A.M. Chaos

I really don't know how I do it. Somehow, some way, I manage to get 3 young lively kids and myself off to our respective destinations every day, with teeth brushed, faces wiped, stomachs full, and clothes and diapers clean. Each morning when I get to work, I want to either collapse with exhaustion or release my breath in a long, slow, grateful exhale. Wow...here I am. I don't know how I managed to do it again. And all around me, people younger and older than me, people with dogs but no kids, people who spend their nights out on the town, arrive at work fresh, unrumpled, and set to face the day.

It reminds me of the two donkeys Stephen King wrote about in The Dead Zone. King described a town donkey and a prospector's donkey who are tied up next to each other outside a bar. The town donkey looks at the prospector's donkey's huge load of picks, axes, and other mining equipment, and says to him, "Wow, that's quite a load you've got there." The prospector's donkey answers, "What load"

That's how I feel sometimes, like a heavily loaded workhorse, day in and day out.  For me, each morning is a juggle of skillful negotiation, logistical mastery, compassion on tap, and well-managed chaos.  

Sofia, do you want to wear your red shoes?  No?  Your purple ones? How about your blue ones?   Okay, no socks, freeze your feet if you want to.  Philip, what do you want for breakfast?  Cheerios with raisin bran in the same bowl but not all mixed together?  Okay. Sofia, you want little frozen berries but not big ones? No problem.  Philip, yogurt with a "ton" of honey?   Okay.  Angelina, wait 2 minutes and then we'll nurse.  

Must unload a few dishes from the dishwasher, but it's hard while I'm holding Angelina at the same time. Philip, go get your pants from the tv room.  Philip, please get your pants from the tv room.  Philip, will you please get your pants?  Philip, get your pants!  Oh forget it, I'll get them.  

Must make Philip's lunch.  No, you can't buy pizza today!  I need to take the doctor's bill with me to argue with the insurance company.  Oh no, I have a stain on my jacket.  I'll carry Angelina upstairs so I can see if I have anything else that matches, is seasonally appropriate, and doesn't need ironing.  Then I'll nurse her after that.  No, Sofia, you can't come upstairs with us.  You need to eat your breakfast, we're late.  No, Sofia!  Oh, okay, come upstairs.  

I need to put Philip's homework in his backpack.  And he has soccer after school.  Must call my neighbor and make sure she'll pick him up.  Oh God, I need to make my lunch too.  We need to save money.  And Zoki the cat needs food and water.   Which kid can feed him without making a mess?  Angelina, I need to remember pull-ups for your daycare.  Oh, we're low on milk...must remember to put it on the list.  

No, Philip, you can't eat your Halloween candy for breakfast!   Oh no, Zoki the cat is eating Philip's yogurt!  Zoki, go to the basement!  Sofia, stop climbing on the couch!  Yes, Philip, you can have a playdate with Chase, but his mom needs to call us.  No, Sofia, you can't have a sleepover with Ellie, you need to wait until you're older.

Angelina, please keep nursing and stop paying attention to all of the noise your brother and sister are making.   Oh God, I need to get the alarm system fixed.  Angelina has a poopy diaper...I don't think I can send her to daycare and "pretend" I didn't know, so must change her quickly and keep her from rolling off the couch.  The garbage is full...must find room for a few more dirty diapers.  Pelvic floor, squeeze (my tribute to Kate Reddy)!  

Need to find husband a new doctor who takes our insurance and uses Quest Labs.  Put dirty dishes in sink...God forbid, hopefully it won't attract bugs.  Guys, get your socks on!  Get your jackets on!  Put them on, you'll be cold later. Okay, okay, I'll carry your jackets.  

I'm so sad to leave my kids...what if there's a terrorist attack on the Metro?  No, wait, I shouldn't worry about that because then the terrorists will have won. Oh no, where are my socks?  Where are my shoes?  Is Angelina okay in her baby gym while I get my shoes on?  What do I have to do at work today?   Philip, Sofia, out the door! No, you can't bring all of your necklaces to daycare! Stop fighting, guys!

What time is it?  How late are we?  Wie spat ist es?  I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!  Argh....

And it's pretty much this chaotic every morning. My feeling upon arrival at work also reminds me of the Shehechiyanu, a Jewish prayer that thanks God for bringing you to this moment: "Blessed are you, Lord our God, who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this moment." In other words, wow, thank God, I'm here again in the quiet of my office and I have a moment to breathe...until the stresses of work start up.

I remember in college I heard a speaker named Carol Gilligan, a renowned psychologist who studied ethical decisionmaking, among other things. She sat with us in the Winthrop House Common Room and asked us a simple question, "What's the opposite of losing?" "Winning," we all answered without hesitation. Then she asked it again: "What's the opposite of losing?" We struggled to find another answer, wondering what we had gotten wrong. Losing, winning -- what else was there? Then one guy finally said, "Finding." That was Dr. Gilligan's point -- that there are different ways of viewing the world, and you might not even realize it. She also asked us about the 2 different ways we could view the proverb, "A rolling stone gathers no moss." The answer was that the moss could be viewed as something bad, so it was good to be a rolling stone, or it could be viewed as something good that the rolling stone was missing out on. I think about that now, in my very busy life. My kids are definitely the good kind of moss, even with the daily struggles and longer-term burdens.

In her book Her Mother's Daughter, Marilyn French describes the life of a female midge, whose offspring somehow eat her from the inside out, or maybe they grow and grow and grow until they burst out of her. I feel that way sometimes. I look at the circles under my eyes, my unbrushed hair, the clothes I don't have time to mend, my unpolished shoes, my wavering bank account, and I wonder if I'll just be an empty shell after I've raised my kids.

But the thing is, I want to give them all of me. I want to struggle with my son over his homework every night because I know it will help him for the future. I want to fund my kids' educational and athletic activities to make them happy, healthy, and learned. I want to read to them every night, as my eyelids droop and I stumble over words. I want to search thrift shops to find clothes that they like and that make them look well-cared for. I want to laugh with them and love them and help them feel cherished and secure. I'm never bored with them, and I would give them my blood to drink if I had to.

Maybe this commitment and certitude are evolutionary. I don't know. It's just there. I feel so well-used. I may be exhausted and nervous at times, but I also have so much positive energy. I'm doing the right thing in my life, even if I don't go out on the town drinking mojitos or resolving international crises (or resolving international crises while drinking mojitos). I guess the bottom line is that the kids are what give my life meaning and shape right now and for the forseeable future. I need to enjoy the ride I'm on, even if it's a roller coaster at times. I need to hang on tight, open my eyes, and shriek with glee from time to time. I love my load and my lot in life, and I'm glad I'm here at this moment.