I typically write in the kitchen, with my family around me.
Right now I’m hiding in the bedroom.
Okay, I’m not really hiding. They know where I am and they will come for me soon.
Although I don’t give my kids time-outs, I’m giving myself one. I need it. I feel like a toddler who had her cupcake snatched from her hands by a slobbery dog. I’ve resisted the urge to lie on the floor kicking and screaming and begging for a fresh cupcake.
I surrendered today and retreated from what feels like a battle to make to the end of the day.
I’m longing for quiet. At this moment, there is singing and fort building and all sorts of sounds in my kitchen. I typically love it. At this moment I can’t tolerate it.
I need a breather. I need a minute to recharge. I definitely need a nap.
There is so much to be done. I feel like Sisyphus endlessly pushing that damn boulder uphill. I’m not getting anywhere.
We’ve been listening to Greek Mythology in the car. Can you tell?
I need is a little time for myself. We all do. This moment (for me) needs to be away from Facebook where I seem to be pounded with information about how awesome everyone’s life is going. Some one has to be lying. This moment cannot be spent on Pinterest either where I am bombarded with incredible food images of things I can’t eat and amazing crafts that people seem to whip up in their free time.
This time cannot be a reminder of where I fall short. I have enough reminders all around me.
It can’t be in the kitchen. The dirty dishes will make me anxious. It can’t be anywhere near the bunny cage, because I forgot to remind the child who is supposed to care for the little puff ball to clean it out. I can’t go lay down on the bathroom floor and cry. I would need to clean it first.
I need a moment to remember why I am doing this. Why Am I parenting this way? Why haven’ t I shipped them off to school?
Deep breath. I’m closing my eyes.
Each child stands before me now in my mind. I see their faces now. I remember their faces then, when they were in school.
Something is different.
Vastly different.
Another deep breath. A prayer.
And now, as I hear footsteps on the stairs, hushed giggles approaching my door, I remember that I am stronger because of them. I remember that they may push me to the edge, but they also drag me back, laughing.
They make my life sweet. They are the icing.
I need to give myself the time to calm down and remember.
“If mothers could learn to do for themselves what they do for their children when these are overdone, we should have happier households. Let the mother go out to play! If she would have the courage to let everything go when life becomes too tense, and just take a day, or half a day, out in the fields, or with a favourite book, or in a picture gallery looking long and well at just two or three pictures, or in bed, without the children, life would go on far more happily for both children and parents. -Charlotte Mason
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