I've been with my kids nearly nonstop for about three weeks. Those weeks included three all-day car rides. Before that, I had three weeks of no plans for Sylvia, though Amelia did have a sitter two mornings each week. So, we've had a lot of time together, the girls and I, and I've had very little "me time."
There were amazing moments: watching the girls rediscover their love of the beach, observing Sylvia learn the joy of making her little sister laugh, feeling my heart burst as my mom and the girls played together and as Amelia issued special hugs to her great grandfather. There were sloppy shared popsicles, carefully created sandcastles, intense dance parties, lots of giggles. We took daily naps, read lots of books, and soaked in a vacation time that I know is rare and will be missed.
On the other hand, there were few breaks. After these long weeks out of our routine, away from some of our regular breaks, I am feeling the strain. I am emotionally drained, low on personal reserves. I am overtouched and overstimulated. Sylvia is feeling it too. She has returned to throwing tantrums: long, loud, frustrating fits of tears and screaming that fully drain both of us, despite my best intentions to remain calm and present. I am snippy and yell too much. She is picking fights and being dramatic. We are not our best.
Meanwhile, a friend of mine just found out one of her children has leukemia. I cried over breakfast when I read the news, and pulled Amelia into my arms for a too-tight hug. My heart hurts. I immediately felt ashamed of my frustration with my children and my longing for a break from them. I was overwhelmed with feelings of being blessed, lucky, joyful. My healthy children beamed up at me, smeared in cherry juice, wearing stained pajamas, and I felt my heart expand three sizes. They are healthy. They are mine. We are blessed.
And yet, this feeling did not last long once I wrestled both girls into the car, listened to the endless fight over whose baby doll is whose, chased them throughout CVS to ensure Amelia didn't perform her normal game of removing items off the lower shelves, carried a screaming Amelia into her room to attempt a nap, dealt with Sylvia's frustration at trying to do a task too hard for her age, and watched the dog run away as Sylvia stood near an open door.
It is still hard. Blessed or not, healthy or not, they are demanding. Today, though, I'm reminding myself how much harder it could be, how truly lucky we are, and how fast I know this hard time will go.
But still...I could really use a day alone to recenter. Anyone up for all-day babysitting?