Lately, it's been quite difficult to have a handle on things. I have been immersed in a depression which snuck up on me over the past few months. My main concern is the way I handle my kids. Handle seems like such a harsh word when delivering it with the words 'my kids' but handling is exactly what I have been doing...or not doing, I should say.
I guess it's just the little things. They set me off into a spin of chaos and I find myself unable to listen to their crying, unable to muscle through their demands with ease and patience as I am used to doing. It's the little things that make me want to shut my bedroom door and hide beneath the sheets, wishing there was someone else to swoop in and take over for awhile. When Hubby is here, he tries but when he is not, I'm alone. And that doesn't sit well with me lately either.
For seven years all I tried to do was be the best mama ever. I wanted to make sure I was attentive and kind, patient and loving and affectionate. I wanted to be able to discipline without screaming and spanking and I wanted to play with my kids until they got tired. I wanted to spend a lot of time with them baking and coloring and running through the house. The other little things.
For awhile, I was so good at that. But not right away. When my first daughter was born, I had a really hard time letting go of my selfish tendencies. I was 22 and newly married and had no idea how to sit still and be content staring at my baby on the floor, coaxing her to crawl to me, or waiting for her to finish eating a jar of peas. I grew into the patience, more-so with each child and I found by my fourth child I was pretty darn good at it. Of course, I had my days. Don't we all? But I found myself unfolding layers of me I didn't know existed and opening myself up more and more to make room for my babies' lives to not just tiptoe through but boldly step. To create a mark so deep as they crawled and ran and leaped across my heart, making me stretch myself and learn ways to be more giving and caring.
But right now I'm in a funk. And I try to let those little things, the ones that bother me so much be drowned out by the other little things which I have loved to do for so long. It's hard. It's hard to dig up the energy when I didn't sleep all night. It's hard to come out from inside my mind to answer a question that was asked of me 50 times which I did not hear. I want to get back to the time I loved these little things, loved the constant stimulation, the responsibility, the dependence on me. The time I loved spending time with my babies, content in their presence however exuberant, basking in the joy we gave each other, and living in each little moment because it was what we had. We had each other. And the little things. And that was enough.