On at least two mornings this past week I had three clothed children at the door, wearing backpacks and all outdoor accoutrements, and circled back through the house to turn off lights, double check faucets that lure in a toddler with their siren song, and bed-check the dogs to make sure that there were two, no more no less, secured inside the building. Thirty seconds tops. Really.
I return to two children in near naked state, and one child now holding boots and socks in their hands, and to find backpacks completely unpacked in search of a favorite rock or stuffie or "banopa" bar. Mind you, there were very few minutes to get all and sundry into the car and actually fling them from a nearly stopped car and make it to work in a timely fashion. When you are a parent of three, I find, your ability to curse like a sailor under breath waxes and wanes.
Going anywhere, and I mean anywhere, is a full orchestral event. It requires surgical precision and exquisite timing and the ability to mind read. One has to be attuned with bat-like radar to subtle shifts in mood, perceptible only to the super-attentive, or perennially embarrassed and anxious. If you have carried a child out of a chain store, screaming and sobbing hysterically while chanting "You're not my Mommy" to the shocked and concerned faces of the entire Eastern seaboard, you know of what I speak. You will never, ever, EVER, push your luck and try to squeeze in one more errand again. Sober.
The family of four dynamic is set up with the exactly right number of hands for single parent or dual parent outings. The family of five relies on one child to be passive and tethered into a seat, or one child to be absolutely stellar in the compliance and comportment department. I did not a) plan my child's age spans to meet this need, b) parent with enough threat and fear to obtain absolute compliance at all times, c) receive children with unquestioning and "follower" personalities, d) all of the above.
What I have learned is that I either have to lower my standards or raise my ability to deflect the stares of onlookers. Sometimes both. The compliments paid on the rare well-behaved outing (and I include myself in the behavior equation) are treasured. Thank you to those of you who saw the rare planetary alignment and commented on it. Thank you also to those who waited to scoff and roll your eyes and text your friend the video of the spectacular event until I was out of sight. I appreciate both camps.
I have learned to take reinforcements. People that can handle our particular vintage of crazy, and people who will help me see the humor in the horror. People who are quick to step in, but in a way that does not imply I should have done it sooner myself. People I enjoy and who can pretend they did not hear the profanity flowing like a vernal mountain stream. People who can provide perspective that this is not forever, that there is joy and humor, and that these kids are actually pretty good kids much of the time.
People who can provide the insight that my bored and schlumpy toddler, sprawling nearly backward out of her child containment unit, (high chair to those of you not yet indoctrinated), is doing a spot-on John-Candy-in-Uncle-Buck impersonation. Thank you. That is the reframe I needed.
If you go anywhere with me, I will feel the need to apologize for the state of my car. I will feel embarrassed for the number of times you have to hear the full name of at least one of my children. I will have a running anxious soundtrack of "I bet they wish they had stayed home/ just met us here/ started drinking when they got up..."
I will appreciate your ability to carry on a conversation with a sibling war of epic proportions being waged a mere sneaker throw from the back of your head.
I will be grateful that you did this more than once.
I return to two children in near naked state, and one child now holding boots and socks in their hands, and to find backpacks completely unpacked in search of a favorite rock or stuffie or "banopa" bar. Mind you, there were very few minutes to get all and sundry into the car and actually fling them from a nearly stopped car and make it to work in a timely fashion. When you are a parent of three, I find, your ability to curse like a sailor under breath waxes and wanes.
Going anywhere, and I mean anywhere, is a full orchestral event. It requires surgical precision and exquisite timing and the ability to mind read. One has to be attuned with bat-like radar to subtle shifts in mood, perceptible only to the super-attentive, or perennially embarrassed and anxious. If you have carried a child out of a chain store, screaming and sobbing hysterically while chanting "You're not my Mommy" to the shocked and concerned faces of the entire Eastern seaboard, you know of what I speak. You will never, ever, EVER, push your luck and try to squeeze in one more errand again. Sober.
The family of four dynamic is set up with the exactly right number of hands for single parent or dual parent outings. The family of five relies on one child to be passive and tethered into a seat, or one child to be absolutely stellar in the compliance and comportment department. I did not a) plan my child's age spans to meet this need, b) parent with enough threat and fear to obtain absolute compliance at all times, c) receive children with unquestioning and "follower" personalities, d) all of the above.
What I have learned is that I either have to lower my standards or raise my ability to deflect the stares of onlookers. Sometimes both. The compliments paid on the rare well-behaved outing (and I include myself in the behavior equation) are treasured. Thank you to those of you who saw the rare planetary alignment and commented on it. Thank you also to those who waited to scoff and roll your eyes and text your friend the video of the spectacular event until I was out of sight. I appreciate both camps.
I have learned to take reinforcements. People that can handle our particular vintage of crazy, and people who will help me see the humor in the horror. People who are quick to step in, but in a way that does not imply I should have done it sooner myself. People I enjoy and who can pretend they did not hear the profanity flowing like a vernal mountain stream. People who can provide perspective that this is not forever, that there is joy and humor, and that these kids are actually pretty good kids much of the time.
People who can provide the insight that my bored and schlumpy toddler, sprawling nearly backward out of her child containment unit, (high chair to those of you not yet indoctrinated), is doing a spot-on John-Candy-in-Uncle-Buck impersonation. Thank you. That is the reframe I needed.
If you go anywhere with me, I will feel the need to apologize for the state of my car. I will feel embarrassed for the number of times you have to hear the full name of at least one of my children. I will have a running anxious soundtrack of "I bet they wish they had stayed home/ just met us here/ started drinking when they got up..."
I will appreciate your ability to carry on a conversation with a sibling war of epic proportions being waged a mere sneaker throw from the back of your head.
I will be grateful that you did this more than once.
Again! Again! Let's do it again! I love John Candy!
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