After a great week and a wonderful Easter where I actually rested on “cloud 9”, we sat the kids down to go over the changes to the daily schedule and inspections due to their spring vacation starting on Monday. Unfortunately, everything fell apart when my son heard of the changes.
I’m just too tired to write every detail. But I can say that I’m actually surprised the neighbors didn’t call the police because of all the screams coming out of our open windows as my husband held our son down in a violent rage. Our son threatened to run away because we turned our home into a military school and was claiming that he was going to call the police so they could take him away.
As my husband held his kicking limbs and avoided his biting teeth, I calmly caressed his hair and told him that we loved him.
My younger boys huddled in their beds in the room next door and feared that their raging brother would come after them next.
After about 15 minutes, my raging son said with a weak breath, “Ok, I’m done” and within seconds he was in a deep sleep. I have to admit it was a little disturbing how quickly he went from a rage to a sound sleep.
I wish I could be delicate and articulate my feeling with grace tonight, but I don’t have it in me.
I hate this f-cking illness.