Spilt milk

Sundays have been our rough day the last few months. I think this is partly because we have PCA help usually for part of Saturday and it just is our long full day. But it is more than that.

She wakes up nasty on Sundays. Maybe it is the end of the week. Maybe it is spiritual warfare. It is hard to get to church when she is in an incredibly bad mood. Bringing a 11 year old to church who is cursing up a storm, is an intimidating idea. Although she usually is settled down by the time we get there. And she seems to do well in church.

Last Sunday, we went out to eat after church with Michael's brother, Dan his wife Tara and 3 of their kids. Akila was on edge. It was obvious. We got home, and it was issue after issue. She was digging. Trying to antagonize the other kids, trying to make them mad. Then she would laugh. Michael and I each took turns playing one on one with her. I had her alone all day Saturday, Michael had to work. Well, not alone, I had all four kids. But by Sunday evening, I was ready to blow.

This is also after no PCA help since Tuesday. Have I mentioned how much I love my PCA's? And that I have a new policy that they can't leave town, be sick, attend funerals, or study for finals? Ha. Just kidding. Kind of. Well, I will allow funerals.

So, 5 days with no PCA help which has been an amazing support to our entire family, and especially to me. A long Sunday with tons of junk, and we were ripe for a good explosion. Who do you think I mean was ready to explode? Yes, it was me.

I was finally trying to get Akila separated from her siblings, it was after dinner, I was counting down to bedtime. She was still hungry, and I brought her a bowl of cereal in my bedroom. I repeated the same thing I say every time. Do not eat on my bed. You can eat it on the floor. Not ideal, I would prefer her not to eat our bedroom. But it is the place where I can keep her separated when needed.

A few minutes later, she is bringing my bedspread down to me and telling me that Hezekiah spilled on it. He was not in my room. Then she said just kidding. There was no spill on it. I looked, and there was. I was asking what it was. It looked like water (cream bedspread), and she would not tell me what it was. It was milk of course, she had the cereal on my bed. 1...2...3... No, I didn't even make it to 2 before I exploded.

I lost it. Yelling. More yelling. Brilliant things like "you know you are not suppose to eat on the bed", "why did you lie to me" and other things. I totally lost it. So she did also. We both escalated. She got all cursey and hitty. It took forever to de-escalate both of us. It was not a fun way to end a week. And it was all over spilt milk. That is what I kept telling myself.

I know it was more than the spilt milk. It was several days of junk building up. But I hate it when I lose it like that. This week has been much better. Back on the regular schedule.