I don't know why it's been so hard. It's summer, our weeks are filled with wide open slots of empty time. And yet, in the mornings I'm consumed with breakfast and chores and swim lessons. I intend to write during nap/quiet time, but lately I've been napping too. By noon I'm exhausted from the incessant noise that fills the house.
And it's not really noise, itself that is so exhausting. It's the type of noise my children create. I should be grateful that they love to have me around and share every single thought that comes through their little brains.
Mommy, guess what. Mah-ee, know what? Mommy, watch this. I'm hungry. Mommy, I'm going to get some water. Ok? Mah-ee, I have to go potty! Mommy she won't play with me!
Ruby says my name, but leaves off the second "m" so it sounds like Mah-ee. Which, when you're trying to balance the check book or make a grocery list or practice or write, can sound a lot like Maia. And let me tell you, there is little grace if I mistake a Maia for a Mah-ee.
It's constant. There isn't room for thought. I often feel like the second I start to bloom a tiny seed of an idea that doesn't concern my offspring, my kids respond as if they can physically feel a difference. They instantly get their little hooks into my brain, with mommy guess whats?, and pull the spotlight back to their faces.
Don't even think about trying to make a phone call.
The only time a get a lithe break is when I'm cooking. How sexist are my children?! I think it's because they know something good is coming. After all the breakfast is cooked and the dishes are done and they are doing puzzles on the floor, I'm often tempted to stand behind the island and finish drinking my coffee. I know if I sit down, I'll upset the balance and the peaceful atmosphere will soon become busy and demanding once again.
I love my children.
I really do love having them home. I just wish they could leave me alone once in awhile.
I know that one day I will be trying to break through the barricade that adolescence inevitably constructs without much warning. Maybe that's why people are always saying things like "don't grow up so fast" with crying face emoticons next to the picture of their baby walking.
Me? I'm like, let's get this show on the road!
I do realize that my children will not always be excited to have me come to their classrooms. Or that hugs and kisses won't be given readily and with exuberance. However, in the 5 short years that I've been a parent, it's been my experience that it keeps getting better.
The conversations get more interesting. Your little offspring who were at one time just blobs, will amaze you with their ability to do sit ups and pull ups (Ruby) or swim across the pool on their own (Maia). They will make up the most amazing songs and stories and you get to watch them make sense of this crazy world we live in.
Last night I was reading Berenstain Bears "House of Mirrors" to Ruby as she was settling down for the night. It goes "Big bear. Small bear. This way in" but I was interrupted,
Why does it say "this way in" here and here?
She pointed to the words of the story and the picture of the sign that points to the house of mirrors, which also says, this way in.
Well, I respond with patience, those words are telling the story and these words are in the story.
But why does it say "this way in" in two places?
That's the way they wrote the book. I quickly move on. "Thin. Fat." I'm interrupted again.
Mah-ee! You said thin and it says thin in the book! To my ears the difference is indiscernible. I can, however, hear the contempt just fine.
I did say thin! I say it patiently, but firmly making sure to really emphasize the "th" sound. "Tttthhhhhin. Fat. Shaped like a pear. Shaped like a bear."
Mah-ee! It doesn't say pear! It says bear! See!
Ruby, look, (I should mention that our upstairs AC unit is broken and it was a balmy 90 degrees in the room) see, p, p says "puh," pear. Over here there's a b. B says "buh," bear.
No! Shaped like a bear!
Ruby, bear is over here. The first one is pear.
No! Bear! See!
Ruby, do you want to read this? (I am saying this in a semi-exasperated tone, but inside I am screaming at the top of my lungs and my inner self is throwing the book and storming out of the room to the basement where it isn't so hot and I can breathe. Hm. Maybe Ruby and I aren't so different after all. I suppose the only thing that makes me an adult is my ability to conceal, not feel...)
No.
Ok, then let me read it.
It would take pages to recount the rest of the night. I'll tell you what, I'm waiting with bated breath for Ruby to develop the ability to reason and rationalize.
Anyway, what was this post about? Ha, at least I got something written!
And I will admit, while I'm really looking forward to my children growing older and developing more independence, I do get twinges of nostalgia every once in awhile. Especially when they're being super cute.
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