If I Could Do It Over…

When I thought of the idea of a blog about things I wish I could do over, I came up with a LONG list. It was too long for a blog (and a bit embarrassing), so I decided to choose three. These feel pervasive and, I hope, that by naming these, I might make better choices in the future. 

Safeway. Grocery shopping. Payton was three years old, Mary one. Mary was in the cart and Payton was walking, only this time, he thought it would be fun to run. I was startled. He never ran!? We shop every week, they know the routine, and they’re usually both good about staying with me. This time Payton ran through the aisles. I rushed after him. To my horror he ran through the wine aisle. Next thing I knew….CRASH! A bottle of wine smashed onto the floor. I stood there looking at Payton as the realization washed over me: from everyone else’s perspective, I’m THAT Mom. The one with unruly kids. The one I usually judge from the top of my pedestal as I walk quietly through the aisles with my well behaved children. Not this time. This time others were looking at me wondering, “What kind of parent lets their kids run all over the store?” “Doesn’t she discipline her kids?”

The manager came over. He was kind. He said it happens all the time. Instead of graciously thanking him, I grabbed Payton hard by the arm and reprimanded him harshly. I don’t remember what I said, I only remember angrily taking my embarrassment out on him. I wish I could go back and thank that manager for his kindness. I wish I could keep my embarrassment in check. Payton deserved to be reprimanded, but not the way I’d done it. 

Spilled milk. Ellie and Emily were about two years old and they were learning how to use glasses. That included pouring their own milk. At least one of them spilled a glass every meal. At least it felt like it was every meal. I was so tired of cleaning up milk. I was tired of a lot of things – folding laundry, washing dishes, picking up after everyone. At the time, we had four kids under the age of seven and both Chad and I worked full-time. Our days were full – never a moment to pause. After a while I showed my exhaustion by getting angry and yelling at Emily and Ellie for spilling their milk again. If I could do it over, I’d have taken a time out. I would have stepped away before getting angry, realizing my anger had nothing to do with them or the milk. I needed space, but I wasn’t – and am still not – good at recognizing when I need it. That’s an ongoing lesson the universe keeps putting in front of me, and I keep learning it, over and over. 

For many years, our lives were a hamster wheel – the same thing day after day. Wake up, go for a run, shower, empty dishwasher, get kids off to school, go to work, come home, pick up after the kids, make dinner, drive kids to activities, do the dishes, fold laundry, put kids to bed, go to bed. I was tired and tired of the routine. I wanted space to think, to reflect, to process thoughts beyond deciding what’s for dinner. I thought about taking a weekend away. Just me, by myself. But I was reluctant to ask. Me leaving would have put everything on Chad. And I don’t think he would have understood. He didn’t seem to need or want the same space that I did. It didn’t help that one of the things I wanted to do was sleep. My mother-in-law believes, “you can sleep when you’re dead.” My husband has the patience of a saint. No one around me wanted a nap or a break. So I didn’t take one. The most I took was a long run or walk by myself. If I could do it over, I wish I had taken a weekend alone once or twice a year. 

Now that the kids are older (and they’re less interested in me than I am in them) I get the space I need. My long walks are truly unencumbered – I can walk without purpose, letting my mind wander as long as I want because I don’t feel pressure to be back home in 90 minutes. I can take a nap in the afternoon because my kids can get a glass of milk or toast some bread on their own. I can spend a quiet morning reading or writing, because my kids aren’t awake yet. And, when they wake up, or when they want or need me, I’m ready, and eager, to be there for them. I realize I love my hamster wheel. I enjoy making dinner. Okay, maybe I don’t like folding laundry, but I enjoy the evenings when we’re all in the family room together while I’m folding it. 

The message I need to hear is – I don’t have the patience of a saint. I need to take space so I can show up better – handle my embarrassment, deal with my exhaustion and see how much I love my family and my life.