I’ve been taking a couple of online classes for licenses and re-certification. None of it exceptionally challenging, but I think I’ve been minimizing how the extra workload of things to do, no matter how laid back, has been a drain on me. One of my classes is creative writing, so I’ve been writing, but haven’t been able to manage the extra effort to post on this site. That’s combined with the general drag of pandemic-land, so I haven’t been feeling at my best. My prison work, aside from mentoring an incarcerated writer, is on hold. And, it’s only recently that I’ve been able to make the gradual ease into my political stuff. I’m proud of it, but I think the classes make me feel more spent than I’ve been able to admit to myself. Big picture I’m not feeling all that capable or good about where I am with things. I make jokes about not winning parenting awards…I’m REALLY not winning parenting awards. But, as the jokes recede into the world from where they escaped, I’ve been feeling guilty and generally lousy about it. I can acknowledge that my kids are doing better than what I hear from commiserating parents, but It’s very little comfort.
This morning, however, was a reprieve from those feelings, as it produced one of the few mornings that made me feel genuinely good. Six-year-old Little Man is loving the Bunnicula series that delighted me as a kid. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m enjoying them as an adult. Chester the cat is such a delightful character. When I read them as a non-reader much older than Little Man, there weren’t as many of the stories in existence, so it’s an interesting thing to have this be a kind of statement of how time moves on. But, it’s hard for me to read them aloud, and struggling with concentration in general has resulted in Little Man having to present a kind of force to get me to pause what I’m doing to read to him. That said, all he’s had to do is say he wants to spend time with me, and I stop whatever I’m doing for him to snuggle into my side. It’s one of the few times he isn’t too rough with me. This morning, however, I had my little man burrowed into me with the four-year-old Warrior Queen cuddled on my lap. It was hard to read the first chapter of the next book, especially when I’m consistently interrupted with “Where are we,” and “What’s that word,” questions. But, this morning none of it bothered me as much as it sometimes does.
My kids are pretty rough with each other, so that’s been an ongoing frustration. It’s just play. No one is particularly bothered…until someone gets smacked the wrong way and cries or bitches to me in an excited rant…two seconds later they are back to the same thing.
They were telling stories this morning. They’ve been doing that more, probably because I tell a lot of stories myself. Our bedtime routine has shifted as I’m asked to start a couple of stories each night that my kids finish in their own way. A while ago I bought these blank books, stickers, and other craft things. I’d bought stuff because we didn’t even possess child scissors, and I could tell that it might be tough to obtain materials in the near future for kids mostly confined at home. Mostly, though, the materials are untouched, except for the smaller projects here and there…I’m exceptionally glad it occurred to me to make the purchases at the time. I remember the trip to the store. I’d only been home from the hospital a day or two. Although I was doing well, I remember how much it took from me to be able to travel the store, select items, and return home.
All these months from mid March, it was this morning that was a good time to pull some of those materials out because something told me Little Man and Warrior Queen were in a place to do more than ramble off their stories to my waiting ear. The kids probably spent a good hour creating their own books, and climbing the sofa to “read” me their stories. They were both so calm and happy that I could just look at them and greedily run my fingers through their hair or touch their faces. Little Man finished first and transferred his focus to reconstructing a puzzle he likes. He hasn’t really attended to his puzzle tasks for the longest time…just another testament to it being a different kind of time.
Since the onset of the pandemic, I haven’t had many moments like this. The time has been hard on everyone, and although I’m doing well enough, there are times like now that I’m not doing as great as I’d like. But, more importantly…in all those moments when I don’t recognize myself anymore and my kids are on a constant loop about me being mean and they don’t love me, I wanted to hold a morning that used to be ordinary.
A Tale of Two Mommies 