They might not need me; but they might. I’ll let my head be just in sight; a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.-Emily Dickinson
I have just realized that I haven’t written a post since our spring break trip to Croatia and Slovenia! The end of school was a whirlwind of stress and emotion that often come with closing chapters in life. Once it was all said and done I just had to sit and be for a little while. And now here we are.
People have been asking me if I feel a twinge of regret in my heart now that teachers are starting to go back to work. There is no hesitation in my response: not even a little bit. The truth is, this is the most stress-free I have been in a very long time. Work has steered so many parts of my life for 11 years, so this opportunity I have to be my own captain is quite refreshing, to say the least. But also pretty scary.
I find myself with a different array of challenges than those of my working days. Now my kids are with me all day long, which means I’m being observed….all day long. Even when things get a bit chaotic, they are there watching. My 8 year old son has an incredible memory (except when I ask him to go do something) and a very sensitive heart. My 3 year old will roar in your face and hunt you down in your sleep. He constantly pushes me to my limit, and my oldest has the privilege of watching that spectacle from the front row. My patience and sanity are challenged daily, and I am constantly trying hard to keep my reactions in check. It’s difficult, but what helps is the constant question that lingers in the back of my mind when everything goes nuts: what will my oldest remember from these days spent together? What will stick out in striking colors and what will be lost in the tapestry that is his childhood?
When I think back to my own life at his age it’s all environment and feelings. I remember the texture of fabrics, the feel of grass under my feet, the clink clank of my bicycle spoke beads as I rode down the sidewalk, how full my heart was when my dad spent time making art masks with me or homemade ice cream sandwiches out of my recipe book, leaning on my mom’s arm and feeling upset when my sister wouldn’t let me go outside because I had chicken pox. I don’t remember specific words said or how stressed my parents might have been with everything they had going on outside of me. I remember MY feelings. How I felt in any given moment.
Tonight was pretty chaotic in our house. It went something like this:
Around bedtime for my youngest I get a call from someone looking to buy a desk I had put up for sale on one of our community pages. She says she is on her way to come pick it up (surprise!!!), so I bring the whole thing upstairs so it will be ready. A few minutes later my oldest says there is something wet in the hall. “Something wet” ends up being about 5 gallons of dog pee all over the upstairs hallway. Of course my 3 year old must be aware of every single thing that is happening in the house so he runs out into the hall and right into the pee. I grab him and go wash his feet off and tell him to stay put (“ROAR!” was his response) and start cleaning up the mess before the lady arrives. Finally get it all clean and she comes over. I help her load the car but the hutch for the desk won’t fit so I have to take it apart out on the sidewalk. Meanwhile I hear my toddler screaming at something inside and my 8 year old comes out saying a bee is now in the house and my dog is about to run out the door and down the street. Then she pooped in the hallway.
Long story short, the desk is gone, the hall is clean, the dog is safe and my toddler is asleep. Hallelujah Amen.
Once everything finally got calm I started cleaning the kitchen. I was sweeping when my 8 year old came in and started making goofy faces at me. I continued working the broom with impeccable domestic form and said, half-heartedly, “What are you doing?” His reply pretty much shattered me into a million little pieces: “I’m trying to make you smile. I haven’t seen you smile in about an hour and I am trying to help.”
I dropped the broom and went and bear hugged him and told him how much he made me smile. I stopped and explained to him why I had been so frazzled earlier. I told him about the lady unexpectedly coming to get the desk and how Rosie’s pee party was almost comical in its timing and he said, “Oh, now I understand better. Thank you for explaining it to me.” We talked for a little bit about how he likes to know what is going on and appreciates when I let him know, how sometimes I have a difficult time when things get chaotic and how we all have to stick together when helping and teaching the monster toddler. He smiled and I smiled back and I could tell that meant more to him than anything.
So will he remember this chaotic evening? Who knows, but if he does, will he remember that moment when I felt frazzled or how he was the one who helped me smile? I hope the smile. I hope, every day, the smile.
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Ariel it's comforting to know I'm not alone in my frazzled mother moments. Your words resonated with me. Though our reasons for feeling frazzled may be varied, I love the idea you present about what the kids will really remember in the long run. I hope the smile too.
I love this. He is so sweet and caring. He will remember the smile, and how his mom needed his help and understanding, and how he wants to help you and be there for you as much as he can at 8. That's what he understands, and that's where that story ended. Not with you being frazzled, but with you explaining how you felt, him listening, understanding, and you both smiling. He understood the whole story, not just a piece of it. That's what he will remember. <3 Hugs.