The Grind

Life. It's just been grinding along. We had a rough few months as we worked our way through one of our kid's traumaversary. Things have been rocky the past few weeks, but slightly less so each week. Said kid, as they usually do, is now actually showing us that they've made some pretty big gains through all the loud, painful struggling we've been doing. Brent's work is crazy; mine is as well; the kid's social schedule is crazy (but also so exciting as we watch them mature socially and form true friendships this year); it's basketball season, and requirements from the kids' school are in full swing.

As things sometimes go when you're in the grind, Brent and I are worn out and should not be commended for being particularly patient (with the kids or each other) or empathetic (particularly with each other). Yesterday, when I arrived home from work I was in a rotten mood and I couldn't seem to shake it until I drug Brent in with me. It's been that kind of week, for the past few weeks.

Today was shaping up to be more of the same. The kids had a fairly involved homework project this week and two nights to get it done. For his own reasons, Brent decided not to do homework on Tuesday night. That left tonight - Wednesday night - the first night that the kids would be staying in an after school program rather than spending the afternoon with me after their noon dismissal, also Ashagre's basketball practice night. One of the themes of this school year has been some epic battles with Elsa over homework. A disaster was brewing.

Tension starting building in the morning as I debated (to myself) on whether or not I should send the kids' homework with them for help in the after school program or if we should try to tackle it at home (it was meant to be a family project). It grew when Elsa sheepishly announced that she left her homework in Daddy's truck and therefore couldn't bring it to the after school program. Tension peaked when Ashagre decided to hit one of the dogs with his backpack (not particularly hard, but intentionally) because she was dirty. Both kids were informed of how their afternoon would look when they got home from school. Elsa was not to do anything except homework until it was done. Ashagre was to spend 10 minutes loving on Lola and was responsible for feeding the dogs through the weekend. I debated leaving them in the car as I ran in to get my morning coffee just because I couldn't stand my own frustration with them.

I took a breath and reminded myself that pushing them away would not make things better, that, in fact, it would make things much worse. I did my best to drop my walls and smile. I had a little chat with Ashagre about the dog incident while we waited for my coffee. He leaned in for a hug, needing to know everything was ok, and I think the hug gave me as much relief as it did him. Elsa and I came up with a strategy to make her homework situation a little less dire. She vowed to make responsible decisions. Another hug was doled out and more mutual relief was spread. I sent the kids off (running full speed because we were late) to school with the air clear. Time for work...

All plugged along fine at work until 3:20 when I got a call from the director of the after school program. He was at the school with the kids. They were the last ones there. The program ended 20 minutes ago and Brent could not be contacted. Just as I was trying to devise a plan (I have negative PTO right now as we have been struggling to cover the kids school breaks lately), Brent called the director. He had forgotten he needed to pick up the kids and was on his way (to Brent's credit, the story is a little more complex than just blatant forgetfulness, but this post is already too long).

I'll just say it. I was pissed. I had worked hard with the kids in the morning to set them up for success in what was already stacking up to be a crazy afternoon and, I felt, Brent derailed the whole thing. The kids would have no time to do their homework or take care of other necessary fixes like loving on the dogs. I cussed, I stewed, I vented to some friends, and I got back to work, trying to convince myself not to come home in the same mood as the night before.

When I entered the house it was strangely calm and quiet. In our house, that's not usually a good thing. It usually means one child at least has pushed it too far and is having quiet time on their beds. I didn't say anything and focussed on the mail. Ashagre tried to tell me about his day. I tried not to be short with him. Finally, Brent broke the tension. It's all done. Everything's taken care of. Both kids have done their homework. Elsa did her's twice. She's in her room happily cleaning up to make up some of the time she owed us. Dinner is almost ready.

Ashagre beamed. My homework is all done mom, and I fell asleep when I was snuggling with Lola! He thrust his homework in my hands pointing to a picture he drew of Lola. The assignment was about home and what one needs from their home. One of Ashagre's needs was love. He drew a picture of Lola because she always loves him no matter what. Elsa sauntered out to greet me. She was totally regulated (greeting me when I first get home and staying regulated is a huge challenge for her). She showed me her homework and explained how she had, on her own accord, done it twice - once at the after school program and once again at home (all by herself). She had put our plan to act responsibly in motion and asked her teacher for another copy of the homework packet. She did that one in the after school program. She did the one she left in her dad's car all by herself at home. Ashagre scored a basket in the scrimmage at his practice. The director of the after school program was totally understanding that it was the first day of a new routine for our family and swore we did not need to pay the late pick up fee. Ashagre proudly demonstrated how he can now count to 100 by 2's, 5's and 10's (counting to 100 by 1's was a big challenge a few weeks ago). Elsa did animal yoga for her choice class today and was ecstatic; she showed me her clean and organized room. The pride in our house was palpable. Everyone relished in an evening done well - really well.

I think one of the hardest things about parenting, I assume particularly parenting our kids with their unique challenges (but maybe that doesn't matter), are the ups and downs of it all. No matter how often the pattern repeats itself, I just can't accept it at face value. The lows are low, but they never last forever. Why do I continue to believe they will when we're in them? They highs are so high. Why can't I hang onto them when I find myself in a low patch? Steps back and steps forward, but a general forward motion perpetuates. These low lows and high highs make our life that much richer, yet I continue to write about this theme. I dissect this lesson, again and again but cannot make it mine. I get so consumed by the moment. How do I learn to let some of it go? How do I not take it all so personally, but remain open to my kids, to Brent and to all the goodness that comes during the highs and the potential for growth that comes from the lows?