Let's face it, we all lead busy lives that revolve around crazy schedules. Some more so than others. Our family is no different since our young children are also involved in various extra-curricular activities. There's gymnastics one night, swimming lessons on another, dance for Ceilidh, and skating lessons. Come summer, skating will be replaced by soccer. We're also hoping to squeeze in music lessons next year. I am conscious of the fact that over-scheduling children is ultimately detrimental to family harmony and to children themselves. I understand the importance of free play, especially the "skill" of being able to entertain oneself for varying periods of time. Not to mention the importance of spending some quality time together as a family, without having to rush off to a class or lesson somewhere. We try to eat together as a family, and some evenings, we simply hang out and watch movies or play in the basement (albeit while Daddy tries to catch the score of the hockey game).
Maybe I've been a bit pre-occupied with work lately and the regular everyday demands of home life (you know - the never-ending pile of laundry, the weekly need to replenish the pantry and fridge, the daily struggle to stay on top of dust), and some days, it's a struggle to make to bedtime with my sanity intact. I feel a tug of guilt that I don't spend enough "quality" time with the kids during the week. Sometimes, it seems the only times I am not impatient with them is first thing in the morning when they join me in the basement to watch me exercise, and late at night, when one of them is snuggled against me. In between those two periods, there's lots of begging, coaxing, badgering to get dressed / finish eating / put away toys / get into the bath / find your stories / listen / stop fighting with your sibling and share your toys / LISTEN / threatening of the naughty stool and time - outs / LISTEN!
Last night was swimming. Got home. Greeted kids. Asked about their day and school for Devlin. Put away shopping. Changed out of work clothes. Told children to get ready (bathing suits already on under clothes, thanks to our lovely nanny Rose). Came back downstairs to check mail. Told kids to get on coats and shoes. TOLD KIDS TO PUT ON COAT AND SHOES. Only Aisling has her coat and shoes on. Ceilidh pouting and Devlin having full on meltdown. Threatened no swimming and no McDonalds. Temper tantrum increasing in intensity. Fine. Send Ceilidh and Aisling out the door with Daddy, while Mommy stays home. I have decided we are following through on our threat so he knows we're serious, and he really gets to experience the consequences of his actions. He's now screaming that he wants to go to swimming, and he'll be good, and he'll listen. Whatever.
Well, after about 15 minutes, he finally calmed down, and decided he was going to go home to his real family. (Where? Yep, home.) So he put on his jacket and shoes and said he was ready to go home. I showed him the door. He asked if I was going to drive him. I said no, since he was obviously going to go home to his "real" family, he could ask his "real" mother. Then the tears started again, as he declared I was his real mommy and he wanted his mommy and he wanted to stay. So I advised him to take his coat and shoes off.
I went into the living room and turned on a cooking show (the first I've seen in months) and waited. It wasn't long before a little tearful boy climbed into my lap. We cuddled until his tears dried, and talked about his horrible tantrum. We chatted about how he missed out on swimming lessons, and how we could avoid that situation. Within minutes I had my cheerful little boy back. He ran to the kitchen and helped himself to yogurt and bread and apples. He was very hungry. All that crying must have been quite the workout!
As he munched away, I wondered if his display of disobedience wasn't simply a cry for attention. Maybe he just wanted some extra hugs and some time with Mommy. Maybe it was his way of saying, "stop - I need a break from all this!" And then the guilt of being a working mother with not enough hours in the day began to creep into my psyche. Devlin, of course, then had to hammer the final nail in my coffin with this next remark.
"Mommy, I'm going to miss you tomorrow when you're at work."
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