Guess the child!
*****
Taking kids into public places leaves you with a "special" kind of tired. It's sort of brutal. While you can't stay in the house all day (that's a different kind of exhaustion), venturing out makes me feel borderline crazy sometimes. It's a love/hate relationship.
I put my finger on it today. It's not just the physical toll of the door opening while pushing a stroller, buckling a reluctant toddler in the carseat/shopping cart/stroller/high chair or the balancing of three shopping bags, one purse, one reluctant toddler and the hand of a four year old....there's a mental toll too. Because any time you take children in public, you're willing them with your mind to stay close; to not stray from the course you're on, to not be sucked in by the vortex of breakable things in the gift shop or a button for the handicapped door open function. Sometimes you win the jedi mind battle...sometimes you don't. Then you sweat through the game plan of what to do when your child does bolt from your course, or kicks you while you strap them into the grocery cart while hundreds (okay, it just feels like hundreds) of people watch on.
Then there's the game of getting your little people home before it's lunchtime or nap time and stretching them as far as they'll go. (Cue the DVD player, iphone, suckers, stale fish crackers and drive thru Starbucks).
Now going out in crowded, public places on play dates...there's an art that I haven't quite mastered yet. This game of willing my children to do what I want them to do in between the confines of their naps and meals is hard enough with just them! It takes a special kind of juggling act to do all of that AND carry on a conversation with someone else! Don't get me wrong, situations can play out to your favor (I suddenly feel like I'm outing myself and no one will ever ask me to the mall again!) but if one kid is hard, four is harder.
(Give me a backyard or park any day...that's the only way to go).
(Give me a backyard or park any day...that's the only way to go).
This is all on the forefront of my brain because my dad met us at the museum today. He was great. He was extra hands when I needed them and was a great stroller pusher. (That's especially helpful when the stroller is empty and I'm chasing the child who's supposed to be in it). But even in having him there is a different kind of stress. Because it's only mom who can sense when the "timer" in my almost two year old is about to go off and all hell is going to break loose. When it's just me, untethered to another person or friend and children, I'm free to bolt before the meltdown happens. But more people in the equation equals more agendas. So while Bode was literally planking on the dirty museum restaurant floor in protest for not getting ice cream and screaming for "night night" my sweet dad was leisurely chomping on his pizza crust. It was there that I realized that no one feels the impending doom of a two year old's tantrum but mom. It's the strangest feeling. It was as if I spotted a giant whirling tornado barreling towards the museum window and am racing to flee its destructive path and no one else seems to notice or care at all.
****
We finally got our things and headed out of the museum (with me carrying Bode in my favorite way we leave places this time...sideways like a football. His kicking feet are less capable of injuring me that way). But dad was there to help, so it didn't feel so lonely. And we had a great time; wouldn't have traded it for anything. Sometimes it's good to realize no one can really feel what your kiddo needs quite like you. This can also give some peace of mind to the mom with the kid throwing a fit in the store or museum or zoo...even though it feels like it's obvious that the whole world is falling apart for you (and said child), most likely no one else even notices but you. (Unless of course that child is planking in front of the cash register and customers have to step over him. Then that may be a problem).
