Compassion

I've been feeling a bit stressed lately with childcare. Pearl's started teething in earnest, which has meant screaming, fussing, crying a lot when she nurses, being overstimulated/overtired at night when I'm most in need of some down time. It's beginning to feel like a bit of a marathon by 8:30pm. And some mornings I reluctantly look at the clock to see it's only 10:30. You'd think I'd learn to stop all that, but I'm slow to change.

When I get that stressed, and have little or no break time, I have learned that the first thing to go has been my compassion. For Lola, for Chris, for myself. It's not pretty, feeling like I can only meet the basic needs of the household and everything - anything - else is extra. No fun time, no cuddling, no soft voices, no mama who feels she can provide any comfort to anyone.

And the effect on my children? More child screaming. More whining and shrieking. More boundary testing. More tired behaviors and less impulse control. Children who are harder to parent when exhausted. Stronger desire for comfort foods.

And I've also noticed a parallel lack of compassion in my eldest daughter. When did I forget to teach that we care about what happens to other people? I mean, this principle has been explained before but never been emphasized, made explicit. She watches our compassionate gestures, and relationships, but I've never pointed it all out to her.

So today I've decided to reintroduce compassion. In my explanations, in my actions, in my body. I'm choosing compassion, if you will. Maybe it will work. Maybe I'll just go drink some more coffee. Whatever the result, I'm sure whatever happens I will feel more like a good mama and less like an angry, testy mama. Nobody likes that. Or, perhaps, everybody will.