I want my Mommy!!

I want my Mommy! No, really. Me. I want *MY* Mommy!

Almost three weeks out post-op and the past three days, I have started running a fever. Not an infection fever. A "you've done way too much and you need to sit your behind down" fever. Fast forward to today when it hit the fan. I was feeling terrible, the big kids wanted to go outside and play, daddy was at work and John Blake needed a nap.

I get everyone fed lunch and laid down and John Blake decides it's time to fight me. He hits me and kicks me, right in my incision. I saw stars. Then came the tears. My tears. All I needed was for him to lay down and go to sleep. Just this one day. Any other day, he would've done it, but the day I felt the worst, he complied the least. I begged him. I bribed him. He hit me. I spanked him. (That made no parenting sense whatsoever. I'm spanking you because you hit me. But I wasn't in my right mind). There was only one thing left to do. Cry for my Mama. I admit it whole heartedly. I'm 32 years old and I wanted nothing more than my mom to be right here with me. I called her in tears. The conversation went something like this: "(sob) I'm feeling worse instead of better, (sniffle) I shouldn't have tried to do it by myself this week, (sob) I still need help". My mom calmly listened. She acknowledged that my surgery was a major one and that I did need additional help and she offered a solution just like I knew she would. I can always count on her.

It's not always been this way. My mom and I butted heads for a number of years. That was completely my fault. I blame it on hormones and stubbornness. But as I've grown up, gotten married and especially since becoming a mother myself, I've grown to appreciate my mother. Immensely. Thank you Mama for all of your help since my surgery.

Psalm 119:147 ESV I rise before dawn and cry for help; I hope in your words.

Thank you God for showing me that I cannot receive help if I do not ask for it. Thank you for my Mama!