Would you rather drink rotten water

 or rotten soda? the latest in the long line of questions my son asks me on a daily basis. We are constantly playing desert island, through the homework, chores, driving, soccer.  Every moment of down time is a chance for me to decide between 2 very unpleasant things. The irony of decision making, unpleasantness and the "island-ness" of my existence is not lost on me, however my son doesn't seem to grasp the reality of the effect of all his philosophical questions. 

The incessant line of evasive questions that demand an answer on the spot has left me somewhat drained. I'm a introvert by nature, living in a world and reality that has positioned me to become, if not 'good at' then at least ''D+"  at my extroversion skills.  Conversation, putting myself out there, working in a classroom and school full of people, has taken most of the emotional bandwidth that I have. Remembering now the many reasons why I decided to quit teaching full time. It's exhausting to be needed all the time. nevertheless,  I digress. 

I want to stretch my bandwidth because I need it available for my children. I need it for myself. I see how quickly I might burnout, if I don't get the chance to refill my pitcher that I so desperately need in order to be the best parent I can be. It feels like, at the moment, my pitcher is the size of a teaspoon. Its like watching one of those videos of somebody mixing ingredients to make something delicious, but my emotional capacity is that delicate powder that is so powerful you only need a little bi,t so you have to scoop it out, put it in a tiny bowl, and zoom in really close, just so you can see it. It gets dumped into the mix before you have a chance to blink, then the tiny bowl is empty. 

But my sone doesn't only need a little bit of my powerful attention and love, he needs all of it. The nature of being a parent is being present with your children.  Being mentally and emotionally available whether you are physically in the room with them or not.  This I have learned the hard way, but thank God for technology that lets me see my son and him see me when we are not at the same house. He needs me to listen, respond with love, pay attention, look him in the eyes, (difficult over video chat, but the idea is nice).  Last night I was tucking him into bed and reciting his bedtime poem after a long day of "would you rather" and "Do you think  it would be harder to A or B?" and the non-stop stream of 'mom' 'mom' 'mom' mom' 'mom' 'mom' 'mom'.  I had absolutely had enough. Tucking my kids in alone is not a new endeavor and I make quick work of it because I want to be in bed. At the end of a long day requiring me to be something I am not, I was all out of carrots and sticks.  He stopped us mid-poem 3 times. I couldn't wait any longer. I couldn't keep the annoyance out of my voice and face. I was laughing to keep from yelling. "I want to go to bed!" I finally said, in an attempt to move things along in what was determined to be the world's longest tuck-in.  Then after a long explanation of an observation he had made about the layout of his bedtime poem, we were able to carry on saying it, signaling it was time to give hugs and kisses and sleep. 

Sometimes in the past I would cherish the long tuck in.  Knowing that one day it would morph into the quicker, half-hug, 'love ya mom' that I get from my 13 year old son. I wanted to love every minute of that bedtime poem. The feeling of  nostalgia that came for the future version of my son's tuck-in allowed me to slow down and enjoy the hugs, the words, the kisses for this moment.  It also brought on the guilt, that little boy just wants love, attention, time with mommy. I can't rush through the moments with him. They won't last forever.  

 I love me, I am learning.  It is slow, intentional, powerful.  

Mama's don't get yourself down, you're doing better than you think you are. Maybe.  Perhaps you are a lucky one that knows how good you are doing, but for those who doubt, you are doing better than you might think.