“Please God, god, someone, something, make this easier… make this suck a little bit less… make their lives happier… just fucking fix this already”

And those were the words mumbled in the middle of the night on Monday in the midst of all of my family turmoil. I lay in bed next to Brittany, knowing how much she was hurting, having just gotten off the phone with Cassie, knowing how much she too was hurting, and I had run out of answers, and energy.

I know I say this a lot, but it is so true: There is no manual for raising children, and you have no idea how much this pisses me off. Every day that I don’t screw something up I am happy. How insane is that? How have we not mandated a class for all parents as they approach new and challenging points during their childrens' lives? How are we not forced to take a class on how to raise a toddler, child, adolescent, teenager, young adult? They have breastfeeding classes, diapering classes…and then you are a graduate. WTF? I am woefully unprepared, uneducated, and inexperienced when it comes to dealing with the situations of late.

Some people tell me I am doing the right things. Others tell me I am messing up my kids even more by the things I do. And yet others just shrug and tell me it doesn’t matter what I do, it will be how it will be. I don’t even know what that last one means.

It appears things are fixed, or taped, or glued, or stapled together for the time being. We seem to have a plan, and people are crying less around here over the past few days. That is a good sign, right? I am not sure I credit God, god, someone, or something for any of the calming waves rippling through our house right now, but I have to give the idea some ounce of possibility…right?