Gleek thrashed in the tub water as I tried to wash her hair. The water was too hot. Sitting up was too cold. Why did she need to wash anyway? Um… maybe because it has been three days and she was grubby, filthy, sweaty. But she did not want a bath. She wanted to be downstairs with her brothers watching Kirby over the internet. Part of the reason she was upstairs bathing was she had been squabbling with those same brothers for the prior 30 minutes. It had been a cranky day. Gleeks emotional space between happy and full-out tantrum was negligible.
In the midst of conditioner application (and complaints about water-in-the-eyes), Kiki shouted from the kitchen. It was a piteous cry for help. I quickly dunked Gleek to rinse her off, then hurried to the kitchen to see what the new emergency might be. Kiki was making brownies for her school class. She was doing it all by herself, her first foray into solo baking. She had added twice the necessary water to the mix. Kiki was emotionally devastated by this disaster. I was trying to wrap my head around the problem and formulate a solution. This was when Gleek wandered in and lit-up like a little spotlight at the bowl full of chocolate batter. Kiki snarled at Gleek to back off because these were for school. Gleek devolved into tears that the bowl full of chocolatey goodness would be completely denied to her. I attempted to placate Gleek. Kiki grumped at me about the still-unsolved too-much-water problem. Then there was the influx of boys drawn like little metal filings to the magnet of the chocolate filled bowl while Kiki growled territorially about her baking efforts. We added another mix to even out the water ratio, but then there was the crisis of the oil not mixing in. Kiki was not calmed by my assurance that continued stirring would solve the problem.
In the midst of all the chaos, with the kids squabbling and the fan humming, and the dishwasher running, I had strong desire just to flee. The kitchen was awash with conflicting needs. Kiki needed me to stand over her shoulder and help her bake. Gleek needed love and reassurance. The boys needed attention. I needed to just sleep, or hide, or something. Moments like that one are fairly common. It is unsurprising that the emotional needs of one child will conflict with those of another. On my good days I can anticipate and prevent conflicts before they occur. On my tired days, I am as bad as the kids about adding to the conflict. Strange how we’ve had so much more conflict and crankiness in the week after I stopped working 10-12 hour days. It is like the kids were waiting to ambush me once the XDM project was complete.
I look at myself and all that I manage. Then I remember back to the years when 90% of my creative energy was completely engaged by my children. I’m not sure what percentage they get now, 50% maybe. Some of that is the simple result that I’ve made many of the tasks of parenting into routine habit. Those tasks used to require creative energy, but they don’t anymore. And yet I still sometimes feel guilty for spending so much energy on things that do not directly benefit the kids. Part of me believes that 90% is the correct amount to spend on kids, and that if some tasks have become routine, I should then be ramping things up and stretching my parenting in a new direction. Then another part of me argues that children are not benefited by over-parenting.
I guess it comes down to concerns about usage of time. Right this minute I am blogging, trying to wrap words around the thoughts in my head and trying to do it well. This time could be spent preparing for tomorrow. I could be doing laundry so that Gleek will have clean shorts to wear. I could be cleaning the family room so the kids have space to play. I could be planning healthy meals for tomorrow. But I don’t want to do those things. They are boring. I’ve done them thousands of times over, and if I do them instead of blogging, I’ll still have to do them yet again. And yet these maintenance tasks make such a huge difference in how our family runs. If the kitchen had been clean, everyone would have been better able to manage the brownie incidents. On the other hand, if I blog there is the chance that I will say something profound, or funny, or useful. If I do, then the words are pinned to the page and they will always be there. But then I remember that during the course of writing this blog I have told two children “just a minute.” It has been 10 minutes since I said it and I still have not responded to the query. Am I teaching them that sometimes waiting is necessary? Or am I teaching them that Mom is always busy and pre-occupied, Unavailable when they need her? Just today I dashed to Patch’s class, a couple minutes late for his Kindergarten event. I never used to be late for that sort of thing. As we walked back to the car I was only half listening to Patch’s rambling talk until I heard him state that he knows I am always late because I am working.
When did I become the always-late working mom instead of being ready-and-waiting when my kids needed me? Was I too available before, or am I not available enough now? Or have the needs of my family shifted so that I was correct in both times and places? That last one is what I’d like to be true. I want to believe that I am sensing the needs and answering them. That my life is different now because the needs are different.
And this is when I remember Kiki’s brownies. The making of them was chaos. Kids were squabbling. The kitchen was a mess. And Kiki was convinced that they were ruined more than once. Like Kiki, I am in the middle of making something and it feels like I’m ruining it. But those brownies turned out delicious despite Kiki’s fears. Kiki shared them joyfully with those same siblings at whom she grouched while mixing. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been afraid that I’m ruining the family I’m trying to build. But somehow I don’t think I am. If I keep trying my best, it will all come out just fine.