Have you ever had "one of those days"? I'm sure we all have. It's a day when we can't wait to see the end of it, and fall into bed exhausted, stressed and unhappy. Sometimes we lay awake long into the night thinking about our day, mulling over it and fretting about what we could have done or said instead. We end up waking in the morning tired and hesitant to greet the day.
"One of those days" that sticks out in my mind is one from years ago. It is the day I hold up to myself as my ultimate "one of those days". It was when my two children were babies. My son was not yet two and my daughter was not yet one. Samantha was a challenge because she would not sleep unless I was holding her. I would sit and rock with her until she would finally drift off. I enjoyed having her lay on my chest. There's no stronger feeling of love than having a baby sleep contently against your heart. But I had two babies, and couldn't spend all my time with one. So when Samantha finally drifted off to sleep I laid her down in her crib, quietly left her room and shut the door, and got as much done as I could before she woke up and started crying. I usually got just enough time to shower. Then I'd go and pick up my crying girl, tend her and hold her until she drifted off to sleep again. Then I could get the laundry and other chores started. Of course I also had my son Alex to take care of and love.
So on this particular day I got up early and went into Alex's room to check on him only to find his room empty. I had put a plastic cover on the inside handle of his door to stop him from being able to turn the handle and getting out of his room, but Alex was too clever to be stopped by such a contraption. I hurried to the living room and there was my son, sitting in the middle of the living room on my brand new carpet with a carton that had held a dozen eggs the evening before. Alex had taken every egg and smashed it into the carpet and rubbed it in well. Twelve eggs, ground into the same spot on my new carpet. I couldn't believe my eyes. I ran in to the living room, picked up my son, and took him into the dining room, setting him on the floor so that I could clean up the eggs. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a cloth which I dampened and the container of carpet cleaner. Back in the living room I got on my knees and began to attempt to get twelve smushed eggs out of my pale grey carpet. I scrubbed and blotted and rubbed until most of the evidence was gone, but there would always be a slightly different colour to the carpet. Not quite satisfied, but feeling that I'd done the best I could I picked up the cleaner and cloth, got up, and headed back to the kitchen via the dining room.
When I got to the door of the dining room I stopped in my tracks. Alex had taken the large salt shaker off the table, how he could reach it only he knew, opened it up, again, how he managed to unscrew it was quite unfathomable, and poured the salt all over the table and spread it onto the chairs and across the entire floor. I felt utterly deflated. I thought I had put him in the dining room to keep him out of trouble, yet here was more. I went into the kitchen to put the carpet cleanser and cloth away and get another cloth and the broom. I went back into the dining room, put my cleaning supplies down, and picked up my beloved son. I was running out of places to put him in my small home that he could stay out of trouble. Why didn't I put him in his own room you might be asking yourself. Well, my son is something of an artist, even at that young age. When he first woke up that morning he had climbed out of his crib, taken off his dirty diaper and smeared the walls creating a mural as far up as he could reach.
So I carried Alex to the end of the hall which ended in a plain wall. I sat him on the floor and told him not to go anywhere. Then I went back into the dining room to clean up the salt from every surface in the room. By now Samantha was crying and wanted to be fed. Much as it hurt me, I let her cry while I cleaned the salt which gritted beneath my feet. Not doing the best job I could, but wanting to hurry, I decided the room was good enough for now, put the cleaning supplies back in the kitchen, hurried down the hall to get my son and go in to pick up Samantha. When I got to the end of the hall I stopped in my tracks, my jaw dropping open. During the time I was in the dining room, surely not more than ten minutes, Alex had managed to dig into the wall with his soft, young finger nail and create a hole at least 10 centimetres in circumference and all the way through the drywall. How on earth was that possible? I don't think I could have done that with my long, hard nails. I burst into tears. I felt utterly defeated. My little son had beat me. I just gave up. I took him in to Samantha's room so I could pick her up, change her, and feed her. I didn't let Alex out of my sight. Once I had Samantha's basic needs seen to I took both children into the living room so I could phone my then husband and beg him to come home from work and help me. I was crying and just didn't know what to do. I was defeated and it was not yet 10 am.
At the time I didn't know what to do with this day and my feelings of defeat, frustration, and inadequacy. I just tried to bury them, but they continued to grow. I did not have the tools to deal with my feelings. Now I do. I wish I had had them then, but it's never too late. Today I look back at my day of days, and can forgive myself for thinking that I couldn't handle my children on my own. I can forgive myself for feeling frustrated, defeated and inadequate. I see the gifts that day has given me. Alex taught me patience and unconditional love. He taught me that I can handle the challenges that life gives me on my own. He taught me that no matter what happens, I can get through it. What great gifts. By the time my then husband arrived home, he did come home early, all the rooms were clean, both children were clean, fed and happy, and I had stopped crying. I still felt overwhelmed, but what I managed to accomplish felt good.
We all have stories of "one of those days". It's what we do with them that's important. We can always find the gifts the day has given us if we look for them. Sometimes we have to look hard, but they're always there. There are times when we need help to find those gifts and learning. That's where I come in. Find a facilitator who can be there with you if you choose and who can guide you on your journey of discovery . I am there if you choose.
Infinite Possibilities,
Barbara Scott
No comments:
Post a Comment