Lemon and ginger, with honey. 1 am tea.
Maybe it will make being up when I'd rather be sleeping a little more enjoyable. The pretty little yellow box does says it's naturally caffeine free. I should drink this all day. Maybe I would not be in this not-sleeping situation in the first place.
Overwhelmed. That’s the reigning feeling of the day. I keep thinking that I will eventually get the hang of it. Of everything. I would like in general to feel more zen. Maybe I should become a yoga teacher. That would zen up my day.
But I don’t feel like I’m getting the hang of it. My life is oscillating between hectic and exhausted.
One of my most treasured things to do is to pour myself a coffee in a quiet moment, settle in at the dining table and peruse through some of my favorite blogs. The posts are like bitesize chapters, the characters women (mostly) who I have grown to love. I have a list of well-written favorites, stories with no end. I haven’t done this in months. So this morning, sensing the hectic and exhausted in myself, I took the time to do just that. One of the blog post’s I read was about another mom’s day to day. The rhythm with her kids sounded so wonderful. Today though, the inspiration was also sad. It made me wistful about what I’m not doing with my kids. Really, it just came down to speed. I need to slow the heck down.
Why can’t I do everything and do it well? I feel like I was tricked, in the great feminist theory.
I’ve had a couple random days off in the last two weeks, glimpses of weekdays I don’t usually get at home. Quiet daytime with the little ones, afterschool calm with the bigger boys. No hurrying anywhere. And last Thursday morning while Claire was at preschool, Max and I went for groceries and to the bank. Just us. It’s delicious, when I have time with one. And the two year old I just want to pause in time, pointing his little finger and naming everything. Pushing the amazing door opening button.
There was this waitress I used to work with. She was a hardened old lady, so gruff. Discussing my then two baby boys one day, she threw out the “Enjoy them while they’re young”, a phrase I’ve grown used to. An irritating, panic inducing phrase I might add. But then she continued, with “I have three teenagers now, when they get older they’re just hard and really irritating.” I remember gaping at her in horror, that she could talk about her precious children like that.
But now, as my oldest hits double digits, I find myself silently repeating that they are precious to me, as a mantra while they’re making me absolutely crazy. It’s not innocent toddler busy-ness anymore, or just jostling for Mommy’s attention. They call me on my shit. They are sure to let me know when I suck. I’m not sure my self-esteem will be able to take teenagers.