I’d love to tell you that my silence is a result of much needed productivity. But that would be a lie. I have found myself of late traipsing through the no-woman’s land of BEING ALL THINGS TO ALL PEOPLE. And failing miserably. I have felt as though I’m letting everyone down in nearly all facets of my life. Everything from homeschooling, housework, writing, parenting, paperwork, laundry, grocery shopping, meal planning, chauffeur duties, and general juggling has suffered.
And we’re not even through our first semester yet. I don’t usually experience a meltdown like this until early April at the end of the school year.
I was trying to explain to Fiddledaddy an event in the van earlier that day. Two of the children had worked my very last nerve and as I was turning into the library I let out a primeval guttural scream that shook my very bowels. Fiddledaddy blinked, “Well, did they stop?” “YES. They thought I was crashing the van.”
Not a proud parenting moment.
During times like these I retreat into my make-believe world of EVERY THING IS OKAY AND I REALLY WEAR STRETCHYPANTS ONLY FOR COMFORT. Luckily, a girlfriend of mine who easily recognizes insanity when she see it came and picked me up for coffee and girl time. I told her about my week. She nodded knowingly. She home schools, after all. That primeval scream is something that she’s familiar with. Most mothers are. I am relieved.
I’m working my way back to sanity, tackling one mole hill at a time. We’ll just call them “piles of progress” (thank you, Jennifer, for coining this term).
To give you a glimpse into the insanity, let me share the following about an inmate in this particular asylum. My friend left her girls here at our house today to hang with my girls. Many broadway show tunes were sung. That’s how they roll. When it was time to leave, we walked them outside to their van. Jensen sprinted across the street, wearing Angry Bird pajamas two sizes too small. Yes it was the middle of the day. No, I didn’t tell him to put his pajamas on. At least all his important parts were covered. That is not always the case.
He wanted to check out the pool located behind the house that’s for sale across the street. His sisters had already made an impromptu check on it in the event they could talk their friends into moving there some day. As I customarily do, I yelled at Jensen to get back in the house. It is not unusual for him to be spotted in some form of inappropriate attire. And what luck, my yelling simply draws attention to his plight. He ran out from between the houses gesturing wildly that he had seen a dead Dragon Fly THIS BIG.
Then he began dismantling the garden rock wall of the house for sale, in hopes of finding a lizard. I had to step in and take action. This is me reprimanding my son in front of the house that is for sale. (No, no one lives there. Or we would have
blissfully rightfully been shot.) (My friend is the photographer who captured these precious moments. Because that’s what friends do.) Fiddledaddy saw it later and noted that it looked like Jensen was openly mocking me.
I really cannot understand why this house hasn’t sold. I mean, who doesn’t want to live across from THE ADDAMS FAMILY?
Happy Monday. Please tell me that I’ve made you feel better about your own parenting prowess.