We've been watching the Olympics at our house and yesterday night as I was putting the kids to bed and Olympic analogy came to me. Even though I have my bad days I am able to stay pretty patient for the most part. I am not a spanker or a big screamer, but somewhere around 7:30 at night, something inside me starts to change. It's like I am so close to finish line I can taste it , the Gold medal (quiet time without my children)is almost mine. But I must admit that I then become the super G skier that crashes, the snowboarder that over rotates, the figure skater that just doesn't land that jump. And somewhere after angrily and roughly saying "just go to bed" I have fallen to 20th place. At bedtime, so close to the finish line, I crash and burn. I sing "I Have a Family" quickly without love, I give hugs and kisses, and I love you's, and goodnights, when really I just want more than anything to be done being a mother for the day. I even gave myself a pep talk tonight, I was going to make it to finish line in first place, I was going to follow through. But this ain't an easy event, this is parenting. This is a luge, followed by a figure skating long program, combined with a hockey game, crossed with death defying downhill skiing at ridiculous and dangerous speeds. Just when you don't think you can hold on for one...more...second.....they get out of their bed for the 100th time for a drink of water. And on the more grueling days they throw in a giant sobbing screaming fit after you thought they were down for the night. Medal placement in parenting is tough to achieve, and I am so glad I get more than one shot at it. I got a long way to go before I land it, nail it, and give my best performance. Maybe I could get me one of those Russian coaches?!
