I made it through my working weekend.
I was sleeping soundly by 8:00 p.m. both nights and had absolutely no extra-curricular life whatsoever. No Christmas cards written, no phone calls made or received and I barely spoke to My Youngest (but I did stay up past 7:30 last night to complete a conversation that we started).
I was aided and abetted through this Arctic Winter Weekend with the assistance of my Second Son. Lucky for me (not so lucky for him perhaps?), he (and his girlfriend) had planned on working on their farm all weekend (which is about a half hour past my place-of-work). So rather than starting up two vehicles, headed in the same direction in near -50 weather, I hitched a ride with them. It worked like a charm (at least for me it did).
It meant that my work hours were defined by someone other than myself or my boss. Seven hours on Saturday. Eight hours on Sunday. Pretty close to full-time employment. I should be rich ... (trust me, money is not everything!!).
It was a successful weekend for My Son & His Girlfriend. They were eager to share pictures of their accomplishments with me on the way home. I knew it was a mistake. I looked down. In the back seat of a moving vehicle. For no more than five minutes. But it was a bad decision...
I thought I was okay. Until we got home. I just wanted to go to bed.
No matter what is going on, I always tend to my two basic needs. Food and sleep. I am not deprived in either of these. I had to smile when I read these words "Remember, when you are hungry and sleep-deprived, it is a meltdown waiting to happen" in a Mountain Wings issue entitled "Your Tantrums". Unbeknownst to the reader, he was writing about how to deal with a toddler's behaviour. But it speaks to many.
Life is busy. It is a fact of life. At a bare minimum, ensure you are adequately fed and rested. And I really liked this advice too: "It helps to take a nap during the day".
The older I get, the more child-like I become. Every day when I lay my Little People down for a nap, I tell them "You don't know how lucky you are ...". Oh, to have someone dictate my needs and schedule time for a nap into my day. It is little wonder that I am having a tough time with the "NO nap" ruling from one of my parents. She has destroyed my life with those two words. The fact that I have not heeded her orders is of little consolation because the 'joy factor' of un-guilty pleasure has been stolen from me.
Five more working days until the weekend. A one-day weekend. But I will take it.
Happy Monday to All! (and to all ... a good nap).
Monday, December 9, 2013
Sunday, December 8, 2013
It's a Bit Brisk, Eh?
Our Canadian Deep Freeze is working well. We are a full 15 degrees (or so) warmer than we were this time yesterday morning but it still feels like -32 with the wind chill factored in. I think all of us can relate to this ...
Weeks like these make me grateful for small things ...
Winter!!! What can I say about those months of freezing cold, snow and blizzards. Of which, we experienced all.
If it wasn't for us four kids in bed together we would have froze. It was cold everywhere – in fact the barn was far warmer than the house, from the heat of the animals. There was really very little heat until summer arrived.
The winters were very severe, with no roads – only those made by the teams of horses driven in winter to schools, town and anywhere you went.
Homes and schools were heated by wood and coal, with no such thing as insulation heard of yet. It made for very uncomfortable living at times, not to mention our cold trips to school (by sleigh, with heated stones to keep our feet from freezing).
The one incident that I will never forget – our dad was bringing us home from school in a blizzard. Our team of horses got bogged down in deep snow and couldn’t go any further. Fortunately, we were right near a neighbor’s driveway. We walked there, us three kids and our dad. Our horses were put in their barn and us kids were taken straight to the house, where we were made very welcome. We had to sleep upstairs, all three of us in one bed, in a dark, strange room. How scary! I can’t remember, but there were probably more tears, but it was a very happy ending to a very worried day. My dad and a friend of theirs took a fresh team of horses and a bob sleigh and both went on home and got there safely. You can imagine what an enormous relief that was to our mother. There were other incidents like this, involving other families in the district. It was a time where there wasn’t the convenience of a phone in the home, to put a person’s mind at rest. The only thing a person could do was wait it out and hope for the best.
The winters were really hard. Very cold and the housing was poor. When it was 35 to 40° (Fahrenheit) below zero, with any wind it was just about impossible to keep the house warm. We all sat as close to the stove as we could. In the morning, we would jump out of bed, run downstairs into the kitchen and stand on the oven door. All four girls, but alas, one day the oven door broke. ‘Poor Mom.’ I don’t remember how long it was before it was fixed. Yes, we ‘all’ did stand on the oven door at the same time. We were all very small, skinny kids at that time.
Bundle up and enjoy the conveniences of our time. It is never so bad that it couldn't be worse.
Weeks like these make me grateful for small things ...
- Insulation
- Indoor plumbing
- The ability to warm up the house by turning up the thermostat
- A furnace that co-operates with the command sent via that tiny gadget (thermostat) in the hallway
- Block heaters
- A car that starts
- A car heater that works
- A system of roads that take us where we need to go
- An infrastructure system that takes care of those roads for us
Winter!!! What can I say about those months of freezing cold, snow and blizzards. Of which, we experienced all.
If it wasn't for us four kids in bed together we would have froze. It was cold everywhere – in fact the barn was far warmer than the house, from the heat of the animals. There was really very little heat until summer arrived.
The winters were very severe, with no roads – only those made by the teams of horses driven in winter to schools, town and anywhere you went.
Homes and schools were heated by wood and coal, with no such thing as insulation heard of yet. It made for very uncomfortable living at times, not to mention our cold trips to school (by sleigh, with heated stones to keep our feet from freezing).
The one incident that I will never forget – our dad was bringing us home from school in a blizzard. Our team of horses got bogged down in deep snow and couldn’t go any further. Fortunately, we were right near a neighbor’s driveway. We walked there, us three kids and our dad. Our horses were put in their barn and us kids were taken straight to the house, where we were made very welcome. We had to sleep upstairs, all three of us in one bed, in a dark, strange room. How scary! I can’t remember, but there were probably more tears, but it was a very happy ending to a very worried day. My dad and a friend of theirs took a fresh team of horses and a bob sleigh and both went on home and got there safely. You can imagine what an enormous relief that was to our mother. There were other incidents like this, involving other families in the district. It was a time where there wasn’t the convenience of a phone in the home, to put a person’s mind at rest. The only thing a person could do was wait it out and hope for the best.
The winters were really hard. Very cold and the housing was poor. When it was 35 to 40° (Fahrenheit) below zero, with any wind it was just about impossible to keep the house warm. We all sat as close to the stove as we could. In the morning, we would jump out of bed, run downstairs into the kitchen and stand on the oven door. All four girls, but alas, one day the oven door broke. ‘Poor Mom.’ I don’t remember how long it was before it was fixed. Yes, we ‘all’ did stand on the oven door at the same time. We were all very small, skinny kids at that time.
 |
| Winter of 1947 or 48 ... snow banks as tall as 8 feet by the shed |
Saturday, December 7, 2013
I am What I am
If a flame from my past were to run into me at the mall, they would be completely justified in thinking that they 'dodged a bullet' as they would most likely think to themselves, "Gee ... she has sure let herself go!"
I'm going through a phase right now. I hate to say it, but I'm kind of liking it. It is akin to the six week recovery period that I had after my hernia surgery. I didn't have to leave the house to go to my Saturday job and I cancelled all of my dance classes during that period. I didn't have to go anywhere so I took advantage of that time and went through the growing pains of letting my hair grow out (I must have been in dire need of a hair cut before the surgery).
At the end of that metamorphosis, I came out with a new hair style and a completely different look on life. I felt ... happy.
Since that time, I spent three years 'out in the public eye'. I went to school. I worked outside of my home. I kept my foot in the door at the dance studio. I took part in a dance competition and went on the Vacation of a Lifetime. I had to keep up appearances.
My last dance lesson was June 27 of this year. My last (failed) attempt at 'hair and nail' maintenance was July 27.
My hair was nothing short of a disaster (made worse by a follow up hair cut which has taken four months for my bangs to finally reach my eyebrows again). My pedicure was a waste of time (my feet felt like sandpaper within days and the nail polish started peeling off almost immediately).
It was some time in and around that point that I was completely and totally relieved that I didn't dance any more. It took such great energy to maintain that 'dance look'. The one where it looked like I actually took some time to look in a mirror before I walked out the door.
I shed that image with such flair. I couldn't help but compare this freedom with the pains that I went to, to take on a completely fake persona to attend a dance competition. Fake nails, eyelash extensions, spray tan, bold cherry-red hair, a high maintenance hair cut, with excessive bling and dance costumes to complete the look. When a friend-from-another-lifetime-ago commented on my pictures from this competition, I replied that "The only thing genuine about me in those pictures was the smile ..."
I am not a high maintenance kind of girl. I think it is loads of fun to dress up and I miss those 'Cinderella days' of dance showcases just a little bit. I'm glad I did it. I am grateful that I have proof (pictures) that I lived that life of glitz and glam. But most of all ... it is that smile within those pictures that I am happiest to see.
I gave up hair and make-up a little while ago. The growing out process of a bad hair cut is not fun. I have utilized bobby pins and have had 'hair days' that would make my mother shudder. I can't help but think of the comments that she has made about her 85+ year old sisters' hair at times (something to the effect of) "Doesn't she look in a mirror?" and the comment that they should do something to flatter their appearance.
I totally agree on one level. A person's hair is one of the first things that you notice. It doesn't have to be glamorous but I think that having hair that doesn't stand out in a negative way is probably a direction that I want to take. But I couldn't help but defend my aunts "Who goes out and gets their hair done to attend a funeral?" and "Maybe you saw them just before an upcoming hair appointment ..." or maybe they were simply growing out a bad hair cut!
I have to leave the house today.
I added some eye liner, eyebrow pencil and bronzer to my morning look. I looked at my hair and shuddered. I placed a few unruly pieces of hair where I wanted them to be and bobby-pinned them in place. And I thought "Good enough" (my hair has finally grown out of one bad phase and the next is probably due around the next time I wash my hair).
My question is: Do I care ... enough?
I had a dream that My Sister quietly whispered in my ear that I should 'suck in my gut' (those weren't her words but it is the most succinct way that I can retell what my sister told me in my post-dream state) because it looked like my stomach was protruding and my rear was sticking out. Yes. I weigh a lot more than I did in those 'dance pictures' in addition to the bad hair and no make up.
I wish that I had a more flattering wardrobe. I need to touch up my roots. My nails need to be filed down. I should treat myself to a do-it-yourself pedicure. I need to maintain 'what I have' but all in all? I am quite content to go with the "I am what I am".
I'm going through a phase right now. I hate to say it, but I'm kind of liking it. It is akin to the six week recovery period that I had after my hernia surgery. I didn't have to leave the house to go to my Saturday job and I cancelled all of my dance classes during that period. I didn't have to go anywhere so I took advantage of that time and went through the growing pains of letting my hair grow out (I must have been in dire need of a hair cut before the surgery).
At the end of that metamorphosis, I came out with a new hair style and a completely different look on life. I felt ... happy.
Since that time, I spent three years 'out in the public eye'. I went to school. I worked outside of my home. I kept my foot in the door at the dance studio. I took part in a dance competition and went on the Vacation of a Lifetime. I had to keep up appearances.
My last dance lesson was June 27 of this year. My last (failed) attempt at 'hair and nail' maintenance was July 27.
My hair was nothing short of a disaster (made worse by a follow up hair cut which has taken four months for my bangs to finally reach my eyebrows again). My pedicure was a waste of time (my feet felt like sandpaper within days and the nail polish started peeling off almost immediately).
It was some time in and around that point that I was completely and totally relieved that I didn't dance any more. It took such great energy to maintain that 'dance look'. The one where it looked like I actually took some time to look in a mirror before I walked out the door.
I shed that image with such flair. I couldn't help but compare this freedom with the pains that I went to, to take on a completely fake persona to attend a dance competition. Fake nails, eyelash extensions, spray tan, bold cherry-red hair, a high maintenance hair cut, with excessive bling and dance costumes to complete the look. When a friend-from-another-lifetime-ago commented on my pictures from this competition, I replied that "The only thing genuine about me in those pictures was the smile ..."
I am not a high maintenance kind of girl. I think it is loads of fun to dress up and I miss those 'Cinderella days' of dance showcases just a little bit. I'm glad I did it. I am grateful that I have proof (pictures) that I lived that life of glitz and glam. But most of all ... it is that smile within those pictures that I am happiest to see.
I gave up hair and make-up a little while ago. The growing out process of a bad hair cut is not fun. I have utilized bobby pins and have had 'hair days' that would make my mother shudder. I can't help but think of the comments that she has made about her 85+ year old sisters' hair at times (something to the effect of) "Doesn't she look in a mirror?" and the comment that they should do something to flatter their appearance.
I totally agree on one level. A person's hair is one of the first things that you notice. It doesn't have to be glamorous but I think that having hair that doesn't stand out in a negative way is probably a direction that I want to take. But I couldn't help but defend my aunts "Who goes out and gets their hair done to attend a funeral?" and "Maybe you saw them just before an upcoming hair appointment ..." or maybe they were simply growing out a bad hair cut!
I have to leave the house today.
I added some eye liner, eyebrow pencil and bronzer to my morning look. I looked at my hair and shuddered. I placed a few unruly pieces of hair where I wanted them to be and bobby-pinned them in place. And I thought "Good enough" (my hair has finally grown out of one bad phase and the next is probably due around the next time I wash my hair).
My question is: Do I care ... enough?
I had a dream that My Sister quietly whispered in my ear that I should 'suck in my gut' (those weren't her words but it is the most succinct way that I can retell what my sister told me in my post-dream state) because it looked like my stomach was protruding and my rear was sticking out. Yes. I weigh a lot more than I did in those 'dance pictures' in addition to the bad hair and no make up.
I wish that I had a more flattering wardrobe. I need to touch up my roots. My nails need to be filed down. I should treat myself to a do-it-yourself pedicure. I need to maintain 'what I have' but all in all? I am quite content to go with the "I am what I am".
"I am what I am
I don't want praise I don't want pity
I bang my own drum
Some think it's noise I think it's pretty
And so what if I love each sparkle and each bangle
Why not see things from a different angle
Your life is a sham
Till you can shout out I am what I am"
Lyrics (in part) "I am What I am" ~ Gloria Gaynor
The one accessory that needs work is my smile. It has been the one item missing from my current look that I know I need to find again. I think it is here some where ...
Friday, December 6, 2013
Depleted
The week has drained me to the very core of my existence. 'Quiet Time' during my daycare day has been infringed upon. Taking with it, a little piece of my sanity.
Honestly, it isn't that awful. It is just hard. Really hard.
Instead of putting my little Nixon (my private nickname for the leader-in-play-whom-I-wish-to-impeach) down for a nap in a bed, I make a cozy spot for him on the couch and make it very, very easy for him to drift off to sleep. And he does (but not without a fight ... yesterday, he was literally pulling Senior Cat's whiskers one second and two seconds later, he was sawing logs).
I have two napping children in the living room and I pussy foot around the house and cannot let my guard down (aka: have a little snooze on one of those couches myself).
Nap time is the time I gather up what I need to get through the remainder of the day and now when I do manage to find those moments I cannot even enjoy them.
My reward for enduring this week? I get to work all weekend.
It is -40 outside once again this morning. The benefit of my daycare job that no one can take away from me, is the fact that I do not have to brave the elements to make my way to work. Not this weekend. I get to experience reality like the rest of the population.
The flip side of this trying week is that I have fit Christmas cards and my dad's family's Book of Memories in between the cracks. Perhaps not 'quality' workmanship in either case (I apologize in advance for Christmas cards written between the dates of Dec 3 to Dec 6) ... but steps in a forward direction.
As much as this week has felt like trudging through two foot snow banks (hard, exhausting, futile and destinations feeling so-out-of-reach at times), I have kept putting one foot in front of the other, taking a pit stop to 'warm up and refuel' each night and continued on my journey the next day.
I was talking with a friend yesterday (who also runs a daycare from her home) and we both agreed that 'this' is where it is at for us. To be able to say that (and mean it) during a week-such-as-this-one says a lot.
I'm in this. I'm all in. For better, for worse. For the good, the bad and the ugly. In sickness and in health (though I may need a few new couches after last week's stomach flu...). For as long as it remains 'in the best interests of the children'.
I may be depleted. But my energy is a renewable resource. I will keep coming back to this. It is exactly where I am meant to be right now.
Honestly, it isn't that awful. It is just hard. Really hard.
Instead of putting my little Nixon (my private nickname for the leader-in-play-whom-I-wish-to-impeach) down for a nap in a bed, I make a cozy spot for him on the couch and make it very, very easy for him to drift off to sleep. And he does (but not without a fight ... yesterday, he was literally pulling Senior Cat's whiskers one second and two seconds later, he was sawing logs).
I have two napping children in the living room and I pussy foot around the house and cannot let my guard down (aka: have a little snooze on one of those couches myself).
Nap time is the time I gather up what I need to get through the remainder of the day and now when I do manage to find those moments I cannot even enjoy them.
My reward for enduring this week? I get to work all weekend.
It is -40 outside once again this morning. The benefit of my daycare job that no one can take away from me, is the fact that I do not have to brave the elements to make my way to work. Not this weekend. I get to experience reality like the rest of the population.
The flip side of this trying week is that I have fit Christmas cards and my dad's family's Book of Memories in between the cracks. Perhaps not 'quality' workmanship in either case (I apologize in advance for Christmas cards written between the dates of Dec 3 to Dec 6) ... but steps in a forward direction.
As much as this week has felt like trudging through two foot snow banks (hard, exhausting, futile and destinations feeling so-out-of-reach at times), I have kept putting one foot in front of the other, taking a pit stop to 'warm up and refuel' each night and continued on my journey the next day.
I was talking with a friend yesterday (who also runs a daycare from her home) and we both agreed that 'this' is where it is at for us. To be able to say that (and mean it) during a week-such-as-this-one says a lot.
I'm in this. I'm all in. For better, for worse. For the good, the bad and the ugly. In sickness and in health (though I may need a few new couches after last week's stomach flu...). For as long as it remains 'in the best interests of the children'.
I may be depleted. But my energy is a renewable resource. I will keep coming back to this. It is exactly where I am meant to be right now.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
My Daycare - Our Microcosm of the World Outside Our Doors
This may have to be a 'blog about nothing'. I have many thoughts and emotions running through my mind at the moment. All daycare related. There have been far too many daycare-related-stories here lately. I am tiring of them. But it is my life. It is what I think about when I lock the door, close the blinds and turn off the lights at the end of a (very long) day.
Last night I asked my Youngest Son (who has witnessed that-which-I-write-about) if it is me. Am I doing something wrong? Do you see something I don't see? I am speaking English ... aren't I?
Amazingly, his answer is that I need to be firmer. There is no respect. They simply don't care what I say. They literally and figuratively do what ever they want the moment I turn my back.
*** So much for me not writing about my Daycare Day ... (sorry) ***
I need a plan. I so need a plan. We need to get out of this rut. Not being outside is not helping us (this morning feels like -36 with the wind chill). My plan was to have the downstairs playroom up and running to get us through these frigid temperatures.
Our house is full-to-capacity and there is far too much stuff downstairs to make this a free reign, no rules kind of zone. So ... we did the next best thing. We (not so much we as he - my Youngest Son) utilized the gating system that I purchased to teach my new one-year-old boundaries (it sort of worked).
We went straight to work after our supper (once again thanks to My Youngest ... I was fully prepared to lose myself to chocolate bars and reruns of the Gilmore Girls). We came up with this:
Last night I asked my Youngest Son (who has witnessed that-which-I-write-about) if it is me. Am I doing something wrong? Do you see something I don't see? I am speaking English ... aren't I?
Amazingly, his answer is that I need to be firmer. There is no respect. They simply don't care what I say. They literally and figuratively do what ever they want the moment I turn my back.
*** So much for me not writing about my Daycare Day ... (sorry) ***
I need a plan. I so need a plan. We need to get out of this rut. Not being outside is not helping us (this morning feels like -36 with the wind chill). My plan was to have the downstairs playroom up and running to get us through these frigid temperatures.
Our house is full-to-capacity and there is far too much stuff downstairs to make this a free reign, no rules kind of zone. So ... we did the next best thing. We (not so much we as he - my Youngest Son) utilized the gating system that I purchased to teach my new one-year-old boundaries (it sort of worked).
We went straight to work after our supper (once again thanks to My Youngest ... I was fully prepared to lose myself to chocolate bars and reruns of the Gilmore Girls). We came up with this:
It is not exactly what I hoped for. I really wanted the kids to have free reign to run, play, make noise with minimal 'rules'. Our gating system is more a boundary than a deterrent. One push and it would capsize. Boxes of toys have been covered with a sheet so that kids don't look at all-they-don't-have and want what is out of reach instead of what is readily accessible. There is a large pile of 'stuff' that belongs to my Middle Son which is tucked away but taking up valuable real estate. But at least it is ... different.
My Youngest Son has the patience of Job. He kept persevering even when I talked on the phone and motioned for him to go ahead and quit since I was not being of any assistance. He kept on going. Our gating system threatened not to work. If I had been working on this on my own, I would have walked away and come back to it another day. My Youngest assessed the problem and realized that we had a faulty panel. Something was bent and contorted in a way that made impossible to connect it to the wall. We exchanged panels (thankfully we had a spare one from the matching set upstairs) and voila! It worked.
I vacuumed. He puttered. We created a little haven that our cats were discovering with joy.
Senior Cat was like a dirty shirt. He was in and around and watching over us every step of the way. It was like he couldn't wait for us to finish so he could go and explore.
Junior Cat was wary. He saw a 'cage'. He has issues with being held against his will. He looked at our rickety gating system and I could almost hear him breathing faster and his heart rate going up. He walked straight into a corner and started acting like he was caged. All he had to do was back up and he was a free cat but he kept swiping at the netting as if to say "Let me out of here!!" He walked into the other corner and Senior Cat (who was perched atop a small end table assessing the situation) swiped at Junior in a playful "I'm the King of the Castle" sort of way.
Eventually both of them relaxed at the same time and simply started to explore. Senior was elated to find all of the hiding places and hidden 'tunnels' (he found his way under the piano bench and popped up like a little gopher, in behind my Middle Son's filing cabinet which was adjacent to the piano). We laughed and we laughed. It was like watching two innocent children discover a new playground.
The cats were thrilled to find familiar belongings rearranged in different ways and a new 'room' to play in. The gating system means different things to different cats. Senior knew that he was fully in control of where he wanted to be so the barricade held no significance to him. Junior had a completely different association with the same scenario. He immediately panicked. But once he realized that this small fence was surmountable, he was on his way to checking out the new playground.
Something tells me that this same line of thinking is going to run through my various children as we discover a new area-of-play within the house. I predict that my little one-year-old will immediately test the boundaries. I suspect that my three-year-old will be the first to want to play-with-that-which-he-cannot-see. My four-year-old will be wary of the newness initially, but will be the first to settle in and really play. And my two-year-old? She will copy what she sees.
It is like I have a representation of the human population within my little daycare world. Leaders, followers, trail blazers and those that simply go with the flow. It is all fine and good if you have a good leader. If you don't? Watch out world ... you are in trouble.
We simply have to impeach our leader.
** Microcosm (noun)
1. a community, place, or situation regarded as encapsulating in miniature the characteristics of something much larger.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Keeping Thoughts Positive
First and foremost, I apologize for yesterday's rant. I almost went back and deleted the post in its entirety. But ... I didn't. Sometimes small truths (that I can't hear within the clutter of my mind) seep out of my fingertips and I see things more clearly once I've allowed my brain to fingertip connection to run freely. So I left it.
I do believe that a person sees what they need to see, when they see it. Yesterday, this found its way into my line of vision:
I do believe that a person sees what they need to see, when they see it. Yesterday, this found its way into my line of vision:
From that moment on, I consciously tried to monitor my thoughts. I am transparent. I know that I wear my thoughts on my face as clear as day. So I tried to think better thoughts (then I let my Wild Child fall into a natural state of slumber before my very eyes and I felt oh-so-much calmer) ...
I played music yesterday. All day. Music calms me. Jeffery Straker makes me happy from the inside, out. Patty Shukla is my favorite for the kids. We sing. We dance. We jump. We even scream (only when directed by the music!!). We release our inner selves as we lose ourselves in the music.
By the day's end, I was at peace. I sat on the floor as my three little people (my little dancing one-year-old package of joy had already gone home) sat on the couch with their various babies, blankets and the LeapPad. Three sets of feet sat before me. I tickled feet. The kids smiled genuinely happy smiles. We tittered. We laughed. We ended our day on a (musical) note of happy.
Little ideas are coming to the forefront of my mind. Christmas stuff. Creative little morsels of 'maybe this will work'.
December is not my favorite month. It forces me to do what I endeavor to do all year. To give of myself. I like when the sense of giving trickles out of me like a good mood. I do not like it when I let the expectations of the Christmas season make me feel inadequate and empty.
In the end, I am always grateful for that little push to go beyond what is expected. It is not a bad idea to feel that 'push' from time to time. It helps us become more of who we are to begin with.
We are four days into the month of December. The world is providing me what I need to see to get through this season that has the power to deplete me.
It is a little bit like my Daycare Family. They push me to places that I need to be. I see more and feel more because I am surrounded with fun-loving, innocent bundles of joy and happiness. These (sometimes) sleep deprived little parcels of energy also have the power to deplete me.
The key (for me) is getting a good night's sleep and waking up with the attitude that I can do it all over again. Only better. Life always seems to give me an opportunity for a re-do. It is up to me to make the most of it.
I will try it all over again today. And the day after that. And the day after that ...
We are very fortunate that life is full of second chances. We are very wise indeed, when we make the most of what we are given.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Loud
What do you do when you can't turn down the volume in your day? Really. I truly want to know your answer.
I run a daycare. I must have known that I would have 'days like this'. Why am I so shell shocked by yesterday?
Because I was told, "NO MORE NAPS" for my Wild Child. I have no idea what expression my face contorted to when this mother told me this mere seconds after she walked in the door. But it couldn't have been pretty.
This child is a wild one. The more tired he gets, the wilder he gets. He will stand up and simply scream a mixture of consonants and vowels that nowhere nearly resemble any word within our language. Then bursts of energy explode within him. I swear that he does these things uncontrollably in an effort to keep himself awake.
And I have an epidemic of children-copying-each-other going on here. Need I say more?
Our Monday usually starts off like a picture postcard. Kids come in and slowly discover the new toys I have brought out for the new week. There is a gentle segue into the week ahead of us. I sit back. I take pictures. I breathe deeply knowing the moment won't last. But I savor those moments for as long as I have them.
Yesterday?
There was NO peace. Not from the moment go. Wild Child started running and screaming the moment he walked in the door and started leading the others down a terribly steep and slippery slope. And it was not yet 8:00 a.m.
I gathered them for breakfast. That helped. But not much. And not for long.
I sat down on the floor with them and I 'led them in play' with a new educational toy about letters. I lost them after ... no. I didn't lose them. I never really had them to begin with. But we sat down and sang about six letters.
I have been working on an alphabet book for them and had several pictures with things that begin with the letter "A" for them to cut out. The scissors held great fascination. I lost the two-year-old at 'hello'. The four-year-old was intrigued and had the attitude of never giving up. The three-year-old Wild Child cut his paper into tiny smithereens (I guess I should have warned his mother about this at the day's end but the ringing in my ears had not yet stopped from his incessant screams so I forgot. I hope he didn't cut his mom's hair last night).
Then we read "The A Book". They were so far gone by this time that I knew I was singing to the choir.
So we went outside. I thought that it was warmer than it actually was. The wind chill was c-c-c-cold! I accidentally froze them into submission for as long as our walk lasted. I enjoyed this in a frigid and cold sort of way ...
We came back inside and I turned on "Max and Ruby". Ahhh. The combination of thawing out and the mesmerizing effect of the TV was a winner. I had exactly ... ten minutes or less to savor this first voluntary moment of calmness within our day.
And it was only 10:30.
It was the longest day in my history of babysitting. I survived. The children survived. But I was such a wreck at the day's end, that I turned off all of the lights (including the Christmas lights) upstairs and retreated into the quietest, most secluded corner in the house.
The only reason we all made it through the day intact is because I laid the Wild Child down for a nap. I didn't let him sleep long. He woke up in the same agitated over-the-top obnoxious mood that he was in before he went to sleep (still tired, obviously). But I had one and a half hours of complete quiet. I couldn't even enjoy it because I knew that it was not what this mother had instructed me to do.
I may have to 'quit' this child. He is beyond my reach. I have taken care of him for fifteen months of his forty one months of living. One third of his life. And I have made no headway with this situation that I recognized long ago. It has gone from bad to worse.
I have no choice but to try this all over again today. I will see how it goes. But you can be certain that a conversation with the mother is formulating in my mind. I can't go on like this (to make matters worse, this is the same mom that is habitually a half hour to one and a half hours late - with no phone call). My solution is sounding easier by the moment.
Sorry about the rant. Sometimes my answers come to me when I write. So I wrote. I still don't know my answer because I don't like to give up on children. But I have to be working together on this, with the parent. Therein lies my answer ...
We are in on this together or you are on your own. When it comes to relationships of any kind, this has been my final answer. I am a three strikes, you are out kind-of-girl.
Strrrrike one!
I run a daycare. I must have known that I would have 'days like this'. Why am I so shell shocked by yesterday?
Because I was told, "NO MORE NAPS" for my Wild Child. I have no idea what expression my face contorted to when this mother told me this mere seconds after she walked in the door. But it couldn't have been pretty.
This child is a wild one. The more tired he gets, the wilder he gets. He will stand up and simply scream a mixture of consonants and vowels that nowhere nearly resemble any word within our language. Then bursts of energy explode within him. I swear that he does these things uncontrollably in an effort to keep himself awake.
And I have an epidemic of children-copying-each-other going on here. Need I say more?
Our Monday usually starts off like a picture postcard. Kids come in and slowly discover the new toys I have brought out for the new week. There is a gentle segue into the week ahead of us. I sit back. I take pictures. I breathe deeply knowing the moment won't last. But I savor those moments for as long as I have them.
Yesterday?
There was NO peace. Not from the moment go. Wild Child started running and screaming the moment he walked in the door and started leading the others down a terribly steep and slippery slope. And it was not yet 8:00 a.m.
I gathered them for breakfast. That helped. But not much. And not for long.
I sat down on the floor with them and I 'led them in play' with a new educational toy about letters. I lost them after ... no. I didn't lose them. I never really had them to begin with. But we sat down and sang about six letters.
I have been working on an alphabet book for them and had several pictures with things that begin with the letter "A" for them to cut out. The scissors held great fascination. I lost the two-year-old at 'hello'. The four-year-old was intrigued and had the attitude of never giving up. The three-year-old Wild Child cut his paper into tiny smithereens (I guess I should have warned his mother about this at the day's end but the ringing in my ears had not yet stopped from his incessant screams so I forgot. I hope he didn't cut his mom's hair last night).
Then we read "The A Book". They were so far gone by this time that I knew I was singing to the choir.
So we went outside. I thought that it was warmer than it actually was. The wind chill was c-c-c-cold! I accidentally froze them into submission for as long as our walk lasted. I enjoyed this in a frigid and cold sort of way ...
We came back inside and I turned on "Max and Ruby". Ahhh. The combination of thawing out and the mesmerizing effect of the TV was a winner. I had exactly ... ten minutes or less to savor this first voluntary moment of calmness within our day.
And it was only 10:30.
It was the longest day in my history of babysitting. I survived. The children survived. But I was such a wreck at the day's end, that I turned off all of the lights (including the Christmas lights) upstairs and retreated into the quietest, most secluded corner in the house.
The only reason we all made it through the day intact is because I laid the Wild Child down for a nap. I didn't let him sleep long. He woke up in the same agitated over-the-top obnoxious mood that he was in before he went to sleep (still tired, obviously). But I had one and a half hours of complete quiet. I couldn't even enjoy it because I knew that it was not what this mother had instructed me to do.
I may have to 'quit' this child. He is beyond my reach. I have taken care of him for fifteen months of his forty one months of living. One third of his life. And I have made no headway with this situation that I recognized long ago. It has gone from bad to worse.
I have no choice but to try this all over again today. I will see how it goes. But you can be certain that a conversation with the mother is formulating in my mind. I can't go on like this (to make matters worse, this is the same mom that is habitually a half hour to one and a half hours late - with no phone call). My solution is sounding easier by the moment.
Sorry about the rant. Sometimes my answers come to me when I write. So I wrote. I still don't know my answer because I don't like to give up on children. But I have to be working together on this, with the parent. Therein lies my answer ...
We are in on this together or you are on your own. When it comes to relationships of any kind, this has been my final answer. I am a three strikes, you are out kind-of-girl.
Strrrrike one!
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