Silence. It’s a
luxury not afforded all to often to a mother of four, but this silence hung
thick in our van like the low lying clouds as they pelted the earth with snow
and rain this last Saturday on our return from a local mall. I had decided to venture out with the kids to
fulfill Ellie’s wish to buy some things with her recent Christmas money while
Greg spent the day helping our church Scouts.
The tipping point of my patience hadn’t been pushed over the edge by the
kid’s behavior at the mall alone. It was
more like the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. I was spent and tired and felt sorely underappreciated
and overworked. At a particular point of
heightened frustration I just may have asked if any of them had even thought to
buy me a Christmas present. Let’s just
say the fire had been brewing awhile.
Silence can sometimes be awkward but in this situation it
gave me a moment to decompress and try my best to rationally regroup. As we approached our home the children were
instructed to go immediately into the house, take off their shoes, put them away, hang up their coats, and go sit on the coach. We needed to “talk.”
People out there will say you should never lecture your kids
because it doesn’t do any good, and in terms of the kids they are probably
right, but on the occasions I’ve done it, it has made me feel better and at that moment that’s what was really needed, I
have felt for a brief moment my needs were being heard – even if that was a false
perception.
As my children quietly sat
on the couch I knew I had to do my best to convey my needs and have my children
still feel they were being heard as well.
My frustrations with mothering often come back to the
endless mess I seem to be confronted with on a daily basis. I can take a certain level of disorder until
something within me snaps. I am not so
naive to think this problem will magically all just go away someday (that is
until my kids are all gone) but my frustrations with the constant clutter brought
on by my children mainly comes from their lack of respect and recognition of my
efforts to combat it. And so in
desperation, the visual picture of “Mom’s Desk” was born.
After addressing some
of their needs and wants we turned to me.
I asked my two children who are in school how they would feel if they
had spent a considerable amount of time and effort cleaning and organizing
their desk at school only to find it ruined by a friend when they had to run to
the restroom. How would returning and seeing
their things dumped on the floor, pencil scribbled all over the top of their
desk, and just an overall mess make them feel?
I then equated those same feelings they were having to me and my
feelings in regards to our house when they would leave their books, socks,
stuffed animals, art projects, half eaten sandwich – you name it – where they
left them and not where they were meant to go.
To my amazement the comparison resonated and for the first time I truly
felt they could understand where I was coming from. It was a good conversation and I walked away
feeling we all had a reference point to go on.
One of my favorite things to do is look through home
decorating magazines. If I had to
describe my style I’d say it leans heavily traditional with a splash of modern
here and there, a melding of Pottery Barn and Crate and Barrel. For quite some time I’ve been wondering how
to decorate a space above our TV. This
weekend I figured it out. Exactly what the
final produce will look like remains to be seen. The two aforementioned stores catalogs will
be consulted for ideas. But one thing I
do know.
It will read, “Welcome to my desk.”
9,996/+4
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