Today was one that makes you want to give up, curl yourself into a ball, throw a blanket over your head. Done.
I’ve been feeling done this last 6 weeks. Hell, this last 6 years. But this last 6 weeks was the first time I’ve started letting things drop, just to see what happens. What happens if I just don’t show up to that meeting. Will anyone notice? What happens if my kid just doesn’t go to school today. Will anyone care? What happens if I just don’t text them back?
Which makes days like today even harder. Cause today I tried. Today I got up and told myself “no one wants to make three kids’ lunches (well maybe someone enjoys that somewhere) but you still have to make three kids’ lunches today, there’s no lunch fairy coming. They are your children. They need food. Motivation is a myth. No one wants to do this.” And it helped. This kind of self talk usually gets me moving. I moved. I made lunches. I stared at the wall a bit lost in thought. I made coffee. I forgot what I was doing and came back to half-made lunches and remembered. I made toast for the kids breakfast. I lost my coffee. I found my coffee. I took the 3-year old to the potty. I lost my coffee again. I found my coffee, which was now cold. I dressed the 3-year old. I told the 7-year old he needed to brush his teeth before staring at a screen. I brushed the 5-year old’s hair. I got them toast and gave them screens and finally finished the lunches.
And it helped. We had a fairly ok morning. We talked. I tried to remember to look at their faces when they talked. They notice when you’re not looking at them. Everyone notices. I made 3 lunches. I got three kids ready for school. We started walking to the bus late … and missed it by a hair. Then the morning was ruined. Plans were broken. Crying. Shouting. Angry parents, angry children. Dragging kids to the van. Throwing them in and not worrying about seatbelts. Screaming at them to sit on the floor so the police wouldn’t see them and take mommy to jail. Stopping at a red light and realizing everyone was crying, and then the flop in your stomach. The regret and the trying over. Look at mommy in the mirror. Mommy loves you. You’re all so brave and so strong and so kind. Say it after me: I am Brave. NO! Say it after me: I am Kind. NO MOMMY! They were punishing me now, as they saw I realized my mistake and wanted to fix it, but they were ready to make me hurt a bit longer first. Revenge is best served hot and drenched in salty tears.
Say after me: I am Brave, I am Kind, I am Loved. The 3-year old repeated like a parrot, but the others just cried. I made them cry again. And now their whole day would be a continuation of this. I was teaching them lessons, that I didn’t want to admit. But we made to school. More tears. More hugs. More affirmations that felt too late.
And I rushed back home, van in front for the nanny to do pick up. Shovel the fresh snow. Yell at husband to fix the drain-spout. Husband yells back. More bad beginnings. Walk to the car to finally head to work and remember it’s recycling day. Drag recycling bin out and see you’ve just missed the truck by a block. Missed it, again by a hair. And you stand there with your hands on the bin, staring down the alley at the truck, willing it back with The Force, and the story you tell yourself is: this is your life. Missing busses and recycle trucks and your children’s hearts, by a hair.