Remembering the busy old days

Remembering the busy old days

December 23, 2019

I’m babysitting for my two of my grandchildren.  The little guy just turned one and the girl is 2 ½, eighteen months older.  My first two children were 18 months apart.  I am remembering how hard and fun and great and crazy that time was. 

Don’t get me wrong I’ve had a lovely time of it here today.  I have been in charge from 4:15 until 9:30 pm. But it has put me in mind of how it was when I had children at this stage or how I was at this stage in my life.

These kids are everywhere!  Underfoot one moment then I have to go check the bedrooms for them the next.

I have no idea how I ever got food in the oven safely.  I was scared to death the kids would sneak around from where I had carefully checked they were and burn themselves as soon as I opened the oven door.  The extremely simple supper I was making required opening the oven door 3 times.  The stress was overwhelming.

I am sitting here hoping against hopes that the little one doesn’t wake up.  He allows me to play with him, make faces at him, laugh with him, but I am not allowed to pick him up – he just cries and pushes me away.  We can get by with that unless he needs comfort at night.  I remember praying that my own baby didn’t wake up.  I knew if I had to nurse, rock or cuddle that kid one more I would lose it.  My head would explode.  I did not think that was figurative.  I really believed my head would expel all of the matter inside it all over my world.  (By the way if the baby did wake up I made it, but felt more certain my head would explode next time.)

I overheard the wonderful mothers of my grandchildren discussing taking a bit of time for yourself.  Dropping the kids of at daycare when you had a day off or getting the dad to take them out.  I was far too overdosed with guilt to do that.  I did leave the kids with my husband but then I headed off like a whirling dervish to get one million things done in the time I had.  I had no sense of re-centering or relaxing.  One day when I did manage to get to myself I spent so much time worrying about if I was spending it well, I just about wasted it.  The more I learn about myself the more I know that I need time to myself to settle, think and be ready to move on.  I did not know that when my babies were preschoolers.  I needed to.

My whole job today was to keep the kids safe, fed, mostly happy and get then in bed on time.  Now for me this is one of the biggest difference between being a grandmother and being a mother, I had nothing else to do during this time.  I was not trying to do all the things a mother must be doing.  I did not have to do laundry, clean the house, get groceries, or any of the other gazillion things a mother is trying to do.  I had to play with the kids, make the easiest supper in the world and put them in bed.  Oh, I also had to read them some stories.  Even so it was extremely busy.  Just 18 months apart these kids are at very different stages and personalities as far as playing goes.  The two year old is thoughtful and loves to set things up.  The one year old, already walking and climbing, is all motion and action and trying to get at whatever his sister is doing.  He will independently empty the kitchen cupboards if you do get involved with the sister for a few minutes.  (No real worries.  The cupboards he can get into are safe for him.) My point here is even though my responsibilities were very limited it was busy.  Physically busy; from room to room and over again, with a few awkward catches of a one year old bent on self-destruct, and a few line blocker actions to avoid other physical altercations. Mentally busy; Is that safe? If I do this will it cause problems later? Would their parents let them do that? Who did have that first? Should I make them share or does the first one have possession? (Yes, I overthink things)

How did I ever do that on a full time basis?  No wonder I thought my head would explode.  I do remember it being fun and funny but I also remember literally counting the hours until bedtime and deciding, yes, I could make it.