Month: February 2008

Today has been a much more relaxed day compared to yesterday. I’ve spent most of it at home rather than running hither and yon. I’ve put in a good four hours of work. I finished the washing the laundry. I stuck in video after video for Gleek who greeted this morning with stomach flu. Best of all I got to take a nap. Yay for naps! They make a world of other things seem much more manageable.

Oh, and I sent files for Hold on to Your Horses off to China. It is done. Now comes the waiting for books to arrive.

I just re-read my last entry and I’m not sure who I thought I was fooling. Today was insanely busy and by 7 pm I was exhausted and discouraged. I’d been legitimately busy all day long and I still had not gotten done the biggest things I’d planned for the day. Maybe I was fooling myself and maybe it worked because I got kids into bed, loaded the dishwasher and finally sorted all that dirty laundry. I also opened my planner and discovered that I’d actually remembered everything that was in it. I didn’t get it all done, but at least it was undone because I prioritized something else higher rather than because I forgot about it. Suddenly I feel much better about my day.

My life right now is busier than I want it to be. But if I can hang on, we’ll reach a tipping point where the Schlock business is too big for me to handle by myself and we’ll either hire help or partner with another business. I just need to keep going until then. and I need to remember that today was insanely busy, not all my days are quite as packed as today.

AM
6:30 drag myself out of bed
6:40-7:00 make breakfast and haul kids out of bed
7:00-7:10 prayers and scriptures
7:10-7:50 dump a huge pile of laundry down the stairs to sort it for washing, make kids eat breakfast, make kids get dressed, make kids find school stuff, make kids stop playing in the snow and get into the car.
7:55 drop Gleek and Link at school
7:55-8:20 forget I have to drop Kiki at school because she missed her bus, turn around and drive toward her school, absent mindedly drive past her school because my brain is busy planning out the rest of the day, turn around and take her there, then drive her back home to retrieve her forgotten clarinet, drive her back to school hitting all the correct turns this time.
8:20-8:30 talk with Howard in the kitchen planning out how the day needs to go and some upcoming plot points in the Schlock strip.
8:30-9:00 take a long overdue shower
9:00-9:25 sit with Patches helping him write his name on valentines and talking about preschool in the hopes that extra attention will help him go to preschool happily instead of clinging to me and crying.
9:25-9:35 drive Patches to preschool after he refuses to get in the carpool car. Once at preschool he dove into the activities and did not even look up to say goodbye.
9:40-9:55 fix and eat breakfast because I’ve been to busy to get around to it before.
10:00-10:30 drive to elementary school and watch a program where all the classes take turns singing
10:30-10:50 duck out of the program early once Gleek and Link have both sung, spend time talking with a friend whom I see far too seldom.
10:55-11:10 talk with Howard, tell him about the school program, step over the huge pile of laundry at the base of the stairs, contemplate sorting it so I can start the first load, get distracted
11:10-12:00 drive to the dollar store to buy prizes for our motivational prize box which needs to be replenished before this convention weekend, discover that 50 other people thought this was a great time for the dollar store too, wait in a very long line, drive home
PM
12:00-12:10 read scripts for Howard, laugh cause they’re funny
12:10-12:20 welcome Patches home from preschool, help him get settled finishing his valentines
12:20-1:15 Open my email for the first time all day, answer every email for which I have an answer, research answers so that I can answer the other emails, discover some emails that still need responses which must wait for another day
1:15-2:00 feed Patches, read blogs, read comics, read news
2:00-2:15 Help Patches with a video game
2:15-2:25 pick up Link and Gleek from school
2:25-3:00 hand valentines to Gleek and Link, help them spell a pile of names, eat a bowl of oatmeal because I didn’t have lunch yet, contemplate sorting laundry and starting the first load, decide to do dishes first, unload dishwasher, but don’t reload because Kiki arrived home
3:00-3:15 Kiki comes home from school with a bag of ice on her left arm and a note from her typing teacher saying Kiki might have carpal tunnel, poke and prod Kiki’s arm to determine that Kiki isn’t over dramatizing to get out of typing, she isn’t,
3:15-3:25 call Howard to consult about Kiki’s arm, he recommends a drop in chiropractic clinc
3:25-3:30 send Gleek to go play at a friend’s house, settle Link and Patches with a video game
3:30-4:10 drive to clinic, fill out papers, watch Kiki get adjusted, wait while she lays on the massage table, drive home
4:10-4:20 feed Kiki, remind Link that art lessons are today so that he doesn’t throw a fit when I declare time to go, realize I should retrieve Gleek from friend’s house so she can go with us on the art carpool, lay down on the bed instead
4:20-4:30 get woken up by Patches who needed something or other, announce “time for art” to Kiki and Link, run to grab Gleek from neighbor’s house, pile four kids and a package of graham crackers into the car
4:30-4:50 drive to art, unload Kiki and Link, they were 15 minutes late to a one hour lesson, drive back home
4:50-5:20 contemplate making dinner, feel exhausted and unprepared to argue with kids about eating, decide to buy it from the grocery store instead, sit down for a few minute’s peace and start writing this blog entry
5:20-5:45 load Gleek and Patches back into the car, drive to art, pick up Kiki and Link, drive to grocery store
5:45-6:15 herd four kids through the grocery store negotiating what to have for dinner, buy both a frozen pizza and fried chicken, Kiki and Link bounce around the store like cheerful ping-pong balls (Kiki is feeling better)
6:15-7:00 feed four kids dinner, eat dinner
7:00-7:30 sit down with my computer hoping for a few moments peace in which to finish this entry, I almost do
7:30-7:45 Gleek is headed for a tantrum, I read her two stories thus giving her the attention she needed to restore equilibrium

Thats as far as I’ve gotten in this day. Yet to go are cleaning up from dinner, snack time, bedtime, writing a check for merchandise that we need for the convention this weekend. Laundry and dishes are still undone. I haven’t even opened my planner yet today because I’ve been too busy. When I do, I’m sure I’ll find a nice logical list of things that I was supposed to get done today, but which can not possibly fit in the time that remains to me.

And yet, it has been a good day. I’ve been doing important things all day long. It is true I wish they were spread out a little more, but all of these things landed on my schedule because I am the one who wants them done. They are all things that I assigned to myself rather than things others assigned to me. There are not many people in the world who get to have that, and I am grateful.

I just finished writing the previous entry “The battle of dinner.” It does a very good job of capturing my mood during the events described. In fact it does such a good job of capturing the mood, that it is all in the writing and none of it is left in my head. Now I can contemplate the marvelous things of today.
Howard being a patient mediator despite having an extremely painful abscess in his thumb.
Link demonstrating extreme thoughtfulness and social awareness by eating a muffin I made even though he really wanted to eat ramen instead, because he did not want to hurt my feelings.
How bright and loving my kids are to each other. We have plenty of squabbling and hurt feelings, but love and consideration are the norm.
Life is good even when we have a difficult day.

Gleek writhes on the kitchen chair, an abject bundle of misery. “But Mom! I’m just not hungry!”
I look down at her plate with its four neat little piles of food, two of which have been nibbled. I’ve been trying to get Gleek to eat dinner for 20 minutes now. All the other children have gone. I want to be gone too. I do not want to stand here and make my child miserable. I don’t like to see her cry. I also do not like watching my kids skip a healthy dinner only to come snacking on treat foods ten minutes later.

“There are four piles of food on your plate, just eat two of them. You can pick which two.” It is a bargain. I’ve slid from my position of requiring her to eat everything. The give in my position is due to the fact that part of me is aware that she truly might not feel hungry. I feel horribly mean and abusive. Part of me whispers that Gleek is going to remember this event, that years from now she will be bemoaning her abused childhood to some therapist. I can feel the therapist’s eyes staring through the years to scrutinize my actions. I don’t much care about the therapist’s opinion, but I never want to be the cause for Gleek to need one. And so I back away from my original declaration, trying to be fair, trying to make peace.

But Gleek does not accept the peace offering. She begins shaking her head, flipping her hair wildly. Some of it trails through the food. She’ll need a bath after this. “Just leave me alone Mom! Leave me alone! I’m not hungry!”

My patience has worn so thin that it is more holes than anything else. It is not just this battle of wills, but the unending stream of battles over small things all day long. Gleek has had a difficult day. As a result, so have I. For some reason all of her joys and frustrations have been magnified far out of proportion and I have had to reign them in, to make sure that her exuberant energy doesn’t cause her to wallop another child with her jump rope, to make sure that she doesn’t shove her brother because he won’t play her way. I am tired. And I am angry. I am mad at my daughter for being so out of control today. I want to be done fighting, but I am aware that she can not learn control if I let out-of-control behaviors go unchecked. If I let her win I’m just going to face more battles. Bigger battles.

Fortunately Howard comes to our rescue. He heard the shouting, both hers and mine. It was probably mine that summoned him, because she has been shouting all day. Howard brings Gleek under control far more thoroughly and effectively than I ever can. He is all sympathy with her in-control behavior and stern and scolding with the other. He does not back down on his position as I so often do. Within a matter of minutes, he has Gleek sitting quietly and eating her bites.

She is so small sitting there, eyes red, sniffling, chewing. Her every movement is contrite. I watch her and wonder what story she is telling herself about this event. Are we the big mean parents who made her eat when she wasn’t hungry? Or does she know that she was over the line? Is she telling herself how awful she is and that she is a bad girl? I don’t want her to believe any of those stories. I want her to see herself as I do. I want her to see the amazingly strong girl who is filled with huge impulses that she has to wrestle with every day. I want her to see how often she does curb and control herself. I want her to see how bright and glorious and intelligent she is. I want her to understand that we all lose control of ourselves sometimes and we just have to pick up and try to do better next time. I want her to see her choices that led to this battle. Then I want her to see my choices as well. Most of all I want us both to choose something else next time.

“Do you want to sit in my lap while you finish your bites?” It is a peace offering from me.

Gleek nods and I scoop her into my lap. She wiggles her shoulders so that one nestles under my arm. A sigh shivers her whole body. It is answered by one from me. We have reached the calm after the storm. My arms wrap around her, both of us relishing the comfort of touch. There are no words as she finishes eating her bites. I have a hundred things I want to make her understand, but there will be time for that later. For now words will only shatter the peace which still feels fragile.

When the required food has been eaten, Gleek hops off my lap and runs to go play. Within minutes she is giggling with her brothers. She is as happy as if the storm never existed. Not so for me. I still feel shipwrecked; left sorting through the wreckage on the beach; trying to figure out how to cobble something together that will let me sail the dangerous waters of bedtime. Fortunate for me, I am not alone. Howard’s ship is not smashed and, though the passage is tricky, we all survive the trip.

I am not perfect. Howard is not perfect. None of the kids are perfect. Sometimes all those imperfections crash into each other and we are left standing in the midst of wreckage that none of us intended to create. At such times the best we can do is pick up the mess and try to go on, try to be better, try not to err in the same way again. It comforts me this evening to repeat, as did Anne of Green Gables, that tomorrow is a fresh day with no mistakes in it.

This evening I am tired, but I feel pretty good about it since it is an earned tired. Yesterday I was a trifle manic. I wrote four blog posts, a dozen emails, put together promotional material for Hold Horses (bookmarks mostly,) took care of the kids, and then stayed up late talking with Howard. I say “talking,” but it was more like Howard listening to me while I babbled at length about the million thoughts bumping around in my head. All day long my brain was fizzing with ideas and energy. Today has been more sluggish, I still got stuff done, but not at yesterday’s furious pace. And tonight I don’t have an endless stream of conversation pouring from my brain. Instead I sit dumbly, knowing that there was something I wanted to talk about, but not sure exactly what it was. I’m not worried about it though. I got enough stuff done today and I’ll think more clearly when I’ve caught up on my sleep.