Tightly wound

I came home from school today after barely doing Breakfast Club, because i got caught up talking to Che's best friend's mum about her Kindy kid who just came out of hospital from some virus he contracted. I came home after taking her money for his uniform order despite the shop not being open with a promise to pack it and send it home with him, running keys up, looking for the teacher who was gifted a bag of freshly made noodles by a parent who came in looking for her but couldn't find her and left them with me instead....

Haha random. I came home and carried the magazines upstairs that i was too tired to retrieve from the car yesterday. I looked at the mess of my house. I put on the laundry because the Karate uniforms from yesterday need to be ready for tomorrow. I sit.

I sit and i pull jars and containers of pencils towards me, and i sharpen them because the kids are at school and i don't really want to think about all the things i haven't done but i can't do NOTHING because time is limited and the pencils are easy. They're blunt. They need sharpening, organising. I'm doing SOMETHING.

I wish that i had grabbed the books from the teachers to cover because then i'd be doing something productive while not doing anything at all.

I think about reading the beginnings of my 'Preparing for University Learning!' course while not zoning out coz you know zoning out is what happened with my last 3 degrees, hahaha...

I lose track of time, i'm late for uniform shop. I'm Late and there's no parking and the new volunteer is on her own and i didn't pack the uniform order and i hate being late.

Where are my keys?

My youngest is in year 2 and doesn't know what day comes after Friday when he is asked, like he seriously can't tell me. My eldest tells me she doesn't know how to tell time. The middle child cries when he reads "creative arts" as the last part of his homework. "I hate creative arts he says."

I message a teacher and tell her i am a failure. I mean i get that i don't know what day of the week it is most days, and Math has never been my strength so i somewhat neglected it with my kids i admit that... but geez... he hates creative arts!

WHAT THE HECK.

So i send them all to shower after i feed them. As they emerge freshly clean- I tell them to sit down.

Child with the math problems i say, if you don't tell me when you don't understand - i can't help you. Your teachers are the same. Why did you not tell me yesterday you didn't understand this. Why are you hiding it again?

She cries.

Child with the hatred of Arts, yesterday you were drawing. YOU WERE DRAWING, you ASKED me if you could draw. This is Art.

But that was Pokemon. I don't want to make a poster about PBL.

Draw me a Pokemon- tell me which part of PBL appeals to you most Safety, Respect or Responsibility?

*sigh* i don't knoowwwww.


CHOOOSE ONE and write 'Squirtle Says- 'Respect is Radical' something cheesy like that. It's not that hard. He cries. Dear god why are you crying?

I don't know which one to choose!

Oh for the love of Sharpies are you for real? Geesus stuff PBL and safety and responsibility and respect... let's go back to You Can Do It... Let's try resilience and persistence.

You can both cry, but crying will not get anything done. When you are finished crying, you still have to do these things.

Child who didn't know what day comes after Friday, but now surely does because this is the 3rd time this week we have been through the days of the week. Yes for real. It's time to read. Go read to your dad.

15 minutes later, he is also crying.

Crying because he is not reading properly and is being yelled at. And threatened.

Child who is not good at math is sitting with a book and asks me to intervene with the threats, Child who is onto his 3rd attempt at a poster is teary and listening to the yelling in the other room.

I am tired. I intervene.

I fight with the man who shares this task of growing humans with me. I know he has asked me not to question him in front of them. I can't NOT question him. I cannot stand to hear - if you don't by the count of 5 i will smack you.

I cannot handle it anymore.

She tries to rescue her brother and is sent to her room. She cries loudly from there.

They're all crying. He takes the child who does not want to read, and he sits him down and threatens him again. He says no to getting a tissue, No.

I cry.

I sit at my kitchen table next to the child who is making a collage with his drawing and lettering despite his hatred for creative arts - his eyes shining with tears and a frown quivering on his lips, next to his brother with the red leg who is asking for a tissue as he hiccups over the book he doesn't want to read

and i cry.

I listen to the NO you can get a tissue AFTER you read, and the sounds of her crying in the room and am so exhausted and angry and defeated and i cry. And between his reading he says "Dad, is mum okay?" and i can't stop crying.

He finishes reading. He stops and asks 'Is mum okay?' again.

The poster is finished.

The banished child is quiet.

I breathe i tell myself - cry, but crying will not get anything done. When you are finished crying, you still have to do these things.

They go to bed and i am tired, but i find her and she starts again with the tears. She tells me about her struggles with Math, she tells me about her struggles with friends.

He asks me this time 'Are you okay mum? i tried to ask dad when you were crying.'

I heard. No, i wasn't okay. No i'm not okay yet. And guys... there have been many many times when i haven't been okay.

It's not the first time i've sat in that kitchen and cried.

'It's the first time i've seen you cry mum.'

It most definitely isn't, when you guys were little i had days where i would yell at you, everything was hard and i was tired and i'd do just what i did just then. I would sit and cry. Then one of you would come and hug me and tell me it'd be okay.

I don't remember that!

Haha, that's just it. I struggle. Just like you. I don't know how to do things, just like you. I don't enjoy what i have to do some days. Just like you. I cry. JUST LIKE YOU.

And just like you i get up again, and i keep going. Because crying is okay, but it changes nothing. The things that are hard will still be there and they will still be hard.

But here i am.

And i don't know where to start and i don't know how to fix it all, but here i am.

You don't remember the days i cried, because in between those days i got up and i tried again, again and again and again until we had okay days and good days and awesome days. I'm glad you remember those. But bad days happen too. And we cry because we need to. We sit and we cry and we are helpless and hopeless and scared and confused and we don't WANT to.

It's okay, because it's not just you. It's me, and us and i will get frustrated, and you will get frustrated and we will have these horrible times, but at the end of the day- you will stop crying.
I will stop crying. We will yell sometimes. We will fight sometimes.

And we will cry. Then We will wait until we have finished crying. We will ask each other if we are okay. We will tell each other the truth.

We will end the day with hugs and good nights and I love yous.

We will get up again tomorrow.

We will get up again and we will keep going. The hard things will still be there. You will try to do the hard things, because you won't give up, i won't let you. I will do the hard things, because i won't give up. You won't let me.


And that is how it will be.

Because infinity tries guys, that's what we get.

We can cry, but crying will not get anything done. When we are finished crying, we still have to do these things.

Eventually we get so good at trying that no one even remembers the times we were bad at doing all the things...

Now, i Love you and  Good night.

Haha the unnecessary apostrophe like the unnecessary criticism can just remain silent. The thing is done. Tomorrow we work on doing it better.