Dear Me and You, Rage to Recognition
Dear Me and You,
Today is busy; I have all the usual things, plus today is our Sam’s Club run. I squeezed in the playground, also did a water-color painting activity, and of course, I am desperately trying to fulfill my commitment to me and you– the letter for the week delivered today.
I recognize something about myself and I’m not happy with it, this thing I spy with my little eye. On a day like today, when I’m hustling and bustling to complete the thing on my list for me– I have less patience for the kids, I Hulk out over small things… I’m a bit of an asshole and not the mom I want to be. This isn’t a new discovery; in fact, I know this and understand it, which is why the guilt and anger seep in; and why I don’t prioritize “my” things all the time.
And as quickly as I’m overwhelmed with remorse and guilt about my reactionary choices, I stop and take a moment to look at the things I’m also modeling for the team: following my dreams, following through with commitments, and doing something for me. These are all important lessons, important messages, and necessary for the happiness of us all.
Today, my friend (and collaborator) scheduled time to work on our project. And as it happens in motherhood– shit happened. So, in a turn of fate our time to work is now a playdate and working-date. I pull up to her house in time to walk to her kid’s school for pick up. She, pushing her two-year-old in stroller and me with an exuberant six year-old, head out to pick up her 2nd grader. It feels like we are a little gang, heading to pick up another valuable member.
As we walk my friend looks at me and says, “I can’t believe this. I never had friends outside of my school pick me up. She’s not going to know what to do when she sees Tessa.” I smile, Starbucks in hand and respond, “For sure, this is the stuff of childhood dreams.”
We arrive at the school after a brief walk and patiently wait to see our missing member, standing there like a crew that can’t and won’t be messed with. The 2nd grader arrives and she looks happy and confused saying, “What is Tessa doing here?!” Perhaps, in the routine disruption she has a moment of worry– what is wrong. A classmate approaches her desperately trying to break into the gang saying, “Bye! Bye, I can’t wait for our playdate.” My friend prompts her daughter to acknowledge the existence of this outsider; her kid does, waving her off with an utterance of, “Yeah bye.”
The gang cannot be permeated.
We walk home, my friend and I exuberantly chat and catch up, the girls ahead of us are filled with the same joy. This is the balance. Today there were moments of rage and frustration. There were moments of bliss and contentment.
We are all doing the best we can. And, I believe if we are pursuing the things we love– goals, our children, our identity, our partners, our identities– then there is no wrong way as long as it’s our way.
We made it through another day, me and you. Kudos.