Kim was my roommate and partner in crime for my first couple of years living in China. She lives with her husband Patrick, and children Moyer and Keturah. Their third child, Marilla, is waiting to join her forever family as soon as the adoption paperwork clears! You can find out all about their story over at Asiaramblin
During most moments of most days I would consider myself highly unqualified to write any post for a series entitled being a stay at home mom without losing your mind. So when Katie asked if I'd contribute, I chuckled a little, and wrote her back saying "I'd think about it."
I am a stay-at-home-mom.
And I'm always fighting the "not losing your mind" battle.
But tips? For other moms?
You won't see many of those over on my blog.
I put a guest post for Poemapromise on my long-term project list, and then got back to being a lump. You see, we were stuck inside with a sick girl during a vacation week, and I wasn't feeling so very insightful. But then Katie left a comment over on that post--the one detailing our stuck-inside state--saying that I may have just what she's looking for . . .
And though I didn't see it myself, she's right.
Go down to the bottom of this post, the second one in Katie's series. Read the title there--at the bottom--reflect.
That's what I do. That's how I stay sane. And like Katie, for me, writing aids me in making sense of it all.
And the reflection that I posted over on my blog today, just may encourage you to reflect on a certain aspect of life at home with kids.
It's about extremes.
Often my posts stick to the cute, funny, and endearing sides of my kids. Sure I allude to the other end of the spectrum often enough, but what I post in detail for public consumption is on the positive side. And for me, this is healthy. When I take the time to write up an endearing moment, and post it on our blog, I'm making sense of the crazier, less endearing moments in our day, and focusing on the positive. It's like the new mom, who after a heinous night's sleep with her little-nursing-one, wakes up to a winning smile, and declares that it's all worth it.
So here's my tip for reflecting:
As you take time to make sense of it all, ask yourself this: Is it possible that the difficult moments allow you to more deeply and fully appreciate the sweet moments you also experience in your parenting journey?
My post does share both extremes this time--admittedly though, I omitted the gory details of my daughter's unreasonable behavior, and my (perhaps also unreasonable) response to this behavior--but still allows me to fully appreciate that sweet moment that occured just hours after the tantrum.
Maybe you don't blog. Or even write. But we all reflect in some way. You may do this best by yourself. Perhaps you reflect best with a listening ear at hand. Either way, take some time to enjoy both ends of your parenting spectrum. And if for you, it's good to get all of those gory details out there, well, why not? Just be sure to acknowledge--and appreciate--that your extremes are on both ends of the spectrum.
Do you agree that the lows make the highs feel higher, the crazy times make the peace that much more peaceful, and the tantrums make the smiles that much sweeter?
.....This is what it looks like.....
Yesterday, just after her not-quite-long-enough nap, while I was trying to get in an afternoon rest time for myself, Keturah appeared at my bedside:
"Mom, can I color?" She was holding a Pooh Bear coloring book and a package of twistable crayons.
Just to be sure that she hadn't been pillaging in places forbidden, I asked, "Are these from our activity bag?"
"But, mom, I want to color."
I clarified, "I think it would be great if you colored, Keturah. I just want to know where these came from."
Over-tired and worked up, Keturah tells me, not in a very calm way that they're indeed from the red and white activity bag. I assured her that it would be fine with me if she colored with them.
She climbs onto the bed and sets up shop beside me--right next to my pillow. "Mom, I want to color with you." Okay, I tell her, but I'm just going to watch. It's my rest time.
"But I want you to hold the book!" With a little delicate negotiation, we work out a solution--with my head still on my pillow, I rest my arm over the edge of her coloring book, holding it opened for her.
She carefully colors one of the pads of Pooh Bear's feet blue. Impressively, she colored it completely and stayed within the lines. Then she was done.
With coloring.
But not done with coloring.
As in, she was done coloring herself. But she was not done with the activity "coloring with mom." Which somehow meant that now I'm stuck coloring while she watches (and directs) on my bed, next to my pillow, during my rest time.
This did not work out, and did not end so well.
This extremely unreasonable behavior from my daughter was balanced by another episode not so long later. Keturah appeared again.
I was in bed. (I slept off and on once my rest time got started . . . actually, I was kind of down and out yesterday too. Thank goodness for daddy and CNY vacation week!) Patrick was sitting beside me, checking in. Keturah, carrying a couple of torn out pages from the Pooh Bear coloring book, delivered them to us, announcing that "this is very important paperwork."
We were both amused; I assumed that her documents were daddy-inspired. Playing "office"perhaps?
Then she informed us, "because we're getting a baby."
Oh, it's adoption paperwork!
Keturah went off to fill in more forms, Moyer joined her, and eventually I think they prepared the baby a care package too:
"More paperwork?" I overhead Moyer ask her.
"Actually, it's a present, " she tells him.
"For the baby?" I watched Moyer bend down to help her over on the far side of our bed. I don't know what their play entailed after that, but I'd heard enough to fill my "how-incredibly-sweet-is-that" quota for the day . . .
Is the sweet end of the spectrum more-so because we get to see the other extreme too, I wonder?
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