"help. I need a towel."
that's all I needed to hear to know that today would be challenging. That, of course, came from mikey--straight forward and matter of fact-- shortly after the gurgling of his little sister projectile puking all over the breakfast table. naturally, poor ana started crying her eyes out, and mikey just wanted to get the little bit of soured almond milk off of the portion of his chair. so the epic scrubbing of my kitchen began, sanitizing and doublebagging the waste, so much so that the fragrance of bleach in the kitchen burned my nostrils on the inhale. oh well, I figured. at least it's clean in here, for now.
post breakfast blowout, chara and mikey were ready for church, and ana was laid up on the couch, snuggling her carebear and watching the movie Home, which I have to admit was adorable and cast perfectly. I couldn't believe that anyone other than Jim Parson could manage the roll of a literal and anal retentive alien. it was the only the sound of Sheldon Cooper on the big screen that distracted me from each and every time ana moved her body or coughed a little bit. I was so worried that she was going to get sick again that I put her in a pullup (in case she had a multiple blowout) and practically swaddled her into the couch cushions. thankfully, she didn't give me too much of a hard time on that.... at least until the movie was over.
after church, mikey returned with a scream and an inability to calm himself down, which turned into a battle over getting his coat and shoes off without him banging his head into a wall or attempting to step on the cat or punch one of his sisters, then repeatedly insist that he needed to go potty (a phrase he often scripts as an attempt to get out of trouble), only to stand there and wait for me to tell him to go. it didn't take much for me to figure out that he was overwhelmed today, although I truthfully, for the first time in a long time, had absolutely no idea why. and not knowing why reduced me to tears. why do I have the ability to analyze situations and different kiddos in those scenarios and come up with multiple solutions and ideas for parents and families, and yet when it comes to my first born, the snuggly little love bug that he is, I feel completely inept at times to help him cope with his struggles?
we all have this tendency to resist the good, insistent in our own ways until we literally collapse from exhaustion... at least in my house. I am probably the most guilty of this. there is not a day that I do not run around with a to-do list, happily checking off the items as they get accomplished, feeling as though I made a dent in this yellow brick road of never-ending tasks; that if I just get them done fast enough, I can reach the emerald city and get rejuvenated just in time to see the wizard and have him grant me all the deepest desires of my heart. of course, with children running around like elephants stomping on snare drums, shrieking in delight at an ungodly decibel, and me playing Russian roulette with each step I take around my house, as to not break a toe or step on a lego, and I am rarely clicking my heels as much as wishing for those poppy fields to give me a deep sleep.
sleep is a gift that is all too often missed out on lately, at least for me. jimmy works third shift, and many days, he returns exhausted, flips on some background noise on the ipad, and begins the choir of the rusty chainsaw...also known as his snore. meanwhile, I return to the way of chores, budgeting, research and homework, meal prepping, errands, and of course my kids. I have to wonder as I look around every afternoon at what has been accomplished if it is a bit like brushing my teeth with oreos- in all seriousness, what would be the point of it?
now of course, the answer is obvious. these are every day necessities, right? I mean, the kids need to eat when they're at school, so lunches need to be made, and the same with dinner in the evening. clothes need to be worn, and while there is no law about having clean clothes, anyone with a keen sense of smell and pride in one's appearance would prefer to have clean clothes to wear on a daily basis. I can continue to justify the to-do list, going down the different bullets, specifically telling myself why each one is needed and how me feeling exhausted at the end of the day is a good thing because of what has been accomplished.
and yet, there is something not on the list that hasn't been included for a long time, something that resonates within us all but often goes overlooked. there is a need to be fulfilled; and this is very different than being accomplished. Accomplished is a high five at the end of the day, a compliment from the boss, the right to kick your feet up and watch another episode on the latest Netflix obsession... but fulfilled-- that is to be satisfied with your abilities and your character, not just your daily task sheet. somewhere, in the midst of growing up, life becomes an order of expectations that fit a societal mold, turning us into what we all eventually become: adults. we hear the parents speaking wisdom to their children, trying to save them from their own hideous mistakes, warning them to "do things right"-- graduate school, focus on the future, save your money, get a good job, get married, then worry about a family, and so on. we see ads everywhere encouraging women to choose their own future by taking birth control, or for parents to vaccinate their children, to wash the carrots before you eat them to avoid the chemicals from the "dirty dozen"... literally, almost everything we see and hear guides us into the world of adults-- how to live, who to be, what to say. but where is the passion? where is the guidance counselor telling us to ask for help, and watch Disney movies?
it may not seem like much, but it is. having ana cuddled on the couch with me and watching this goofy little alien try to fulfill a promise to his one true friend gave me a glimpse at what I never see on the to-do list. it reminded me that even in the chaos, there must be pause. despite the difficulty, there are moments that are built for laughter. they can be puke covered moments, or bedtime story moments, or listening to your 6 year old learn to deliver a punchline-- correctly, and with vigor!-- or even an exhausted chuckle to yourself that you made it through the day. laughter is good-- it is passionate and alleviating and uplifting. it is a reminder that life is more than checking off the day's chores or paying bills and collecting kids from daycare. it is a reminder to go off the beaten path every day, to find a moment that is not bland and mundane, or even think of one that is and make it into something better.
there is way too much yelling here every day. between chara's mini-woman attitude and mikey's sensory overloads and meltdowns, or ana screaming about how me making her eat her meal isn't fair, and I can't help but wish for a soundproof retreat filled with down blankets and Egyptian cotton sheets with a high thread count and a waterfall of coffee like the river in Charlie and the Chocolate factory. despite the fantasy that I dream to get away from it, especially when the moments are really trying, the noise eventually fades, the kids fall asleep in their warm cozy beds, and I can think about what the day has brought us. and ultimately-- I'm so blessed that I do not have blind obedience from my children.
I love when they listen, follow directions, as me if mommy needs any help with chores or cooking. those days are absolutely amazing, and it makes me feel like i'm doing something right. but in their deviation, I can see a spirit, not of rebelliousness, but of passion. yes, I want them to clean their toys now, and I get upset when they don't do it. but this is just a mere glimpse of how God looks at me throughout my day. i can say with a lowered nod and a slight smirk that i have been a proud toddler one too many times with God, stomping my feet over what isn't fair or banging my own head when i get frustrated (metaphorically of course)... and yet he is quick to show me grace. although it takes reflection and rewinding, I am able to see it from their standpoint. That instant is important to them. whatever they were thinking, imagining, believing, building-- it had great significance to them, and telling them to shut it down stirred up a passionate response. they still have a strong desire to stay in their own little world and tune out the world of adults and responsibilities and to-do lists and passionless work.
it doesn't matter what it is; passion is not limited by pages written, paint on a canvas, or people helped. driving down a country road with the music up and the windows down or climbing a mountain or learning to play the guitar, going to the beach just to run in the surf and listen to the sound of the waves and the seagulls-- there are so many ways that we can express passion, that we can extend grace to others, allow our character to develop by finding the joy from a place buried deep under all the mundane requirements and arduous and ample assignments that face us every day. but it takes a boldness, a strength to ask for help, to know when you're burned out and to have the ability to put the list and the pen down, take a breath of fresh air, and remind yourself that there is more to life than plaques on the wall, trophies on a shelf, or a paper filled with check marks. it is the heartbeat of a sick 4 year old girl as she snuggles under your Mexican knit blanket; it is the full sentence of the autistic boy who asks you to sing to him before he drifts to sleep; it is the comfort in knowing that you are exhausted at the end of the day because your heart and soul were put into every step taken and word spoken that day. it is sitting down at the end of the night, with only the whirring of the gas heat from the vents, words pouring out of your veins with each strike of the keyboard, knowing that this is a revelation to be shared, to find the passion that ignites your soul and make time for it every single day.
and i am blessed because i can check that off today. it is good.
