Thanks to MEA, I had a lovely day that gave me much reprieve from dealing with the age of spite. I know I was so looking forward to having Lilly in preschool for three hours each morning, giving me much craved time to write. But the thing is, it's not much time. And at 11:30, I get to pick up a very tired and hungry child (think that's fun?). Then there's the testing, testing, testing (of limits) before we finally read books. Then the pre-nap ordeals before a nap that never feels long enough. Before she's up again, yet again famished and groggy, still not quite awake. This is when I pop in a DVD for her to watch while I exhaustedly juggle serving her food and otherwise catering to her needs (and desperately still attempting to hold down those limits), as I also try to finish up some work on my laptop, tidy up the house, and make dinner.
By the time Leighton's home by six, I'm in shutdown mode.
See, mornings are for all the fun stuff (as well as those necessary errands that I now find myself cramming to get done). Mornings are for play-dates and hanging out with friends. Mornings are for the rock mamas who know how to make the best of each morning.
Afternoons are no fun. Afternoons are tired. From lunch through nap to dinner, the long afternoon hours have me sinking down into a murky swamp where I find myself barely holding on.
And afternoons are lonely. Tied to the house, settling in for nap or recovering from one, preparing, cleaning up or yet again preparing a meal, they are impossible for scheduled play-dates or other fun things.
I live for the village thing. The rock mamas doing it together. Which is why I was so pleased to in fact not have Lilly in school this morning, so that we could team up with friends and head out for a lovely outing on a perfectly crisp sunny fall day. To an idyllic pastoral farm surrounded by open fields and rolling meadows, a creek down below and big old trees up above. There was the pumpkin patch, hens and roosters, a young calf and a (very) old horse, lots of cats and kittens, and there was more. Sure, the kids were still doing that incessant three-year-old thing that they do, but my friend and I snatched the chance to share, to commiserate, to empower and inspire one another. It felt good.
The day was all the more better for it. Sure, there was still that boundary testing going on, but there were no loud "No!"s from me. Today, I was able to stick to Dr. Walsh's recommended calm and firm "No!" throughout the day. Feeling myself supported by a friend, my village, I faced the day as a stronger, calmer, more peaceful me. A me with more perspective.