To Get A Moment’s Peace
Yesterday I had little time to breathe.
I was woken long before the sun rose. While I was able to settle Shane back to sleep for a few more hours, I wasn’t able to settle myself down, and found myself laying in bed with a hyperactive mind.
Just as I was starting to let go of my thoughts and drifting off, Shane was up again, ready to tackle the day with his typical two-year-old gusto. And I spent the morning trying desperately, unsuccessfully, to keep up.
It was just one of those days. You know these days…disorganized, hectic, exhausting. I spent the morning just feeling impatient and short-tempered and irritated. Nothing was going the way I had planned or hoped. Nothing felt right.
It was one of those days when, pre-parenthood, I would have seriously contemplated crawling back into bed…giving up on this day, hoping tomorrow would be better.
As a mother, that’s just not an option. So I trudged on.
Shane wouldn’t/couldn’t/didn’t nap. My only hope of finding any quiet, any peace, any space, vanished with the shrieks and squeals of my toddler bounding around his bedroom like a human pogo stick.
So back outdoors we went. I spread out a blanket and laid down with a book, while Shane busied himself with damp sand and a dump truck in the sandbox nearby. And I was able to read a total of a half a page before he bolted from his play area, running for the little hillside nearby.
All he wanted to roll down the hill.
All I wanted was to sit with my book, to have a few minutes that were mine and mine alone.
Shane scrambled to the top of the hill, plopped down, and tumbled and giggled his way down the hillside. Landing at the bottom in a tangle of limbs, he dizzily stood up and staggered back up. As he neared the top he paused and called down to me, “Mama, come! Mama ‘oll down!”
I shook my head, crossed my arms, said no.
“Shane, you roll. Mama will watch.”
He shook his head, crossed his arms, and said no.
“Mama do! Mama ‘oll! Pwease, pwease, pwease…”
So I begrudgingly climbed up the hill and laid down in the grass. If rolling down the hill was what I needed to do to get a moment’s peace, then so be it.
With that thought, I let go and rolled…
and landed in a laughing, tangled heap at the bottom of the hill,
with my head crazily spinning and the clover tickling my face
and my son crashing into my side, shaking with laughter.
We snuggled and laughed,
and scrambled back up the hill to do it again.
He was right.
Rolling down the hill was what I needed to do to get a moment’s peace.
It’s amazing what you can learn about life from a toddler,
when you open yourself up to what they have to share.
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