File 66 - I Heard What You Said About Me

"I heard what you said about me."

His eyes well up with tears and he buries his head in my shoulder.  Look what you've done now, Anxiety utters.  I am sitting at my dining room table, that is now my office desk.  I desperately scan all of the papers, colouring sheets, small stuffies, and computer screens, that is now my daily workspace, trying to think of what I could have said.  To be fair,  in this isolation state, with my isolation self, it may have been quicker to think of what I couldn't have said.  I mean, we have gotten to the point where I talk to myself, just as much as I talk to the other people in this house.  You want to converse with someone who understands you.

It takes me a minute, and a side conversation with myself, but I realize that he is referring to the chat that I had been having with his Dad, about school work.  Or lack there of?  Listen, we are doing the best that we can jin this home-work, home-school, home-bound, no-homies, cluster f**k.  However, we are falling short in the homeschooling department.  Grade two and kindergarten ain't what they used to be.  My oldest, in all his 7-year-old glory, needs extra support to focus.  Especially, not being in a typical classroom setting, with distractions lurking in every corner.  His brother singing here, a piece of macaroni on the floor, there.  He needs one of us to be sitting with him and bringing his focus back to the task at hand, about every 1.5 to 2 minutes.  As this is not always an option, we are sometimes forced to leave him to his own devices.  If that piece of macaroni makes eye contact, it is all over.  If not that, then he is constantly watching the clock and asking how much longer.

So, what I had been saying about him, was that I didn't think that he was putting in enough effort into his school work.  That I thought that he was doing the bare minimum of what was expected of him.  Little did I know, this sweet baby was listening to me, from the top of the stairs.  And I cannot tell you how proud I am, that he came down those stairs, looked me in the eyes, and called me on my shit.

"I heard what you said about me."

Anxiety is so belligerent these days.  She is constantly in my ear.  The kids aren't getting enough outside time.  The kids aren't spending enough time on school work.  They are going to fall behind.  You are a terrible teacher.  You have no patience.  You need a shower.  Some days I can block out her relentless chirping and some days I can't.  On this particular day, she bested me and I acted like an asshole.  My beautiful boy is trying his best to learn French and English, reading, writing and arithmetic, while his entire world has been turned upside down.  And 7-year-old's are infamous for being distracted and impulsive, without all the quarantine bonuses of a brother singing, a mother talking to herself and a macaroni trying to get their attention.

"I heard what you said about me."

I said it.  I regret it.  And I got checked for it.  We are all doing the best that we can, FFS.  Well, except that macaroni.....

Does Mama need to lose her shit?

Not this week.