For years after I started homeschooling, I would start the summer with grand plans for activities, workbooks, and reading assignments to make sure my kids didn’t go brain dead over the vacation.
We did a page here and there, but the school year would start again and I’d find I hadn’t done much of anything I’d hoped to do.
Several years ago, I gave myself permission to stop making plans for summer learning. The kids needed a break, but more truthfully, I was the one who needed a break from having to oversee all the learning.
This summer has been tough again. I’m finding myself fighting guilt about not doing more with the kids. I’m not reading to them. The Littles can’t read to themselves. No one is doing math review. The Bigs aren’t reading the leftover reading books we didn’t get to from the school year.
I’m still trying to figure out how to be good at being married. As it turns out, that process is a lot less straight forward than I would like.
The harder I try to keep it together on the outside, I have a patch of eczema that’s like, “LALALA YOU CAN’T PRETEND YOU AREN’T STRESSED WHEN I’M HERE!!! And the more you pretend it’s ok when it’s not, the bigger I get!”
Today, I met the Chaplain at our riverside trail with the Littles after dropping Two and Three off at the dance studio. It was a long day with the kids. I felt like I had tried really hard all day and had still failed.
Starting way back at 11 a.m., I had made dinner for lunch since we would be out at dinner time. I’d fed the kids sandwiches before leaving for the evening. I’d brought water bottles and snacks so no one would be hungry. I started getting ready to leave the house long before we had to go so that we could actually leave on time.
The whole day, I had worked up to this moment, at the trail. All the kids had shoes on. We were ready. But I hadn’t had a chance to pee before leaving our house and there were no bathrooms at the trail.
When I was in college, I had a friend who apologized constantly. It was the first time I became aware of the mostly female habit of apologizing unnecessarily. In my friend’s case, it came to seem as if she were apologizing just for taking up space.
My self esteem wavered at that time, but I saw value in myself. Enough to recognize what I didn’t want: to be in a place where I was apologizing for existing. I determined not to let that happen.
I’d like to say I never apologized for anything that wasn’t my fault again after I made that decision, but my inner self has always taken the marathon route when it comes to personal growth. Slow and steady wins the race, right?
I have been especially guilty of it with the Chaplain. The Chaplain isn’t someone who wants or needs me to be sorry all the time. And we’re at the point now where I’ll catch myself starting to apologize and then I’ll stop myself aloud.
I have made big strides with how often I do it when I’m out in the public sphere.
But I also do it with my kids.
This July 4th felt a little icky.
I’ve been thinking about it, trying to nail it down. I know it began with the Election Season last fall and the toxic atmosphere online that caused me to take a step back from the news and finally be ready to quit Facebook.
My big kids are out of town staying with their aunt, and I have been home alone with the Littles. Granted, I was only alone with them for one day, Tuesday, since Monday was a travel day. Today, the Chaplain had off for the holiday and was here to help me out.
But Tuesday was the day I needed to recover from that traveling over the weekend and using a TON of social and emotional capital that I didn’t really have to spend. By the last day of the trip, I was feeling full of the meaning that comes from spending time with people with whom you have shared memories and a certain understanding.
I was also completely exhausted and had lost my voice.
And once we were home, my First Day Back was home alone with the Littles.
(Mother’s Day 2017, the first Mother’s Day since I was a mom that I spent away from my kids, except the one I was pregnant with)
I started to write a post about Mother’s Day and how difficult it can be. It occurred to me as I was writing that there was still time to do something about that.
It has been a long debunked myth that men can read minds. Yet I still remain hopeful in certain situations that this will prove to be untrue.
One of those situations is Mother’s Day.
Last night, I lay awake in bed while my baby cried.
He’s at the tail end of a cold, and was actually less congested than when we’d put him to bed hours earlier, but he was having trouble staying settled. I fed him, my husband changed his diaper, I put chest rub on him, and gave him Tylenol. I held him while he flopped around restlessly, wanting to be asleep, but unable to wind back down.
Nothing worked. So we did something we haven’t done before with this particular baby. We put him in a room by himself, and let him cry himself to sleep.
