Some days are cake. Delicious, gorgeous, light and fluffy cake. The home-made kind that makes your eyes close and 'mmmmmmmm' slip effortless out of your chewing mouth.
Cake days are glorious reminders of how unbelievably blessed and abundant my life is. Some days the sun casts the perfect amount of shine that seems to illuminate all that is good in this world, that glows a love-filled well of endless patience in my soul.
Today is not exactly that day. But, I'm making it my vow to write more about those cake days. Because they are sweet. And sweetness should be shared.
So, yesterday or maybe the day before was a cake day. I can't quite remember specifics because it's like that. It's like eating something delicious; you remember it was delicious but the nuance of the deliciousness leaves you which is probably why you crave more.
At 8pm last night, I was taking my daughter to the emergency medical clinic because she jammed a q tip in her ear and screamed, almost threw up or passed out..I couldn't tell which was about to happen, then started shaking and then continued crying for 30 minutes before we were advised from google searching 'ear-drum damage' that it would be better to determine if she'd in fact, damaged her eardrum, earlier rather than later to avoid hearing loss. So I took her in her pajamas, leaving the cozy warm nest and leaving my distraught three year old and we waited for nearly an hour in a brightly lit, plastic and sick-people filled room to eventually find out that no, she had not perforated her ear drum..only jammed it hard enough to cause a bit of bleeding. "Don't be alarmed if she bleeds out a bit" warned the Dr. as he walked out of the room less than 4 minutes after he walked in.
Sixty something dollars was what needed to be paid for the 30 seconds it took to find out that she did not have a hole in her eardrum and I think the lady said another bill would be coming, but I didn't hear that or rather, I didn't pay attention because I was thankful she didn't have a hole in her ear and we were both ready to be done and on our way back home. In the car, I noticed that the moon was amazing. Full and such a brilliant silver. The radiance lit the interstate and I thought about how headlights weren't necessary on nights like this.
Both of the kids slept in our bed last night because it was late by the time I got home and I was too tired to go through the normal bedtime routine. I fell asleep with Myla wrapped around my head, fingering my lips and nose singing, "I looove you, I love you, I loooooove you.." Sweet, delicious cake.
The sun is shining today and it's warmer now than it's been in the last couple days so I mistakenly think that I can get some much needed raking and gardening tasks accomplished while the kids eat their picnic lunch on the trampoline. The only rule..and they know this rule which has been repeated and repeated..."No, jumping while you are eating." They know the drill. If they want to have their plates on the trampoline, then they have to sit and eat. If they start jumping, they are done.
I am feeling so happy to be outdoors in these early days of spring..breathing in some fresh air, getting my blood warm as I rake and pile leaves in the rolling cart to take to the compost bin. I look up and see the kids jumping. I go over and calmly ask if they are both done eating and they quickly sit and say, 'no!' I remind them of the rule to which they repeat back to me. "no jumping while we're eating." I tell them that's their last warning, if they jump again, I will climb in the trampoline, drag them out, put their plates in the refrigerator and put them in their own beds for nap with no stories.
They both acknowledge that they understand. As I turn, eager to get back to my work, I see Myla, grinning the most beautiful, heart melting grin, spring to her feet and bunny hop across the trampoline bouncing her plate and food everywhere.
'Ok, that's it' I say, in my best authoritative voice. I climb in and she's already screaming, protesting and flailing her two year old body around in defiance. As I struggle with the zippered netting and my flailing, screaming, crying daughter I acknowledge that I am pissed. I am pissed because her disobedience means I have to punish myself, too.
So here is where parenting presents a challenge (well, there are lots of times) but for this particular situation...Following through with what I said, means that I will be punished, too. I don't want to go inside. I don't want to fight a tired, crabby child. I don't want to hear her ear piercing screams. I don't want to have to deal with one child inside on her bed and one still eating lunch on the trampoline which means they won't nap at the same time. No, I want to rake and enjoy the sunshine and feel the satisfaction of a task completed. I want to see the buds of my spring annuals peeking through the black soil.
So for a second I consider the easier option which would be to ignore her direct disobedience, remind them yet again, to SIT down and EAT and then get back to the task at hand: raking the leaves out of my flower garden.
But then my inner dialogue (probably channeling my husband) reminds me that she/they will never take me seriously, will never listen, will never respect my authority if I don't follow through with what I say. Consistency, right? That's how I'm supposed to parent to achieve well-rounded, well adjusted kids and then adults, right?
So I plop her on her bed, trying to remain 'emotionless' which is a pretty big crock of shit. All the parenting 'experts' advise against showing any emotion when you are disciplining a child..I am convinced those experts don't remember these particular moments. Just like labor pains, the mind/body has an exceptionally awesome built in 'amnesia' coping mechanism for these specific moments.
Now it's been almost two hours since I laid down the law and brought her inside and she still isn't sleeping. Her brother is on his bed and I can hear them chattering away, reading, and doing whatever it takes to keep themselves awake. The cart with the pile of leaves is still parked beside the trampoline and the garden is not cleaned out.
I just remembered the flavor of a cake day tastes a lot like letting go. Letting go of the expectation that with a three and two year old, specific tasks will be completed in a specific time frame. Or that I can have an idea of something going a certain way, and it does. Oh, no. Life right now requires much more flexibility and adaptability than that.
"Is today karate day?" Samuel calls out from his bedroom where he is supposed to be long involved in a dream by now.
I check the time..it's 2:23pm. His karate lesson starts at 4:30pm.
I don't answer because maybe it is and maybe it isn't.
IF they fall asleep and IF they both wake up in time and IF no one shoves a qtip too far their ear, and IF we don't have a wreck on the way and IF our planet keeps spinning on it's axis, then it is karate day.
No comments:
Post a Comment