I still can't seem to figure out what went wrong. Reality bull-dozed right over me and flung me to the gutter where I was feeble, helpless, and all alone. The house and I were both in shambles. All my visions were shattered. By the last day I crawled into bed only minutes after the children and just lay there, utterly and completely exhausted. I was like that annoying toy with a dying battery that starts to make a sound and then cuts off and repeats over and over and over again until you recharge it, but you can't because you can't find the charger so you just throw it against the wall until if finally spluttters one last desperate whine...and dies.
Well, I didn't die. But I would sooner die than experience that week again. There was some good that came out of it all, as there always seems to be. Humility. I learned how much I really do need my husband. Somehow his presence alone recharges my batteries. Without him even lifting a finger to help with the chores, my burden is lighter with him around. I can't explain it and I don't get it. All I know is it is true because I lived it.