When does it get easier?

Sometimes my two kids, a freshly minted five and three, play together really well and I feel like we're gettin' somewhere, like my life won't always be about fetching this, reaching that, cleaning up after. But then, we have days (read: the last few) when it seems all I'm doing is scurrying around like a housegirl.

I repeat the mantra all day long: I'm not your servant. I'm your mommy. I'm not here to do everything for you. I'm here to teach you to do things for yourself.

But the learning curve? It is steep. For all of us.

I often have to sit on my hands to prevent myself from plunging in and finishing a task. It takes all my willpower to ignore their screeches of protest when I'm hanging back, letting them figure out the frustrating riddle of their jacket zippers.

Also, teaching kids things...takes sooooo loooooonnnggg.

I wish I could impart my knowledge, smile confidently and step away. But that's not how it works. They forget. The next time they confront a challenge (a stubborn glue stick top, a button and button hole, SHOE VELCRO FOR CHRIST'S SAKE) they, once again, expect me to pick up the slack. And the next time and the next. Until my gentle reminders that they can do it themselves turn into battle cries.

Then there is my guilt. Which is large and fuschia and sometimes hovers over all of us like a thick cloud about to burst. Only it won't disperse gentle fuschia rain, but large, sticky balls of tar that will bind our hands and feet.

I never feel that I'm doing enough. If I'm on the floor with the kids, I'm eyeing the crumbs scattered across the floor that need to be swept or the dishes piled high in the sink or my laptop which I want to fondle.

If I'm wiping the kitchen counters or folding laundry, it seems that I should be engaging more with Fruit Bat and Kitty Cat.

What I want to know is, When Will That Magical Day Arrive? The Day In Which I Can Stop Whimpering About What's Become Of Me, Because I'll Be Back. Fully And Totally Back.

Don't tell me it will never return. Please don't tell me that.

Comments

[Lyssa Ireland Thomas]

BEST DESCRIPTION EVER!
"Then there is my guilt. Which is large and fuschia and sometimes hovers over all of us like a thick cloud about to burst. Only it won't disperse gentle fuschia rain, but large, sticky balls of tar that will bind our hands and feet."

That is exactly how I feel, but didn't know how to say it!

[Waiting Amy]

Yes, yes, yes. This is exactly how I often feel. Well said.

I hope it will return. I'm counting on it.

[kendra]

The day will return, but it and you will be more magical than before. Trust me on this.

[JCK]

I loved your description of the guilt...large and fuschia. And how teaching kids takes SO long. Finding balance is the hardest learning curve in my life right now. Maybe for all of us.

[Leanne]

5 and 3. I remember those years. (Not that I'm much further along with 11 and 6!)

And I look to the left at your ads and I see "housebreakingmypuppy" and "train your dog in 7 days". Nah - it never happens that fast, puppy OR human. We're to the point now where the 11 year old will put away her own clothes without having to be asked or reminded. We're still training the 6 year old. So, somewhere between 6 and 11 it happened, and when it happens, you'll know.

You'll know it by the sound of silence. Wondering where your kid went because it's so quiet, and peeking in their room to find them tidying up. Or they've grabbed the phone and have gone in to their refuge to call a friend and talk in private. You'll know it because suddenly, you won't feel needed, and then you'll forget that you ever wanted yourself back in the first place, and you'll mourn the loss of your little kid that needed you for so much. Of course you'll still be needed, but for more of the things that you can actually identify with as an adult.

Love the crumbs. Cherish the crumbs and the laundry and the helping on the potty. Once it's gone, it doesn't come back.

xox

[M]

You'll be back, but you will have evolved into a different sort of you. You'll be richer and deeper and I think that you will find that this is the point of going through it all. It's those "calender moments" that get us through the rest of it.

[Tootsie Farklepants]

It's like marriage with it's highs and lows. Its peaks and valleys. One day you're up, the next you're down.

[BethanyWD]

I could have written this post! My kids turn 5 and 3 in May (do your kids have the same b-day month like mine?), and I'm sad to hear that their is no hope. =)

[amy]

right here with ya sister
3 and one and a lot of crusty thoughts
:)
we will survive though
i just know it

[mrs. chicken]

I could have written this. Thank you for saying it better than I ever could have.

[LifeAsIKnowIt]

Great post. So many of us can definitely relate.
Mine are 6 and 3 and play together more and more. The past year has definitely gotten easier.

[Burgh Baby's Mom]

If you don't want to hear "never" then let's go with "Someday."

Fuschia is exactly the right color for guilt, btw. Exactly.

[franticallysimple]

In a few short years your kids will both be in school full time. You will miss them...sometimes.
But it is easier. From 9 - 4.
I'm it total agreement: love the fushia guilt passage.

[mamatulip]

It's like that, isn't it? When it's high it's OH SO HIGH and when it's low it's...fuschia.

[Julie Pippert]

Fantastic post that I think we can all relate to.

I am going to sit on my hands, though, because...NO, wait, NO...truth might be a burden, but a burden shared is a burden halved, right?

IT DOES NOT GET EASIER.

We get better coping mechanisms, we get some things resolved but new ones crop up, we get used to things, and so forth.

Some moments are easy, some are great, but some are tough, and it may have taken me about 40 years, but I think this is life.

Happily ever after only happens in Disney and fairy tale stories, and only because they end on a happy and high note.

KWIM?

The rest of us wake up the next day and have a cat who peed out of the litter box, discover we're out of coffee, and the oldest is freaking out because her favorite shirt is in the laundry.

But then the little one walks in as we stand in the kitchen frozen wondering WTF and smiles and says, "MOM!" and runs up for a hug.

*FADE TO BLACK*

;)

[Emily R]

It wil ease, but only when you ease up on yourself. But you know that already. You cannot engage them every moment, and ignoring them sometimes hurts no one.

[NinjaMama]

Love this post. Mine are 4 and 18months. It is so wonderful and SO EXHAUSTING. Mostly the, "Look at this mom!" over and over again and the general neediness of both. I also long for the day when I will be "back". I don't think I will miss these days. I will miss the cuteness that shines out from the photos, but I will remember the reality. Kind of like when you see a cute little kid at the grocery store, and its clear the mama is not seeing how cute their kid is. It's easy to go "Awww" when you aren't doing the heavy lifting, and easier to appreciate in retrospect.

I have to believe it does get easier when they can feed themselves, or make themselves a meal. When they can dress themselves without prodding. When there are no more diapers. When they outgrow the car seats. When they go to school for multiple hours. When they are old enough to spend a week with grandma. That sounds so nice. The fuschia guilt is so exactly the feeling, but we are doing what we can. Sometimes I realize that just being here (even if I am busy with dishes, dinner, laundry, laying on the couch semi-conscious) is better to them, than if I were away at work or whatever.

[Vanessa]

At 9, G is finally reaching the point where she isn't bonded to me at a molecular level. Sometimes, she goes into her own bedroom, by herself, and reads or watches TV! It's amazing! She's not able to do as much for herself as I was at her age (I was allowed to use the stove ... I don't know what my mother was thinking), but she can do so, so much more than she could when she was 3 or 5 or even 8. And I'm just starting to see how this will continue until she knows how to drive and make an omelet and open a bank account, and it's exciting and scary and a little bit sad, all at the same time.

BTW, I always feel like I'm not doing enough too. When my husband was alive, I worried about things that were going on at work, and I worried that I didn't spend enough quality time at home, and I worried that I was almost 35 and hadn't written a book yet, but I never worried about the daily business of running a home because he handled it all so thoroughly. Now I've always got the crumbs and the stains and the clutter and the errands at the back of my mind along with everything else. Most unpleasant.

[Sarah]

Crazy, isn't it, that's it's possible to love and treasure them so wholeheartedly ... and yet to want to just edge out of the room so, so often.
I wonder sometimes if our Western culture may have edged so far away from what is 'natural' in child rearing that we no truly longer understand what we're doing.