success and perspective

Some days, success is defined with a "yes" to this one simple question:

Is everyone still alive?

Today wasn't neccessarily one of those days, but it got close at times. My parents, who were here for a week, left yesterday. Mr. Kenobi, who had Obi-3's first week of life fully off from work, plus several days of vacation over the past two weeks, left early for a full and hectic week at his office.

The boys and I were truly on our own, and I was determined to try as normal as possible of a routine as I could. I'm still learning what it means to have three children, and I'm also re-learning the nuances and needs of living in Baby Standard Time. Normal days don't always include meetings or outings. However, today was the staff meeting for my part-time work, so off we went.

The morning hadn't really started well and I'd barely eaten a bite of breakfast in the midst of managing three hungry children in need of my attention. Fortunately, I get to bring my children with me to staff meetings, and at least they were well-fed. On a good day, they play and read in the adjoining room (or nuggle in my arms, in the case of Obi-3) during our meetings. Today started out as a good day, but soured sometime after Obi-1 decided to curtail the game of "Battleship" he had going with his younger brother, and Obi-2 decided to start crying and protesting loudly as Obi-3 drifted off to sleep.

I lost any profession image I might have had when we arrived. The scene drained most of the patience and remaining energy. I started the day with good intentions, but now wondered if I could keep perspective through lunchtime. Instead of cheerily leaving the meeting as a capable and well-adjusted mom, I left carrying a crying 4-year-old on one hip, a diaper bag trailing behind me, and gratefully accepting help from a friend who carried the crying baby. Uffda.

It would have been humiliating, had everyone not been so gracious. I was also so exhausted I really didn't have the energy to get embarrassed. In that loud and sad march to the minivan, I remembered why I originally left full-time employment, and why I'm grateful my family doesn't need a second full-time income during this season of life.

Once home, we regrouped. I fixed the noisy older Kenobis PB & honey sandwiches, and a "fuzzy milk" with our espresso machine as a special treat for lunch. Once everyone was eating, I made an announcement: immediately following lunch, we would have rest time - for all of us. Sometimes, the boys protest naps. Today, either they were feeling as tired as I was, or they realized that protest might send Mama beyond the end of her rope. Whatever the motivation, I received boyish cooperation at exactly the moment I needed it, which is nothing short of a divine intervention.

This is why the day wasn't the hardest I've ever faced (or probably anything to compare with what's ahead someday!) We all napped. You know that phrase, "sleep when the baby sleeps?" Let me expand that advice: Sleep whenever you can. As much as you can. Always.

I slept, Baby Obi slept, and big boys slept. It is amazing what a little rest can do to renew your patience & perspective. Our late afternoon had a fair share of challenge, but these were more private (loud protests in my home are a little kinder to my ego than the same protest in front of friends & coworkers). When Daddy got home, clearly exhausted, he had just missed our neighbor, who had brought us a delicious and satisfying meal for dinner. Wahoo!

As I write this, knowing I have little time to edit, Mr. Kenobi has begun reading the fifth book in the Little House series. He's holding a sleeping Obi-3 in his arms, I've just finished dishes, and we may have a few moments together before he tries to catch-up on a bit more work. We are all alive, and tomorrow is a new day.