2:00 a.m.
The hall light blasted into our room and our 7-year-old grandson stood in the doorway crying, “I can’t sleep.” I buried my face in the pillow, thinking this was a nightmare, but the loud wailing continued.
Finally, I stumbled out into the hallway. “You’ll wake your brother. Please, it’s the middle of the night. Can I tuck you back into your bed?”
Ed and I were staying with our two grandsons, 7 and 10, while their parents were gone for four days. We were in the midst of moving into a new townhouse nearby so we tried to spend as much time as possible at our home during the day getting things unpacked, but we spent nights at their house because of their barely-weaned puppy.
“I wanna sleep in your bed,” he cried. His big blue irresistible eyes were filled with tears. “OK, come with me. I’ll heiya you in your bed until you go back to sleep.” Heiya in our family means lightly stroking the back and arms.
4:45 a.m.
The hall lights were back on and 7 was at our bed. “OK, come in here beside me,” I whispered, trying not to awaken Ed.
6:00 a.m.
“Alright, wiggle worm, let’s get up and let the dog out to pee, and then get breakfast and get ready for school,” I groaned, pulling my sleep-deprived head out from under the pillow.
6:30 a.m.
“Nani, my throat hurts. I can’t go to school today.” This from 10.
“I won’t wear leggings. It’s hot out,” 7 shouted from upstairs.
“It’s 50 degrees out there. You can wear long pants or leggings under your shorts. You choose.”
“I’m not wearing long pants or leggings. It’s hot!” Fifteen more minutes of loud wails.
7:50 a.m.
As the school bus rolled to a stop, 7 asked for the third time that morning, “Am I taking the bus home from school this afternoon?”
“Yes, you’re taking the bus home.” High-five. “Have a really good day.”
8:00 a.m.
A text popped in from my daughter. “Mom, I just saw an e-mail from the teacher saying that today is a special day. The kids are all supposed to come in pajamas to school and bring an iPad and their favorite stuffed animal. Can you run by the house and take those to school for him?”
“I’m bored. Can you get me a show to watch, Nani?” From 10, lying on our sofa, watching us unpack.
10:00 a.m.
“Sorry, ma’am,” said the window coverings installer. “I know you have company coming this weekend, but the blinds in your guest room don’t fit and I need to return them to the factory.”
“How can that be?” I snapped at him.
11:30 a.m.
I took the puppy out to pee, getting back to our townhouse in time to receive the delivery of our glass dining room tabletop.
The glass was shattered. Tears stung my eyes. Yes, really, tears about a stupid tabletop!
12:30 p.m.
“Nani, I’m bored,” said 10.
3:00 p.m.
The bus stopped and the door opened. “Your grandson’s not on the bus,” the tight-lipped, unsmiling bus driver said.
“Where is he?”
“He must be at school.” The door closed.
Oh no!!! I came without my phone. 7 will be scared. The principal’s office will think he’s been abandoned…
I banged on neighbor Greg’s door. No answer. Harriett, the little old lady across the street has only a landline and we couldn’t find Adams Elementary in the phone book. I ran across the street. “Mary, thank goodness you’re home. I need to call Adams… Can I use your phone?”
“He’s sitting right here beside me,” said the lady who answered the phone.
“I’m on my way,” I said breathlessly.
When I arrived at Adams, Ed was in front of the school with 7. “How’d you get here?” I asked him.
“They called your phone and I answered it. I huffed it at high speed to get here,” he said.
“Will I be late for my soccer practice?” 7 said with a grin.
“No, you won’t be late,” I said, trying to smile.
My head was beginning to throb.
As he got into the car, 7 said, “Why’d you bring pajamas and my stuffed animal to my school, Nani? It was technology day. Nobody had jammies and stuffed animals. That’s for babies.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know,” I mumbled.
4:00 p.m.
“I’m bored, Nani.”
5:30 p.m.
Ed called. “Hey love, we waited here on the soccer field for a half hour and there’s no one else here, so I called and found out that the practice is tomorrow, not today. We had it all wrong in our notes. We’re coming home.”
5:45 p.m.
“I’m hungry, Nani.”
“I’m bored, Nani.”
6:00 p.m.
I was too exhausted to eat.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t manage yesterday very well at all. Some days I stay much more in the present moment and roll with the punches. Yesterday wasn’t one of them.
How do you manage yourself when you have days like this? Do you have any suggestions for the rest of us?
It was an exhausting day. Sometimes being with the people we care most about can push us to the edge, and the day Marlena described was a great example. And yet we don’t want to back away from them. They mean way too much.
Do others of you have similar experiences? What strategies work for you when confronting similar challenges?
An experience calling for heiya all around! As I read along, what emerged was this: I am learning (ever so slowly) to shift my attention “post-op” from the voice that says “I almost lost it” to that other voice that declares “You made it!” And, “you lived to tell of it, reflect upon it, and witness to the expansion of your soul in the process!” From that place I can recognize that I did not lose it and, in truth, I made it through by putting one foot in front of the other . . . In other words, you made it through by being very present. And “almost” doesn’t count. Love to the both of you!
Thanks, dear friends, for your comments! Backing away is not an option! We adore those boys:-)
I’m exhausted just reading about your day! We share similar experiences with our grandchildren, yet we love them so. I find the best response is to breath through the challenging moments. Being present for them is key to “losing it” – Ed, you’re correct that we don’t want to back away. They are precious!
Thanks for sharing this experience, Marlena.
I got anxious just reading about it!
It all turned out fine in the end. Things always do!
Stay compassionate with yourselves and pause and breath and take the next step. Sometimes I use the self-talk mantra, “this is just one storm, the weather will eventually change, all things are temporary, I am not powerful enough to control all the weather.” If needed I also order pizza, we all put on our pajamas and eat in front of a funny movie. The muppets help put everything in perspective. 🙂
Muppets sounds good, but you know, our boys would say “That’s for babies!” It was just a brief storm, but a “perfect” one for sure:-)
Marlena, “That’s for babies,” may become my refrain. Like Jennifer, I was getting anxious just imagining – but your comment to Rita will start my day off well!
Love your comment, Terri. I still have technical bugs in my website, so I just now saw it – sorry. I’m going to get this thing to work correctly some day!