Currently, I’m running a workshop, and one of the members in my workshop wrote this gem this last week. I couldn’t help but ask Susan if I could post it on my blog, since she touches on the theme of Motherhood in such a fresh, poignant, and funny way.
I know you’ll enjoy her piece as much as I did! Here’s to giving ourselves permission some days to just lay on the floor!
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We are in our sixth day of house arrest. Between Maya being sick last weekend, and a snowstorm packing a big frigid punch we have hardly left the house for the last week. Outside in the yard doesn’t count.
At first I tried to keep a stiff upper lip about the fact that the entire little world we’ve made for ourselves closed on account of weather. We tried to make the best of being shut in, and actually had a lot of fun in the beginning. We built snowmen, had dance parties, played board games, dove deep into the dress up box, went sledding, and played indoor soccer in the living room. We made muffins, blanket forts and homemade watercolors, and read a bazillion books. Given our dwindling supply of groceries and art supplies, we’ve hung in there pretty well. But today was grim.
Did I mention that both of my girls have been waking up at 5:00am lately? This is not inherently problematic for me, since I am a morning person. It just makes for an insanely long day. To be finished with breakfast, morning nursing, outfit selection and tooth brushing before the sun comes up is a tiny bit crushing to the spirit.
This morning they both woke up at exactly the same time, which makes the logistics of everything more complicated. They were both cranky, needy, and tired.
I’m lucky to have a husband who makes sure that on most days, I get to take a shower by myself. I have friends who don’t get to do this, and I try to have gratitude for that. But today it ended there (the gratitude, that is). As I stood in the steamy bathroom brushing my teeth, I turned on NPR to mask the sounds of my children screaming downstairs.
I tried not to take too long choosing my socks. I took a deep cleansing breath as I slowly headed into the kitchen, and found both girls immediately whining to be picked up. I knew that feeding them breakfast might help, but getting either of them to release enough of my body parts to throw some food on the table seemed an insurmountable challenge.
I scraped them off of me long enough to pour one cup of decaf for myself (I rationalized this by thinking of it as though we were in crash landing mode – obviously I need to secure my own oxygen mask before helping my kids with theirs).
I find it interesting that so many of the parenting books suggest that whining is one of the biggest and most grating behaviors young kids exhibit. I am certainly no fan of whining, but I think shouting totally trumps whining when it comes to irritating kid behavior.
At this particular point in time, Maya and Zoe are both at peak stages of independence. They each want to do everything for themselves, and they each respond to adult intervention with furious backlash. They shout. They literally bark at me. Zoe wanted to get the bread out of the refrigerator. She saw me start walking towards the refrigerator and came unglued. She screamed and shouted with this horrible blaming how-could-you-do-this-to-me-Mommy voice.
After I let her get the bread I noticed that Maya had climbed up on a very precarious stool to access the oatmeal and was in clear and present danger. I shifted my attention, and when I rescued Maya she shouted at me too. Awful spiteful shouting that I’d ruined her breakfast and she didn’t want to eat anymore.
Meanwhile, Zoe had pulled three pieces of bread from the bag and had shoved them all in her mouth. Of course seeing that, Maya decided immediately that she’d rather have toast and melted down because all of the remaining bread had Zoe bite marks in it.
I somehow managed to create two plates of edible food and bring them to the table. Zoe shouted at me for being late with her blueberries and for not picking her up the entire time this was all going on. When she wasn’t doing that she was climbing up to the island and turning on the little prep sink to flood the kitchen. I got in big trouble with Maya for bringing her the purple cup of water she requested (because apparently she’d changed her mind and I was supposed to know that).
We survived breakfast, and the rest of the day brought some brighter spots. Still, we got off on the wrong foot and we never fully recovered. Sometimes when I’m tired and run down, I spend the little forty five minute afternoon nap break I usually get reading blogs written by other mothers who seem to have this creative parenting thing down. I read about amazing science experiments they do with things around the house, or beautiful art projects they make or outdoor adventures they have with their kids. I marvel at their ability to stay present with their children and look at days like this as opportunities. I envy their ability to rise above the dissonance and find grace. All of that and they write about it too. I’m amazed.
At the end of all of this I cannot find the creative mood. All I can find today is a sink full of dishes, several dozen mismatched puzzle pieces, crayons all over the floor, and playdough stuck to the bottom of Zoe’s shoes.
I wanted to be that mom who found inspiration in the snow, who found a way to find joy in our unexpected togetherness. I wanted to be an inspiration to my kids and spend the day doing wacky, silly, unpredictable things, making fun winter memories together. Instead, I laid on the living room rug and let them take my socks off so that they could measure my feet with the little plastic strips they tore off of a Netflix envelope, grateful for the chance to be still.
Susan Hemingson grew up in northern California and writing is one of the things she’s always wanted to pursue but never has. She’s been a student affairs administrator, a human resources generalist, and most recently, an elementary school teacher. Now she is a stay at home mother starting to think that the time for writing has come. She lives in Bellingham, WA with her husband, Chris, and two daughters, Maya (3 1/2), and Zoe (1 1/2).