Downhill

For the last couple of months I’ve really been focusing on attachment parenting. I managed to get through the “get off me, get off me, get off me” phase and get to the genuinely enjoying time with Hope phase. Things have been far more emotionally stable in the house, and that’s definitely a good thing.

But I’ve still been fighting my own demons.

During the recent snow storm that left Hope out of school for a week, I worked hard to get 30 minutes of exercise a day. I meditated. I relaxed. I spent quality time with my kid.

It was all great, really. I felt good.

And then we tried to get back to our regularly scheduled programming.

A week of disregulation was tougher on me than on Hope. Work, lately, has been like drinking from a firehose and I’m exhausted and there’s never enough time. The sidewalks are still covered with snow (it’s quickly melting this week thank to a mini “heatwave”) so Yappy and I haven’t been able to take our long walks. It’s been dreary. I got the new car and lost the Chili Pepper, which, really, seriously, has affected me so deeply that I have no attachment to the new car (Ironic, no?).

With each day I was quietly coming a little undone.

And then last night Hope’s bug phobia reemerged after a stink bug in search of a dry place to hang out got into the house.

Despite my best efforts, I have not been able to muster the appropriate response to this particular issue of Hope’s.

She awoke me from a deep sleep to ask me to kill a bug in the kitchen. I honestly didn’t have the capacity or coordination to do it. I got her water for her and went back to bed. Fear of the bug persisted through the morning routine and, let’s just say, that I didn’t react well. Add to my list of poor reactions I flipped out because, as usual, Hope dragged arse getting ready for school. In her defense, this morning was probably more about avoiding the bug situation than her usual obliviousness about time.

I messed up. It is what it is.

After she went to school, I killed the bug and I realized that her morning arse dragging annoys me because I want to have breakfast with her without rushing. I want the kind of morning routine I had with my family growing up; I want to check in, to pray, to watch the news, to just share time and space.

That stuff is also important to Hope, but I know that she doesn’t get it that it’s tied to the morning routine for me. I wasn’t even able to articulate that myself before today. I guess that makes part of my meltdown worth it.

I wrote Hope a note trying to explain.

I’m trying to deal with the bug phobia, I am, but it’s a trigger for me too.

I know I’m on a tipping point that could send me careening, so tonight is about self care: fuzzy socks and PJs, cuddles with Yappy and curling up with a good book.

Tomorrow is another day, and I will try again to do a bit better.