There's always a calm before the storm. I am ready for the storm. It's tough not knowing when it'll be here, but I am fairly certain that it will be here soon.

She was away today. At a friends house. They had a sleepover. It was a peaceful quiet day, here. Now, we don't get those . Ever.
I was home all day with the others and we had a storybooklike day. We baked cookies. We made collages. We played SORRY. We read books. No drama. No YOU GUYS HAVE GOT TO STOP FIGHTING OR THERE WILL NO TV TODAY. AT ALL! UNBELIEVABLE! None of that.
She was at her friends house. And we were so peaceful. It has to be the worst feeling to feel like if you could redo it, you'd have one less child. I felt that today. Most days, I feel that if I could redo it, I would have NO kids at all. One is gone and the numbers go up.

When she got home, she fell asleep on the couch. Must have been fun. Too much sugar, and loads of fun! It's still quiet here. I sit here waiting . I think I am prepared. I am not. I am never prepared. Even when I know it's coming. It's always worse than I imagined.

It could go like this: "Morning, sweetie. " " Good Morning mommy." " Please get dressed so you could get to school on time today."
And BAMM! There it is. The hot lava pours from the open top of the just moments before , peaceful beautiful volcano. And I am completely thrown. I wanna run, screaming, down the mountain. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I get burnt by the foaming hot lava coming at me.

Recovery can take moments. It can take hours. My eye twitches from the control I am exercising. Controlling myself from slapping her and barking orders. Controlling myself from getting my coat and bag and fleeing. Forever. It doesn't take much. But it feels huge.

Peeking into her cozy room, I can see her wrapped in her blanket. She is holding her stuffed leopard close to her heart. Her hair is spread out on her pillow, behind her. There is peace here. Calm. The calm before the storm. I am grateful for this moment. It keeps me from fleeing. For now.