WELCOME
INEVITABLE BURNOUT
Posted 03.18.10 by annajohnson
Some days. Some days nothing works. The little man wakes up grouchy. Won’t eat his breakfast. Won’t get dressed in time. Wants a candy in the shape of BIG FOOT on the way to the ferry. Screams when we miss the ferry and we arrive at the preschool gate a knot of sweat, tears and blackmail sugar.
Then, some days, it all goes fine and he kisses me seven times and say’s “I love you Mummy” as he joyfully chomps really plain cereal and gets dressed by himself. The house is clean. The fridge is full of healthy snacks and he even lets me play a CD that is not LOUDHEAVYFASTROCKANDROLL (his phrase). In the last two weeks I admit to having two really bad burn outs. Days when the claustrophobia, repetition, exhaustion and stress of parenting got me down. On those days he eats dorritos in the living room while I cry in the bath and I feel like Saturday morning comes too soon. But there is always perspective. We are two. Naomi Edison is alone with her four boys. And studying psychology! Maree Oaten is at home mothering three babies under three. Those girls earn their good times! And these are the battle front years, when its all about getting adequate calories into your young while answering their questions magically enough to feed their souls.
Marcello knows when I switch off. And intensifies his demands accordingly. His little inner clock expects certain topics of conversation at different geographic points of our daily journey. On the sweaty mad down hill jaunt to the ferry we talk about cars and the way people drive them (this involves some bad words). On the ferry we point to various harbour islands and make up magical names for mythical creatures. The snagglegrots who live on Snooklepink Island are a favorite. On the bus from the ferry to the preschool he likes stories and on the run down the hill we look at the boats and discuss their contents. It’s funny, if I skip a step, he drags me back. So it pays not to miss a step. And it pays not to grow caustic about the rituals we made up together. I love the snagglegrots. I am used to the whining, even that has its own cycles and subtle levels of intensity and importance. And I have become a master of distraction. When I run out of ideas all I need to do is tickle him, or tackle him or pull out the finger puppet that has an exposed green rubber brain and an elephant’s trunk and stick it right in his little face. Y’see it aint that hard! Just some days, some days…..
Till next time, KEEPING IT YUMMY.
XXX ANNA