An Ostrich Kind of Day

Our day started out relatively uneventful. And if it had stayed this way, I probably would've dedicated a whole blog to it because it happens so rarely. However, as usual, it did get a little more colourful as we carried on with before school prep.

Today it was little A that brought us our morning dose of meltdown. He's a gentle little soul who often gets his feelings hurt... although, he's also one to really hold onto a grudge.

The older brother really set A off today. You know the story... one minute they're playing nice and the next minute we've got WW3 on our hands. A comes storming upstairs.

And while the meltdown started with "I hate my brother!" it continued with a very dramatic roll around on the couch saying "I can't go to school, I just won't. I NEVER get a break from school!"

I really want all the parents out there to smirk big. Never get a break from school? First of all, it's Wednesday... you've still got weekend hangover. Second... YOU WERE JUST HOME FOR SIX MONTHS! You've had nothing but break from school.

We did get the sobbing little boy in the van and off to school. He had to take a stuffy with him and be walked to the door but he got there. And my mommy heart melted.

Because these kids have been through a lot in the last few years. And they are done. I know that because they mimic me, hands of hips, "I'm so done with this." And I'm melting because I'm done too. I'm at my capacity. I can't go any more.

This is huge for me. To be able to say those words. To admit that I am at my capacity and can't keep going. Because I am a put your big girl undies on and get the shit done kind of person. I am not a burry your head in the sand and let things pass you by ostrichy kind of person.

But do you know what I have found at the end of my rope? Peace. And at the bottom of my bucket lies hope. When my capacity dips embarrassingly low, there is grace.

And the best part, is that because I know these things, I am able to hold my son's hand as he cries about being tired and stressed. I have no energy to do anything but. I have no energy to fight or correct. I have no capacity do what I would traditionally think parenting should look like.

But I can hug and kiss and hold. And as we cling to each other, our buckets get filled, our capacity grows and we make it through one more day. And we're together.

This is big. Because as Dave pointed out earlier in the day, this is how we create space. Space for emotions, space for healing, space for growing and even space for just sitting with our crap, holding hands.

And in this space, all shields come down. They're too heavy anyway. And in this space, there is no fear of judgement. Because all are a mess. And there is no condemnation. Because all are broken.

Creating zero capacity space is a gift I can give to my kids. Allowing them to Ostrich in the comfort of my arms. And it's a gift I will receive when I have need of it...although mine might look like a magical dinner fairy coming to call.

I look forward to welcoming my little warriors home from school and wrapping them up in... space.