From volunteering to housework to bedtime and beyond
Last summer I attended a convention and became involved in a last minute scheduling mix up. Some panels had failed to make the schedule and had to be squeezed in. Another panellist witnessed the problem and jumped in to say “They can have my slot.” Then he proceeded to complain about how he was always the one who had to be the nice guy and it wasn’t fair. During this monologue the persons in charge found a solution which did not involve cancelling any panels. At the time I was amused at the way this person threw himself under people’s feet and then complained about being stepped on. This event is on my mind because to my chagrin I’ve noticed a similar tendency in myself. I’m all too ready to believe that people will fail without my help and that my failure to volunteer is therefore cause for guilt. It is incredibly egotistical of me, and yet I continue to consider myself indispensible. I didn’t jump to volunteer this week and was so happy to discover that my failure to volunteer had zero effect on others. They found a good solution which didn’t involve me at all. I’m not the only capable person out there and I need to remember it.
Their solution was a relief because I did NOT want to have to undertake the effort necessary to help. Instead I want to have brainspace to tackle projects like trying to get my house cleaner. There are walls that have not been washed since we moved in six years ago. Today my kitchen is clean and I finally tested that old dresser for lead paint. The paint test swab didn’t turn bright pink and so the dresser has been given a wash and moved into my boys’ room. I like it there. It has a nice sturdy shape. Someday maybe I’ll sand it down and stain it so that it is beautiful. For now it can remain cream colored with chipped off bits which show a very odd greenish-olive layer underneath. I think someone once tried to antique it, made it ugly, and then painted over the mess with cream color. Anyway it’s mine now and I feel oddly possesive about it. Don’t know why.
Today was a fairly sucessful day for work and organization. At least it was if you take “successful” to mean “things got done” rather than “enjoyable.” Getting the kids to do their work was harder than pulling teeth. Kiki has gone for another round of anything-Gleek-does-is-annoying. Gleek was deliberately bugging Kiki because she wanted Kiki to play with her. Link decided that obstinant refusal was the behavior of the day. And Patches wandered around taking people’s toys, teasing older siblings, and demanding to be held. Truth be told, I wasn’t at my best either. I spent lots more time in mean mom mode rather than encouraging/cheerful mom mode.
There is a quiet space that always happens when kids know it is close to bedtime, but if they play quietly mom will be too busy enjoying the silence to make them go to bed. During that time this evening I spent some thought trying to figure out why I’ve been having such a tough time managing kids and behaviors lately. All kids have phases where they’re easier to manage and phases where they are actively pushing the limits to see what they can get away with. Right now I’ve got four kids in pushing-limits phases. This means that I have to re-think my tactics for all four of the kids because the old methods don’t work anymore. Not fair of them to gang up on me like that.
My strategic plotting had to be interrupted to actually put the kids to bed. Naturally they all ended up in bed later than I wanted. This happens every summer, the bedtimes slip later and later even though I don’t want them to. Patches usually goes to bed easily, but this evening he called me back for extra hugs at least 10 times. I’m not sure how much of his adorable sadness was real and how much was a ploy to get more mommy time, but it worked. Then I had an arguement with Link where I explained that the correct answer to “go to bed” is not “No!” Gleek’s bedtime story lasted 30 minutes because I could barely get a sentence read before Gleek would ask a question which required an involved answer. Before we were done we covered the circulatory system, why we have bones, how new skin grows, why mosquitos drink blood, how cheese is made, how to catch crabs for crab salad, where beef comes from, where bacon comes from, and why we don’t eat seeds that we find in the back yard. Eventually I just had to let her know that question time was over. I’m glad she wants to know all this stuff, but I’m exhausted from trying to keep up with her ravenous hunger for information.
Now I am in the quiet after bedtime. I’ll probably go upstairs and finish the book that Howard brought home from Conduit. It is a self-published book that someone handed to Howard for free. I firmly believe that good writing is a skill that anyone can learn. This person obviously has the drive because according to the back cover this is his third self-published book. I also believe that some people come very naturally to the skills necessary to write a cohesive novel with believable characters. Others do not. They have to work and struggle to attain those skills. The author of this book still has lots of work to do. I’m finishing the book because I’m curious and because it may be possible that I could hand it over to Kiki for reading. The simplicity of plotting and characterizations may appeal to a 10 year old, but I have to make sure that there isn’t any age inappropriate material in there. Part of me feels a little bad for not liking the book more because I know that any self published novel is a labor of love. But unfortunately just because the author loves it doesn’t mean anyone else will.
I’ve rambled enough. I’m done for tonight.