..why I do not take all three girls with me to do even the smallest amount of shopping. I mistakenly decided to give them one. more. chance. this evening. At the end of a long school day. They were tired and hungry. I was tired and hungry. Why did I do such a ‘normal’ tasks with three circus monkeys in tow? I am asking myself that very same question, as I sip my second Chimay and listen to the girls, upstairs, fighting off sleep. Now that I have reentered the work force and they are all in school, I have less time with the girls that I once spent every waking moment with. Nine years I stayed at home, answering thier every call. On the one hand, I am glad to have something to call my own. When I am meeting clients for the first time, they do not know me as ‘Halie/Catie/Rosie’s mom’ or ‘DH’s wife’. I am simply ‘Erin’, there to massage their tired, sore or injured muscles. I cherish the opportunity as much as I miss being available to volunterr in thier classrooms and discuss thier school days. After a full day away from each other, my daughters seem to seek out opportunities to drive each other to the brink of meltdown… WHY? Within five minutes of picking them up from After-School Care (thank you Mom) and sharing with them my plan to head to Sprouts to pick up fruit and vegetables and Daddy’s favorite chicken-kabobs to grill for our dinner – they were shrieking in the back seat. Grrrrrr. So before we even got to the store, I was growling between my gritted teeth for them to ‘cool it’. What did you say? Oh. No, growling at the girls was in no way an effective deterrent and no, it did not make me feel better. On a loooooong day like today, my best parenting rapidly takes a back seat to utter frustration. I know that not many of my fellow parents would care to share similar stories, but for goodness’ sake, please tell me how you turn the day around! I do not like being upset with my daughters as I regrettably send them to bed thirty minutes early, just because I fear saying the wrong things to them out of weariness…
Even now, 45 minutes after their bedtime, I can hear them upstairs still bickering, fighting the sleep that I know thier little bodies would welcome if they would just. be. quiet.
Tonight, I will follow the routine I have religiously repeated for the last eight-plus years: When they are finally asleep, I will go to check on each in her respective bedroom. Only then, when I listen to their deep and relaxed breathing, will I step out into the hallway and breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Everyday that the girls and I survive reminds me that I did not have to dial 9-1-1 even once. I don’t know how we managed to make it through in one piece, but I am going to repeat it all tomorrow, for certain!