Mangled forks

Hot cereal dripped from the walls and everything else. 
Chai latte flew onto the floor and splattered across. 
My almost full coffee was chucked onto the kitchen floor. 
The chair crashed into the piano. 
The bar stools were relegated to the barn so that they have a chance at survival.
The dining chairs flew across the living room.
The windowsills and bedroom are decorated in dog food.
The silverware is slowly getting mangled piece by piece.
The wooden basket of fruit went flying into the garden, breaking the basket and bruising the fruit.
The iPad flew over the wall and onto the floor and survived.
The school computer flew over the wall and onto the floor and died.
The large sitting chair in the living room was tipped over.
The lamp was shoved onto the floor, breaking the bulb and destroying the lamp shade.
The piano bench was knocked over, chipping the bench.
The large wooden chest of blankets in the living room was dramatically dumped upside down.
The large inside wooden trash can holder was knocked over and then the outside trash cans were knocked over.
The candle careened off the counter top floor, smashing into pieces and spilling hot wax which immediately hardened into something of horror on the textured cement floor.
The entire bag of salt (used for melting snow in the winter) was dumped across the house.
To name a few... 

Mom, the boys and I packed up our entire household of breakable items last week. It has helped reduce some of the stress associated with Lochlan's current activities. But, obviously our stress hasn't been eradicated. It's constant. He's fine and then suddenly he's not. He's also fast. VERY VERY FAST. I can successfully chase him through forests, hurdling logs in my pathway but I am no match when it comes to the snatch of a cap off someone's head and into an obliging lake.

This past week we went to see how Bismark Lake welcomed spring. We kept a close watch on all our valuables (you know, hats, shirts, sunglasses, oxygen tanks, phones, etc.) to make sure they didn't take an untimely arctic plunge. When all his efforts were clearly thwarted, Lochlan just threw himself into the lake, lying prostrate underneath the water near the shoreline. I think he was counting on someone rescuing him with a nice pair of dry clothes and maybe even some extra shoes, at which point he could chuck the remaining wet items into the lake. Unfortunately, love is patient, love is kind and sometimes love is tough. That shivering soul fussed most of the way back to the car, which was a decent hike. Hopefully, he will remember that arctic plunges are not recommended, and at the very least have consequences. We did have dry clothes for him at the car, thanks to his incredibly responsible eldest brother. 

While amidst this absolute chaos (what often feels like tyranny to those of us living it out) we are seeing remarkable progress in Lochlan on a day-to-day basis. He is more interactive, uses language he has never used previously, is reading incredibly well, has a far greater attention span, is displaying curiosity about things he's never seemed to notice before and is expressing joy. There is hope, even through the incredible trials of this period of our lives. 

Most days I wake up determined, ready to face life as it is. Almost every day I reach a point of crisis... Each time I have to make the decision to press on. The incident-by-incident stress is more manageable to me than the long-term questions. Sometimes, I feel chained; I'm unable to leave the house without another adult on duty. What does the future hold for this boy that I love so much? How is all this stress playing out in the lives of my other incredible boys? Why? Why? Why? Are there answers that I'm missing? Is there a different (more tolerable) season ahead? Does it matter? Somehow, I know that the pain is an essential part of the journey. I may never know why, but just that it is. However, I do believe it's possible that I look more and more like this fork each day.

Look up, Eryn, and take the next step. Just that. For now...