Through a delightful haze of sleep, I became vaguely aware my daughter was still asleep, and my son was trundling into our room. My daughter is normally the early bird, so I was pleasantly surprised she was still sleeping.
I heard my son tiptoe over to my husband’s side of the bed and ask him where a specific pair of shorts were. My husband mumbled something incoherent that we can safely assume translated to “I don’t know, check the laundry basket.”
This statement did not meet with my almost-seven-year-old son’s satisfaction. When my husband didn’t answer his second or third requests to find the shorts, a tantrum ensued.
I opened my eyes to see it was 6:20 in the morning. Yelling, kicking, crying. All before 7 a.m.
My toddler stirred in the little crib next to me.
Oh shit, I thought. Is this for real? This is really how we are starting our Saturday morning?
We all got up, and after the 25 minute tantrum over the shorts was deescalated, my husband and I coffeed ourselves and fed the kids pancakes. We watched some cartoons and showered.
The day went on, but we were all out of sync with one another. My son was snappish and rude. My daughter was fussy. My husband became briefly histrionic when he was accidentally sprayed with the garden hose by the boy. I did a lot of heavy sighing.
We were all weirdly emotional, and not enjoying our weekend time with one another. At 40, I am experiencing more dramatic hormonal shifts. Looking at the calendar, I realized I was in the PMS zone. But what was their excuse? It was like we were all in “that time of the month.”
Of course my mommy-guilt chimed in and made me wonder if I was tainting the rest of my cranky clan with my monthly moodiness. Well, maybe partly. . . but I don’t really think that was it. Maybe it was pent up energy from the tropical storm that kept us all inside the day before. Maybe Mercury had gone into retrograde, or there was a funky moon-phase. Whatever it was, I was not enjoying it. None of us were.
Some days seem to go with the flow and everyone is happy and getting along. Other days, someone spying on us would think we were the four most miserable people on the planet. In general, weekends are tough these days. We have two children who are at total opposite ends of the spectrum developmentally (they are four and a half years apart), and also have very different personalities and interests. So, it is difficult to find activities where we can all “play nice in the sandbox.”
If I was a more creative or energetic mom, I might have organized a family dance jam, or smudged the house with sage and passed around tourmaline and quartz to cleanse the air. But I was pretty tired from being woken up so early and rudely. So, I kind of just let it all be.
Breathing in, I feel frustrated and tired.
Breathing out I accept how hard and uncomfortable some days can be.
The day progressed and included more tears, tantrums, and terse words. We had a chaotic dinner at Panera, and then came home to collapse. Bedtime went surprisingly easy. My husband and I met up on the porch and had a glass of wine while watching the swallows diving for mosquitoes in the dusky sky.
Another day had passed.
It had not been our finest, but we sipped our drinks and giggled about it anyway in that “alls well that ends well” kind of way.
Do you ever have days were you are out of sync with your family? How do you manage them? Do you have any special tricks for getting everyone happy or back together?