Post-mortem for a summer
My work-out routine was shot to splintereens this summer by my erratic childcare schedule, but I thankfully made it to Nia this week. Nia gets described in all kind of elaborate ways, but it basically boils down to Jazzercize for the New-Age-inclined. In other words, it incorporates a lot of yoga-type discussion of chakras in between dancing your butt off.
This Wednesday, my instructor urged us to “find our source of joy!” and “celebrate what you have to celebrate!” At the moment, the one thing I could find to celebrate was that the nice, long tank tops I ordered from Athleta would arrive before my next class and that I would never again have to wear my annoying cheapo Target tank top that slowly creeps up my belly as I dance.
That was all I could come up with.
Thankfully, my mood improved by the end of class to the point I was able to think of a handful of other things worth celebrating, prominent among them the knowledge that Central Market has free wifi and that school starts in a week and half. Honestly, the start of school is the light at the end of the tunnel right now. It’s been a discouraging few weeks. The tantrums have continued–in one spectacular incident, MapKid picked up an entire bin of Legos and threw them across the room. He’s essentially boycotting breakfast and lunch since I’m insisting on the new food regimen, and hunger does not improve his mood. He’s developed an incredibly annoying habit of snorting at anything he dislikes or finds frustrating–by snorting, I mean making a violent exhalation through his nose, sort of the opposite of a sniff. He snorts at the cat, at his dinner plate, and at the idea of cleaning his room, and he snorted vigorously through an entire half-hour tour of the elementary-age Sunday School classrooms.
The Nia instructor told us to “enjoy what’s working!” and I couldn’t think of darn thing that is working.
It’s all the more frustrating because my freelance career has withered to almost nothing in the last three months. The contrast to last year couldn’t be greater–this time last summer, I was up to my eyeballs writing my second book, another book project was in discussion, and I had an agent excited about my prospects. Now the second book is about to come out, but the other book project fell apart and the agent and I parted ways. Blame the economy for some of this, but blame me as well. My husband and I decided that this summer I would concentrate on working with MapKid. This was going to be the summer I got ahead of the problem and positioned us all for the months and years to come. I wasn’t going to make much money, but we were going to be in a much better place than where we started.
Well, I’ve made hardly any money and far from being in a better place, things seem to have gotten worse. So what was the point if we’ve actually lost ground?
I was singing this sad song to my friend C., who pointed out that the alternative would have been for me to be working up a storm and feeling terrible because MapKid was having so many problems. “You’d probably feel horribly guilty that you were too busy to help with him,” she said. And she’s right. But it’s hollow comfort.
Celebrate what you have to celebrate. School starts the 24th. MapKid has always done really well in school–the structure really works for him. He responds to the authority of teachers, and he’s never (knock wood!) had a meltdown at school. I’m worried, of course, that some of the problematic behaviors will start spilling over into school. But at least we can all get back to our routines, and I can have some time to myself in my office to get some work done.
So next summer I’ll find a new strategy. Maybe I can find a social skills group that works. I’m definitely going to plan for more childcare since it’s obvious that I lack the happy-stay-at-home-mommy gene. I’ve got to keep to an exercise schedule at least, because a punishing workout is a far more sustainable way to improve my state of mind than the alternative (i.e., strawberry milkshakes). Meanwhile, I will muddle through the next week and sent my child off to first grade with as much confidence as I can muster.
The day after Nia, my package from Athleta arrived. Find your souce of joy. I suppose if a tank top with a built-in sports bra is the best source of joy you can find, you celebrate that.
Or you snort. Whatever works.