Friday, October 28, 2011
Bear's first joke
As we were driving home on Tuesday afternoon, Bear announced, "Mama, I poop!" I turned around in my seat and looked at him, asking "Did you poop?" Giggling, he said, "No, I not poop. I funny, Mama!"
CU Land
While Yetta was here this past weekend, she pointedly asked Archer and me if we were still looking for jobs in the States. Prior to her arrival, Archer and I had discussed what we would say if she broached this topic, and we decided to be honest. Archer started by pointing out that he has been on the job market every year since 2007. That is 5 years. If he sends out job applications again, that makes 6. Since taking the job at CU, he has had several phone interviews and conference interviews as well as 1 on-campus interview. He hasn't, however, gotten any offers. He then reminded her that this is my third year on the market. The first year I did not get any interviews, and last year I had several initial interviews and 1 on-campus visit, but again, I had no offers. I did, however, receive a full-time position at CU with the "promise" that the job would either be renewed as is or that it would convert to a T-T line. He then gently reminded her that we've tried to get jobs in the States, and for whatever reason, it isn't working out for us.
She seemed fairly accepting of all of this, as Archer was offering concrete evidence of our attempts to return to the States. I then pointed out that we actually like CU Land. This is the beginning of our fourth year here. We've developed a social network. We have people we can call on in an emergency. Wild Man has good friends. I've made 4 close friends in the past year, and Archer has finally found a group of guys he can have beers with. As for Bear, well, CU Land is the only place he's ever known. I said, "While CU Land still doesn't necessarily feel like home for Archer and me, this is home for Wild Man and Bear. I moved around a lot as a young child, and that takes a toll on a kid. Unless a really great deal comes along and assuming my position does convert, it looks like we may be here for the long term. And we're okay with that." I had planned this statement. I had thought about the argument. I intentionally used passive voice and focused on the children as I thought it would be the most convincing way to present the argument. But, it seems I overestimated my MIL's ability to accept reason.
Calling CU Land the boys' home was, apparently, not the track to take as it reminded her that they do not consider Home State home, a fact she pointed out to Archer in a phone conversation after she left. She stated point blank, "I want my grandchildren to think of Home State as their home. I want you all to live here." He said, "I understand that, but unfortunately, we don't have a lot of control over that given our profession. You're going to have to accept that this is our decision to make. And you've got to stop thinking of Canada as Antarctica. We're a 3 hour flight away, not on the other side of the world. It is time you accepted that." I couldn't have said it better myself.
She seemed fairly accepting of all of this, as Archer was offering concrete evidence of our attempts to return to the States. I then pointed out that we actually like CU Land. This is the beginning of our fourth year here. We've developed a social network. We have people we can call on in an emergency. Wild Man has good friends. I've made 4 close friends in the past year, and Archer has finally found a group of guys he can have beers with. As for Bear, well, CU Land is the only place he's ever known. I said, "While CU Land still doesn't necessarily feel like home for Archer and me, this is home for Wild Man and Bear. I moved around a lot as a young child, and that takes a toll on a kid. Unless a really great deal comes along and assuming my position does convert, it looks like we may be here for the long term. And we're okay with that." I had planned this statement. I had thought about the argument. I intentionally used passive voice and focused on the children as I thought it would be the most convincing way to present the argument. But, it seems I overestimated my MIL's ability to accept reason.
Calling CU Land the boys' home was, apparently, not the track to take as it reminded her that they do not consider Home State home, a fact she pointed out to Archer in a phone conversation after she left. She stated point blank, "I want my grandchildren to think of Home State as their home. I want you all to live here." He said, "I understand that, but unfortunately, we don't have a lot of control over that given our profession. You're going to have to accept that this is our decision to make. And you've got to stop thinking of Canada as Antarctica. We're a 3 hour flight away, not on the other side of the world. It is time you accepted that." I couldn't have said it better myself.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Being cryptic
So* some things are going on that I can't talk about yet, and I find that very frustrating. Why? Well I'd actually love to ask everyone's advice on an issue, but as said issue is currently off-limits, I can't. So I guess I'll have to figure it out on my own. And I'm sorry for being so cryptic.
*In honor of Anastasia
*In honor of Anastasia
Monday, October 24, 2011
I survived . . .
the weekend with Pita and Yetta. It was mostly good. Yetta misrepresented several statements I made to her and, predictably, reported those misrepresentations to Archer. For example, I am apparently an advocate of divorce. Yes, I'm am thrilled to bits that my BIL and SIL are divorcing and I think their children will be better off and so much happier. Indeed, I will. And if you know me at all, you know that I would totally be in favor of such a thing.
When Archer told me this I literally laughed until I cried. You see, I said that the children, my lovely, lovely nephews, would have a hard time for a while. I told Yetta, "I know they will struggle with this. I'm a child of divorce, and I know how hard it will be on them. But, in the long run, I think they'll be better off having two happy parents in separate homes than two unhappy parents in the same home." Somehow that became "Your wife* thinks the divorce is a good idea." Archer, however, knows me so well that he realized I would never have said such a thing, and without even knowing what I said, he corrected his mother. He told her, "I know M did not say that the divorce was a good idea. She likely said the boys will be happier with two happy parents." I love my husband.
And I'm also glad that Yetta and Pita only visit a few times a year.
*Notice I didn't even get named in the statement.
When Archer told me this I literally laughed until I cried. You see, I said that the children, my lovely, lovely nephews, would have a hard time for a while. I told Yetta, "I know they will struggle with this. I'm a child of divorce, and I know how hard it will be on them. But, in the long run, I think they'll be better off having two happy parents in separate homes than two unhappy parents in the same home." Somehow that became "Your wife* thinks the divorce is a good idea." Archer, however, knows me so well that he realized I would never have said such a thing, and without even knowing what I said, he corrected his mother. He told her, "I know M did not say that the divorce was a good idea. She likely said the boys will be happier with two happy parents." I love my husband.
And I'm also glad that Yetta and Pita only visit a few times a year.
*Notice I didn't even get named in the statement.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Good news, potentially
I just left a meeting in which I received what is potentially really, really good news. I was asked to only share the news with "the people [I] live with." And Archer is currently in a meeting right now, so I can't talk to anyone! I feel like I'm about to burst! Okay, blog friends, keep your fingers crossed for me and, if you're so inclined, say a prayer that the potential good news becomes a reality. In return, I promise to update you as soon as I can.
Perspective, part 2
Pita and Yetta arrive today for a 5 day visit. I will write a post about the reasons why they came this week instead of last week, but right now, the events are still too frustrating for me to think about without getting upset. Keep your fingers crossed for me, though, that I manage to maintain some perspective while they are here.
Perspective
Bear wakes up insanely early--between 5 and 6 without fail. And try as we might, we cannot get him to go back to sleep for any extended period of time. In fact, he seems to be the child who wakes up really early, as he doesn't get fussy until his nap time. So Archer and I take turns getting up with him. We've both gotten in the habit of logging in a bit of work while Bear watches a bit of TV (yes, I'm THAT mom, but really, when your kid wakes up at 5:30 every. single. morning. I bet you'd be THAT mom too).
This morning was my morning to get up with him. In an attempt to be productive, I've finally sent out the article I finished revising (I've been procrastinating, mainly due to nerves), and I'm also editing a panel proposal I've been working on for about a week or so. Just as I had sent the article out and was about to allow myself a few minutes of anxiety as I contemplated whether or not the damn thing was good enough for the journal I decided to send it to, Bear calls out, at the top of his lungs, "I need milk, Mama. I need milk now!" Someday, when he's old enough to understand, I'll thank him for helping me keep things in perspective.
This morning was my morning to get up with him. In an attempt to be productive, I've finally sent out the article I finished revising (I've been procrastinating, mainly due to nerves), and I'm also editing a panel proposal I've been working on for about a week or so. Just as I had sent the article out and was about to allow myself a few minutes of anxiety as I contemplated whether or not the damn thing was good enough for the journal I decided to send it to, Bear calls out, at the top of his lungs, "I need milk, Mama. I need milk now!" Someday, when he's old enough to understand, I'll thank him for helping me keep things in perspective.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Gifted Child
Wild Man is in his 6th week of senior kindergarten, and he is doing well. He can now recognize the entire alphabet, although he continues to confuse several letters (h is often n, for example). He is also able to pick out many short words when we're reading, words such at the, is, if, on, he, she, and I. His math skills have improved a great deal as well. He can now add most numbers between 1 and 10 and come up with the correct answer on his own. He is also very curious, asking lots of complex questions about things that Archer and I struggle to answer adequately, as we want to give him an appropriate amount of information while satisfying his curiosity. We recently had a very complex conversation about Frankenstein, for example. He'd read a Halloween book at school and came home asking lots of questions about Frankenstein. He was equally frightened and intrigued by the character. I tried to explain the basics of Mary Shelley's so that he would no longer be scared. Aside from his sensitivity, I believe Wild Man is average. There I said it. My child is average.
I actually made this very statement to an acquaintance of mine a few weeks ago. This woman also teaches at CU, and she has a child Wild Man's age in Wild Man's school. She was raving about the school and listing all the activities her child is involved in, each of which is meant to enhance her education because, "well, we think our daughter is gifted." In fact, her one complaint about the school was that it won't test children for the gifted program until they've completed grade 1. I responded by saying I also really like Wild Man's school because I think it is a great blend of academics and creativity. I also said that he continues to struggle with some things, and "well, you know, I think Wild Man is pretty average." Her face was aghast, and I may have well said Wild Man was an idiot. I quickly changed the subject, and the conversation ended shortly after that. I've been thinking about the conversation since then, however. I'm still struggling to understand what I said that made her look at me as though I was the worst mother on the planet. Is Wild Man gifted? Well, honestly, in some ways I think he is exceptional. He has an imagination that would rival Steven Speilberg's, and he is much more empathetic than most of his peers (something that everyone comments on). But, you know, he does most things at a kindergarten level. Most days he can identify all of the alphabet, and most days he writes his name beautifully. Other days, he could care less whether he identifies "h" correctly or if he writes an "r" backwards. So, no, I don't think my child is gifted. In fact, I think he's privileged, a fact I wish so many other parents in positions similar to mine and Archer's would realize.
What do I mean by "privileged?" Well, Archer and I both have doctorates. We have read to both of our boys since they were days old. Both can recite various books from memory, and both will sit with books on their own. Bear, in fact, tries to read books to both Archer and me. Both Wild Man and Bear ask to go to the library and the bookstore, and they see us reading all the time. We work on art projects as a family, and both boys love to draw, color, and paint. We have lots of puzzles and blocks in our playroom (right along side with all of our cars, Star Wars toys, and baby dolls). And, most significantly, I think, we constantly talk about our work in front of the boys. Wild Man knows I am a "doctor of literature" and that Archer is a "doctor of art." He knows that we have to write, read, and mark papers for our jobs. He has gone to class with both of us, and he has been in both of our offices when we're meeting with students. Both because of our travels and Archer's line of study, Wild Man and Bear know upwards of 25 Spanish words, and Wild Man is able to recognize their counterparts in French.
There is no doubt in my mind that both of my children are bright, inquisitive, and articulate. But do I think this means either of my children is gifted? No, I do not. I think this means they have been exposed to different languages and cultures, as well as books, art, and, well, life, at a very young age. I think this means they are privileged. After all, most 2-year-olds and 5-year-olds have not visited Rome, Florence, or the Yucatan peninsula. Few have seen the Vatican, the Colosseum, or Chichen Itza. Not every child has the opportunity to go to plays, to libraries, or to museums on a regular basis. Our children do. Has this influenced their intellectual abilities? Sure. Does that make them gifted? Nope, it makes them privileged. It means they have parents who are in a position to provide them with such opportunities. That's all.
It is likely becoming clear that I have some concerns about labeling children as gifted. Why, you might ask? Well, I think it sets up some false expectations on the part of the child, for one. I also think that, try as we might not to, we are marking gifted children as better somehow than children who aren't gifted. As an educator, I do understand the need to push students who have an inherent desire to learn and excel, but I also understand the need to push students who are struggling. What I do not understand is the need to establish an intellectual hierarchy among children at such a young age. I also understand that many parents want their children to be in gifted programs because such programs have more resources than the "average" classroom. But I see this particular issue as indicative of many problems in education--why aren't all classrooms capped at 18 students, for example? Why can't all children, regardless of their IQs, be exposed to drama and art history and computer science and music? Why are these activities routinely only offered to "gifted" children? Why don't we offer the same opportunities to all children, regardless of ability? Because wouldn't exposing all children to things like this improve their abilities? Isn't that more important than marking children as gifted?
To be continued, I'm quite sure.
I actually made this very statement to an acquaintance of mine a few weeks ago. This woman also teaches at CU, and she has a child Wild Man's age in Wild Man's school. She was raving about the school and listing all the activities her child is involved in, each of which is meant to enhance her education because, "well, we think our daughter is gifted." In fact, her one complaint about the school was that it won't test children for the gifted program until they've completed grade 1. I responded by saying I also really like Wild Man's school because I think it is a great blend of academics and creativity. I also said that he continues to struggle with some things, and "well, you know, I think Wild Man is pretty average." Her face was aghast, and I may have well said Wild Man was an idiot. I quickly changed the subject, and the conversation ended shortly after that. I've been thinking about the conversation since then, however. I'm still struggling to understand what I said that made her look at me as though I was the worst mother on the planet. Is Wild Man gifted? Well, honestly, in some ways I think he is exceptional. He has an imagination that would rival Steven Speilberg's, and he is much more empathetic than most of his peers (something that everyone comments on). But, you know, he does most things at a kindergarten level. Most days he can identify all of the alphabet, and most days he writes his name beautifully. Other days, he could care less whether he identifies "h" correctly or if he writes an "r" backwards. So, no, I don't think my child is gifted. In fact, I think he's privileged, a fact I wish so many other parents in positions similar to mine and Archer's would realize.
What do I mean by "privileged?" Well, Archer and I both have doctorates. We have read to both of our boys since they were days old. Both can recite various books from memory, and both will sit with books on their own. Bear, in fact, tries to read books to both Archer and me. Both Wild Man and Bear ask to go to the library and the bookstore, and they see us reading all the time. We work on art projects as a family, and both boys love to draw, color, and paint. We have lots of puzzles and blocks in our playroom (right along side with all of our cars, Star Wars toys, and baby dolls). And, most significantly, I think, we constantly talk about our work in front of the boys. Wild Man knows I am a "doctor of literature" and that Archer is a "doctor of art." He knows that we have to write, read, and mark papers for our jobs. He has gone to class with both of us, and he has been in both of our offices when we're meeting with students. Both because of our travels and Archer's line of study, Wild Man and Bear know upwards of 25 Spanish words, and Wild Man is able to recognize their counterparts in French.
There is no doubt in my mind that both of my children are bright, inquisitive, and articulate. But do I think this means either of my children is gifted? No, I do not. I think this means they have been exposed to different languages and cultures, as well as books, art, and, well, life, at a very young age. I think this means they are privileged. After all, most 2-year-olds and 5-year-olds have not visited Rome, Florence, or the Yucatan peninsula. Few have seen the Vatican, the Colosseum, or Chichen Itza. Not every child has the opportunity to go to plays, to libraries, or to museums on a regular basis. Our children do. Has this influenced their intellectual abilities? Sure. Does that make them gifted? Nope, it makes them privileged. It means they have parents who are in a position to provide them with such opportunities. That's all.
It is likely becoming clear that I have some concerns about labeling children as gifted. Why, you might ask? Well, I think it sets up some false expectations on the part of the child, for one. I also think that, try as we might not to, we are marking gifted children as better somehow than children who aren't gifted. As an educator, I do understand the need to push students who have an inherent desire to learn and excel, but I also understand the need to push students who are struggling. What I do not understand is the need to establish an intellectual hierarchy among children at such a young age. I also understand that many parents want their children to be in gifted programs because such programs have more resources than the "average" classroom. But I see this particular issue as indicative of many problems in education--why aren't all classrooms capped at 18 students, for example? Why can't all children, regardless of their IQs, be exposed to drama and art history and computer science and music? Why are these activities routinely only offered to "gifted" children? Why don't we offer the same opportunities to all children, regardless of ability? Because wouldn't exposing all children to things like this improve their abilities? Isn't that more important than marking children as gifted?
To be continued, I'm quite sure.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Um, yes, seriously, that happened.
So my parents were visiting my grandfather last week. He lives 4 hours from my sister. My parents were there for a week, and they never once contacted my sister to let her know. They also did not make any attempt to go see her. Seriously. My mom called me on Wednesday asking me why my sister is so upset with them. For real. I do not even have words.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Job Search 2011
I have just submitted my first three applications of the 2011 job search season. I am so not excited about this. I so do not want to do this. I so am not pleased that I spent most of today revising letters to cater to the specific schools. I would have much rather have been working on an essay that I'm drafting. And all of this better pay off because, you know, I'd really like to keep the job that I'd already have.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Thanksgiving . . .
makes so much more sense in October. Oh, and it doesn't feel so commercial either.
Sunday, October 09, 2011
Still here. . .
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Just so you know
I do not like people who think they are martyrs. Not at all. Now a real martyr who actually chooses to die for a significant cause. That is someone I can get behind.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sometimes. . .
it would be really, really nice if everyone would recognize that occasionally Archer and I need help too. Sometimes it would be great if our families, in particular, would not put us at the end of the list because, you know, we have it so together. Sometimes it sucks being the responsible ones in our families.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Gifted Child
I'm putting this up here because I've been mentally writing a post on the gifted child and on what I see as many parents' preoccupation with having a gifted child. Now I have to write it.
Meeting with the dean
So I have a meeting with the dean later today to ask him some questions about the status of my current position. I hate these kinds of meetings. The dean is a perfectly nice guy; in fact, we shop at the same grocery store, so I've run into him a few times over the summer. He always goes out of his way to say hello, and he even remembers the boys' names. But still, this is not my favorite thing. I also anticipate that all of his answers will be prefaced by, "Well, I can't tell you what to do. . . " or "Well, nothing is set in stone yet . . ." This should be fun.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Happy Sunday
We had breakfast tacos this morning, and I have a pot roast in the slow cooker. The sun is out, and although it is cool, it is warm enough to have several windows open. The neighborhood is quiet. Wild Man and Archer are playing downstairs, while Bear takes a nap. I'm about to get some reading done. Later this afternoon we're going for a bike ride. It is a happy Sunday in our house.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Not my best
That is how I feel today, not my best. So I'm blogging during my scheduled writing time in an attempt to get out of my funk. Why am I in a funk? It's been a difficult few days for lots of reasons.
Bear's sleeping habits have improved (as in he is no longer waking up every 2 hours), but he still wakes up incredibly early. This morning, for example, he woke up at 4:30. He doesn't want to be awake this early, but he won't go back to sleep without help. And that help, it seems, must come from me. This is a fairly recent thing, since the move. Until then, Archer and I had worked out a really great schedule for dealing with Bear. We simply alternated mornings and nights. If it was my night to get up with Bear, Archer got up with him in the morning and vice versa. This meant that we both got enough sleep. Mind you, we were both tired, but neither of us was exhausted. At some point following the move, however, Bear has refused to let Archer soothe him in the night. This means that Archer tries, and Bear screams bloody murder at the top of his lungs. I can't sleep through this, and to avoid both of us being completely exhausted, I've gotten in the habit of just getting up with Bear. As I said, most nights this is fine, and most mornings it is as well since he's gotten into the habit of sleeping until 6:00. This morning, though, it wasn't. Wednesday night I'd been up twice with Wild Man, who first wanted a drink and then needed to go pee. Each time I was woken up it took me about 30 minutes to go back to sleep. Then I was up early with Bear as it was my morning to do so. Thus, this morning I was hoping to get some extra sleep. It didn't happen.
After struggling to get Bear to go back to sleep for about 15 minutes, I finally brought him into our bed, as I didn't want him to wake up Wild Man (they are now sharing a bedroom). After another 15 minutes, most of which Archer slept through (although he says he was awake, I argue that his snoring indicated otherwise), I got up to take Bear downstairs to see if he'd relax on the couch. Archer woke up and asked me if I wanted him to take over. Now, I hate this question. Hate it. And Archer and I have talked about this. If he can see I'm struggling and at my wit's end, I'd rather he just take over. I don't want him to ask me that question because in such a moment I'm not going to respond nicely. As much as I mean to say, "Yes, please, thank you. I really need a break," in such a moment, when I'm tired and frustrated and unhappy with my own behavior, I'm going to say something like, "Of course I want you to take over. Do you really have to ask that question?" That's what I said at 5:30 this morning. And it didn't go over well. Understandably, Archer doesn't like to be snapped at when he's offering to help. I get that. He said something like, "You don't have to be such a martyr, M. Just ask for help." That, of course, made it worse. So I grabbed Bear and went downstairs, telling Archer I'd take care of it. So I was now annoyed and frustrated and tired.
I finally got Bear back to sleep at 5:30, and he slept until 6:30. Between his wiggles and the cat deciding 5:45 was the perfect time for a snuggle, I didn't get much sleep. When Bear woke up at 6:30, I woke up Archer and asked him if I could have a break. He happily took over, and I lied down. He forgot, however, to close our bedroom door all the way, which meant that I heard him turn on the coffee grinder 5 minutes later, just as I was dropping off to sleep. So I got up and closed the door all the way, and that annoyed me more. To be fair to Archer, our house is old. Unless you close the door all the way, it will fall open again. Neither of us is used to this yet, as we've only been in the house for 3 weeks. I know he didn't do that on purpose, but again, in that moment, it really irritated me.
When I woke up at 7:10 I went downstairs, still tired and annoyed and frustrated. I expected that Archer would have finished packing Wild Man's lunch, which I'd started packing the night before. But no. He'd hung out with Bear. So I started doing the 45 things that are part of our morning routine. He came into the kitchen to say good morning, and I rolled my eyes at him. He knew why I was upset, so he said, "I was coming to do all of those things now that you're awake. I know you can hear all the activity from the kitchen in our room. Since you'd been up since 4:30 I wanted to give you a bit more time to sleep. Let me do that." To which I said, "Well you could have had all this stuff done if you'd just take the time to close the bedroom door all the way." Archer walked away, understandably so, and left me to finish everything.
We managed the rest of the morning routine without speaking to each other, which sucks. It sucks even more because Bear is knee-deep in the terrible twos, and we normally get through his crankiness by laughing together. This morning we were barely looking at each other. On the way to school, I apologized. I said, "I'm really sorry I snapped and that I was being so unreasonable. I know you were trying to help me. I now you probably feel like I treat you as though you never do anything right, and I'm sorry for that. I'm really sorry I make you feel that way." He nodded, but he didn't really respond. I know he needs more time to process everything, and I know everything will be fine by this afternoon. I'm just so tired of feeling tired and frustrated, and I feel like crap for taking those feelings out on Archer.
Bear's sleeping habits have improved (as in he is no longer waking up every 2 hours), but he still wakes up incredibly early. This morning, for example, he woke up at 4:30. He doesn't want to be awake this early, but he won't go back to sleep without help. And that help, it seems, must come from me. This is a fairly recent thing, since the move. Until then, Archer and I had worked out a really great schedule for dealing with Bear. We simply alternated mornings and nights. If it was my night to get up with Bear, Archer got up with him in the morning and vice versa. This meant that we both got enough sleep. Mind you, we were both tired, but neither of us was exhausted. At some point following the move, however, Bear has refused to let Archer soothe him in the night. This means that Archer tries, and Bear screams bloody murder at the top of his lungs. I can't sleep through this, and to avoid both of us being completely exhausted, I've gotten in the habit of just getting up with Bear. As I said, most nights this is fine, and most mornings it is as well since he's gotten into the habit of sleeping until 6:00. This morning, though, it wasn't. Wednesday night I'd been up twice with Wild Man, who first wanted a drink and then needed to go pee. Each time I was woken up it took me about 30 minutes to go back to sleep. Then I was up early with Bear as it was my morning to do so. Thus, this morning I was hoping to get some extra sleep. It didn't happen.
After struggling to get Bear to go back to sleep for about 15 minutes, I finally brought him into our bed, as I didn't want him to wake up Wild Man (they are now sharing a bedroom). After another 15 minutes, most of which Archer slept through (although he says he was awake, I argue that his snoring indicated otherwise), I got up to take Bear downstairs to see if he'd relax on the couch. Archer woke up and asked me if I wanted him to take over. Now, I hate this question. Hate it. And Archer and I have talked about this. If he can see I'm struggling and at my wit's end, I'd rather he just take over. I don't want him to ask me that question because in such a moment I'm not going to respond nicely. As much as I mean to say, "Yes, please, thank you. I really need a break," in such a moment, when I'm tired and frustrated and unhappy with my own behavior, I'm going to say something like, "Of course I want you to take over. Do you really have to ask that question?" That's what I said at 5:30 this morning. And it didn't go over well. Understandably, Archer doesn't like to be snapped at when he's offering to help. I get that. He said something like, "You don't have to be such a martyr, M. Just ask for help." That, of course, made it worse. So I grabbed Bear and went downstairs, telling Archer I'd take care of it. So I was now annoyed and frustrated and tired.
I finally got Bear back to sleep at 5:30, and he slept until 6:30. Between his wiggles and the cat deciding 5:45 was the perfect time for a snuggle, I didn't get much sleep. When Bear woke up at 6:30, I woke up Archer and asked him if I could have a break. He happily took over, and I lied down. He forgot, however, to close our bedroom door all the way, which meant that I heard him turn on the coffee grinder 5 minutes later, just as I was dropping off to sleep. So I got up and closed the door all the way, and that annoyed me more. To be fair to Archer, our house is old. Unless you close the door all the way, it will fall open again. Neither of us is used to this yet, as we've only been in the house for 3 weeks. I know he didn't do that on purpose, but again, in that moment, it really irritated me.
When I woke up at 7:10 I went downstairs, still tired and annoyed and frustrated. I expected that Archer would have finished packing Wild Man's lunch, which I'd started packing the night before. But no. He'd hung out with Bear. So I started doing the 45 things that are part of our morning routine. He came into the kitchen to say good morning, and I rolled my eyes at him. He knew why I was upset, so he said, "I was coming to do all of those things now that you're awake. I know you can hear all the activity from the kitchen in our room. Since you'd been up since 4:30 I wanted to give you a bit more time to sleep. Let me do that." To which I said, "Well you could have had all this stuff done if you'd just take the time to close the bedroom door all the way." Archer walked away, understandably so, and left me to finish everything.
We managed the rest of the morning routine without speaking to each other, which sucks. It sucks even more because Bear is knee-deep in the terrible twos, and we normally get through his crankiness by laughing together. This morning we were barely looking at each other. On the way to school, I apologized. I said, "I'm really sorry I snapped and that I was being so unreasonable. I know you were trying to help me. I now you probably feel like I treat you as though you never do anything right, and I'm sorry for that. I'm really sorry I make you feel that way." He nodded, but he didn't really respond. I know he needs more time to process everything, and I know everything will be fine by this afternoon. I'm just so tired of feeling tired and frustrated, and I feel like crap for taking those feelings out on Archer.
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