House of A Writer

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Theft  

I’ve put my heart and soul into the words I write. I have spoken and written the truth. It’s the way I live my life, and it’s what I teach my children. But what if I’m asked “Mommy are we going to be ok?” Are we going to find Daddy? How do I answer that when I don’t really know, I’m honest, truthful, as I’ve just said but not this time. The theft of my conscience in that moment rocked me to my core. 

It started out as a wonderful night of my husband and I surprising our kids. We were going into the city and going to see our first live Lacrosse game. We drove to the train station and started on our journey. My youngest son loves trains, and we’ve watched Thomas on Netflix on a continuous loop. To say he was excited is the understatement of the year. We started out on our train ride while talking about the sights we were seeing before us. 

Half way to our destination we found out the train route was being redirected and we would have to take the bus. So we went from excitement to a new change, which my youngest son doesn’t deal well with it at all. We boarded a very busy bus and sat in our seats. I sat behind the bus driver and my son got really upset because I sat in his seat. I picked him up and set him on my knee, which caused him to really panic. As he was freaking out and flailing in my arms, my husband stood up and I moved him back to his seat. 

Everything was under control as I checked in with my oldest son who has problems with being in close proximity to people in crowds. He was coping the best he could, because he could see his brother was struggling. Then I hear a woman talking she says “I wouldn’t have let him have the seat. I did that before and it ending badly.” I looked at her surprised she was even talking to me that’s when the theft of my patience happened. I said “he has autism, back off!” She replied that her son had it too.

 I had to stay my tongue even though I was boiling inside. I wanted to say “bitch you take care of your own backyard, and stay out of mine!” But I grumbled to my husband while the ignorant woman’s daughter listened to my every word. We finally reached our destination and the weather was bitterly cold so we ran to the arena. I was very relieved to find our seats and to sit down and wait for the festivities to start. The game was very exciting, action packed, and loud. By the third quarter my son’s were done. So we packed up to leave and started out for the train. It was getting ready to leave so my husband said jump on with the kids, so we did just that. He stayed at the ticket booth and we sat down to wait for him. 

The theft of my heart crushed me as I watched the doors close behind me. I tried to open them but the train was moving and the button wouldn’t engage. I sat with my son’s as they began to cry and wail for their Daddy. My own heart was breaking with their pain and anguish. I held them and tried to calm their fears and still my own. We had to get off the train and a woman was telling me instructions on what train to catch. I got out and waited for my husband and after 15 minutes he hadn’t shown up. My oldest began to cry so I hugged him, then my youngest wanted to be held. There was two security guards nearby and they asked how they could help. 

I told them of our situation and they radioed security at the last station with my husband’s description. We waited inside the bus terminal and then a man got the hackles on my neck rising up. So I went outside to stand with the security guards. The one was a wonderful British man who started talking to my son’s about sports. He was giving them a great distraction and me the tired Mama, a break. He got the call back and they couldn’t find my husband, so I made the decision to take the train home. 

I had told my son’s I wouldn’t leave the city without their Dad. But it was getting late and colder and I believed this was the best decision. When I’ve been lost before I’ve always remembered that if you go back to your original destination, that’s where you’ll find your beginning. As we boarded the train I silently thanked God for protecting us and held my son’s closer. What is it about the late nights that bring the creepy people out?!! Ugh creepy guy at 1:00, as my Mama bear is on high alert. My oldest is squeezing my hand so tight my knuckles are turning white. Yet I don’t say anything but “I’ve got this son, we’ll find your Dad and I have friends that live by the train station.”

He seemed to relax a little knowing that so we start counting the stops and coming up with rhymes. I’m doing my best to occupy his mind as his little brother is loving being on the train. We finally arrive at our destination and see my husband walking towards us. My heart skips a beat and I see him smile with relief. Our son’s run to him and I almost collapse with relief!  We get to our truck, warm up my seat and head home. Hoping that I will never have to go through that theft of loss again. 

This has been my Sunday confession with www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her anonymous confessions on her Facebook page. As well as all the other talent who link up. Thank you for popping by. ?

  

  

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Mama bear needs a break

Oh how I love my children, the sound of their laughter makes my heart do flip flops with delight. Seeing my oldest reading to his little brother tugs at my heart strings, and I’m so grateful for the love they share. I also love those tight cub hugs, and the I love you’s whispered in the dark, when I’m curled up with them for prayer time. What I don’t love is how messy they’ve been lately. I don’t just mean toys scattered everywhere, or boots, coats, and snow pants thrown on the floor. I mean how I’m treated like Mom the maid. I literally did a major clean on my house yesterday, I pulled out couches and chairs, vacuumed, mopped, and folded and put away laundry. If you’ve been reading my blog you’ll know that laundry is my nemesis and me and Mount washer are well acquainted. ?When the Captain got home from hockey practice I literally went behind him and picked up his coat and hung it up, put his boots on the boot rack, made his bed, cleaned up his clothes after his shower, and the cupcake icing disaster in my kitchen. I thought to myself I’m his Mom, and I love him but when did I become his maid? So I told him how I felt and he apologized. Which I’m grateful for, but what am I teaching him by constantly cleaning up after him? I seriously don’t think in this day and age he’s going to find a wife that does that for him. I didn’t find a husband that does that for me!!! And no, I won’t be bitching about my hubby doesn’t do anything for me. Because it’s not true, he does when I’m overwhelmed or sick. He also works 40 + hours a week so I can be home and we take turns making dinner. He’s going to win Dad of the year, because of the kick ass skating rink he’s building in the back yard for our sons. I’ll be cheering them on from the hot tub as he teaches our youngest how to skate. I’m the stay at home Mom so it’s all part of my job description to do the housework. And I’ve always believed there’s a reason why they call it work. I don’t remember signing up for that duty, but that’s what I get with the luxury of staying home and raising my children. I also work from home as a transcriptionist, so there’s keeping on top of my assignments, running my household, hockey Mom duties, and killing monsters under the bed. Which luckily are only dust bunnies, because this Mama bear would be roaring if it was a real deal. I work hard at what I do and my rewards and accolades come from you my lovely readers. The fact that you check in and read and comment about my musings means so much to me. I once had a friend ask me why blogging was so important to me, especially since it’s not a paying gig. My response was sure money’s awesome, but respect is my level of currency. So I’m going to take my advice and start respecting myself and stop letting my kids treat me like their maid. They do have chores and responsibilities that are age appropriate for them. In the hustle and bustle of our life they just got used to me picking up the slack. Well this Mama bear needs a break, and my cubs are just going to have to fall into line. So on that note I’ll be enjoying a bubble bath to rest my aching back, wine to take the edge off, and a good book to dive into. And no one better bother me unless the house is burning down. Because we all know what happens when you poke the angry bear with a sharp stick.

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