Equation

(with a nod to January Dawn at http://dawningofjanuary.blogspot.com/)

Winton and Mummy, fighting over every little thing:

frustration (his) + frustration (mine) = yelling (both) + ( wounded silence (his) + guilt (mine))

Snuggle-date

Winton routinely climbs into my bed at 5.30AM for a pre-dawn snuggle.

It occurred to me yesterday (finally?) that Clara, though older and mature at age 6, might be jealous.   So I said, apropos of nothing, as we walked through the blowing gale to school: "I miss snuggling with you.  Want to have a snuggle-date tonight?"  Her cheeks broadened with a smile she worked hard not to let her little brother see.  But no comment.

Yesterday was Wednesday: our longest day of the week.  It is blighted by faculty meetings for me and, though I have KICK ASS childcare arrangements (soccer for Winton, dance for Clara and neither require me to drive or wait around!), everyone is an exhausted, cranky, dysfunctional bag of sh*t by the time we're home with our heaps of backpacks and sticky tupperware. 

I fed the children, speed-bathed them, got teeth brushed, Winton dressed . . . and turned around in time to see Clara, appropriately PJed and already in bed, pat the space on the bed next to her and say, winsomely, "Snuggle date, Mummy!"

I love my daughter (and my son too).  We must all snuggle more.  I must dole out the snuggling equitably.  But there must be lots of it.

Goodnight Ritual

Mummy [in bedroom doorway, blowing 5 kisses to each child, then]: " OK, Winton.  Say goodnight."

Winton: "Merry Christmas, Bunny Love, Cat Love, Dog Love, Turkey Love, I love you miss you Mummy."

Mummy: "Merry Christmas, Bunny Love, Cat Love, Dog Love, Turkey Love, I love you miss you Winton.  Your turn, Clara."

Clara: "See you later alligator, after a while crocodile, happy Santa, Merry Christmas, Bunny Love, Cat Love, Dog Love, Turkey Love, I love you miss you Mummy."

Mummy: "See you later, alligator, after a while crocodile, happy Santa, Merry Christmas, Bunny Love, Cat Love, Dog Love, Turkey Love, I love you miss you too Clara.  Ok, now goodnight everyone.  Be quiet.  Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite.  See you in the morning.  Love you."

Ritual performed exactly this way for 6+ months, possibly even a year.  Hmm.

Clara: Office Management (the chicken solution)

I have a colleague who is very unhappy.  Indeed she has fallen off the bottom rung of unhappy into a far worse place.

In wracking my brains for a solution, I presented a sanitized version of the predicament to Clara, aged 6, and asked for her advice.

Clara: "Let me think about it" [She's wise, this one.  She knows not to commit to a plan until she has thought things through.]

Several days later:

Clara: "You should give your colleague a real [live] chicken."

What stunning advice.  I wish I could follow through.  It would do the whole department a world of good were I simply to show up with a live chicken one day.  Imagine!  "Here. It's a chicken.  You'll need feed for it, I guess.  I don't think you can potty train it.  Maybe it'll lay an egg on your printer? Enjoy!"

Alcoholism or Knitting?

It's been a stress-fest at work lately.  Lots of emotion, lots of it negative, lots of it directed at me.
It makes it harder to stop my mind from whirring away at home, scrambling the day's conflicts to try and make them come out differently and blending in a hefty measure of rehearsal for tomorrow's conflicts.

I notice that I have begun to clench and unclench the fingers of my right hand, quickly, nervously.  My mother does this.  She has done so always, as far as I can remember.  And I've always hated it for showing, like steam spurting out of a pressure-cooker valve, how close she was to exploding.  She recently acquired a wrist brace to protect her from the carpal tunnel syndrome that her constant clenching has resulted in.  I am on that path.

Unless: I take up drinking.  I see now why it's so appealing for a working parent.  Nothing like a shwack of alcohol to silence the yammering brain AND (bonus) give one the sillies (which actually improve the bedtime/bathtime routine with Clara and Winton dramatically).  I suspect there's a law of diminishing returns with the alcohol though.

Maybe more exercise?

And knitting to keep the hands busy?
(I could knit at work meetings: that'd be distracting.)

Clutching at straws over here (and clutching/twitching all the time now, apparently).