Some form of whiplash

Well, the boys are definitely back! The energy in our house has changed dramatically, and while I'm so happy to have them home, I realize how "on" I feel when they are. That pressure doesn't come from within, or at least it doesn't now. It is a direct response to two very bright, extremely talkative, whirling dervishes who spin constantly, whirring out questions, comments, narration, ideas, requests, demands, pleas, negotiations and so forth in every direction. I feel like one of those cartoon characters with oversized ears who is trying to catch 85 different falling objects as they plummet towards him. In the cartoons of course, the character uses feet, hands, head, whatever, and always seems to catch most everything. In real life, you just get by as best you can without the aid of magic limbs. Jesus, I'm tired already.

It's like a slight form of whiplash, emotional whiplash, and sometimes these feelings really make me feel like a sub-par mom. I just do not want to be on all the time. I was so desperate to see them yesterday, but I'm so shocked by how amped up and, simultaneously, tired I felt by lunchtime today. And then I realized there are three weeks of summer left, and I wish so desperately that part of me didn't dread that time, but some part of me does. It was so nice to have time this past week to not rush, to not hurry, to not stress about fitting everything in, to be able to stay up late without the horrible knowledge hanging over me that that was a dumb, dumb decision because the early wake-up the next morning was coming so soon, to think and read, and hear my own thoughts, to finish sentences and conversations without interruption. All of that is infinitely harder when the kids are here. That's parenting I guess, but I still wonder when it might seem more balanced, a bit less intense. Will it? When? I guess I just need to get back into the groove.

Isn't it always something?!

While snuggling my little O Saturday afternoon, my fingers ran across and slammed on the brakes on a pebble-sized lump in his neck, at the point where it slopes into his right shoulder. A discrete little bugger, it's hard and protrudes slightly.

I am not a freaky mom in the sense that bruises, a little blood, jumping off of high'ish places --none of that really alarms me. Especially with Oliver. He is a robust, coordinated young buster and will likely be heavy into contact sports in a few years despite what will be mighty protestations from me.

So, my fingers paused and then started in on a full scale examination; I felt like a mother monkey. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't panic a bit. By that evening, I was sure it was a cancerous tumor, and by last night, I was sneaking into his room to scoop him out of his crib, rock him and cry softly on his shoulder.

In all likelihood, it's a node or a lipoma (a nicer word for a benign fatty deposit). When I dropped O at school this morning and told his teachers I'd be picking him up early to run him to the pediatrician, they all assured me it was just a node, perhaps he had/is getting a cold?, and encouraged me to feel similar pebbles in their necks. God love these women. They sure made me feel better and smile, both of which go a long way.

Mr. Picture of Health probably still is that, and for that salubriousness, I am grateful beyond words. It's funny how quickly your baseline can be altered, how your sense of footing can be thrown. It makes me think of life as an experience on a tightrope or balance ball at the gym: stop paying attention, and you fall, miss something, literally or more along the lines of appreciation.

I find it nearly impossible to live in a constant state of aware gratification, but in the moments I can and do, I realize how the myriad sayings about living in the moment came to be. What is important changes radically in times of fear of loss. The vomitous explosion of Legos we were irked about earlier (really, can't the boys just clean up after themselves?)? Who gives a rat's bum when juxtaposed with the health of your child?

Experiences like these, at least for me, are -ultimately- quite valuable. They balance the scale of life, bring me back to a centered point of focus and appreciation and perspective. In an hour, I'll have the doctor's feedback which will probably be a kind "he's totally fine, Emily", but in either case (god forbid), I know I will be forever thankful for all the little moments I've been even more appreciative of lately: the butterfly kisses, the extra snuggles, the total willingness to stay on the floor being silly for 5 more minutes, for hearing "I love you, Mommy" uttered in that sweet little voice as he rests his head on my shoulder.

Will they help me stay zen about the guys installing FiOS for my neighbor which is, at present, requiring them to uproot half the perimeter of my yard? Probably not because although I've been out there three times to put up barricades around my plants, ask and, alternately, demand that they NOT step on all the emerging buds, I see big boot tracks, crushed greens and heavy tools.

Like I said, isn't it always something?!

Om

"Nothing would be done at all if we waited until we could do it so well that no one could find fault with it."   -Cardinal Newman

I just love this quote. New to me, our yoga teacher commenced class with these words today, and I have to admit that keeping them in mind while working through tough poses really did help keep perspective on things, a sense of humor about stumbling out of a balance or hold. All too often, I judge myself on my "success" or "failure" to perfectly complete and hold each posture which is precisely NOT the point at all.  In looking to gain strength and burn some calories and because I truly enjoy the rigor, I sometimes push my body beyond what it's telling me are its limits that day, determined to perform despite, for example and like today, having been up since 4am. So to be able to sincerely laugh or at least grin through it all was terrific.

I think many of us, especially us ladies, tend to do this about many aspects of life: our appearance, our work, our parenting and so forth. Some people seem born with a more easygoing temperament, able to take things in stride with less self-judgment. Others struggle mightily with self-acceptance and love in the most serious and most banal ways. An admitted perfectionist in many ways, I am certainly not immune to such verdicts on self, but I have worked, and continue to work, to roll with it more. My top pie crust wasn't big enough? Ah well, all the better to see the pretty innards. I raised my voice [screamed] at the boys? Well, I'll try harder not to next time but parents have limits too and isn't it a valuable lesson to teach children that.

So, give yourself a hug today, do something not because you've mastered it but because the process is where life lies.