Taking a Breath

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It had been a crazy morning. 

My daughter is in the middle of cold #1,639 of this year and, as a result, I got some extra “quality time” with her for a couple hours in the middle of last night. I knew, I just knew, though, that both kids would sleep in until 7, allowing us all to catch our breaths and start the day smoothly.

My daughter woke up at 6. Okay, I said to myself. Let’s just go with this, then. I threw on my leggings and sweatshirt (the obligatory no-sleep-last-night/no-time-for-a-shower-this-morning uniform) and got her started for the day while we waited for my son to wake up. At least I could begin the day a bit slowly, with just one awake child.

Not ten minutes later, my son woke up. Okay. We could still do this. Make beds. Get the kids dressed. Brush everyone’s teeth. Downstairs for breakfast. I did my typical pacing between the dining room table and the kitchen, delivering more to drink, wiping sticky fingers, handling requests for seconds, all while shoving dry toast down my throat, unloading the dishwasher, cleaning the bathroom while both kids were occupied eating and wouldn’t want to “help” (read: argue over the privilege of holding the toilet brush).

Breakfast over, my helpers assisted me in dusting and vacuuming (read: chasing after the vacuum, unplugging it, falling off the dining room bench and needing kisses, requiring a diaper change, and just general underfoot-ness). But we got it done. The house is clean for another week (well, the downstairs is, at any rate).

Grocery day. There was no putting this off with our bare fridge, and I honestly didn’t want to. Grocery shopping is actually a cherished activity that my kids usually love, and it’s a good chance for me to regroup and enjoy them as they sit in the confines of the cart. 

But. Not. Today. Today there were complaints from the preschooler in the back of the cart that I was loading it up with too much food, while multiple items were being tossed onto the floor by the toddler in the front. There was an unexpected need to use the bathroom halfway through the shopping trip, where we tried not to touch anything and avoided some mysterious looking stains on the walls. By the time we were loading up the bags at check-out, I was out of breath and sweating.

Back home to unload the groceries and do some simple food prep for the week. Often, if I’m lucky, the kids will play by themselves in the playroom while I quickly get this done. Today? Not so much. I prepped overnight oats and cut up red peppers with a toddler attached to my leg. The preschooler got more and more annoyed about everything he needed from me right that minute. All the while, I was fielding emails and texts concerning a current project I’m working on (what was I thinking, joining a board of directors? How dare I try to have any kind of professional life outside of stay-at-home motherhood?). I finished as quickly as I could and herded both kids out into our sunshiny yard. This should do the trick. Outdoor play always gives me (and the kids) a chance to regroup.

With the children happily pulling every outdoor toy out of the shed, I realized this was the perfect chance to do some much-needed yard work. I threw on my gardening gloves and dug into some hydrangeas sorely in need of pruning. But, not five minutes in, my son needed some help taking the lid off of the sandbox. And then we needed to get rid of all the water puddled at the bottom of the slide. These tasks seen to, I tiptoed back to my hydrangeas just in time to see my daughter making her way through a hole in the fence into my neighbor’s driveway. I dropped everything to corral her now dirt-covered self back into our yard. There would need to be a costume change later. I sighed as I looked at my neglected yard work and threw in the towel. Instead, I supervised the toddler on the swing set, warning her ad nauseam to go down the slide on her bum (versus trying to run straight down on her wobbly legs). I cheered on my son as he climbed up the swing set ramp. I blew bubbles. I relaxed a bit into playing with my kids. Yes, this was important, too.

The neighborhood church bell interrupted my newfound and short-lived peace, reminding me that it was lunchtime. I ushered the kids back into the house and began to serve lunch. Almost instantly came the calls of “Mama, Mama, Mama” and requests for second and third courses. In came more stressful texts and emails. With each “Mama” and with each ding from my cell phone, I could feel myself losing it a little bit more. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened on this day, nothing had happened that, on any other day, I couldn’t have handled gracefully, and yet – today – each little exhausting and needy moment had been building up.

I stop dead in my tracks in the kitchen. I’ve learned I need to stop in moments like these, before everything bubbles over, before the migraine starts to set in, before my eyes well up with frustrated, tired tears.

I check on the kids and make sure they each have an adequate amount of non-chokeable food in front of them.

And I step outside onto my deck, leaving the screen door open to the dining room so that I can hear if any emergency situation ensues.

I sit down in a patch of sunshine.

And I breathe.

I praise myself for everything I’ve been able to get done today, setting me up for a little bit more free time during the rest of the week. I remind myself of the successful, happy moments that morning with my kids – bubbles, sliding, moments of laughter. Some guilty thoughts creep in (I was too harsh with my son when he asked me for something earlier; I shouldn’t be prioritizing yard work over playing with my kids), but I stop them before they take over.

I stop all thoughts. I breathe in. I breathe out. I give myself these golden, sun-soaked 5 minutes. I finally reset. When I go back in, there will still be endless calls of “Mama” and impatient hands grabbing at me. But I’m back. I’m centered. I can do this.

Plus…it’s almost naptime.

 

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Elizabeth Bettencourt
Elizabeth Bettencourt holds a BFA in Theatre and a BS in Secondary English Education from the University of Rhode Island, a Masters in Reading & Literacy from Endicott College, and a Doctorate in Education from Northeastern University. Prior to becoming a stay-at-home parent full time, Liz taught English Language Arts and theatre at Plymouth South High School, where she also served as the ELA department head and the drama club advisor. Liz has also worked as an instructional coach and education consultant specializing in literacy instruction and differentiated instruction. In addition to her work as a mother, Liz currently directs theatre productions for Massassoit Community College and serves on the board of directors for New Bedford Festival Theatre. The majority of her time, however, is spent raising her son James and daughter Muriel with the help of her super supportive spouse, Matt. Liz is excited to be a part of the team at Providence Moms Blog, where she hopes to refresh her writing skills and reflect on this crazy and beautiful thing that is motherhood.