I am so very tired. Physically and mentally. The end of this semester is getting awfully close and things seem to have sped up 200%. My little brain is on overload.

I still had not completely recovered from the school events that jolted me and Eli when I got the news that our aunt was near death. I prepared for that last week as well by making sure we would all be dressed appropriate for her service. Me and the boys were able to spend time with her as well. She passed away last night. Yet another jolt no matter how much you prepare. Telling the kids, Zac in particular, will be difficult this evening. I saw no sense in telling them before school this morning.

Yesterday was a difficult day. I am completely run down and tired of being the peace keeper. Always smiling, always diffusing situations, always making light of important things to simply avoid altercation, and always never allowing my feelings to show in fear they will escalate someones ill humor. Being nonchalant constantly is mentally draining. Last night I decided to hide in the tub and have a nice relaxing meltdown. Sure to help no one but myself which is something I never allow. Anything I say, do, read, study, discuss,ect. is never intended to only benefit myself. I always attempt to have everyone else in mind. Although I'm accused regularly of just the opposite. (yay for bipolar-ism........is that a word? It is now) While sitting in the tub trying to wash away all of the day, I hear the pitter patter of little feet. It's Zac.
"Momma!!!.....I gots to poop"
"ok, then. Go to your bathroom and do it"
My face is covered with a rag at this point. But, I can still hear him stripping down and plopping a squat on my thrown instead of his own as I requested. I was already mid melt down by the time he decided he couldn't hold it any longer and simply had to come to my bathroom. I attempted the silent hissy fit. It's fooled other kids before........but my Zac wasn't falling for it.
"Momma, are you crying" (he's never witnessed this from me before and ask this in a way that obviously showed he was shocked)
"no Zac. I got soap in my eyes. You know Momma is silly"
"Why are you crying Momma" (this conversation went back and forth before I gave up and let him have the last correct assumption)

He never ask again, nor brought it up. He simply sat on the toilet making the funniest faces to go along with the most obscene sounds coming out from underneath him that I've ever heard. He sat there making faces, taking care of his business and throwing in some fake noises until I finally had to giggle. (for real, not fake) It was at that moment that I realized I have a little peace keeper taking care of me as well. Making me laugh when he knew I needed it and never mentioning the fact I had been upset again. Exactly what I would have done.

So today, I'm going to hate telling Zac about his Aunt Fanny. I blogged previously about his big heart. And big hearts break into a million little pieces, don't they?