I wake up to the chihuahua scratching at the covers at the end of my bed. I rub my eyes and they are dry and irritated, like sand some how crept into the corners as I slept. I glance at the clock...4:43am. I turn over and begin to try and lull myself back to sleep, beg my brain to turn off, as I try to focus on thinking about nothing. I urge my brain to "go blank". I slowly begin to fall back into dreamland as my body lets go, loses it's fight to stay awake.
Crying....I hear crying! Oh wait, I am a mother and that is my baby crying. I scoot the chihuahua to the side and go to pick up my infant son. I happen to glance at the clock. It's 4:59am. I nuzzle my sweaty little baby boy into my arms. He's a sweaty little beast, I think to myself and hug him in closer for being the little boy that he is. He nurses with vigor and growls and coos in excitement as he eats. He also grabs at my nose and digs into the softness of it. He's sharpening his new found skill of grabbing at things, I think. It feels like he's ripping my face off! Gone are the nights where I can bring him into the bed with me as we both drift back to sleep. It's like nursing "The Hulk" I think to myself. He tuckers himself out after finishing both sides and falls into the kind of sleep that only babies get to have. In this sleep, there are no worries or stress. They are truly at peace. I decide to get up and start my day. There is no turning off my brain at this point. I seek out coffee, to help remove the sand that's in my eyes.
As I sip my coffee, my 10 year old walks into the kitchen. His hair is sticking straight up and disheveled, his shirt is on backwards and inside out. I look at him and have a melancholy moment where I picture him at 3 years old, waking up, my morning boy, arms outstretched, ready to embrace me. He hugs me and gives me a half hearted smile. Sweet, sweet boy, my Andy is. He brings me his book that we are reading together. We sit on the couch and cuddle and laugh at the silliness of the book. In the back of my mind I think to myself "I am SO blessed". It's a feeling I get several times a day. I may not be rich when it comes to money but, my LOVE bank is overflowing. For this, I am grateful.
We put on our sneakers and go for a walk. The air is cool and crisp. The sun is slowly peeking over the horizon. Andy looks up and points to all the beautiful colors in the sky and says "Mama, God is here with us". I know what he means because I feel it too.We walk into the house and I see my parents sitting at the table eating their breakfast. The baby is up, sitting in his high chair. He squeals with delight at the sight of me! Next to him is my daughter, talking away to my father at a decibel used only in a circus ring. The girl does not have a quiet button. My dad keeps chiding her gently to lower her voice. She seems unaware. Out of the corner of my eye I see my oldest son. He's got his head in a book, reading fervently. I say "Good morning Nikola" in Greek. He pops his head up above the book and says "Oh, hi Mama. I'm doing my work!" This is another one of those moments for which I am grateful. My oldest child does his work without ANY help or direction from me. He enjoys learning and embraces it. I realize how lucky I am for that.
I start trying to gather my daughter into the dining room to begin her work. She's in a mood today. "Mama, I will only do two pages and THAT"S IT!" she exclaims. I start our calendar routine and am in a constant state of trying to be what I am not. I am not feeling calm yet must act that way. I must stay poker-faced and redirect her repeatedly without stressing about it. This is the balancing act, the nitty gritty of parenting that wears mothers out. I push down, push away my anger and frustration because it serves no purpose here, in this space. I am the mom & the teacher. My reaction or lack of one when she is fidgety and restless says more to her than if I make a big fuss. She isn't just learning math, she is learning how to be calm.
As I am listening to my daughter read her book to me, I hear the distinct sound of someone cutting paper. I peek into the office to see my son Andy making "art". I try to decide if I should let him finish his masterpiece or redirect him to his schoolwork. It appears that, he is just cutting up pieces up paper for the heck of it and I gently guide him to his workbox. "You can do your art when you reach box number 4." I say. Box number 4 is the break box. It's filled with a snack and a little art project. He says sweetly "yes mam". I know that this is not the only time I will be saying this to my son today. Much like with my daughter, I must remain poker faced and simply redirect. My sons attention span is that of a kitten! Only, his currency isn't string or yarn, it's art, or youtube videos. He loves music and enjoys watching music videos.
The day goes on like this. it's a mix of tiny moments of joy and laughter. What am I missing in this tender scene? Oh, yes....THE FIGHTING! THE BICKERING! Let's not forget that:
NIKOLAS: "Mama, what grade level is Andy's book?"
ME: "Why Nikola? What's the difference?"
NIKOLAS: "Well, Mama why does he get to read a comic book? I am reading "The Hobbit"!!! It's not fair!!
ANDY: "SHUT UP NIK!!!"
ALEXIA: "YOU SAID A POTTY WAAAARD ANDY!!! MAMA, AAANDY SAID A POTTY WAAARD!"
ME: "Nikolas, mind your own business. Alexia thank you for telling me and Andy, stop playing guns and SIT DOWN PLEASE AND GET BACK TO WORK!"
ELI: "WAAAAAAH, WAAAAAAAH,WAHHHHH!"
I nurse the baby and it starts again.
NIKOLAS: "Mama, how come Andy only wrote one paragraph? I wrote three! ANDYYYY, you are going to grow up and work at Mcdonald's! Mama, if he doesn't write more he's going to grow up and work at "The Circle K!!!!!!"
ALEXIA: " Mama, Nikolas is beeeeing Meeeeeaaaan to AAAAAAndy!"
ME: "Nikolas, be kind and humble please. Alexia, please come here and finish reading to me. Andy! AAAAAndddddddyyyyy, where are you?"
ANDY: (almost inaudably)" I am in my room. I will be right out. I am taking my break."
I look over and see that he's only finished one assignment. He's got 5 more to go. He's no where near his break box!!!
ME: AAAAANNNNNDDDDDYYYYY, PLEASE COME BACK AND FINISH YOUR WORK!
Andy walks in the room and looks at me sweetly. "Sorry Mama" he says with a look that melts my heart.
I push down the anger. I stand poker-faced and remain calm. I walk a tightrope because I can not freak out. I am teaching how to handle anger, not just how to add and subtract. They are watching me, always watching me, to see how to behave.
And so it goes....my day, this day, is much like any other. I am the mother. I am the home school teacher. I can not grow weary from the continuum that is my life. This is part of it. It's the nitty gritty, the meat of it. I know I am doing good work, even if it's not in plain view. The fruits of my rewards will come in time, even if I can't always see them. I walk the tightrope. "The best prize life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing"-Theodore Roosevelt
No comments:
Post a Comment