I know that for myself, I have this wish to be completely, entirely, one thousand percent present for my children. And, at the same time and diametrically opposed, I totally want to flee sometimes. To add to this confusion, I know that such unconditional and omnipresent availability would be terrible for them not to mention terrible for me. I find this tension between the starry-eyed and unreal perfection, the fight or flight (flight!) response and the rational benign-neglect-gives-way-to-nurturing-independence, which is the whole ball of wax, after all much harder than it needs to be in all likelihood. Oh, right, it’s life; it’s not scripted or simple or neat all the time. I so often forget that part.
How can I forget? The reality of my morning is this: I’m letting my teen not answer his most freaking loudest alarm clock in the world although I’m in the next room without another room to go to where I can escape the noise It’s really hard to concentrate with the stupid thing blaring like a pinball machine that got stuck at the loudest point but it’s not my job to turn a teenager’s alarm off. He may well sleep all day now for all I know.
I’m learning (a little late to the game, but hey) that what teenagers need—and most assuredly refuse to need—is really different than what younger children need sometimes. And I didn’t ever finally master the young children part even on the fourth! I’m growing into all these new contortions of availability and pushing toward independence. I’m working really hard. I’m finding these a much more challenging set of shifts than I’d imagined.
I’m exhausted. Or, as Saskia used to say, I’m ka-zausted.
I am not as exhausted as my pals with a nearly three year-old and a newborn. Glimpsing life at their house these days (the mama took the photo) reminded me, though, how precious the basics are: love, sleep, and a little bit of technology, regardless of whether the technology works to your advantage.
