Serenity Now; Insanity Later

I've been looking for a place of peace. Being nearly always surrounded by people, especially little demanding people, is incredibly draining for me. Don't get me wrong - I love my kids. I just can't stand them. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. With little or no reprieve.

My house lately has not been a haven of peace for me. Funny thing for a homebody to say. I keep a mental list of all the doing that needs doing and lately that list has been a little out of control. Sitting down and relaxing has been a source of anxiety lately as my mind starts reeling through the unending list of things I should be doing, unleashing a river of guilt. It's much easier to occupy myself, and kids, outside of the house, thereby at once being too busy to think about the undone stuff at home and avoiding the unpleasantness of smelly laundry and dishes.

The only problem is that dang car seat. Goose h-a-t-e-s her car seat. Well, that's not exactly true. She doesn't mind her car seat once she is in it. She hates getting into her car seat. Or maybe she just loves driving me crazy. That's probably a more accurate description of what is going on. In any case, it's a fight every time we get into the car. I've tried cajoling, I've tried bribing, I've tried forcing. (Bribing is the most effective, by the way. I now keep a box of cookies in the car.) Any parent of a two-year-old who has stood shivering in the rain with a screaming infant in the other car seat trying to wait out the display of control knows what I am talking about. The only thing that prevents the struggle at the buckle is staying in the house. I hate the process so much, I've started planning my outings by how many times we need to get in and out of the car. I have found I can handle no more than 3 "in"s.

Today I made a series of major mistakes. I was headed to a play date at a local Nature Center and I parked at the wrong building. Tactical error number 1. I had the kids out of the car for 15 minutes before I realized my error. We had to trek back through the parking lot (hold my hand or the cars will EAT you!), and waste a perfectly good "in". Only one more left.

The play date was enjoyable, but not what I would really call "in"-worthy. A mother at the nature center mentioned the nearby conservatory was worth a visit. Although I knew the kids were tired (can you say 5:30 am? Yes, I gave birth to roosters.), I decided to go visit rather than initiate another car ride on a subsequent date and by extension using additional "in"s. Tactical error number 2.

It was a short walk, and once I got Goose headed in the right direction, it was fairly painless. The flowers were well worth the visit. I felt like I had walked into heaven. It was a beautiful English garden so very artfully done. The greenhouse windows seemed to magnify the sunshine and kept out what little bite there was left in the early Spring air. The smell of all the blooms was intoxicating. I imagined myself sitting on the bench with a notebook writing an inspired novel. If it hadn't been for the baby in my arms furiously sucking his thumb in an effort to soothe himself to sleep and the two-year old who was obviously winding up, I could have stayed for hours. As it was, we made two laps, a couple of stops at the drinking fountain for Goose, and then I announced our departure. This is when all hell broke loose.

"NO! You don't want to go," (My Goosey talks about herself in second person), "You just want to stay here with flowers."

"It's time to go, Goose. We need to go get some lunch. And you need a nap. And Little E needs a nap."

I made for her hand. Tactical Error number 3. You know, for having little legs, kids are fast. Granted I was carrying a 20 lb infant, but you would think that having twice to three times the stride of my daughter, I might be able to keep up with her a little better. Round and round we went.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!"

Tears? I was surprised by the emotion she was exuding. I knew she wasn't as enamored with the scene as I was. I should be the one screaming about going home, right? After all, she was the one who was going to get a nap. My nap was still questionable.

I caught her, she pulled the civil disobedience limp body trick. I love that move. It's especially effective when I've got Little E in arms. After a few more incidents - a couple of asphalt face plants, an attempt to run the other way, and other parking lot hand-holding refusal, we made it to the car. Thanks to that box of cookies "in" number 3 wasn't as terrible as I was expecting. And I can still smell those flowers.