Stolen Money

I am desperately trying to find educational, or more importantly, therapeutic centres for my children. Places where they can wear what they need – instead of being bound to a uniform of specific lengths and material.

I am desperately trying to figure out how in the world next year will look. Paying for two university students is no joke. We have no clue how that will work. Paying their mortgage for the townhouse we bought them in a secure complex- how will that work out from our budget?

Oh. No. Let’s go back.

We haven’t bought an apartment. We tried to buy scammers stole our deposit!

The ‘estate agent’ sent through the correct offer to purchase documents showing that the seller had signed after we signed. And sent bank details for the documents.

Only the next day when she asked whether the deposit had indeed been paid did my husband notice – when she again sent proof that she had sent the bank details so didn’t understand why we hadn’t paid-that her email address was not correct anymore and neither were ours. The thieves had swopped a letter here and there so it looked ok at face value. But it wasn’t ok. The money had gone into their account.

This was last week Thursday night and we are still waiting to find out if we can get our money back. He went to sign an affidavit with the police. Then got a case number and the agents have done their portion and have spoken to officers on their end. And now, we wait. The bank knows.

So let’s PRETEND the purchase has happened. How will we pay their mortgage, our mortgage, their pocket money, grocery, laundry soap, crockery, cutlery, etc etc , internet, university fees, car repayment, car insurance (We’d hoped they’d each have a car but they’ll have to share) and all my medical costs, the kids’ medical costs, anything that comes out of the blue and our own fuel as well as the teens’ fuel costs and all other costs?

And that is why I am stuck.

I can’t afford to hire a proper au pair. Those people charge an arm and a leg. Might as well be sending two children to an expensive learning centre- something we already can’t do now, even before the teens’ leave. I can’t pay rent for someone to live close by and also give them a salary to be my assistant teacher, to be my children’s supervisor and watcher and nappy changer and bather. And I can’t build a granny flat in the yard because that too is too expensive. We would have little to eat, and nothing left for my medical needs.

I am stuck.

So, so stuck.

The only thing I can do is cry out to God. I’m in abdominal discomfort from the colonoscopy and gastroscopy. And I’m tired. So, so tired. The screaming, the pushing, the pulling, the soiled toilet seats soiled by an almost ten year old girl, the screaming, the nagging, the sentences I must reply to even though I know they won’t even make any sense so I won’t be able to answer them anyway. The constant busy-ness, the planning, the recording, the sitting, the pain from sitting and recording, the editing, the lack of time to get everything done in 24 hours and still sleep. The pain, the limping, the heartache at each child’s specific problems, the wondering, the anxiety, not knowing what to aim for, planning for more assessments, appointments, traveling, fuel, knee pain, hip pain, fatigue just from folding a t-shirt, arms too tired to fold more. The ironing, the picking up bowls, more bowls, cups, cups inside, cups outside, the laundry, more laundry, bowls in the garage, bowls on the grass, spoons in the drain, toys on the trampoline, socks missing partners amongst the flowers, sharp knives mysteriously found outside, crying, bowls on beds, split raisins, spiky milk, hidden old food, money food hidden in my car, pulling, too much eating, worrying that our non speaker will die from obesity related illnesses, fear that she will kill me one day, hating that I can’t take all the children out because she spoils their joy, hating that I can’t take any children out anyway because of my body.

Toilet. Can’t use the toilet in peace. Teen son comes to ask. Talking twin daughter bangs and screams. Shouts and cries. Non-talker screams and cries and if I dare forget to lock and I’m in there to use the loo and make a call in the relative quiet of the bathroom, she comes in, pulling me, pushing me, then giving up and sitting (very heavily) on me..on the loo. Open the door, children waiting and waiting for me. No peace. Night means research, planning, preparing, editing, recording no, reading aloud, searching for extra to add…

Hoping..hoping the children get back safely from their nature trip. Sad. Unseen. I have nobody here to speak to, cry with, plan with, seek help with, hug me, comfort me, pray for me, wish things were better with. I have to be strong. I’m the only mother, the only parent they have most of the time.

I speak out my fear of the future to an adult in the house . “They won’t be like that.” I get told And I think, “ They are already like that now! But I’m the only one who lives it day after day after morning after afternoon after evening. Can anybody hear me!??”

I am sad.

But I am never going to be broken.

The same woman who sent this message below when I cried out into the ether, is one who too will never allow herself to be broken by any human out there.

I may never get any rest while living on this earth. But I know who will be extremely happy that heaven has come at last and I can finally have the rest I never received on earth. One who will rejoice with me and for me. One who feels for me with all her heart and soul.

I am sad. But I am not sad alone.

I am thankful for technology. And I know that unlike many who make empty promises, this message writer would deliver, because even without making any promise, she just gave. Freely, willingly, of the VERY little she and her precious family had.

I’ve had people not only love me, hear me, but also care for me, sacrifice for me. Cook for me, walk at nine o’clock night to go find something, anything that would stop the violent post-op vomiting that wasn’t stopping.

I used to ask God why He let me give so much- time, energy, prayer, thought, care, worry, money, my own clothes off my own back, food, blankets- yet never receive the same love. What was wrong with me that people could use but never love?

Nothing.

He was just waiting for a time when I would need it the most, for a time I’d appreciate it the most, when words would be just as heartfelt as actions. That time is now. I am on my knees. But I’m not alone.