I recalled for an acquaintance at a holiday party how my girls would scream from about 4pm until 7pm between 4 and 8 months old. I'm sure it wasn't always both babies, for the full 3 hours, and I'm doubtful that it lasted four months, but that's how I remember it. I remember the utter chaos and the complete frantic feeling that would overtake me. My anxiety was palpable. I wasn't able to put it away, even after the girls had fallen asleep. Even when I myself was asleep.
On a busy holiday evening, I ventured out to the local take-out pizza place with my two two year olds in tow - a task I would not have even considered a year ago. More than likely not 6 months ago. Possibly not even 3 months ago. It does have an awful lot to do with their age - they tend to cooperate, put on their shoes, hop into their car seats and go.
But they are still two. Before we had even left the garage, there was a dramatic crying scene over shoes and the possibility of being left behind. I strapped the little drama queen into her car seat, feeling confident (and calm) that it would pass, and went on our way.
My mom calls me just as I was pulling into a parking spot in front of the pizza place. I watch people go in and out, hoping the line won't get too long before I can finish up my call and go inside. With my girls holding my hands, I step inside just in time to see the customer before me pay for $112 worth of pizza! Knowing we might have a longer wait than I had hoped for didn't send my blood pressure sky rocketing, as it surely would have in the past.
There were times in the past when I viewed my daughters as ticking time bombs, with only a finite time frame to work with before -- what? I don't even know now what I was so worried about.
Since the craft store is right next door, I decided we needed to pick up some supplies for Christmas. Normally, my husband and I avoid taking both girls with us to the craft store because it can be hectic. I asked the girls to please stay next to me and entered the store without a second thought. Next thing I know, they have discovered porcelain piggy banks and each have both of their hands eagerly cupping a pig, with gleeful anticipation. A quick, stern warning from me prompts a look from a woman passing by, and we make eye contact with that knowing glance that all mother's share. Purchases in hand, we exit the store.
Unbelievably, I'm still feeling calm.
Calm enough to walk over to Safeway to grab a movie and some pop. This task is uneventful until I can feel victory with the swoosh of the air coming in through the automatic doors. Then, the finale of this story: I pull Jaeda up out of the cart, and set her free. Just as I'm asking Tristyn to carry the movie, Jaeda runs over the threshold outside, and the door closes separating her from us. I hastily grab the case of pop and it collapses, silver cans spilling out onto the floor. The automatic doors open again and I reach for Jaeda, pulling her back inside. I pick up the cans and heft the box into my arms and task the girls to a "race" to the car, which keeps them on track and focused on the goal: the safety of the car.
As I close the door and start the car, I do a mental inventory. My heart isn't racing. I don't feel angry at my children or circumstances. And, above all, I feel calm. Wow. Writing it doesn't have nearly the same intensity. I'm sure there are millions of people that strive for many other emotions that are the opposite of calm, but for me, I feel as though I've run a marathon, and that calm is my reward.
I'm quite certain that anti-depressants account for the majority of my calm. But I would like to think that after 2 1/2 years of being a mom, I'm finally learning what all moms eventually discover - that you have to roll with the punches, and when you stay calm, your children stay calmer too (most of the time). What a concept!
Not so calm in Santa's lap (Christmas 2008)
MERRY CHRISTMAS to my blog readers!
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