My sister Era recently visited from San Francisco. She is a busy resident in primary care, but my kids know her as a generous, funny, strict, and loving aunt. After a day of running around helping me take care of a five-year-old, a two-year-old, and a one-month-old, she asked if I would sit with her and binge watch a compelling series. There was nothing I wanted more than to get a cup of coffee and sit with her enjoying poignant and entertaining TV the day before she had to fly back. But I could Not. Stop. Moving, flitting from one activity to the next. Era could probably hear my hummingbird wings flapping. The reality as I saw it was that no, I could not sit with her. I had to watch the kids. I had to make dinner. I had to clean the refrigerator. “Do you have to do that now?” she asked, exasperated but trying to sound as patient as she could. My hummingbird brain said yes, I did, and since you asked, I also have to get the laundry and move it to the dryer, which is conveniently in the garage. Which is separate from our house. So, I have to run, get my jacket and keys, open the garage door, throw the clothes into the dryer, throw more clothes in the washer, and run back inside. Now. Right after I get Sasha some milk. Flap, flap, flap, flap, flap.
This hummingbird work exhausts me, and I know I am not alone. My friend recently confided in me that she felt extremely tired as a mom, and she decided to go to a doctor with a Master’s in Ayurvedic medicine. My friend expected a long list of dietary recommendations based on an extensive nutritional analysis. Yet her doctor just said. . . to rest. Even if my friend could not fall asleep, this doctor advised her to breath deeply, to meditate. “So, no more recommendations?” The woman answered, “Just rest. We can address everything else later.”
To rest or not to rest, that is the question. How does one rest when there are myriad obligations? What does it look like for us to rest when we are trying to make a deadline every day? We have to take care of the kids, keep a reasonably clean house, bring the children to their extracurricular activities, orchestrate play dates, make dinner, wash our little friends, and read several stories before we bring them milk and tuck them in. And that’s on a normal day without any additional stressful activities like doctor’s appointments, hosting visitors, and so on. And, yeah, we have to hug our children and kiss them and be gentle with them so they feel loved. And also think long-term for them, creating a grand vision for their success, right?
It’s overwhelming. Especially when one of the kids will not get with the program. I think, I am doing so much, you must appreciate it. But he takes it for granted, and he resents his new brother, and yes, he will drink this paint water, thank you very much. And then he will put the paintbrush in his mouth. He is almost three, and before the baby, he would paint away at the children’s museum like we had all the time in the world. Now, in this art class that I specifically chose for him, he cannot sit still.
Like me. He cannot sit still like me. I wipe the paint away after the Jackson Pollock flick that brought such insight all over me.
So what is the answer? Is it to sit still together? I thought that we would do that at the art class, have some mother-son bonding time. But he would not cooperate. So maybe we need to sit still at home for now. Maybe I need to have the patience with him that I also need to have with myself.
Because this hummingbird time will end. The kids will grow and eventually move out (in the super-distant future). And then I will remember the time when I was running around all the time and decided I needed to add one more activity to the list, and then had my child paint my face while the other kids looked on, bemused.
Yes, I will make time to slow down (ironic, isn’t it?). I will forgive myself if the house is a mess but the kid is happy because I spent time with him. He needs one-on-one play therapy on a daily basis. Maybe that’s what I need as well. To let my hummingbird wings take me to that place I love–when we are all together, playing, loving each other into the comfort of knowing that everything will be all right in the end.