To all my fellow bedraggled, frazzled, and how-did-this-get-caught-in-my-hair mamas out there: There is hope even when you feel like a certifiable lunatic. This morning, Gideon was sick in his bucket, and he followed up this sickness with perpetual whining and crying. I don't know what it is about whining and crying, but it was as infectious as pink-eye this morning, I think. While Gideon was crying and couldn't whine out a sentence that I could comprehend, Brody ran into the room crying and trying to out-whine his brother so that his concerns were heard first. It was a cacophony of chaos in the kitchen (good title for a poem. I'm on it.). Under normal lucid moments, I would demand a halt in the carrying on and assure them both that I would listen to their problems and we would solve them together. I was not Supermommy this morning, though. Having had three straight hours of sleep last night and 4 the night before, I felt not one shred of Princess Mommy in these achy bones of mine. I saw myself as a separate entity at that moment... and took in the tepid coffee in one hand, hair in a snarled tangle, threadbare jammies and yesterday's mascara rubbed all over my face. I was a comic strip. I was a cliche. I could not handle the whining and the crying and I had no patience in that moment to be a good mommy. So, I ran away. As I ran I screamed, "AHHHHHH!" with my hands waving wildly (don't worry, I put down my coffee) to drive home the point that I meant business: I was insane and DON'T mess with me. I ran upstairs with no plans at all. My only plan was to escape. Then, in true 7-year-old fashion, I climbed underneath Gideon's bed and hid. I hid from my children. All of you people who have been complimenting me on my "great" moments, I just wanted to share a realistic and not-so-proud moment with all of you. In the silence under the bed, not only did I discover my lost earring attached to a pirate doll's ear, but I discovered the healing power of quiet. It felt like an answered prayer. Then, the miracle...
Brody and Gideon ceased their Wah-fest battle and I could hear them strategize in the hallway. Brody said, "Okay, we saw her come up here. I'll check the bathrooms, you check the bedrooms. Okay, Gids?" I heard Gideon say "Okay!" like he was assigned a detrimental task that would alter the galaxy for the rest of time. OH MY GOSH! My running away forced them to love one another and work together towards a COMMON GOAL! Instead of feeling guilty, I tucked this one away in my head for use later.
Once I was found, there were excited giggles and HOORAYS and carrying on. Guess what there wasn't? Sobbing. Whining. Crying. If there isn't a book out there about the magic of mommies running away (in the house, only...I'm not a fan of abandonment), there should be.
HAPPY WEEKEND TO YOU ALL! Gideon is ALMOST done with this stage of steroids. Phew. This one was different than the others when it came to the pain associated with it all. I'd rather him be a demanding bottomless pit than to be in pain. I can't wait for my Gideon to reappear again! I can't wait to SLEEP! I CAN'T WAIT FOR MY SPA DAY, you sweet-sweet perfection of a selfless human being (whoever you are)!