souls.  Maybe it's just this time of the year, but a lot of my Mom friends seem to be struggling right now.  Struggling with feelings of inadequacy and defeat and being exhausted by the antics of their oh-so-cute, yet oh-so-stubborn children.  Struggling with the feeling that everything I do--every word I utter, every embrace I offer, every smile I extend, every tickle I give...every temper I lose, every tv show I allow, every tear I {and my child} shed is going to effect my child. 

In a profound way. 

FOREVER. 

I have a feeling we are harder on ourselves than our children are, but feeling responsible for the eternal livelihood of our children is a heavy weight to bear. 

Yet, when I take that minute to think clearly, I realize that as prevalent as those feelings are, the simple answer is always turning toward the Lord.  {It's simple but not easy, and I am much better about talking about doing it than actually doing it}.

Tonight {really tomorrow morning by the time he gets home from the airport}, my husband is returning from a week long trip out of the country.  The only communication we have had is via Skype with a less than perfect connection.  Calls are dropped, faces are fuzzy, voices are muffled.  Let's face it, I am tired.  I am very tired.  I love my kids with all my heart, but I can tell by the way that I am reacting to things--little things--that it is beyond time for my sweet husband to return.  Thank God it's the last day of his trip because I am a weepy mess.  I am yelling one minute, cuddling the next.  Augustine is probably very confused, especially since I cry when I am happy and sad.  Poor kid.  Thank you, friends, for listening to this cathartic, if not incoherant, rambling.