Rough Spots

Like everyone else, we have our rough spots. Nothing earth shattering or life altering (thank God), but rough spots nonetheless. Times during which we struggle to keep it all together. We are in one now.

Meera’s been sick for the past week. Like, home-from-daycare, double-ear-infections, on-antibiotics-again, fussy, clingy, glued to my hip, and cranky cranky cranky sick. Of course, she’s been drooling, coughing, sneezing, slobbering, sleeping and breathing all over me for five days straight. So now I’m sick too. Of course. Like, can-barely-drag-myself-out-of-bed, can-barely-function sick. Kyle and Owen are all out of synch with trying to get back into some semblance of a normal routine— after a week in Anguilla, and then a week of school break, they are now flailing about as they desperately (and not so gracefully) attempt to get back into the swing of the daily grind again. Owen is in a bad phase – back to what he’s always done when he’s in a bad phase: his typical acting up (big time) at bed time (ugh) drama (oh dear Lord when will this ever end with him? we’ve been battling this boy at bedtime in spurts and phases throughout his entiiiiiiiiiiire liiiiiiiiiiiiife). Kyle is doing the best of us all (the angel that he is), but he is never-ending with his obsessions and fixations that – inevitably – begin to drive the rest of us nuts (right now it is yahts and cruise ships that he’s obsessed with; ever since we saw some when we were in Anguilla; and we’re all just about done with his ceaseless and incessant questioning and commentary on all things yahts/ships; seriously, it sounds cute, but in real life it really isn’t). Braydon is as consumed as ever with his work (I’ll just leave it at that; read between the lines). I’m overwhelmed with it all.

We’re ready to play outside but it still isn’t quite fully spring yet. We’ve got the final push of the school year just looming right out there in front of us (always a tough time of year for our family—probably the toughest). The laundry is not getting done. The house is a wreck. Meals are catch as catch can. Things (like, the blog, for one) are falling through the cracks left and right. We’re all agitated and aggravated and edgy. The glass looks half empty. We’re barely holding it together.

These are the times when it is especially difficult to be a dual-career, on-our-own (i.e., no family anywhere within a reasonable distance whatsoever), nanny-less family. We have no back-up or Plan B. We’re flying solo and it isn’t easy. On a good day we keep all the balls in the air and the whole thing is somehow held together. On a bad day some balls drop.

A rough spot = a string of bad days.

This post is, in part, an explanation for why I haven’t been blogging these past several days. It is also, in part, a record of a rough spot. Because I want to remember these rough spots as well as all the great spells. And if my bambinos ever read this one day, I want them to know straight from me in the here and now–

My babies, Your mama almost fell apart sometimes. It is messy. It is real. We try to do our very best, but we sometimes falter. Rough spots are hard. Please forgive me and your Papi for our impatience, our weakness, and our often-not-so-stellar parenting. I hope very much that whatever damages we’re causing are minimized by the joyful life that we work hard to create during all the great spells in between the rough spots. More than anything I love you. And I want for you a full and enchanted childhood in which you knew you were loved oh so deeply. Sorry for the yucky stuff. Love, your adoring and imperfect mother.