File 83 - The Young, the Neurotic and the Restless

I am going to be more patient today.  I am going to be MORE patient today.  I am going to be more PATIENT today.  This is the mantra that I whisper to myself every morning, while Anxiety snickers and rolls her eyes.  She rises with the sun, that one.  The thing with this pandemic, is that you have to learn to pivot.  Find a positive pivot, you tell yourself.  Find the positive pandemic pivot.  I would say we have done a passable job, thus far.  But, then there are the times that you pivot, prance to the side and do a pirouette and it does not matter.  Your patience is spent and you end up popping off.  Pop!

With the end of summer looming and the presence of a chill in the evening air, a new restlessness has began to compound the already existing restlessness, in the house.  It's the Young, the Neurotic and the Restless. Lots of tear filled monologues.  Montages of us hugging our family and friends, running mask free through the grocery store, and touching our faces.  But, with the passage of time, comes the inherent need to do something.  To change something.  So, I figured, what better time to get rid of some of junk we have piled up in our basement?  You know, a productive family project to break up the Covid confinement.  It sounded like a great idea.  In theory.  

Everything started out promising enough.  We had a plan. We had our garbage bags. We had our boxes. We had our star-eyed optimism.  We told the boys that they could make a pile of the things that they would like to keep and they seemed content with that.  Ya. Well.  Every pile that I made for donation, my littles came behind and decimated it, taking things to add to their ever growing stack.  They wanted to keep all the shit.  All. The. Shit.  Essentially, at this point, all that we were doing was moving junk from one side of the basement to the other.  I start to guard my piles, like a junkyard dog.  Eyes crazed, frothing at the mouth.  Snatching things back from the beautiful babies, whenever they got distracted, which was luckily about every 3.45 minutes.  Slowly, but surely, we started to make some progress.

But, then. THEN! The discovery of the toy that makes the most mind numbing, brain burning, soul sucking sounds.  And my youngest was like a new star DJ, working on his breakout remix. Every time that I tried to say something, move something, think something, this child flips the switch.  And every time the tune hits the airwaves, the steam inside my cranium rises to pressure cooker levels.  After several of my ignored pleas, by the DJ - POP!  I screamed at everyone to just leave everything alone and get upstairs.  Family organization fun day for the win!  

"Most moms don't get mad when their kids are just making noise with stuff."  This was later, when the retired DJ was bringing me to task.  I received his point and didn't want to burst his bubble on "most moms".  I didn't pivot.  I popped-off.  And I felt really bad.  Next time, I will try my damn best to pirouette.  He also mentioned that I stunk and suggested that I change my pajamas.  This out of work remix master was getting a little big for his britches.  

I am going to be more patient tomorrow.  I am going to be MORE patient tomorrow.  I am going to be more PATIENT tomorrow.  

Does Mommy need to lose her shit?

Not this week.