It's Thursday and somehow I feel as if we are just getting this week started. August was a doozy. Not only did my husband open his second restaurant mid-month, he co-produced a five day music festival this past weekend and then headed straight into the work week! Whew! We are working for our Sundays off, that's for sure!
To really get an idea of what I'm going for here I'll say this: Yesterday was a funny day.
Hey, do you ever rush someplace to get your kids out and into the world for, say, gymnastics or whatever activity you kind of half-guilted yourself into signing up for in the first place only to regret ever leaving your house? Yeah, you were excited those first few classes and love their joy of learning and doing, and are certainly committed to your kids' needs outside your own little bubble, but after a few times of juggling the logistics of it all, it feels like a punishment. Especially when there is a two and half-year-old involved whom you are working towards weaning- yes, weaning from the breast. And it's not going well and you probably don't want to nurse your thirty pound kid at the gym place or do the awkward weaning 'baby' dance- the one where the kid acts like he's going in for a hug and with all the force of his body weight flings himself into cradle hold while pulling on your shirt saying "Nuss, mom. Pwease." and when you say "Not now," through gritted teeth while gently kissing his forehead he yells, "Ya naw Nice, Mama" "Pwease nuss." And you try to put him down but he sticks to your frame like velcro, like you can stand there without a hand on the child and they are stuck to your body, a toddler vest if you will. And what's with the strength of the feet? How do they seem to hook you with their feet once you've pried them from your body? It's a wacky dance, this one.
So, you are begging the kids to put their pants on, stop licking that nickel, tackle them to brush their teeth, collect water water bottles, negotiate which shoes will work and then wiggle them on their fat little feet using your pointer finger as a shoe horn, trying to get everyone out of the house- all while half-listening to a run down of just exactly what Santa Claus should bring for Christmas this year, and even what he might like left out for his mid-night snack. (the clock is ticking- if we leave now we might make it on time) Speaking of snacks, you'll need those, and an iPad for gratuitous amounts of screen time while one brother waits for another to take his hour-long turn on the gym floor- you've tried the no-screen thing (see the weaning dance above) and that's not going to do today. You stuff all the essentials in the bag. Not enough coffee or b-12 energy boosts to entertain a kid for an hour without a screen, today. Hell, the only reason you'd left the iPad previous gym days was to not look like a screen addiction enabler, which you are not but heaven forbid anyone see your kid get into that Zone in public. What's worse? High Blood pressure or a super fucking happy kid who's getting his fill of Temple Run and Angry Birds Star Wars, saying stuff like "I love you, Mom" "You're a great Mom" and "This is the best day ever" in between dishing out hugs and kisses because he's that thrilled to get some unregulated screen time. I chose the latter.
So you make it to the first of two gymnastics classes 10 minutes late, unshowered, slightly spastic but prepared. And the kid won't go. The only reason little brother was ever even enrolled is because he freaked out while waiting for his older brother to take his class, wanting to participate. It's not that big of a deal but is feeling pretty grand on the scale of shit you don't want to deal with today. The toddler velcro thing is in full swing- maybe he has to pee? You take him to the bathroom leaving your bags of crap on the ground and the other kid gleefully holding the iPad just as docile and compliant as ever, excited to finally return to his weekly gymnastics after summer break, and big time excited for a little extra screen time. You are doing all of this for him. You just want the kid to get to take his gymnastics class. His disappointments are your disappointments and he his needs have been second to his brother's since the day his brother was born, but you always seem to think of him the most. You are doing this all for him. Even this giving him a sibling thing, you tell yourself.
In a flustered mess after multiple attempts to convince little brother to take his class, even walking out to the car (while big brother sobs big tears- because it's his turn to cry) and walking back in because the little one says "My cwass?" and tricks you into believing he wants to try again- and you perk up and feel like you are winning- til you go back in and he goes with the teacher and you get situated, barely, and he is gets scared and is sobbing and running to find you and you are trying to get to him and other Moms are frowning and looking at him very sweetly- he clearly is not ready to take this class. You are trying. You are just trying to keep everyone happy. So you leave because what's coming- what's coming if you stay is more fits and fighting to keep your shirt on and pleas to join the big kid class. And big brother cries. Sadly. And you take the iPad because they are starting to argue over that thing, now. No kisses, or neck hugs, or "best days ever." Just "I'm sorry." "We have to be flexible," "Sometimes these things don't work out" "Maybe I can get a babysitter for brother and just take you next time" (tears) "Let's go to the park."
But first you have an errand to run, and must drop by the house to pick up an item to drop to lady that is only in town for an hour. As you round the drive to your home, there are cries for the park.
"This will only take a few minutes."
(shamefully) "We are not just living your life- I have things to accomplish, too."
"I'm just going to run in to grab a bag."
While inside it will also only take a second to relief your bladder- you had opted to skip that at the gym place even thought nature was calling. As you pull up your trousers- you hear a child's cry. It's literally been 2 minutes. The car was running, the air on, and as you round the corner and your mini-van comes into view- you see your four year old's leg and arm flailing, his right half hanging out of his passenger door window, teetering. Wailing. Making an escape.
"Moooooooom"
"Moooooooom"
Tears, terror. All of that.
"GET BACK IN YOUR SEAT."
All you can do is take a deep breath, shake our head and laugh.
You calmly walk out to the van. Your kid is scared. You had warned him of the dangers of being left in the car on a hot day. He unbuckled himself, turned off the car, locked the doors somehow and was bailing out of his window- all in like 3 minutes or less. You are impressed, you hold his hand and look into his eyes and say "Buddy.... (trying not to laugh) I'm so sorry you were frightened, I only ran in for a moment and had to go potty.... I'm so sorry you got scared... but I'm impressed that you were making an escape...." "It's okay." "Next time just remember to unbuckle your brother, too."
Every have a morning like that?
***
Yesterday was Funny.
And this past weekend was full. We had a fun hang with my sweet and hilarious friend Ashley that I met on Instagram, and her precious little girl, Lily. The photo series below cracks me up! Jasper was trying to umbrella-jack her, and sister is no fool. (Her little brother is the same age as our little one)
And this:
Of Course, I forgot my camera for *most* of my Roots Festival goings to, but here are a few that made it onto my disk:
***
A new month and a new season are upon us- so much promise and so much to look forward to! Like boots and socks, cider and spice cake, surprises from Santa (we already know what snacks we'll leave out), cooler temps and a lower level of over-heating-in-the-car-danger alertness. We made it past the heat of a season of intense growth in many places of our life, and are headed into cool down mode, I hope. And possibly looking into a new approach at gymnastics class arrangements. This is not a drill.
Thanks for dropping by.
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