A wild weekend

We've had our foster care license for a while now with no phone calls.  We had requested permanent placements just because we had done respite in Washington and as we had kids of our own it became more difficult.  To us it would be easier to have a full-time placement and incorporate the child into our family instead of having just a 'special' weekend where you can't do anything special.
Suddenly, we are the respite people here.  Uggg.  It's hard and I know it's a need but it's still hard.  This weekend was especially chaotic.  Trent had a, well, minor operation and was laid up for Friday and probably the rest of this weekend.  I have one extra 6-year-old that showed up Friday at 5 p.m.  Friday at 6 p.m. I realize it's the foster child's birthday.  TODAY.  What??  I asked her 'What did you do for your birthday?'.  'Nothing' was the reply.  'Really?'  'Yeah.  Grandma said we could celebrate on the 1st when she has money.'  So, 1) her grandma did nothing for her (she just came from a 48-hr visit from grandma's) and 2) the foster parents made NO mention of this beforehand to us.
Friday night turned into a disaster.  I was baking a cake while cooking/serving dinner when Evan leaves the table and vomits all over the laundry room floor.  ALL over the floor.  So now I have a baby crying in her high chair while trying to bake a cake and make sure everyone is still eating their dinner and a room full of vomit to pick up.  I want to make a trip to Wal-mart to get Trent's prescriptions and get ice cream for the cake.  I load up all four children at 7:40 p.m. (regardless of vomiting) to make a quick trip to the store.  At 9:10 p.m. we finally have the medicine and ice cream and head for home.  We are all so exhausted we just go to bed and the kids don't even complain they don't get cake and ice cream.
Saturday night Evan pukes three more times.  I don't know what is wrong with him but I'm simply exhausted today.

I think the Lord keeps stretching me past my limits to make me realize I can't do this on my own.  This isn't my life.  It's His.  If I keep living it like it's mine then I will lose my patience, lose the focus, and quit living for Jesus.  Above all I want to point my kids to Christ.  I want to live my life so it points to Christ--not say one thing and then do another.  Days when there is vomit to clean while the baby is screaming is a little more difficult than others.  But without those days I wouldn't learn much or rely on His strength instead of my own.

It's still only Saturday afternoon.  I hope I make it through . . . . .