it seems like the colors of trees are brighter this year. more vivid. and i don’t think it’s me. i’m not wearing especially rosy glasses. especially this evening.
in fact, i feel pretty deflated by parenting older kids. those of you who are energized by it, please talk to me. the after school hours before supper, the mostly uneaten lunches packed at home, the reports of gross school lunches, the rushing to early evening activities, the varying interests of 4, 7 and 11 year olds, the younger ones who mimics the older ones, the older ones who are annoyed with the younger ones, the one who is in the middle and is called a big kid and a little kid in one day, the dog that barks in the middle of it, the suppers that don’t seem to be yummy enough, the steady requests for computer time, the reminders that everyone else can watch smackdown, the back talk, the lack of help with household tasks, the desperation for someone to play with, the bony limbs that aren’t as quick to cuddle, and a mama who wants to scream, “can’t we all be together and be happy?!?!?” is this all a bit of grief, maybe? social work friends, social work me.
it is likely that these moments are about me. i’ll find new ways to think on these things. i’m making a new chore chart. i’m hearing their complaints and irritability as a need that i can fill with love and patience. i’m bringing the watercolor paints back to the dining room. i’m drinking as much water as i am coffee and diet coke and beer. i’m trying to be as nice to my own kids as i am to my preschoolers.
and i’m collecting leaves that are prettier than those in my own yard.