I’ve been in need of a break for days. Each day I’ve been stumbling through in survival mode, trying to make the most of things, but just getting the bare minimum done. I’ve had no patience for the incessant repetition of questions, for the complete lack of disregard for me as a living person instead of a piece of furniture, and for the absense of tranquility. All of this I know to be aggravated by my own ability to show up to “work” ready. In short, I haven’t brought my “A-game” and they have been eating me alive. But instead of fixing things I’ve been allowing it to make me feel worse.
Finally, last night, after 10pm when they were finally asleep, I chose to take a couple of minutes out of my own precious sleep to read. I had tried before bedtime. I turned on Star Wars for them, let them eat supper on the couch, and tried to find a few minutes to gather myself. What I wanted were two little couch potatoes. But what I got was two lively little boys, acting out the scenes, wrestling, and jumping all over the place to the soundtrack of Star Wars. I was frustrated: why couldn’t they just sit there and watch tv? (That’s all I want to do…)
As I read through the pages I had selected to read last night I happened to be in the middle of a brain development passage that explained exactly why so much movement is so important for children and how modern children are simply not getting enough of it.
OKAY! I get it. I did a terrible thing by WANTING them to be little couch potatoes. I know what I did was wrong. (But where does it talk about the sanity of the mother who hasn’t had a break in who knows how long and just can’t be asked one more question or be expected to do one more thing and just needs a few minutes of peace before the next catastrophe?) But why is it that the few pages of text I read in a day that isn’t part of a picture book has to be a major chastisement of my parenting decisions in the previous couple of hours?
Maybe non-fiction isn’t my favourite type of prose after all. Loosing myself in some trite story would have been much easier on my conscience.