I like talking to you
“Maybe you could ask Santa to give you a week off of work or something. You could pick me up early from school and we could do fun things together,” she says to me, at the end of what feels like an exceptionally long week.
The holidays are upon us. Our kid is out of school for a week. Our after-school childcare is closed for the week and we didn’t want to spend an additional $500 for a few days of “Thanksgiving Week Camp” during what is the one of the most expensive months of the year. My job is more flexible than my husband’s so I’ve been home with our kid, solo, for the past week. The fact that I can do my job from home means I’ve spent the last week juggling work and parenting - both at the same time - while careening into holiday season 2022, which began two days ago with Thanksgiving dinner at my house.
This past week felt like the cherry on top of several, delightfully stressful weeks of a stomach bug, the sniffly nose that won’t quit, an on-again/off-again fever and a nightmare-inducing cough. Somewhere in there, my boss got fired and my work-life upended itself, more or less overnight, Oh, and did I mention I’m also trying to start a business? To say that I have been stressed out of my mind is an understatement. I am mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted to my core.
The week started okay-ish. I tried to work while my daughter interrupted every meeting on my calendar. I accept this is life now, with the flexibility of WFH, and it’s a trade-off I’m willing to deal with. My kid can highlight my humanity asking me for a snack every time it is my turn to speak in the Teams meeting. Most of us are parents, and everyone can relate to learning to be adaptable given the massive life disruptions of the past two+ years. Still, I can’t help but feel irritated, and a little resentful (of who? I’m not sure…), every time she does it.
On Tuesday, I scheduled a mother/daughter volunteer session at the local food bank to break up the day. I worked in the morning, she watched tv for about 4 solid hours, we took a break to go volunteer and then came home so I could finish out my work before taking time off for Thanksgiving.
By Wednesday, we were in full-on prep mode. We were grocery shopping for missing ingredients, baking pies and setting the table. I was feeling progressively more irritated with each passing day, expected and unexpected tasks and endless requests from my daughter to play with her. I didn’t have time to play, I had stuff to do.
Thanksgiving was a bit of a blur. Partly because the days all feel somewhat blurry right now and party because I put myself to bed, before dessert, without saying a word to my dinner guests.
Friday, I lounged around almost the entire day. I am ashamed to admit how much tv everyone watched. By early afternoon, I had mustered the energy to clean up the mess from our holiday dinner. Feeling guilty about how I’d spent my time, I ate my feelings, in the form of many slices of leftover pie.
This morning, I woke up ready for a different kind of day. A day of presence. A day of quality time. A day of nothing and everything. A day of allowing my intuition to guide me towards whatever it is, that I need.
I realized I need a lot of things. I need rest. I need joy. I need time to be. I need to turn off my phone. I need to listen - to my body, to my heart, to my loved ones. I need to drink more water. I need to walk more. I need sunshine everyday. I need to slow down. I need to get quiet. I need to let go.
And tonight, as I write this note next to my snoring, sleeping daughter, I am filled with gratitude. For slowing down enough to talk to my kid. To ask her questions about why she does the things she does, most of them that drive me nuts. To listen to her share her perspective, which I hadn’t considered. To watch her light up as she shared her thoughts and ideas with me. And to see her connect different thoughts and ideas together to generate new understandings of how the world works. And to experience the world through her eyes…when I slow down enough to listen.
“I like talking to you. This is so fun!” She said, just before she fell asleep. Out of all the things that happened this week, this moment is the only one that feels like it matters.
