On the Nourishment of Your Soul

With the holidays approaching, I'm finding myself tremendously stressed. The Christmas bonuses we are expecting have yet to materialize, and despite my best efforts, I am spending money that I don't have. Some gifts I had to go ahead and get, as they need to be shipped to my kid in Indiana -- we will call her Yaya, Warrior Princess, a moniker she adopted as a 3-year old. But of course, one pressing need does not alleviate the others -- there are household bills, wrapping paper for the gifts, shoes that needed replacing, car repairs that cannot wait lest we go from a one-car family to a no-car family... And of course, there is the typical professional stress, compounded by the imminent (voluntary but necessary) departure of my mentor and boss.

Needless to say, when I arrived home near to 7:30 on Tuesday night (keeping in mind I leave the house at 7), I was in no mood to be around anyone. Sparents don't often have that option, though. If you're anywhere in my house but the bathroom, it's expected the kids want to interact with you -- even then, you need that door locked! And no matter how badly you need to decompress, it's difficult to push them away. Our little household is still so new and freshly made, and their special challenges so great, that you intellectually and emotionally understand the task of establishing order and security in the house -- which is another demand on your time. So you get into this awful compromise of being grumpy because it's been a long, hard day, and feeling guilty for being grumpy at the kids, though innocent in this matter, who are nonetheless invading your space. The girls have not lived with me long enough that we have been able to establish boundaries, especially since some days I desperately need their attention and affection, and indulge them as much as I can in my own.

So, in between eating an apple with peanut butter just to get something down me (screw cooking after a 12 hour day, this is why God gave us microwaves!), taking care of the puppy and trying to unwind, I grumbled enough at the kids that my sister-in-law corralled them in front of the TV so I could grab a little nap. Just before my husband got home, it was game time, and I was still a bit of a grouch, but the girls enjoy watching me play Animal Crossing, so I let them crawl up onto the couch beside me. It's a low key activity, so it's a good way to give them some face time when I am stressed. I was then rewarded with some Ollie moments that made things... well, better. It constituted of that small payoff that we caregivers usually get right before we start a mental inventory of all the alcohol we have in the house, while knowing it will never be enough. Ollie is 4 and a little behind on her speech development (bilingual household), but this is as near to verbatim as I could get:

Ollie: Roxy, why you married?
Me: Because I like to kiss Nick's face.
Ollie: Aaaugh, don't tell me that, I die!

Me: What? Don't say 'I like to kiss Nick all over his face?'
Ollie: Oh no! I diiiiieee! BLARG! *falls back prostrate on the couch, tongue hanging out, dead*
 

After Nick gets home, we cuddle up, as I continue playing Animal Crossing. It's time for the girls to go to bed, and Ollie comes up for a goodnight kiss.
Ollie: Roxy, can you stay home forever and play video games?
Me: *blink blink* Kiddo, if I could, I would, but I have to go to work and earn money. But thank you, that sounds good. I'll play games on Saturday and you can watch, then we'll play together, ok?
Ollie: *satisfied, kisses goodnight and goes off to bed*
Me: *trying not to laugh/cry, turn to Nick* Oh my god, that just made so many hard things WORTH IT.

 

I am an idealist and a sentimental creature -- for those to whom this matters, a triple Pisces. While I know sappy moments like this won't work for everyone -- that is, make sparenting worthwhile, with all the financial and emotional stress that is co-morbid with being a sparent (a surprisingly appropriate word). But in order to be a successful sparent, you really must have the ability to claim even small victories as triumphs. It's almost a survival strategy. You subsist on so little reward for all this labor, you have to metabolize even the least little things efficiently. I don't know if this is noble, or pitiful, but I don't feel like I should be pitied. I feel as though I am living in accordance to my morals. Whatever else, life is a banquet, and I don't intend to starve to death.