Sunday, August 1, 2010
I’ve always been a little perplexed about bug’s obvious overestimations about carrying things. When I tell him he can bring one car upstairs to play, he will bring his three favorite cars, two balls, a book, his pink bear (thanks, Oma), and the blanket that goes with him everywhere (because, in bug’s words, “I’m a blankie kid!”). He will then want to go back for the kitchen sink, and be overly upset when he can’t possibly make it up the stairs with all of it.
I’ve attempted repeatedly to explain the concept of carrying only one or two things at a time. He seems to understand me. It is possible for him to only hold one item in his hands. I’ve seen him do it. But the idea just doesn’t stick. Before you know it, he’s hauling out the pile of stuffed animals from his bed and dropping them all down the stairs, leaving a path of plush breadcrumbs directing the way back. The idea of abandoning just one behind him is utterly ridiculous!
Inevitably, I will end up carrying half of his “necessary” items wherever we may be going. On the way outside to play in his wading pool, for instance, he “needed” three cars, a rubber duck, his bear, a towel, and a cup of water. Can you guess what he ended up carrying all the way out the door? Correct - his cars. All else fell to me. Along with the baby, of course. And this got me thinking.
Of course, I help bug out when he needs it. But I do it to myself, too. How many times have I loaded my arms up with grocery bags, balancing two gallons of milk on one hip, leaving only a few fingers free for mini AND my keys? All because I just can’t take an extra trip back to the car. No, no. That would be too difficult.
Ignoring for just a moment the precarious situation this puts mini in, it’s simply impractical and completely ridiculous. I end up gimping along, bags swinging against my legs, gripping mini with a death grip, breaking both arms, breathing heavy, looking haggard, yelling at bug to stop running away and go up to the door already... only to struggle with the keys, close my foot in the outer door, and slam the doorknob into my back - most likely shutting bug outside in the process. I’m then stressed, tired, weak, and frustrated with bug - when if I had just taken a few things and gone back, I would have saved myself hassle and headache.
But it doesn’t stop there. What else do I carry around with me that loads me down and stresses me out? All of the hurt feelings from unintentional offenses of others? All the stress from extra projects because I just can’t say no? Heartaches from the past? Humiliation and sadness that I can’t do it all and be it all? Worry that I have to be the perfect mom and wife and am not measuring up? All of the above - and more. I carry around feelings of inadequacy, anxieties for my children growing up in a world that is hard, failures and mistakes I’ve made, and a desire to do better but complete ignorance at where to start. It’s overwhelming.
Why do I, unlike bug, insist on doing it all myself? He understands his limits. When he drops things, he realizes that he must ask for help. And I know that I should too, but too often rely only on myself.
Of course, I can ask mr or my family to carry certain things for me - projects or blunders or help letting little things go. But sometimes there is more than even they can handle. And what do I do then?
Someone wise said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
I think I need to remember this more often. I don’t know about you, but I could use some lightened burdens sometimes. I should take a page out of bug's book.