No clue what to write here.
This last weekend was Ike's baptism. What a circus. He felt terribly sick the day of and was in tears while everyone else was listening to lovely prelude music in the other room. He had thrown up the night before but seemed to perk up a bit in the morning. Still, in my gut I felt peace about moving it to Sunday. Oh, that I had followed that peace.
We didn't push it. We let everyone else enjoy the program and the wonderful brunch spread I'd made and I took Isaac home and napped with him for 2 hours. We were both beat.
Parenting universe. . did I screw up???
Some have told me that I did. That I gave him too much agency, that I have embarked on the slippery slope of letting him back out of things. I see that point, but here's the thing. . what if I forced him? What if he sat in his Baptism service quietly crying and miserable? Would he learn a lesson about character or just a lesson that his mother cares more about his friends than him?The next day after church we had an abbreviated service, and he was all grins. He bounded down the hall in his white jumpsuit and happily listened to the talks. It was a wonderful day. I'm not sure if that means I did the right thing, but I do believe that he knew at the end of the day that we love him, respect him, and value baptism enough to know that it is an important and personal decision. . even for an 8 year old.
I love my kids. I miss my kids. Today I am home with two sick little girls. I'm not feeling great myself, but I have certainly enjoyed the cuddles, mopping a kitchen floor, and catching up on laundry. I want to come back home. I want to fulfill my writing dreams, with a corner nook to crank out charming little stories and novels whilst I watch my kids play in the backyard. I do really enjoy my job actually. I've grown a great deal and I enjoy these high schoolers and am thankful for the opportunity to spread some light and learning. And they make me laugh. Droopy pants, cell phone addictions, and all. I just want to be home again. . even if it means being poor. Even if it means not owning our own home. Even if it means letting go of the house we are planning on and going for a smaller, cheaper, option. Crazy? Most likely. Cold feet? Absolutely. A prompting?. . no idea. The last nine months have left me feeling awfully shaky in my ability to discern the Holy Ghost's promptings. I've felt warm and good about lots of things that haven't worked out. And this weekend really shook me up.