I’m Not Waving; I’m Drowning

It seems in poor taste to complain about something you did to yourself. No one is making me home school my children. And I do love it. I love the sheer delight in Mark’s eyes when he masters the /p/ sound or the wonder on Braeden’s face when he learns something new in science or the triumph of Emma when she remembers Henry the Navigator’s name from last year’s history when Braeden and I cannot. Home schooling just might be killing me though. It is hard. It is harder to home school three kids than two. Does it take rocket science to figure this out? No, about 10 minutes.

The real irony is that yesterday Braeden who is so much like me it’s scary (when he’s not being so much like his dad that it’s scary), had a meltdown because his work was Too Much and he Couldn’t Do It. I gave him my best wise mother lecture about his capacity increasing. I told him about when he was born and I thought I would never be a functioning human again. Then my capacity increased and when Emma came along, and his dad would take Braeden away for stretches at a time, I wondered how taking care of one infant was ever hard. The same thing happened when Mark was born. See Braeden? You can do it!

I lost my pom-poms today though. The cheerleader in me went on vacation (or left because never—not even in my imagination—was I ever the cheerleader type).

I had my very own meltdown.

I had three tyrannical children simultaneously wondering: Why do I have to correct my math anyway? Where is the dry erase marker eraser? (try saying that five times fast) and Am I done with school YET? My mind was reeling with—besides teaching my children today—how on earth I was going to find time to take my kids to piano lessons, make a Costco shopping list, go to Costco, change all the light bulbs that seemed to burn out all at once, get a substitute for a Relief Society teacher, plan my part for the upcoming Relief Society leadership meeting that will be at our house, (when Adam’s in London…and how’s that even going to work anyway?), take Braeden to a doctor appointment, do the laundry and the dishes and change the boys’ sheets—it’s Tuesday after all, take Emma to get her new glasses and get Braeden to his scout activity. Also, what are we going to have for dinner? Or lunch for that matter? All my encouraging and capacity increasing pep from the day before was gone. Long gone.

Luckily for me (unluckily for him?) Adam was still home and was there to catch me while I was dissolving in a heap. He did what he always does, listened patiently then told me what he’d do to fix it. This does two things, it makes me feel grateful that I’m so loved and it also irritates me. I get disgusted with myself that as busy as Adam is, I would need to email him my Costco list so he can shop for me (believe me, I’ve done it before). No, I insisted, I can do it.

And guess what? I did. Maybe (with a little help from the McDonald’s drive thru for lunch and ravioli from Costco for dinner) my capacity is increasing, perhaps as we speak. Come on capacity don’t fail me now! I need you.