Following the writing prompt from Alice LaPlante's Write Yourself Out of a Corner writing exercise book: “Write about you trying to overcome a nagging issue.”
…An honest peer inside.
It was a Tuesday. The day had been pretty productive so far. The kids were fed, the floor under the high chair was swept - - multiple times. I nourished my own body that morning - something I'm not always successful at doing, and my ideal set of morning chores was checked off successfully. The kids and I completed a homeschool lesson while the baby napped, and all in all, I was feeling on top of this mostly-stay- at-home-mom stuff.
Now that the baby was awake, it was time to buckle into the van and run a few errands. No big deal, right?
Oh, but that baby buckle…
I had jeans and a t-shirt on- as the forecast said it wasn't getting above 73 that day. This is my idea of a perfect temperature. …Except they don't really tell you that the sun beating down on you as you wrestle with a 9-month-old in a warm car will actually cause you to break into a sweat, so you should add 8 degrees. I found myself cursing the weather app in my head as I tried to figure out how those straps got so twisted, and which way they needed to be spun to get the buckle to click with that glorious “Congratulations, you did it” click. I have buckled three children into car seats every day for the last 6 and 1/2 years, and I still can't stand the freakin' things one bit.
I worked through this minivan saga with two other children talking at me from their own car seats, still unbuckled, because of course it often takes a few reminders to buckle so we can go. I was also feeling an intense stiffness in my left arm, wrist, and fingers while I struggled through this car seat wrestling match.
The stiffness is from my mild Cerebral Palsy - which affects my left side. I've lived with it for my entire life, and, for the most part, I don't get too irritated by it. I subconsciously adjust to make whatever physical task work, and on the rare occasion I can't do something- even adapted, I ask for help or just don't do said thing.
But. Car seat buckles?
I've heard completely able-bodied people say how hard they are to tackle, let alone with a 9-month-old squirming and trying to flip over like a cat on its back being held under a faucet of water. (Okay, my words) So believe me when I say that it's one of those parenting tasks that I would comfortably nominate myself for winning in the honorable mention category.
If you watched this feat, you'd know. I deserve an honorable mention!
As I pushed the button and the van door began to slide shut, I quickly pried the car keys from the baby's hands. My key ring/bracelet thing looks like a silicone teething toy, although it's not one, and today he won - he got to hold my keys while I finished strapping him in the van.
I slipped my key bracelet over my wrist, flipped my hair, hoping I looked like a sophisticated mom, and I nonchalantly walked around to the driver's seat. In all honesty, my hair was just sticking to the back of my neck from the freaking sun beaming down on me like a mocking voyeuristic spectator. God knows I was far from the cute mom with three kids I was hoping I looked like at that point - - I was just a literal hot mess—and that's about it.
I proceeded to sit in the front seat, staring at my phone for 2 to 3 minutes with the AC on full blast. At one point, a kid pipes up and says, “I'm ready to go now,” and I internally smirk, bite back a sarcastic comment, because I try not to be passively aggressive with sarcasm-hate it- and simply say,
“Okay. I'm not.”
Don't they know I have to tell the grocery pickup that “I'm on my way” and their dad just texted me a question? I doubt they want me to text and drive and put their lives in danger, right? And for Pete's sake, my arm is now tense, tired, and sore from the last 90 seconds.
I just need a minute.”
*Deep breath*. Okay. I go into my internal coaching mode:
“You've got this, Laura. 10 minutes ago you were rocking your housekeeping, your outfit, your homeschool, and your attitude. You've coexisted with your CP-affected limbs (bless them) for 34 years - no point in letting the obligatory car seat routine ruin a good day.”
I glance in the rearview mirror and flash the girl-child at goofy grin. She giggles and mimics it back to me. As I put the van in reverse, I catch sight of myself … “Still looking cute today.” (If you think this is vain, I do not care. I deserve to not feel like a bum just because I didn't go to a place of employment that day.)
My son asks me a “how does ____ work?” question, which I have an answer to - I can mark it down as a science lesson. I also have the meals planned for the day - with all the specific variations for different family members, so there's that too.
My arm is sore, and I make a note to switch into shorts later. But it's going to continue being a great day. I decide right then and there that I am a badass, cute- but also aging, fun- but sophisticated mama, and I choose beauty and goodness today. In those moments of sudden mom irritability and overstimulation, I can react and decide that I am the victim of an annoyingly tedious life, or I can decide to not allow the mundane to be something I have to put up with. I can admit that the day is beautiful and full of constant miracles if I really look for them, these miracles are often the things that we call ordinary.
I can't tell you what I chose to see the next day. But I can tell you that I'm thankful for the wherewithal and the stamina to choose beauty and miracles and aliveness more than negativity, entitlement, and dragging through life on a random Tuesday.
I know we can't always be on top of our game and walking through our days seeing sparkles. I definitely do not, although it's interesting that even on my more negative days, when I take stock and look for the beauty, it's always there.
I'm not sure what I want the point of this post to be, other than that I hope someone can identify with the inner mom rage and over stimulation that we all feel from time to time. I'm fortunate to have a playgroup where we can commiserate on this reality together, but in case you don't have such a group and you are in the little years with me:
I see you.
Wear that cute outfit.
Tell yourself you look cute.
Celebrate all the wins
And try to remember to take a deep breath.
Oh, and take daily stock of the beauty- even if after the day is done. This discipline might just change your life.