Do you ever have a moment where you want to be alone for 5 minutes? Just 5 minutes. Where the loudest thing you hear is your breathing. To organize your thoughts. Or let everything just melt away. 5 minutes to do whatever you want without being asked 500 things all at once.
I hear the electronic voice of J’s tablet saying “I want” while he follows me around, waiting for my undivided attention so he can finish the sentence. When he doesn’t get it immediately or I tell him no, he throws the tablet on the ground and then sits down on the ground, yelling at me while swiping out at my legs while I walk by. 50% of the time this results in tears. This is competing with A screaming “Mom” 25 Times in row for absolutely no reason. Wanting to “wrestle” with her baby sister. Becoming very quiet with crayons. All the while E is rolling around on the ground crying because no one is within a foot of her.
Some moments it makes me want to rip my hair out. Or run upstairs and hide in the bathroom. To be alone. Away from the chaos that is my life. Seriously? What happens when I lose my mind? When I don’t have my shit together? But baby gates are still my friend. They can’t get upstairs when I shut them.
5 minutes. It’s amazing what 5 minutes can do.
My autistic son wants to sit in my lap and have me give him smooches on his face. He finds this ridiculously funny. He has the best smile.
A comes and sits next to me with her “woobie” to watch “rock doggie”, while asking me to clip a purple popopomus (hippopotamus) chip clip to her shirt. E is babbling to herself in her bouncer, alternating watching the movie and swiveling around to see what stuff is attached to her bouncer. Smiling at me when I say “toes”.
The overwhelming crazy has passed. Now it’s just crazy. The sweet moments make those other ones better. Make the bearable.
All it takes is 5 minutes. To breathe. To think. To cry. To laugh. To sit.
And today no one is sick.